She tossed aside the knife. It was worse than useless considering she was more likely to poke it into herself than harm the dangerous predator that watched her with his piercing blue gaze.
And he was a predator.
She could sense it with every fiber of her being.
“I thought Sentinels were marked with tattoos?”
“Those who act as guardians are protected by wards.”
“But not you?”
“No. I’m a hunter. I need to . . . blend when necessary.”
Her jaw clenched at the painful reminder of his charade.
Bastard.
“So what makes you a Sentinel?”
He hesitated, clearly considering his words. Did the high-bloods have a code of silence? She wouldn’t doubt it. There was very little information about them in the general population.
“I’m stronger and faster than most people,” he at last admitted. “I also have heightened senses.”
“And it’s your job to track down freaks.” She deliberately used the insult.
Beneath her overriding fear she was well and truly pissed.
Who could blame her?
Her chin was bleeding from the claws used by the creepy Dylan who intended to kidnap her and force her to play the role of Dr. Frankenstein. And this man—this arrogant jackass—had treated her like she was nothing more than an expendable object.
Something to be used and tossed away.
He gave a dip of his head. “Yes.”
“And you always get your man?”
His gaze briefly lowered to the soft curve of her breasts barely visible beneath her sweatshirt.
“Or woman.”
Her nipples tightened in instant reaction and she swallowed a curse. The tingling, heart-stopping heat that she’d always savored when near this man was now a brutal reminder of just how humiliatingly naïve she’d been.
“No matter who you have to use?”
He shoved impatient fingers through the short strands of his hair.
“Dylan killed two Sentinels to escape Valhalla, then twelve norms to try and draw us from her true purpose,” he rasped. “She has to be stopped.”
Angela grimaced. Fourteen people murdered? Okay. Obviously the psycho killer had to be captured.
But that didn’t make it any easier to know she’d been used as bait.
“How did you know she would be coming here?”
He shrugged. “You’re the only one who has the talent to alter her appearance.”
She was shaking her head before he finished speaking.
Dammit. Why were they trying to make her believe she was a freak?
Did they think it would make her more sympathetic to their cause?
“Not. In. The. Mood.”
“Fine.” Perhaps sensing she was on the verge of a meltdown, he wisely backed off. “We need to go now.”
“We?” She made a sound of disbelief. “Are you brain-dead? I’m not going anywhere with you.”
A muscle in his jaw twitched, but he grimly held on to his temper.
“You don’t have a choice. Dylan’s not going to stop hunting you. Not until she’s dead.” He deliberately paused. “Or you are.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
“No.” He was gripping her upper arms firmly before she even realized he’d moved. Holy shit. He wasn’t lying when he said he was faster. “You won’t.”
She tilted back her head, pretending his touch wasn’t searing through her sweatshirt.
The lover of my dreams is now my enemy, she fiercely reminded herself.
“So I’m a prisoner?”
His brows drew together in a scowl. “Dammit, Angela, I’m only trying to protect you.”
“A little late for that, don’t you think?”
“Late for what?”
She forced herself to meet his ruthless gaze. “If you truly wanted to protect me you’d have told me the truth from the beginning.”
“I couldn’t.”
“Of course not,” she mocked, not bothering to try and pull from his grasp. What was the point? He was clearly ten times stronger than her. Which should have made her wonder why she was pissed instead of terrified. “I’m just the bait, right?”
He heaved a harsh sigh. “I was never going to let you be hurt.”
Was he kidding?
She shook her head in disgust. “Well you did.”
He hissed, his hands skimming down to her wrists so he could tug her arms up as his gaze inspected her slender body.
“I’ve seen the scratches on your face. Are you wounded anywhere else?”
She jerked her wrist free and, balling her hand into a fist, she slugged him in the center of his chest.
“You hurt me, you bastard,” she hissed.
He tensed at her accusation. “That wasn’t my intention.”
“No?” Ignoring all sanity, she hit him again. “Then why did you pretend to be my friend?”
His beautiful face became wary. “I needed to be close to you.”
“Bullshit. You’re some magical Sentinel, aren’t you?” she demanded. “You could have watched without me ever knowing you were around. Instead you—”
“What?”
She shuddered at the aching sense of betrayal. She was used to being teased, or more often, ignored by the opposite sex. But she’d never been so callously humiliated.
“You let me think you liked me.”
“Angela.”
“God, I’m such an idiot.”
She wrapped her arms around her waist. Hitting him only hurt her hand.
“Don’t,” he commanded, studying her with a brooding intensity. “You’re the most brilliant person I’ve ever met.”
“Am I?” She gave a humorless laugh. “Then why did I spend my nights fantasizing about a man who was willing to offer me up as a sacrifice to a psychopath?”
Something dark and dangerous flared to life in his eyes. Something he’d never allowed her to see before.
But, even as Angela took an instinctive step backward, Niko was reaching to yank her against his unyielding chest.
Danger. Heat. Desire.
She squawked in surprise, her mouth opening to protest his manhandling.
And he kissed her.
Just like that.
His lips were hard, hungry, just as she’d always fantasized, but the brush of his tongue was a gentle caress. He pressed her closer and the feel of his thickening arousal sent a stab of excitement to the pit of her stomach.
She moaned, her hands lifting to his shoulders as fiery heat flowed like lava through her, searing away the world where she was being hunted by a mass murderer and this man was her enemy.
Somewhere in his lust-hazed mind, Niko knew he was behaving badly.
Even for a man who rarely bothered himself with tedious things like good manners or proper behavior, he understood you didn’t grab a woman who was furious with you and kiss her like a Neanderthal.
But he’d spent six long weeks denying his rampant desire for this female, pretending that she was just a pawn in his game while he used every excuse to spend time in her company.
Now shockwaves of pleasure jolted through him, making it all blindingly clear.
This woman wasn’t a pawn.
She wasn’t bait.
She was . . . his.
His hands trailed up the delicate line of her back, his cock already hard and aching for release. He groaned, his tongue dipping between her lips to taste the warm, sweet woman who’d plagued his dreams.
She shivered, but his hunter instincts were easily able to sense it wasn’t with fear.
He could hear the rapid beat of her heart, feel the rush of blood beneath her satin skin and catch the scent of her stirring arousal.