Page 6 of Lucifer's Mirror
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.
