Soul Thief (Dark Souls) (10 page)

She smiled a small, sad smile. “You can’t. But thank you. It’s nice to know I have a guardian angel out there.”

He bracketed her face with his hands. Her skin felt softer than the finest silk against his palms. “I’ll come back to Reach,” he said, knowing he was probably making a mistake, not giving a damn if he was. He couldn’t walk away from her again. Not after seeing the unspoken plea in her eyes. Angie needed him, whether she was ready to admit it or not. “But I want something in return.”

“What?”

He bent forward, everything inside him shaking with barely restrained need. “A kiss.” He had to taste her again, just once…

“My memories—” He sensed her internal battle, that tug-of-war between the desire to succumb to him and the mistrust he still elicited within her.

“I won’t take them from you. I give you my word.”

He felt her defenses weaken, her body slacken. Her lips parted, whether it was in protest or in anticipation he wasn’t sure, and he didn’t wait to find out. In the time it took her to blink, he bridged the distance between them and claimed her mouth.

This kiss was far sweeter than the last, with no hidden agenda, its only purpose to give and receive pleasure. He brushed his tongue across her lips, softly pried them open, hungry for the taste of her. He found her tongue, caressed and explored, savored every sinful delight her mouth offered.

She went boneless against him, and his arm greedily swept around her back to anchor her body to his. The feel of her against him, the soft fullness of her breasts digging into his chest, the heat that spilled from her flesh to inundate his system was the cruelest of tortures.

Everything inside him opened up to receive her. It took every ounce of self-control he possessed to keep from breathing her in. Maybe kissing her was more dangerous than he’d thought.

He groaned. She sighed and clung to him with an eagerness that matched the yearning flooding his veins. His hands traveled up her back, over the nape of her neck. He twined his fingers in the thick, seductive web of her hair.

“You are my one and only weakness,” he confessed against her lush mouth. “Every time I try to walk away, you draw me back to you.” He kissed her chin, her cheek, the graceful column of her throat. Still, it wasn’t enough. He wanted more.

“Stop.” She ripped herself from his arms. “Please.” Her breathing was short and ragged. “We can’t do this.”

He backed away even as fire continued to blaze beneath his flesh. Emotion and desire conspired to clog his throat and rob him of speech. Adrian was used to taking what he wanted when he wanted it, so this exercise in self-discipline tested him as he’d never been tested before. The Rogue in him rebelled, screamed for satisfaction. The Hybrid in him begged for patience and temperance. Thankfully, the Hybrid won.

“It’s not that I don’t want this,” she explained. “God knows I do. You’re a hard man to resist, Adrian.” She filled her lungs with air, gazed up at the heavens as though looking for guidance. “But believe me, I’m the last person you need.”

A caustic laugh blasted from his throat. “You couldn’t have gotten that more wrong,” he reassured her. “Everything I need to feel human lies within you.”

Her expression softened, and for a second he thought she was going to touch him again. But she didn’t. Fisting her hands, she buried them in her jacket pockets instead. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

She
didn’t want to hurt
him
? The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on him. “I don’t break easily.”

The fight seeped out of her. Suddenly she seemed as small and as fragile as the grass he crushed beneath his wide boot. “But I do,” she whispered.

Did she sense what he was, feel the danger he posed to her? And if she did, could he really blame her for walking away?

“You’re right.” It killed him to admit it. “I wasn’t thinking. This thing between you and me, it can’t lead anywhere. We’re just fooling ourselves.”

Her face crumpled. Moonlight trembled in the breeze, bathing her in silver shadows. “I agree. But that doesn’t mean we can’t work together.”

He nodded. If that was the only way he could be close to her, then he’d take it. Now that he’d known her, he could never go back to living without her. The few days he’d spent apart from her had made him realize that, if nothing else. “See you at Reach tomorrow.”

She forced a smile. “Great. Tomorrow then.” Her gaze never wavered as she retreated. “Bright and early.”

The animal within him wanted to stalk her, to seize her and carry her back to his lair, where he could keep her trapped forever, shackled to his side. The need to protect her, to brand and possess her, dueled with his desire to act civilized.

He knew she didn’t belong to him—not in the physical sense. But her soul did. And the damn thing refused to release him.

He stood in a pool of moon shadows and watched her walk away from him. With every step she took, the light inside him dimmed. Familiar loneliness crept over him, tempered only by the knowledge that he would see her again soon.

That knowledge was the only thing that kept the darkness from consuming him.

“I found her.”

Kyros gazed up from his desk at Darius, who stood in the arched doorway, his expression as focused as it was neutral. He gestured for the Kleptopsych to enter.

Darius hastened into the chamber, a crumpled sheaf of paper clasped in his thick fist. “I waited at the subway station as you instructed. Both she and the Rogue showed up. I followed them to a building on the Upper East Side. After seeing where she lives, it wasn’t difficult to fill in the blanks.”

Darius approached the wide stone table where Kyros sat and spread out the flyer he held, flattening out the wrinkles with his rough palm. “I found this in a pile of garbage at the station. She seemed very interested in it, so I decided to investigate this place called Reach. By cross-referencing the names of the volunteers with the names of those inhabiting the building on the Upper East Side, I was able to determine her name. It’s Angelica Paxton.”

Kyros examined the Reach brochure, only now remembering the item that had slipped from the girl’s grasp seconds before Adrian had whisked her away. Kyros had spent hours at the subway station attempting to pick up the woman’s distinct energy pattern. He should’ve been drawn to the flyer as surely as he should’ve been drawn to the girl herself, but he hadn’t, which meant only one thing. Someone had gone to great pains to cloak Angelica Paxton. He knew of only one creature who would be willing to perform the task—Cal, leader of the Watchers.

