Page 4

He Might be Hot but He’s also Annoying

“S hut the fuck up,” a harsh male voice snarls at me.

I take no notice. In fact, I scream louder. A hand slams across my mouth, cutting off the sound as I’m dragged to the side of the road and into the trees.

Acting on pure instinct, I jam my elbow into his groin. He curses, but his grip loosens for a second, and I whirl, kicking out in one fluid motion, my foot connecting with something solid.

Where did I get that move? As far as I know, I’ve never been in a fight in my life.

But I don’t have time to be impressed as a hand grabs my ankle and twists me off balance, then grasps me around the waist and pulls me against a rock-hard body. I struggle, but whoever is holding me has a grip like iron, and I can’t break his hold. The hand is back across my mouth, and I bite down hard, the sharp metallic taste of blood flooding my mouth. He growls another curse, but the hand doesn’t loosen, and I’m dragged farther into the trees. Finally, he comes to a halt, his back against the trunk of a big oak, one arm wrapped around my middle, his other hand still around my face so I can hardly breathe.

“Stay quiet if you want to live,” he whispers. “And stop goddamn wriggling.”

I go still at his words because—guess what—I do want to live. But the pain is still drilling into my skull, and I struggle to concentrate.

Just breathe.

Which is sort of difficult with a huge hand smothering my face. I tell myself that I’m alive. That’s all that matters right now. If this person wanted me dead, I’d be dead already. While I have no clue what he looks like, I know he’s much bigger than me, and I’m guessing strong enough to snap my neck. I’m hoping that’s not on the agenda right now. But what does he want and why did he stop me?

Someone was chasing me. No, not someone... something. My mind skitters away from that thought, though an image flashes through my mind of red eyes staring out of the darkness. Who the hell has red eyes?

Breathe, just breathe.

The pain is finally loosening its grip on my mind, and I become more aware of my surroundings—the cool night air against my skin, the hot, hard body at my back, the fingers splayed against my stomach just below my breasts. I squirm, and they press me harder into him. His warm breath caresses my neck, sending prickles across my skin, and my body stirs, heat sinking down through me to pool in my belly.

What the hell? This is really not the time.

I stiffen my limbs against the unfamiliar sensation as a strange scent tickles my nostrils: spice and heat.

The last of the pain fades, and I almost sag as relief floods my body.

“Don’t scream,” he mutters, and a moment later, the hand lowers from my mouth.

I don’t, though not because I’m good at following orders. I sense that this man, for whatever reasons, just saved my life. Or maybe even saved me from a fate worse than death. Whatever that is.

I gulp a huge breath and push down the panic clawing its way up my throat. He’s still holding me firm against his body. Now I can feel every rock-hard inch of him. Taking another deep breath, I try to center myself. “Have they gone?” I whisper.

“They’ve gone.” His voice is close to my ear, like a soft caress against my skin, and a shiver runs down my spine.

I feel off balance, not like myself. Maybe it’s the scent, like musk and spice, filling my nostrils.

Get a goddamn grip.

I swallow. “Then maybe you can let me go now.”

It looks like he’s going to ignore me, but then he loosens his hold. His palm lingers for a second before it falls away. I don’t move away immediately, reluctant to leave the warmth of his body. Then I take a shaky step forward and turn around. In that moment, above us, the moon appears briefly, lighting up my savior, and I gasp.

He’s quite the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Tall, maybe six foot four, he towers over me, his body long and lean under a black T-shirt and jeans. But it’s his face that draws me in. Pale skin, a grazing of dark stubble, and short hair the glossy black of a raven’s wing. Sharp cheekbones, with a scar that runs from his left eyebrow halfway down his cheek, add an element of danger to his good looks. The black ink of tattoos curl up his throat, and there’s the glint of silver at his ear and lip. His full mouth is held in a flat line. His nostrils flare like a beast sensing its prey, and another shiver runs through me.

He might have just saved me, but I sense his natural role is more predator than protector.

In fact, he doesn’t look particularly happy to have saved me. Or maybe he’s disappointed now that he’s had a chance to take me in—I’m thinking I must look like a red, heaving mess. His eyes mesmerize me. They’re piercing, dark gold, the color of my pendant, and my hand goes up involuntarily, my fingers wrapping around the stone. It’s hot to the touch. His gaze follows the movement, and those amazing eyes narrow. Then he raises a brow, and I blink, then shake myself. I’m acting like a complete brain-dead idiot. But hey, I’m in shock. I think. Surely I’m allowed to be a little weirded out.

“Seen enough?” he murmurs.

The comment snaps me out of my funk and I tear my gaze away. Yeah, he might be pretty but he’s also clearly an asshole.

Then his nostrils flare. His gaze focuses on my face, and I frown. What now? He reaches out his hand and strokes a finger down my cheek. “Who did this?” he growls.

