Shades of Darkness (Redemption Series) (12 page)

“How is it that you have a place to yourself and yet no husband?” he asked, watching her from across the small table as they sat down to eat the stew she’d scooped from the pot on the stove.

“I am the chief’s daughter. And I will be married.”

Haden schooled his features, fighting the unexpected tide of jealousy rising up inside him. It didn’t make sense that he’d have an opinion, either way. He’d just met the woman he was sent here to kill.

“Who will you marry?” he asked with a forced casualness that was only out of pure curiosity.

“The spirits have spoken of a man, the one who came here for me. You,” she simply said, lifting her eyes to boldly meet his stare.

Haden’s heart thundered inside his chest, making it difficult to breathe. Clearly, the woman was insane—beautiful, yes, but absolutely freaking nuts. He wasn’t going to marry her. Kill her?—probably, but marry her? Not a fucking chance in hell. He was silent a moment as he gathered his thoughts, deciding what to say to her. She probably wouldn’t believe him if he told her she was crazy. “You don’t know what you’re saying, Anya. You wouldn’t think such things if you knew why I was really here.”

She stood from her chair and walked around the small table to kneel in front of him. Her bare legs brushed against his knees as she settled between his thighs. Anya’s dark eyes shone almost black in the low lighting as she reached up and gently took Haden’s hand in hers. “I know why you’re here, Haden. You’re here to save my life.”

He hardly heard the words coming out of her mouth, his heart was pounding so loudly in his ears. Her touch was like liquid fire, heating his blood with desires that would only weaken and distract him from the job he came here to do.

“Anya,” he whispered, suddenly not trusting his voice to hold strong. What was wrong with him?  Had she put him under a spell?

“Shhh…” she whispered, bringing her hand up to touch the side of his face. “Just wait… You’ll see.” She leaned forward and placed a feather-light kiss against his cheek.

His first instinctual response was to jerk away. His second was to wrap his arms around this tempting female and greedily take every pleasure she had to offer him. He did neither—frozen by a tidal wave of pure pleasure. He’d never experienced anything like this before. In all his existence, he’d never let a woman touch him. So why now, why her?—who in the hell knew. What he did know was that he loved the feeling of this woman’s lips against his cheek, loved the floral scent of her skin that reminded him of jasmine.

 “I trust you…” she whispered, her breath brushing against his cheek, skating across his parted lips.

He forgot to breathe. Finally, he inhaled, pulling her scent into his air-starved lungs. The breath he drew between clenched teeth tasted of sweet red wine.

“You shouldn’t—” he whispered, still unmoving.

Slowly, Anya leaned back, putting some distance between them. She watched Haden intently for several minutes, then said with absolute certainty, “You won’t hurt me.”

Haden’s eyes locked on hers, bold and unwavering. “Are you willing to bet your life on that?”

He didn’t miss the slight tremor that racked her petite frame, the bitter almond scent of her fear rising up to tease his senses. Now, that was more like it. Perhaps the female wasn’t suicidal, after all. But then her shoulders stiffened, her back straightened in determination, and with a defiant tilt of her chin, she met his stare and said, “I already have…” Slowly, she stood, turned, and walked away.

He watched her go, mesmerized by her lithe gracefulness as she silently collected the dishes and carried them over to the washing area. She stood with her back to him, saying nothing as his gaze traveled down her back, appreciating the curve of her bottom and her bare legs.

 When she finished cleaning the dishes, she opened a chest and pulled out a fur pelt and blanket. “You can sleep over here, next to the fire,” Anya said, dropping them on the floor. As Haden watched her, for the first time in his existence, he started to question everything he believed to be true.

He’d grown up knowing nothing but anger, hatred, and violence. He had no regard for human life.  So why now, after all these years, after all the lives he’d taken, couldn’t he seem to do the one thing he’d been raised to do—hunt—find—kill? Haden shifted realms, feeling more comfortable with the dimensional barrier between them.

She poured two cups of tea and brought one over to him. Her fingers grazed his as he took the cup from her. Anya gasped, snatching her hand back as if he’d burned her.
Shit…
Since he wasn’t in corporeal form, it was more difficult to contain the darkness that lived inside him. He could literally feel it leaching out of him into the woman who now looked at him with guarded wariness.

