Oh my God, she thought.
Because the man was the same man from her flashes and dreams.
He was so tall, Evie would place him at six and a half feet. His eyes were like midnight skies, endless and deep. His skin was slightly tanned and touched with olive, unblemished and smooth. His bone structure was strong and perfect, his physique honestly reminiscent of a Greek god’s. His thick, short-cropped hair was the color of a raven’s feathers. It brushed the top of what looked to be a dark gray silk and cashmere blend sports coat, the starched white shirt beneath it open at the collar.
She swore internally. He was sex incarnate, the entirety of him nearly breathtaking in its promising temptation. She somehow took a breath anyway, and when she did, she caught a hint of expensive cologne.
Just like she remembered.
No, she thought. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be that she’d clearly and perfectly imagined a living, breathing man that she had never before met – because that would mean that she was magic or something. Or that he was. What was happening had a logical explanation. She was going nuts. That was all.
Suddenly, all three boys at the table jumped into sporadic motion, their lanky bodies scrambling to push out their chairs. Without a single sound of protest or contempt, the boys rounded the table, rushed through the coffee shop, and filed out through the exit.
The tall, dark stranger watched them leave, but every other set of eyes in the coffee shop was on him, Evie’s included.
In the fresh silence, Evie could hear her own heartbeat. At long last, the man looked away from the shop’s door and turned around.
His dark eyes found hers at once and the rest of the world receded. Evie felt herself go very, very still, as if he could shackle her with no more than a look. Thoughts flew from her mind.
She heard her mouth speak without any conscious thought and could only hope it wasn’t saying something damningly stupid.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice a thousand miles away. “That was… pretty incredible.”
The stranger’s dark, dark eyes seemed to sparkle as if she could suddenly see their stars, and a second later, he smiled a smile that once more left Evie feeling breathless. His teeth were perfect, straight and white, and the expression softened his starkly handsome features into the visage of some Michelangelo angel. She felt, in that moment, as though one of the sculptor’s statues had come to life and entered the coffee shop.
“May I join you?” he asked, gesturing gracefully to the empty seat across from her at the small round table. His deep, smooth voice was like black velvet.
Evie opened her mouth again to reply – no, yes, of course you can, oh god please do – but nothing came out. Stupid, she thought. Stupid! You were able to speak before! At least smile at him!
Instead, she nodded.
Great. You dork.
*****
As he always did, Roman allowed the invisibility around him to slip with a deep, subconscious gradualness. People in the shop imagined that he’d just walked in, or perhaps that he’d been there all along and they hadn’t noticed him until now. Dropping the shield was something he’d done a million times around humans, and that now came as second nature.
He stood slowly and gracefully, brushing the front of his immaculate suit jacket as he pushed out his chair and came to his full impressive height.
The trio of adolescent boys at the table beside Evie had gone quiet for once. Roman met each of their gazes and noted the natural, old-brain fear that blossomed there. With a measured patience, he moved around the table, noting that the entire coffee shop had fallen into a hush.
“You,” he said softly as he came to stand beside the boys’ table. They froze, their eyes wide, their pallor pale. “Leave,” he said. “Now.” There was of course no need to raise his voice. His tone and the eons of built up power behind it were enough.
Oh my god.
Her husky, beautiful voice was as clear in her thoughts as it was when she spoke aloud. He felt Evie’s eyes upon him, heard her heart literally skip a beat, and it was everything Roman could do not to crow.
The teenagers waited another two seconds. And then all three boys were jumping into action, scrambling to get their chairs out from under them so that they could do as he commanded.
Before a full quarter of a minute had passed, they’d left the shop and Roman had turned his full attention upon his prize.
Now he tried very hard not to laugh. It was difficult; he could hear her thoughts loud and clear as she called herself a dork and tried not to die of embarrassment. She was too cute. Fumbling, innocent and naïve – and way too cute. He could just eat her.
The thought caused his gums to ache. He felt his gaze heat in response. Evie noted the change and her blush deepened as he pulled the second chair out from the table.
He was about to sit down when the hair on the back of his neck prickled and time seemed to slow. A buzzing filled the air, riding along his skin like rivulets of electricity. The magic within him coiled, building upon itself like a massive spring. The sensation was not new to him; he’d felt it many times before. It was a warning, hard and focused.
His body tensed, each muscle flexing beneath the layers of his clothes, and his senses went on high alert. In a split moment, he could hear everything, smell everything, and see for miles.
In this new, slowed-down stillness, Roman D’Angelo turned to peer through the coffee shop’s dark windows into the mystery of night beyond. What he found there filled him with dual emotions: stark confusion, and sudden, sharp wrath.
With that, he was simultaneously blurring into motion and sending out an enormous pulse of his power. It wasn’t enough to stop the Hunter’s attack altogether; the bullets had already been fired and the glass would be shattered either way. Roman had the faculty to realize that the weapons had expertly been discharged in such a way as to minimize the chance of harming any of the humans, even where the glass was concerned, but he hadn’t the luxury of figuring out why at the moment.
