Prince of Shadows (17 page)

He pulled back, breaking the lock of her legs as he stood.

“What?” she asked, pulling herself from her unceremonious sprawl up onto her elbows.

“Too many damn clothes,” he growled, pulling his T-shirt off.

She licked her lips, then got with the program, wiggling out of her sweats on the mat as he shucked the rest of his clothing. She was gorgeous, all lean muscles and slight curves…except for those hips. They flared out from her narrow waist into the most spectacular arse he'd ever seen. He'd always thought himself a boob man, but he'd been watching that fine bum for days now and knew that he just had never seen one as perfect as hers. The desire to flip her over, pull her back on her knees, and then drive into her from behind just so he could see that wonderful arse while he banged her was like a vicious monster in his system. But he wasn't a complete bastard, so that would wait—until the second time they'd had each other at least.

He reached down for her. At the same time she sat up, reaching for him. They collided with a resounding smack, her nose to his jaw.

“Ow, shit…” She fell back down, clutching her nose.

“Are you okay?” he asked anxiously as he knelt beside her.

She chuckled, though the sound was laced with tears. If her nose felt anything like his jaw it was no wonder.

“Sorry, that was…smooth.” She gingerly wiggled her nose, sniffled. “Can you tell I've never done this before?”

His heart thudded behind his ribs, which all of a sudden seemed way too tight. She couldn't possibly mean…“Wait. Done this as in attacked your partner or done
this
this?”

She lowered her hand, her lips pressed tight together and her eyes wary as she met his gaze.

“Bloody hell.” He drew back, sitting on his heels as he regarded her. She'd seemed so sure of herself he'd just assumed…but she was innocent and he was…well, a man-whore. And though he didn't have many scruples, one rule was inviolate: He didn't have sex with virgins. With Annie that rule had the added weight of her heritage. She deserved to have the option of giving her innocence to her mate. He wouldn't take that from her. He liked her, genuinely liked her, and sometimes he thought maybe…but even he had to admit much of his fascination with her could simply be her gift's ability to calm his beast. With her he could be alone in his own head. No one else's emotions messing with him. He could be as selfish as he bloody wanted and not consider her emotions at all. Which was just plain fucking wrong. If she was his mate, then wouldn't her feelings be all that mattered?

“I think I better go.” He stood, grabbing up his trousers from the floor, and began pulling them on. Behind him, Annie leapt up, laying a hand on his arm.

“Wait! Does this have anything to do with my father?”

“You don't think Jacob wouldn't kill me if he came in here and found us like this?” He found that he was breathing heavily, not because he was really worried about what Jacob might do, but because of what he'd almost done. He'd almost stolen something precious and meaningful to her—worse, he would have done it simply to satisfy some damn curiosity of what sex without his gift could be like.

She folded her arms across her breasts, her legs crossed awkwardly as if that might protect her too. “I'm of age. By more than a few years, too.”

“You're a virgin!” Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes. Thank God he couldn't read her. This was damn hard enough as it was. “Get some clothes on, Annie.”

“I thought…”

“You thought what?” he asked, though he knew exactly what she thought. She thought what almost happened here meant something. She thought maybe…
Don't go there, you bloke. Way too fucking complicated. We like simple, remember?

He heaved out a frustrated breath. “Annie, let me teach you a little something about men and sex.”

Her lips pulled in tight, her eyes turning wary, but she gave him a subtle nod.

“Men are men and sex is sex. Don't confuse it with being something more.”

“But you won't have sex with me,” she said, her voice but a whisper in the supercharged air. It wasn't hard to read the underlying question there: Why? Why if men were the dogs he claimed wouldn't he have sex with her? He knew she was trying to read more into his actions, which was dangerous, for both of them. She wanted more than a player like him could ever give, but he knew, just knew that if she offered more of the heaven she'd just given him a glimpse of he wouldn't be able to refuse. Which meant he needed to ensure that she never did.

“I don't fuck virgins. It's as plain and simple as that,” he said and took himself from the room.

Annie stared at the open door, half-expecting Bennett to come back through. That couldn't be it. She couldn't be that wrong, could she? He was her mate, wasn't he? But as the minutes stretched out and he still didn't return, she had to face one glaringly depressing fact: obviously he didn't think so.

Numbly she turned from the empty doorway and stepped back onto the center of the mat where her world had just fallen apart. How sad that her life could be reduced to a pile of rumpled clothing and a whole bunch of could have beens that now wouldn't be.

She'd been a fool. The flirting, the hand-holding, the way he'd held her, letting her cry on his shoulder when Aaron was hurt, the wide smile that had become his standard expression when he saw her…obviously it had meant a hell of a lot more to her than him.
Stupid, stupid, stupid
. Bennett wasn't her mate, nor was he her savior. He couldn't help her escape herself, and how did she ever believe that he, a warrior, could find a partner in her? She was cursed. She couldn't even leave the building without drawing enemies to them. Anyone who loved her would be in constant danger. And that's not what mates were supposed to be. Mates were partners in mind, body, and soul—that's what her father had told her. She should have seen that past the sweaty palms and racing heart. She could not be the other half of Bennett's team. She was a handicap that she couldn't blame him for not wanting to be saddled with.