Her reaction disturbed him. He didn’t enjoy seeing the look of fear on her beautiful face, something he’d always savored in the past—fed from when, time and time again, he’d claimed his victims with savage, merciless efficiency. But now, seeing the way Anya watched him, he suddenly found himself wanting to comfort her.

Impulsively, he crossed back over and took her hand, letting her see—feel—that he wasn’t going to hurt her. “Thank you for the tea.”

“What was that?” she whispered.

That she had to ask confirmed she didn’t know she possessed the sight. She couldn’t differentiate between his corporeal and dimensional status.

“What was what?” he asked. Denial seemed like the best move here. Perhaps she’d think she imagined it. He sure as hell didn’t want to tell her the truth—that she could see angels and demons. That he was a Nephilim hunter, searching for the sighted, commissioned by the Dark Court to find and kill these gifted mortals.

 As he held her hand, he brushed his thumb over the rapid tick of her pulse. The flesh covering her wrist was smooth as silk. She felt good—too good…

“Umm…nothing, I guess.”

He didn’t resist when she pulled her hand from his grasp, doubt hedging in her dark brown eyes. He found himself wanting to reassure her, which was odd, but hell, from the moment he’d laid eyes on this woman, nothing had been normal. “You were right, Anya. I’m not going to hurt you,” he reassured her. “You look tired, why don’t you try to rest.”

She nodded. “Good night, Haden.” Anya turned and walked behind a curtain of cloth to what he could only assume was her sleeping quarters. He moved over to the pelt, pulled off his shirt, and settled in beside the fire. A soft glow shone from behind the curtain, and he shamelessly stared at her silhouette as she undressed. Each movement held a delicate grace, exposing curves of utter perfection.

His chest tightened, his breath trapped inside his lungs as he forced his eyes from this mesmerizing female. Locking his gaze on the orange flames of the fire that didn’t compare to the heat burning inside him, he sipped the tea she’d given him. Once the rustling behind the curtain grew silent, he frequently glanced over at her, tempted to step behind the barrier, if only to watch the female sleep.

In all his years, he’d never seen such an exquisite creature. Lying there, he couldn’t help but wonder how much time he’d have before they figured out she was still alive. How long before they sent someone else to do his job.

Something hard smacked into Haden’s shoulder, startling him awake. Reflexively, he spun and sunk his fist into Cale’s jaw.

“What the hell!” Cale barked, grabbing the side of his face and knocking Haden’s arm away.

“Why did you disturb me?” Haden demanded.

“Cale didn’t touch you,” Rowen interrupted.  “I did. You didn’t answer me when I spoke to you. Were you sleeping?”

“I wasn’t sleeping,” he denied, mad as hell he’d just been woken up from the best dream he’d had in months. His dreams were the only place his Anya still existed. “I was ignoring you, you obnoxious ass! So, what’s the big emergency?” he growled, glaring at Rowen.

“I was saying, maybe Rhen should go back to the girl’s place. She’s got to have the title and registration for that car there. Then we’d have the model and plate number of their vehicle.”

“Maybe Cale should go with him,” he suggested, jumping at the opportunity to down-size the crew.

“Sounds good to me,” Cale volunteered, glaring daggers into Haden’s back.

“We’ll split after we stop for the next fill,” Rowen decided, glancing back at Cale and Rhen.

“Gladly,” Cale grumbled, still rubbing his jaw.

Haden sighed heavily, leaning against the headrest. His chest ached as he forced himself to push thoughts of Anya out of his head, his mind desperately needing to find a road less traveled. He already knew where this one led and he didn’t care to go down it again.

Chapter Ten

Liam pulled into the truck stop and climbed out of the Camaro to fill it up. He ducked his head in through the window and asked, “Can I get you something when I’m in there?”

Olivia hadn’t spoken since the blow up with Mitch. She didn’t know what to say. She felt bad for him, for Liam, and her conscience was eating at her. She should have told Mitch the truth—about her, about Liam. “No thanks, I’ll get it myself. I need to stretch my legs.”