The shockwave of his power struck the windows like the blast of a bomb, instantly cracking them into a billion tiny shards and then sending those shards outward in a dazzling and dangerous display. The Hunters outside seemed to react in slow motion, diving for the ground and covering their heads as the blast rode over them. On its way, his power wave picked up the bullets mere inches from the barrels of their mother guns and spun them back toward the men who had fired them.
Roman didn’t bother aiming any of the lead slugs; it wasn’t his intent to injure the Hunters, only to stop them. His more immediate concern was the one who was standing right now, also in slow motion, her brown-gold eyes as large as saucers in her lovely face.
For the second time in as many days, the Vampire King pulled Evelynne Farrow into his strong embrace and held her with a fierceness that barely echoed the ferocity of his emotions. A kind of shock was setting in in the shop around him, striking Evie with the same chaos that it did the others in the shop. She struggled in his grasp, but it was short lived before Roman felt his eyes glow in his face and his fangs grow in his mouth once more.
He turned with Evie, tucking her into his chest despite her mounting fear. Stop, he commanded. After a few seconds in which she fought his mental control, which seemed an impossibility in and of itself, Evie finally went still, hypnotized by him once more. A part of him felt like roaring in anger. He hated that he was doing this to her again. He wanted to be gentle with her. He had only wanted to sit and talk with her. But the Hunters were making any attempt at normalcy an impossibility for him. They’d come for him and he had no idea how or why. Since when did Hunters hunt anyone but werewolves?
Outside, those same Hunters picked themselves up off of the ground and regrouped with uncommon efficiency. Roman felt the focus in their brains and sensed their sights upon him once more. It had been mere seconds since the first attack. This was different.
But it was shoot first, ask questions later when targeted in such a m
anner, and Roman didn’t hesitate before releasing a second pulse of power. This one was stronger than the first, meant to bring the situation to an abrupt end.
A visible rivulet of force cascaded out from Roman’s tall form, enveloping the entirety of the coffee shop as it once more struck the windows and walls. The glass was already gone, but the walls cracked under the pressure. Beyond those, the cars that were lined up along the side of the walk leapt into the air and flew back several yards. One truck flipped onto its tailgate. A female Hunter was slammed against the vehicle’s undercarriage, and her gun went flying.
Roman scanned her system quickly to reassure himself that she was alive. As he did, he ruthlessly scoured her brain, hoping to extract the information he was looking for. But someone had taken the pains to protect her from just such an intrusion, and he got nothing worth while.
A second later, he spoke a quick word of magic and transported both him and Evie to safety. As he and his small charge warped through time and space, the Vampire King sent out a mental call.
David Cade and Jaxon were waiting for him when he rematerialized outside of one of the various safe houses he kept around the globe. David’s expression was grim when he saw the glow in his king’s eyes. Jaxon immediately recognized Evie.
“What happened?” Cade asked, his tone somber.
“Hunters,” replied Roman simply. He pulled back a little and looked down at Evie’s face. It was passive, as it had been the first time he’d hypnotized her, but there was something in her eyes that wasn’t there before. It looked like knowledge.
“Hunters?” Cade frowned. “Sam was right, then. They’ve become stronger.”
“You have no idea,” Roman told him. “Cade, I need you to take several Offspring to the attack site and clean it up. The last thing we need is more press, as Hunters seem to be using it to their advantage.”
Cade nodded, spoke a word of transportation, and disappeared.
“Sir, is miss Farrow alright?”
For once in his long life Roman wasn’t certain how to answer a question. “I….”
Was Evie alright? It had taken far too much pressure to put her under this time around, and even now, he could sense some kind of struggle going on inside of her. Physically, she was unharmed. But there was so much more to a person than the physical, especially, it seemed, where Evie was concerned.
“I’m not sure, Jax,” he finally said. “I’m taking her inside. Please have some of her belongings brought to the house.” He took a deep breath, and a new kind of dread unraveled within him. Little by little, he could feel his influence over Evie slip. It had never happened before, not ever. The fact that it was happening now and with her, of all people, was more than slightly unsettling. “I have a feeling the next few days are going to be difficult.”
Chapter Eight
There was a hollowness to the air that Evie could feel even through the veil of half-sleep. She felt edgy and off. She felt misplaced, as if she’d put herself somewhere and had forgotten where. Her memories churned and boiled, and queasiness threatened her belly.
Something popped and crackled – fire – and it sounded strange. She woke slowly, all too aware of this echo-like quality, to blink her blurry eyes against a contrast of light and dark. It took a few seconds for her vision to adjust. When it did, it settled upon the fire that crackled in the hearth across the room.
The flames were perfect, each one a warm and comforting yellow-orange that at once settled the worst of her nerves. Her wooziness lifted. She focused on the fire for a moment, allowing her vision to clear the rest of the way. Just breathe.
Despite the peaceful effect of the fire, there was a waiting panic sitting in the pit of her stomach, threatening to stand and dance around. She tried to dominate it, to stamp it down. Panicking never did anyone any good. But even as she attempted to take control of her emotions, memories continued to assault her, flying at her like crazed bats in the darkness as she sat up and took in the rest of the room….