But that hadn't stopped her from hoping. Hadn't stopped her from dreaming, and planning, and…falling. She'd fallen in love. He hadn't. And now she didn't know what she was supposed to do next.

I
should
get
dressed.

She bent down and retrieved her sweats, carefully pulling them on one leg then the other. Her T-shirt was a few feet away. She shuffled toward it, listing slightly as she plucked it from the floor.

Once it was on she turned back toward the open door, figuring she should close it or something before someone else came along and saw…what?

Me
crying.

She cursed, swiping at her eyes, but the tears kept on coming. She swallowed, the tears catching in her jagged throat as she frantically looked for something to plug the waterworks with. There, on the floor.

She swooped down and grabbed the camo-green T-shirt and buried her face in it. His scent flooded her nostrils. She gasped, pulling the shirt away and staring down at it.

Bennett's shirt. In here. Her room. What a cruel, cruel knife to the gut.

She sucked in a breath, then another, unable to get enough air into her lungs. It felt like the walls were crushing in around her.

Have
to
get
out. Have to escape.

Tossing the T-shirt down like it was a bundle of hot coals, she bolted out of the room, her bare feet slapping on the hard floor. It wasn't until she reached the stairs, the echo of voices drifting up through the chimney-like area, that she realized she had nowhere to go. As a compromise for not having a constant guard, her father had assigned round-the-clock double watches to all the exits, and there was no place to go inside the walls that wouldn't result in personal contact with another. She couldn't go back to her room. Not when…not with…

The lights dimmed, the floor tilting under her feet. Instinctively she reached out to grab the railing. She clung to it, sucking in deep breaths before she realized it wasn't some sort of freaky attack, but her.

God, Annie, you're pitiful.

That she was. She was also an idiot. There was one place she could go. It was just she hadn't been there in so long she'd almost forgotten.

Calmer now that she had a destination, she released the railing and moved over to the window that framed the stairwell. She could reach it from this window; all she had to do was lace her fingers under the edge of the sill and coax it…

The window slid open with far more ease than she remembered. Some rather bored, or possibly just a type-A, industrious person must have oiled the frame.

She lowered it back down until the gap was only eight inches—better to not attract attention—then with a furtive glance over her shoulder to make sure no one had either come up the stairs or exited one of the classrooms, she slithered out through the window. It wasn't a far drop, just a touch over five feet, and her toes touched down on the gritty coating of the rubber matting.

Barely noticing the prick to the bottoms of her bare feet she stood up, drawing in a deep breath of cool evening air. Oh yes, this is what she needed.

Aware of how easily she could gash up her feet, she gingerly eased a few feet to the side and settled down with her back to the building, the roof of the cafeteria stretched out in front of her. She knew from experience that no one could see her here in this corner so, as long as she didn't stay out here long enough for her father to get worried and send someone after her, she should be able to steal a few minutes of peace. Besides, it wasn't like she was truly disobeying the outside rule. She was still physically in contact with the building, after all.

She tipped her head back, gazing longingly up into the sky. When was the last time she'd stargazed? She used to love it. It wasn't dark enough yet, and truly never would be here in the city to see them, but she found herself searching anyway.

Back when she was a young child she and her dad and Aaron would take trips out to her father's childhood home. His parents weren't alive anymore but he'd wanted to give Annie the chance to run and roam and enjoy her youth—something she couldn't do here in the city. They hadn't been back in years, not since that horrible night, but she hadn't forgotten the stories he'd told her.

Maybe she'd romanticized all those stories about her grandparents. What was it he'd said Grandma had told him? That meeting one's mate was like having the stars suddenly, miraculously align and everything in the universe unexpectedly make sense. So when she met Bennett and that little spot deep inside of her went click, she'd thought she'd found her little miracle.

Turns out she was just a really big wisher.

She closed her eyes, biting back the chest-rattling sob that threatened to erupt. How could the connection have felt so real? She knew she was all over the board emotionally—a really fucking late and frustratingly drawn puberty, her father told her, thanks to their family genetics that appeared to include longevity—but she also wasn't a fool. She thought she knew the difference between hormones and real feelings. It was that edge of emptiness that accompanied them. That feeling like you were standing inside your own body and saying whoa, what's your problem even as your mouth continued to spout off. She'd been experiencing tons of those moments over the last half-dozen years and had gotten to recognize the signs. But with Bennett? There had been none of that. When she was around him she felt solid. Like her head, heart, and body were all in accord: He made her stars align.

Yeah? Then how come nothing makes sense right now?

“Oh, excuse me.”

She whirled, automatically shifting into a crouch that would allow for her to meet the emanate threat. Only this young soldier, standing awkwardly with one arm still clutching the window ledge, wasn't a threat, but another escapee like her.

And right. Way to top her humiliation but to be caught in a crying jag. Nice.

She stood up, brushing off the butt of her sweats. “It's okay. I was just, uh, leaving.”

“No, no, please don't…” He waved his hand at her, then let it drop, shrugging a bit self-consciously as he gave her a sympathetic grin. “Looks like you could use the solace as much as me.”

