“Leave it, for fuck’s sake!” Rough hands grabbed her and yanked her away from the door. “Come on!”
Those same hands dragged her down the corridor, hauled her into a stumbling run, but Sasha was barely aware of moving, didn’t know where they were headed, whether into danger or away. Her entire attention was focused on the man who dragged her at his side.
He was a total stranger. He was freaking huge.
And holy shit, he was gorgeous.
His deep green eyes, more forest, where Iago’s were piercing emerald, gleamed beneath elegant brows. His lean-bridged nose had a pronounced ridge in the middle, and that, along with a square, stubbled jaw and thick, wavy black hair took his looks into fiercely masculine territory, while a poet’s mouth and the paleness of his skin saved him from looking thuggish. The whole effect was one of darkness and light, of contradictions and raw, potent sexuality.
His body lived up to the promise of his face; he was built, bulked, and entirely male. Heat came off him in waves, all but sparking red and gold in the air between them.
“Who are you?” She barely managed to get the question out as she stumbled at his side. “Where did you come from?”
“Explanations later. We’ve got to haul ass to the rendezvous point.” He glanced at her with eyes that gave away nothing. “That’d go lots faster if you stopped staring and started running.”
His rudeness wasn’t enough to shake Sasha out of her where-have-you-been-all-my-life vaporlock.
Catching a glimpse of his right forearm, though, was.
Her brain cataloged the data. He was bigger than average. He oozed charisma and sex appeal. And he wore two glyph tattoos on his right inner forearm, both done in black: the stone bloodline, and the warrior. The marks were straight out of the stories Ambrose had crammed into her brain throughout her childhood, usually following them with a rambling diatribe about her responsibilities to the world in the years leading up to the 2012 doomsday.
She screeched to a halt, pulling away from him with the leverage of surprise. “You think you’re a goddamn Nightkeeper!”
He stopped dead and turned to face her, growling, “No, sweetheart, I am a goddamn Nightkeeper.
And right now, I’m the only thing standing between you and a one-way trip to visit your old man in the afterlife. So, what’s it going to be? Are you going to shut up and move your ass, or am I going to have to carry you?”
“I—” she began, but didn’t get any further than that.
He muttered a sharp expletive under his breath, scooped her up against his chest as though she weighed nothing, and took off running. He slapped a palm against a pressure pad as they ducked through another doorway that led to a stone tunnel, and a stone slab grated into place behind him. For a second Sasha thought they were going to make it. Then a hollow boom sounded and the hallway around them shuddered.
The universe seemed to take a breath. Then, with a terrible, howling roar, the tunnel collapsed around them.
Praise for Nightkeepers
“Raw passion, dark romance, and seat-of-your-pants suspense all set in an astounding paranormal world—I swear ancient Mayan gods and demons walk the modern earth!”
— New York Times bestselling author J. R. Ward
“A fun mix of humor, suspense, mythology, and fantasy, Nightkeepers kicks off a series that’s sure to be an instant reader favorite, and will put Andersen’s books on keeper shelves around the world. She’s made it onto mine.”
— New York Times bestselling author Suzanne Brockmann on WritersareReaders.com
“I deeply enjoyed the story. It really hooked me!”
— New York Times bestselling author Angela Knight
“Part romance, mystery, and fairy tale . . . a captivating book with wide appeal.”
— Booklist
“A compelling read . . . scorching chemistry, vivid descriptions . . . a keeper.”
— Romantic Times