Predatory

Page 17

The fact that the woman knew the name of the professor who’d taken Angela under his wing and had become a trusted mentor shook Angela more than she cared to admit.
Could it be true?
God almighty.
Was her growing skill at manipulating cells actually a result of some mutation?
The thought was almost too overwhelming to even contemplate.
Not because she was prejudiced against high-bloods. Or even horrified at the thought of becoming one of them.
It was quite simply impossible to spend twenty-six years of her life believing herself to be one thing, and then in the space of one day being forced to accept she was another.
She was a logical, pedantic type of gal.
She needed time to process the data.
Clearing the lump lodged in her throat, she wiped her damp hands on her jeans.
“Who is Calder?” she asked.
“The Master of Gifts,” Dylan readily explained. “His order is in charge of seeking out high-bloods who either don’t know they’re special or those who are trying to blend in among the norms.”
“And he knows my professor?”
“Yes, he’s one of Calder’s order who keeps his eyes open for high-bloods in this area.”
She briefly wondered why Appold hadn’t told her of his suspicions from the beginning. Had he intended to spring the good news on her along with her diploma?
“Here’s your doctorate, Angela, oh, and by the way, you’re a freak. . . .”
She thrust away the futile thought.
She was more interested in the future. Hey, there was a minuscule chance that she might survive the night. She needed to be prepared.
“Do they force all high-bloods to Valhalla?”
Dylan’s humorless laugh echoed through the empty trailer. “Let’s just say that they strongly encourage people to travel to the mother ship.”
“Why?”
“They need to know if you are going to be a danger to yourself or others.”
“Oh.” Angela slowly nodded. “I suppose that makes sense.”
“Fantastic,” her companion mocked. “Now that we’ve shared our little heart-to-heart, will you get to work?”
She heaved a sigh, knowing she’d put off the inevitable for as long as possible.
“Fine, but I’m warning you . . .”
Her words came to a stuttering halt as she glanced into the microscope and actually concentrated on the blood sample.
“Good . . . Lord.”
Dylan moved to stand at her side. “What?”
“I’ve never seen cells like this,” she muttered, distracted in spite of herself. “Fascinating.”
“I don’t want to be fascinating,” Dylan snapped. “I want to be normal.”
Angela lifted her head to watch Dylan’s expression harden with bitter self-hatred.
“You know that none of us are normal?” She tried to squash the woman’s expectations. Every woman wanted to look like Megan Fox, but the reality was that fate was rarely that kind. “There are differences in all of us, some are just greater than others.”
The crimson eyes flared with fury. “I don’t need a lesson in biology, I need a cure.”
“But—”
A claw pressed to her throat, bringing her words to a sharp halt.
“Let me make this simple, scientist,” she snarled in lethally soft tones. “Do it or die.”
Chapter Nine
This wasn’t the first time that Niko had stared death in the face.
Years before he’d fought off a group of morons who were in the process of lynching a young female psychic who’d been trying to make a living as a traveling gypsy.
Another time he was tracking a witch who was convinced she was destined to trigger doomsday and got caught in her lethal spell.
But he’d never teetered so close to the edge.
And certainly he’d never debated whether it would be preferable to battle through the pain so he could live. Or simply slip into the waiting darkness.
It was the image of dark, serious eyes and a lush, feminine mouth that had driven him to madness only hours before that gave him the grim determination to crawl back from the abyss. And, of course, the persistent sound of his name being shouted in his ear.
Scowling in annoyance, he forced open his heavy lids, not at all surprised to discover his fellow Sentinel crouched beside him with a worried expression.
“Arel?” he managed to croak.
Fierce relief flared through the golden eyes. “Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty.”
Pressing a hand to his aching head, Niko struggled to a sitting position. Shit. He was as weak as a kitten.
“Why the hell am I lying on the floor?”
“A good question.” Arel’s gaze was watchful, no doubt assessing whether he needed to call for a healer. “I’m assuming it has something to do with Dylan.”
“Dylan.” The memory of the crimson-eyed bitch who’d tried to crispy-fry him seared through his mind. “She was here.”
“Yeah, I got that,” Arel growled, his fury barely leashed. “What did she do to you?”
Even though his mind was fuzzy, Niko had a vivid recollection of the pain that had halted his heart.
“She shot me with a shockwave.”
Arel frowned. “I thought they’d all been confiscated?”
“She claims that she built her own.”
“Of course she did.” Arel curled his lips in disgust. They’d all known Dylan spent her free time tinkering with her inventions. A pity they hadn’t kept a closer eye on just what she was building. “Bitch.”
Slowly gathering his wits, Niko glanced around the empty kitchen, his abused heart slamming against his ribs.
“Angela?”
Arel grimaced. “Gone.”
“Goddammit.”
Niko surged to his feet only to lurch forward as his legs refused to cooperate. Thankfully, Arel was swiftly rising to catch him before he could do a face-plant.
“Before you have a meltdown, I can track them,” Arel hastily assured him.
“I don’t doubt your skill, amigo, but—”
“No, it’s not about skill,” Arel interrupted, making sure that Niko could stand on his own before he stepped back and pulled a phone from his pocket. “Look.”
Niko blinked to clear his bleary gaze, then focused on the road map that was visible on the phone screen. Leaning closer, he noticed the tiny light that was blinking.
GPS.
And if he knew Arel, then the blinking red dot was Dylan.
“You tagged her?” he demanded, afraid to hope.
Arel smiled with grim satisfaction. “I set a trigger on the back porch before I came in. As soon as Dylan opened the door it attached itself to her shoe.”
Niko released a shaky sigh despite the cold chill that inched down his spine at the realization of how easy it would have been for Dylan to disappear with Angela while he was unconscious.
“What if she hadn’t come through the back door?”
“I might have set a few others,” Arel admitted. “You know me. Better safe than sorry.”
“You?” Niko snorted. “Safe?”
Arel gave a casual lift of his shoulder. “Okay, call it overkill.”
Overkill. Yeah. That was definitely more Arel’s style.
“How long have I been out?”
“At least half an hour.”
Niko growled in frustration. Dylan might need Angela alive and relatively unharmed if she was to get what she so desperately wanted, but that was no guarantee of her safety. The female Sentinel was as volatile as she was unstable.
A lethal combination.
“We have to go.”
Arel moved to block his stumbling path toward the door. “Dammit, Niko, you can barely stand.”
Niko glared at his friend. “Don’t even start.”
“Be sensible. I could travel faster without you.”
Niko was shaking his head before Arel finished. “This is an argument you’re not going to win, so give it up.”
“Stubborn bastard.”
Moving like a drunken sailor, Niko sidestepped Arel and continued across the room and out the back door. He’d made it past the pool when Arel caught up with him. Offering Niko a frustrated scowl, the younger Sentinel led him to the garage where he’d hidden his vehicle.
Niko lurched into the garage, giving a lift of his brows at the sight of the large four-wheel drive pickup with massive tires that looked like they should have been on a tank.
“Christ,” he muttered, struggling to lift his foot high enough to reach the running board. “Overcompensating for anything, amigo?”
“I just like power,” Arel said, giving Niko a shove in the ass to get him up and in the passenger seat.
Slamming shut the door, Niko waited for his companion to swing behind the driver’s wheel and start the engine.
“If you say so,” he mocked at the throaty roar that filled the air.
Arel shot him a jaundiced glare, pausing to attach his phone to a mount on the dashboard before backing out of the garage.
“You’re not in any condition to question my manhood.”