For a moment, I have no clue what he’s talking about. Then I realize he means the cut on my cheek from the flying glass. I shrug. “Nobody.”

His gaze hardens. “Tell me.”

“Why?”

“So I can kill them for you.”

I stare into the hard planes of his face, and it’s clear that he’s serious. Would he really kill Pete for me? It’s something to consider, but not right now. “Stand down, tough guy. It was an accident. There’s no one for you to kill tonight.”

Time to find out what’s going on. I drop my hand to my side and lick my lower lip. His gaze follows the movement. My mouth tastes of blood, and I swallow. “What was that?” I ask. “Those things behind me. They had red eyes. Were they some kind of animal?” Yeah, because there are lots of animals around with red eyes. Though it could have been a trick of the light. Except there was no light.

He purses his full lips and looks down his perfectly straight nose at me. “Later. Right now we need to leave.” His voice has a slight accent, as though he’s not quite English, but has lived here a long time.

“Why do we need to leave?” Questions are whirling in my head. I don’t have any answers, except I’m not going anywhere with this man until I know what’s going on. “Who are you?” I study him again. I have no idea how old he is. From his face, he might be a few years older than me, but his eyes are ancient, as if they’ve seen everything and found most of it wanting. And there’s a jaded quality to his expression that I’m sure takes more than a couple of decades to achieve.

“I’m the man who’s spent the last three years looking for you,” he says.

And with those words everything stops.

What the freaking fuck?

My mouth falls open, my stomach churns, but finally my brain starts functioning again, and I manage to croak out the question, “You know me?”

Could he really be someone from my past? I almost feel dizzy at the possibility. Or is he lying to get me to… What? I have no clue.

“Not exactly,” he replies.

What does that mean? My excitement seeps away, leaving me confused. I shake my head. “My name is Amber.” And I wait for him to contradict me, to give me a new name. The name I was known by before my life was erased from my memory. But he doesn’t say anything. “What do I call you?”

For a full minute, I don’t think he’s going to answer. Then he gives a shrug. “Khaosti.”

I search my mind for some small shred of recognition, but nothing. My heart rate is returning to normal, the adrenaline seeping from my system, and I know, at some deep-down level, that I owe my life to this man. Serves me right for running through the night all alone. “Well, thank you, Khaosti. It was lucky you were there to help me.”

“There was no luck involved.”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

“I told you—I was hunting you. I expected you to come forward three years ago, but nothing. I presumed you were dead, and yet you’ve been hiding here all this time. Why?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer. “I had to wait until the shadowguard found you and led me to you.”

I’m scrambling to make sense of his words. And failing totally. He’s been waiting for me? For three years. He must know who I am. Where I come from. Are we related? The questions whirl through my brain, but what comes out of my mouth is, “Who are the shadowguard?”

His eyes narrow. “Are you kidding me?”

“No. I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“The shadowguard.” He enunciates the words clearly, as though I’m some sort of half-wit. Obviously, I still look blank, and he frowns. “Your friends who were following you.”

“With the red eyes.” He nods. “They were going to kill me?”

“Unlikely, but you might have preferred death after a little time in their company.”

Well, that doesn’t sound good. “But why?”

“Again—later. We need to get out of here before they come back with reinforcements.”

I shudder at the thought. But nope, still not going anywhere with this cold-eyed stranger, who claims to know me—and who would apparently kill someone for hurting me—but looks at me with scorn. I open my mouth to ask another question when, above our heads, the sky is ripped open by a flash of crimson lightning.

Whoa! I’ve never seen that before.

He glances at the sky, then back at me. “Come on, we have to go.”

I shift my gaze from him to the sky and back again.

“Now,” he adds when I don’t move, my feet rooted to the spot. “Or would you rather wait for those reinforcements? They’re close.” He points a finger upwards. Is he suggesting that the really freaky lightning is a sign these shadowguards are near? But the fact is, this night passed the surreal stage long ago. My brain is accepting anything right now.

Another shudder. I don’t have a freaking clue what’s going on, but I do know that once a night is quite enough for my red-eyed friends, whoever, or whatever, they are.

It occurs to me to wonder why those creatures didn’t follow through. There were more of them than of us. But they clearly backed off from a confrontation with Khaosti, which is another big reason to go with him.

While I don’t exactly trust him, Khaosti has already saved me once, for whatever reason—he certainly doesn’t seem to like me very much. But the biggest thing that convinces me to go with him is the fact that he obviously knows something about my past. And since I’ve spent three years dreaming of someone appearing who actually knows anything about me, I’m not about to turn my back. I give a quick nod. “Lead the way.”

He shoots me one last look—as though he’s also not entirely sure he’s doing the right thing—then turns around and heads into the trees.

I accept the inevitable and follow.

Am I making a mistake?

I can’t help thinking—probably.