again—"
"He will." Vaughn stood up, giving her space as he surveyed their surroundings. "He'll always be able to find you since you carry his blood, just like I tracked you here, thinking it was him." His gaze fixated on the horizon. "He'll be back for you, and I'll be waiting."
Alice stared after him as he walked away, striding slowly across the beach as he scanned the area. Chills ran down her spine, and she swallowed. "That's how you found me?" She looked up at Ian, who had sheathed his mace back into the brand on his arm once Vaughn had left. "He tracked me?"
"Yeah." Ian picked up her shirt from the sand and shook it off. "I owe him. I wasn't getting anywhere on my own, but I gotta say, it makes me a little cranky to think of another man's blood in your system. I'm not good with shit like that."
"I've noticed." Alice grabbed her tank top, flinching when her fingers brushed against Ian's, shocking her. "Why are you hunting me?" She checked the sky again, but no clouds.
"Hunting you?" He narrowed his eyes. "Is that what it feels like to you? You think I'm a threat?"
"Yes. No. I don't know." Flustered by his intensity and her response to it, Alice turned away and tugged his shirt over her head. She tossed it over her shoulder at him without turning around, then pulled her tank top on. The navy blue material was soft and dry against her, and the built-in bra made her feel safer and more protected. She quickly donned her shorts, then carefully zipped the pearl into the front pocket, making sure it was secure. Then she shoved her feet into the flip flops. She grabbed her car keys, clenching them in her fist as she turned back to him. "Listen, Ian, I don't know you at all and—"
"Stop it!" Ian grabbed her upper arms, yanking her against him so her breasts were against his chest. "You're killing me, Alice. I need you to remember me. I need it."
The instant her nipples brushed against him, hot desire flooded her. Not just desire. Need. Yearning. A sensual lust that crawled like hot lava over her skin. It shouldn’t be happening. No man could break through her singular connection to the angelic realm and make her respond to him…and yet there was no way to deny her response. Real fear rippled through her at the realization of how easily this man could destroy everything that mattered to her, including the life of the only person on this earth that she loved.
"Alice. Stop resisting me. It won't work. There's no out."
She stared at him, seeing his commitment to claiming her. He would never let her go, not until he'd destroyed everything. No way. No chance. It didn't matter how fantastic it felt to be kissed by him, to feel responses so human and amazing. It wasn't worth it. She couldn't risk it.
Ian's eyes narrowed in warning, as if he sensed she was about to make a break for it. "Alice—"
"Leave me alone!" She tore herself out of Ian's grasp and sprinted for the ocean, for the water that was her only chance to find Catherine, away from the man who could destroy everything that mattered to her.
Everything.
Chapter Four
And here we go again...
The moment Alice cut Ian off, the damned curse came roaring back, ready to party. Champagne and streamers flew as the "get Ian to kill himself" celebration launched into full gear, a twelve-piece band breaking into a blistering rendition of the "stab yourself in the heart" polka.
Because she hadn't just walked away. Nope, she'd severed their emotional and mental connections as well, leaving him stranded worse than a gnat in the middle of a raging forest fire.
Since Ian had softened his shields so he could connect enough with her to save her life, he now had no safeguards to prop him up when she cut him off. Like a pathetic wuss, he had no answer for the emptiness that assaulted him. Virulent and poisonous, it was as if someone had jammed Ry's machete into his gut and was twisting it around just for shits and giggles.
He did not have time for this crap. Really. He didn't. Ian fisted his hands as he tried to summon the internal walls that would protect him from the destructive emotions that were toasting his anticipated demise. Even though he rebelled against the despair pouring through him, it came anyway, tearing apart his carefully