Page 33 of Edge of Oblivion (Night Prowler 2)
He felt the cab driver’s worried glance in the mirror, but he didn’t turn away from Morgan’s livid, pale face. “This is not a game, Morgan,” he said harshly. “Do you know what a feral Alpha will do if he catches you? Do you have any idea what he will do?”
“Yes,” she said icily. “And that’s far preferable to what you are going to do to me.”
Her words hit him like a fist in the gut. The cab slid to a stop—he didn’t turn to look where—
and she released his arm and gave him a one-two punch before opening the door and stepping out into the street.
“And at least I’ll get to have sex before I die.” She muttered it, then slammed the door behind her, turned, and walked away.
If a grenade had gone off in his lap, it would not have had near the explosive effect those words caused on his body.
Everything went into instant overdrive. His heart rate, respiration, hormones, everything spun wildly out of control, including his thoughts, which were saturated with the most carnal, vivid images of Morgan’s naked body, wrapped around his own.
He hunched over, clenched his hands into his hair, and sat there with his eyes squeezed shut, breathing in great gulping breaths of air, until the taxi driver cleared his throat.
“Mi scusi, signore. Stiamo andando in?”
“No.” He took a few more ragged breaths. “I’m going.”
He pulled some money from his back pocket and threw an uncounted wad of euros through the little plastic window. “Keep it,” he said in Italian as the driver protested it was too much.
Money. Who cared about money? Leander would wire him as much as he needed for as long as he needed it. No, money was not the most pressing problem at hand. And neither, if truth be told, was Morgan.
The problem was him.
This woman—this mark—had somehow managed to splinter his control every time he got near her. Everything about her got under his skin, from her eyes to her scent to that smoky, come-hither voice, that fire and passion, that fragile, appealing lostness that leaked from her in unguarded moments when she thought no one was looking. And the things she said, the impossible, crazy things!
Things that lingered in the back of his mind on replay for hours, one on top of another, a layer cake of confusion and fantasy and horrible temptation and worst of all—
Understanding.
Somehow, impossibly, he knew she understood that he didn’t want to kill her but he would because he had to. Because that’s who he was. That’s all he was and all he had been, for so long he couldn’t remember anything before. And her acceptance of that was the worst thing he could imagine.
Haven’t you ever wanted another sort of life?
He stood on the street corner as the cab slid away into traffic, watching her walk away, watching the heads turn in her wake, hearing the chorus of whistles that followed those swaying hips, and for a brief, terrible moment, recalled another woman who had spoken those exact words to him, so many years ago.
A woman who’d died because of him.
And if they didn’t find the Expurgari, Morgan would have to die, too.
14
Son. Of. A. Bitch!
She was almost blind with rage. If she’d had a machine gun in her hands, she might have mowed down everyone in sight, all these cheerful Italians and chattering tourists and those stupid nuns. There seemed to be a thousand nuns to every church in this city. Honestly, it was starting to freak her out.
“This is too dangerous for you,” she mimicked under her breath as she stalked down the busy sidewalk, not bothering to get out of anyone’s way. “Ha!”
Too dangerous. Oh, I’m sorry, you’re right! I’ve never been in any kind of danger before. I’ve never been convicted of treason and locked up for weeks and faced my imminent, gruesome death.
I’ve never fought off a pack of wild panther boys or kicked ass over all those other savages who wanted my spot on the Assembly or shared a hotel room with a killer!
She raked a hand through her long hair and cursed out loud, garnering a disapproving stare from another of those multifarious nuns who stood outside a little sidewalk café, sipping espresso.
“Stuff it, sister,” she said, and walked on.
Where the hell was she, anyway? She paused for a moment to look around and get her bearings.