What followed was an awkward silence. A really awkward one. The fact that he could tell meant that her face must look like a puffed up marshmallow—with blotchy pink paint flecks added, of course.

“I didn't think anyone came here,” he said, glancing back at the half-open window. One guess who had oiled the window.

“I haven't been out here in a while.”

“Well,” he moved over closer and sat, draping his wrists casually across his raised knees as he looked up at her, “I won't tell if you won't.”

“Thanks.” She folded her arms awkwardly across her breasts, very aware of what the cool evening air was doing to her nipples.

“You can sit with me, if you'd like.” He patted the roof beside him, smiling up at her. “I promise I won't bite.”

Okay, and he was definitely flirting with her. Considering what a fright she must look like he was either really desperate or just being kind. Not that it mattered. She wasn't at all interested. Nope, only assholes with golden god complexes turned her on.

Still, he was being nice, and she really didn't want to go in yet.

She folded her legs, settling back down. He flashed her a grin, but quickly turned his gaze forward, looking out of the dusky cityscape—or rather what they could see from here, which included the roof, a cracked and pitted playground, and the backside of the adjacent buildings.

They sat in silence, which she appreciated. It was nice to just sit and breathe in the simplicity of the night, though it was getting downright chilly as the breeze picked up. Clouds for the promised night rain were rolling in. She shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself. So much for her stars.

“You look cold.”

“A bit,” she admitted, even as she tried to repress the shivers.

“Here.” He wiggled out of his jacket, his shoulders bunching and bulging as he worked it off his back. “Take it,” he said, holding it out to her.

She shook her head. “I couldn't.”

“Sure you can. I'm hot right now anyway.” As if to prove his point he set the jacket down between them, leaning indifferently against the cold brick wall.

She reached, hesitated, then grabbed up the warm material and pulled the jacket on. Warmth immediately surrounded her and a shudder ran through her body, though this one had nothing to do with being cold and everything to do with her tight nerves releasing.

See? Men were not all dogs. Now she just had to convince herself that she would be better off without one
particular
dog.

Angling her head unobtrusively, she studied the man sitting next to her. She knew him, she just couldn't place him. Despite the fact that he was taller than her and had the type of hair that itched to be played with, he was actually pretty average looking. She frowned, dissecting each of his features. It wasn't until he glanced her way, then quickly averted his gaze, that she figured it out.

“That's where I've seen you before! Shielding class. Ryan, right?” He always stood in the back, never drew attention to himself, and had trouble meeting anyone's eyes.

“Yeah.” He shifted uncomfortably, exhibiting some of the self-consciousness issues she remembered. “I'm not very good at shielding.”

She chuckled. “Me either, obviously.”

He cocked his head to the side. “You weren't there this morning.”

“Oh, um…” She fiddled with the tie on her sweatpants, picking at the loose threads. “No. I was with my uncle in the infirmary.”

“I'm sorry.” His voice was sincere, his eyes soft with sympathy. As if he were offering condolences or something, which just made her mad. Aaron wasn't dead. “It's all right. He's going to be okay, just…”

She gulped, blinking to clear her vision. What was she saying? He wasn't going to be okay. He was going to be scarred permanently because of what had happened, worse than her father's scars, even. And like before, this was all her fault too. True, no one had said it, but after the dressing down both Gabby and her father had given her the other day, it didn't take major math skills to figure out that her little excursion so closely followed by this attack…

I
led
them
here. Me and my cursed gift. Just like it was
my gift that led them to me and Daddy that first time.

Memories surfaced. The dark night. The man who wasn't a man stalking a much younger Annie as she ran through the woods. And the dogs. No, not dogs, creatures that resembled them but with bloodied fangs, scaly gray skin, and oily black eyes. She'd been cornered, climbed a tree. The dog-creatures snapping at the base. The man had stopped behind them, his head tipped oddly as he lifted his head to stare at her. She'd wanted to scream, but couldn't find her breath. Until she'd heard her father's frantic calls in the distance. Too far. She'd known he was too far. But the storm that had rolled in wasn't.

“Annie?”

She leapt up. “I need to go inside.”

“Oh…all right.” He stood too, blocking her way.

Of course, he wanted his coat.

She shrugged out of the jacket, offering it to him.

He took it, pulling it on, then stood there with his hands planted on his utility belt.

“It was nice talking to you, Annie.” He glanced over his shoulder at the window, then concentrated his gaze on her again, his mouth twisted up almost wistfully as he added, “It's too bad we didn't have more time.”

“More time? We'll see each other again next class, remember?”

He just nodded, that same wistful smile on his face.

Weird. She shook her head, shifting so as to get around him. He twisted, his gaze still locked on her. The movement brought him in line with the light casting out from the window and she gasped, reaching for him.

“Ryan, what happened to your neck?” she asked, pushing back his jacket to get a better look at the vicious looking wound.

“You know, it's a funny story.” His smile slipped, his features closing down, though his eyes never left her.

Her gut sunk, warning bells skittering up her spine.
Hunter. Prey.

“Too bad I don't have time to tell you about it.”