Soft bed, three quilts, feather pillow.
In her memories, she saw a face that was painfully handsome. She heard a voice that sounded like sex.
Brick walls, tapestries hanging from hooks.
She caught a whiff of cologne, saw a man’s tall, strong profile in expensive clothing, and heard the sound of glass shattering.
Fire in the hearth, one door. No windows.
Evie swallowed hard and heard the sound she made in the silence. She didn’t recognize where she was. It happened in books and movies all the time, but in the real world, when this happened, the fear that accompanied it was paralyzing. It meant that you’d lost control at some point. At some point, you had no longer been in charge of your own faculties, your own memories or your own fate. Someone else was. And you could only hope against hopes that whoever it was didn’t mean you harm.
“Never in a million years would I mean you harm, Evie.”
Evie jumped, inhaled a sharp gasp, and scrambled out of the bed with insane speed. Her hair whipped around her face as she spun to face each corner of the strange window-less room. The shadows there were long and dark and endless.
But there were stars in the darkness – two stars that grew brighter as a man stepped out of the shadows. The light struck his handsome features, illuminating him.
Oh holy…. Curses speared through Evie’s mind, frantic and terrified. It was the man from her memories, all six and a half starkly beautiful feet of him. No…. She shook her head. The dichotomy of emotions that came with her attraction to him and what his appearance before her meant was wreaking havoc on her senses. The memories were coming harder and faster now and connecting themselves together like the animated pieces of a sentient puzzle. They made no sense. They were impossible.
Fantasies.
In the dance of color, light and sound of her memories, the tall, dark man came out of nowhere, took her to the skies to save her from a team of runaway horses, and then greeted her in a coffee shop. There were shots fired, the windows exploded, and he was again pulling her to him….
Her memories hiccupped as she recalled the way she felt when his arms encircled her. His grip was tight but gentle, sure and solid. He felt warm and, despite the craziness of it, he felt safe.
They were impossible fantasies. She really had gone mad.
Who are you? she wanted to scream. Where am I? What the hell is happening to me? But her lips would form no words. She was frozen in the wake of the images that unfolded before her – and the thrall of the man standing several feet away.
It was too much. She felt herself slipping, as if life had become a muddy slope and the maw of insanity chattered, gaping and red below her.
“I am so sorry, Evie,” the man whispered. She gazed into his bottomless eyes, so dark and filled with what looked like genuine regret. “Somehow you have developed an immunity to my influences. I can no longer protect you-”
“Who are you?” Evie suddenly screamed, her voice having finally bubbled up and exploded from her mouth as if her lungs were a volcano. “How do you know me?” she demanded next. Her heart hammered. “Where am I?” Her words trailed off, becoming dangerously high pitched as she looked from him to the room they stood in.
“Evelynne Farrow,” the man said then, his velvet voice seeming to amplify. It made its way into her head, temporarily overriding the memories, fear and the gnawing insanity. It demanded her attention – and she gave it. With a shaky breath that rode the barrier of hysterics, Evie turned back to peer once more into his fathomless eyes.
“First you must understand that I mean you no harm. You will not be hurt in any fashion while I am with you,” he told her. “While you are here,” he gestured to the room around them. “You are in my care and believe me when I tell you that danger will have to go through me to get to you.”
Evie heard his words, somehow processed them, and against all odds, actually began to feel a touch calmer.
He took a step toward her, his polished shoe echoin
g slightly on the stone tile floor. “Do you understand?” he asked. His tone was gentle but insistent, as if he were speaking to an injured child.
Evie wasn’t stupid. She knew very well that serial killers and psychopaths had very strange ideas about what constituted harm to another individual. She knew that it was insane to trust him. But the world was insane just then – and as she stared up into his incredible eyes and felt his voice wrap around her, she couldn’t deny that she wanted to believe him. Very much so.
She nodded. It was all she could manage.
The man took a slow, deep breath and said, “My name is Roman. This is my home.” He paused and glanced at the doorway and walls for a second. “One of them, anyway.” He turned back to her. “I’ve brought you here to protect you.”
“F-from what?” she asked automatically.
From the horses, her mind laughed. It wasn’t a reassuring laugh. No, she told it sternly, like a school teacher hushing a giggling student. From whatever was outside…. Her memories solidified, slowing down in time. She looked inward, as if stepping into a movie that played in her head. She saw the danger – felt it just outside the coffee shop windows. She looked at the windows, through them, and saw figures crouched, dark, and waiting. It was there for her. Death. No, not for her.
For Roman.
“They are called Hunters,” he told her. “And now that they’ve seen you with me, they’ll be hunting you as well.”
Evie blinked. She swallowed, or tried to, but her throat caught on the dry lump that had formed there. Tears sprung to her eyes with the effort, blurring her vision again. She ran her shaking hands down her jeans, looked down, and realized she was still fully dressed clear down to her thick wool socks. All that had been removed were her boots.
It was something reassuring.
Still looking down, as she found that it was easier to think when she wasn’t looking into Roman’s eyes, Evie said, “How did you get me here?”
“I transported with you. It’s a very simple spell for one such as myself.”