Kyros’s gut reaction was to act quickly. The Watchers could not be permitted to recruit his nephew. Not when Adrian had been created for the very purpose of defeating them. But another part of him urged him to bide his time. Only Rogues acted on impulse. A Kleptopsych waited and observed as he plotted his attack.

“Do you want me to get a team together?” Darius asked.

Kyros stroked the brochure with slow, gentle fingers as he reflected. “No. Leave them be, for now.”

Darius’s impassive features contorted with an unvoiced query. Kyros was a firstborn, only one step removed from the Ancients, and no one dared challenge his decisions.

“Adrian is expecting an imminent attack,” he explained, though the act was unnecessary. He knew Darius would follow his orders, no questions asked. “If we go anywhere near Angelica Paxton now, he’ll sense us coming. My nephew has managed to evade us for over a century. I can’t risk him escaping with the girl again. If we wait, however, he’ll eventually grow complacent, convince himself the threat has passed. The second he lowers his guard, we’ll make our move.” Kyros directed a sharp stare Darius’s way. “We need someone on the inside. A human who can be our eyes and ears.”

Darius contemplated Kyros’s words for a few seconds, then flashed a cunning smile. “I have the perfect candidate, sir.”

Chapter Sixteen

Two weeks passed without incident. Adrian kept looking over his shoulder, expecting the Kleptopsychs to launch an attack at any given moment. But his fears never materialized. In fact, things were quieter than ever. With Kyros a no-show and Cal having called off his Watchers, Adrian experienced his first taste of peace in over a century. The feeling was so foreign, he couldn’t bring himself to trust it, and that made him all the more determined to spend every waking moment with Angie.

Angie, with her ready smile and sad eyes. Angie who was driving him crazy.

Day after day he worked alongside her like a dedicated volunteer, fighting not to touch her. A task that grew increasingly difficult with each minute he spent in her company. He’d abandoned his nightly activities in favor of escorting her home at the end of the day. Every evening, he guided her through the busy streets of Manhattan and down to the subway station, sometimes in comfortable silence, sometimes lulled by the familiar cadence of her chatter.

In the brief time he’d known her, Angie had invaded every corner of his psyche. She’d changed him on a fundamental level, had infused him with purpose. In some ways, she’d become his moral compass. Everything he did, he did for her. Whenever he helped one of her runaways or delinquents, he felt like the hero she painted him to be.

Her approval had become a drug to him, more addictive than souls, more intoxicating than the most compelling life-force. Because of her, he saw the world in a new light. He saw criminals redeemed, damaged souls healing before his eyes. He witnessed the battle Hybrids fought every day, the goodness they struggled to preserve even as the darkness closed in on them. But more important, he understood that a Hybrid’s greatest weapon against the darkness was hope.

Angie was his hope. When he was with her, anything seemed possible. Because of her, he no longer hid in the shadows but walked in the light.

“Earth to Adrian.” Angie’s voice shattered his thoughts and drew him back to the here and now. They were almost at her place. Soon they would be forced to part again.

“Sorry, I have a lot on my mind.”

“I can see that. Are you thinking about Eddie?”

Eddie, the Hybrid Adrian had met on his first day at Reach, had become a pet project of his. He’d spent countless hours counseling the youth, helping him to understand what he was and what he’d eventually become.

“What do the two of you talk about anyway?”

“Lots of stuff.” He wanted to tell her the truth. The desire to bare his nonexistent soul to her again was almost as powerful as his desire to brand her as his. But something held him back. She’d remembered practically everything about the night they’d met. Everything but the confession he’d made at the theater. For some reason, she chose to suppress those memories. Until he understood why, it was best to keep his silence.

“He really responds to you.” Her arm grazed his, and the inadvertent touch sent his blood racing. Heat swamped him, and he fought the urge to pull her into his arms and keep her locked in his embrace for as long as fate allowed.

They approached her building, and Adrian slowed his pace. He wanted to prolong the moment, to delay the inevitable goodbye. Once he left, he’d have nothing but the memory of her beautiful face to ward off the loneliness and chase the chill from his blood.

He’d retreat to his secret nest underground, where he’d lie in bed thinking about her. He lived in an abandoned subway station, buried several stories beneath the bustling city. No one knew the place existed, so rarely did anyone attempt to breach his fortress. The few who did were subtly persuaded to leave.

Over the years he’d collected a number of belongings that had fashioned the station into somewhat of a home. He’d surrounded himself with rare, beautiful objects, but they’d failed to erase the growing ugliness inside him. Nothing had managed to fill the void within him. Until now.

“Thanks for seeing me home again.”

The end had come too soon. The hours he spent with her at Reach were too short, their rides back to her house even shorter. When eternity stretched before you, a day was nothing but a heartbeat.

She began to cross the street, but he seized her hand. Touching her brought him an odd measure of peace. It banished the darkness and tempered an old hunger, even as it fueled a new one.

He’d intended to ask her to let him walk her up to her penthouse, but now the words wouldn’t come. “Sweet dreams,” he whispered instead.

For one hushed breath, she narrowed the distance between them. Her energy reached out and enveloped him like a breath of warm air. Her fresh scent taunted him, seduced him. She smelled of jasmine perfume, of cloves and mint soap. He drew the familiar fragrance into his lungs and held it there, guarding it with the zeal of a hoarder.

With a shy, hesitant smile, she extricated her fingers from his and bolted across the intersection. He watched her hasten away from him, all the while preparing himself for the unavoidable feeling of loss that always followed her departure.

Adrian didn’t know how long he stood across the street, loitering beneath his favorite lamppost, staring up at her penthouse. He kept telling himself it was time to head back to his place, but his feet remained riveted to the ground. The shadows deepened, and twilight surrendered to night. The streetlamp flared to life, casting a soft, acidic glow over him.

And still, he couldn’t bring himself to leave.