She could feel Liam’s eyes on her as she walked toward the station—on her back, on her ass… She glanced over her shoulder, catching him in the act, just as a car pulled up to the gas pump across from him. The base from their stereo resonated off the glass windows of the building. Loud, drunken laughter poured from the convertible as three men stumbled out.

“Hey, grab another case while you’re in there,” the driver yelled after his buddies from the pump.

Olivia hurried inside, wanting to get in before the two back-slapping, elbow-jabbing fools beat her to the door. She spotted the restroom sign and headed down the narrow hallway. Locking the door behind her, she paused to check her reflection in the mirror.

She hardly recognized the woman staring back at her.  Her hair had pulled loose from the twist. Unruly strands hung in disarray around her exhaustion-filled face. Dark circles shadowed her less than vibrant green eyes. Sighing, she pulled her hair loose from its binder and shook it out, trying to tease a little life back into the limp mess.

After a few minutes of useless primping, she pulled her hair back up, splashed a little cold water on her face, used the facilities, and walked out of the bathroom. She should have looked before stepping into the hallway, because the two guys she’d rushed inside to avoid were stumbling down the hall, heading right toward her.

Olivia tensed. The hall was too narrow for her to pass by, so she held back a step, hoping they’d just walk into the men’s room. No such luck.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” the larger of the two drawled, breaking away from his buddy to approach her.

She stepped back, shooting him a “back off” glare.

“You want to come party with us, sugar?” the second guy slurred, shoulder-checking the wall as he tried to follow his friend. “We’ll show you a really good time.”

“No thanks,” Olivia replied icily, standing her ground. “Let me through.” She turned to the side, attempting to push past the two men.

“Hey, where are you going in such a hurry?” the first one asked, grabbing ahold of her arm. His grip was strong, biting.

“Let go of me!” she snapped, trying to wrench her arm free. When that didn’t work, she drove her knee into the man’s groin.

“Son of a bitch!” he yelled, hunching forward to catch his breath. But instead of loosening his grip, it tightened. Panic flooded her veins in a rush of heated adrenaline.

“Whoa, Pete, looks like you got yourself a feisty one there,” the second guy laughed, enjoying the show, which seemed to piss off his friend even more. His face hardened in fury and he shoved Olivia against the wall.

The back of her head connected with sheetrock, and the teeth-rattling slam left her a little dazed for a moment. The man leaned into her, pinning her against the wall with the flab of his gut.

Soured by the scent of beer and sweat, Olivia fought back a wave of nausea. “Let me go!” she hissed, bucking against his weight, trying to dislodge the guy, who easily had seventy pounds on her.

“Come on, Pete, maybe you should let her go,” his friend suggested, no doubt realizing things were getting out of hand.

“Shut up!” he barked. “Why don’t you go take a piss or something?”  Her attacker turned back to Olivia and grabbed her jaw in a punishing grip. “Come on, sweetheart, let’s kiss and make up,” he slurred, pressing his beer-stale mouth against her lips.

Her scream was muffled by the man’s suffocating mouth.  She heard Liam before she saw him. A furious snarl echoed down the hall, followed by a loud
thud
as Liam’s elbow slammed against the side of the man’s head. She was knocked off balance as he wrenched the asshole off her.

“Go wait in the car, Olivia,” Liam growled.  His amethyst eyes locked on her, and she scrambled back several feet toward the exit. She wasn’t sure why she stopped and glanced back, perhaps it was the terrified squawk of her assailant. She looked over her shoulder to see Liam holding the man in the air, suspended nearly a foot above the ground.

She caught movement out of the corner of her eye and turned to see the second guy pulling a knife out of his boot. “Liam, look out!” she cried as the guy made an uncoordinated launch toward him. With the lithe grace of a choreographed fighter, Liam drove his fist into her attacker’s face, knocking him out cold. He tossed him to the ground and spun around a second before the guy’s friend could drive the knife home.

Liam grabbed the man’s blade hand and twisted his arm behind his back at an unnatural angle. She heard the
snap
all the way down the hall and her stomach lurched. The knife clattered to the ground, and Liam kicked it away. The man cried out and dropped to his knees. No longer the badass, he groveled. “I’m sorry, man. I’m sorry we hassled your girl.” He looked over at his unconscious friend and cried, “Oh God, don’t hurt me!”