"I've been hired to find Monica and take her back to her father—in one piece. I'm just trying to do my job."
"And if she does turn?"
"I'll deal with it if it happens."
A wave of fury rocked her back on her heels. The darkness crackled with energy and the sense of impending doom. She stood her ground, not giving in to fear.
"You have no real concept of what you're letting loose,” Michael said, dark eyes glacial. The shadows around him began to retreat, but not the immediate feel of danger. “Perhaps it is time for you to learn." For an instant he became something more than human, something akin to the evil that stalked her. Her heart began to pound rapidly, a cadence that filled the tense silence. Something glimmered in his eyes, an echo of the depravity she'd seen in Jasper's vibrant gaze.
Michael wasn't evil. Yet she couldn't escape the notion that her hunter and Michael were, in some way, connected. Damn it, she really had to find out more about both of them.
"What do you mean?” she asked quietly. Energy flowed across her fingers, yet she held her weapon in check. She was not about to fire the first shot and create a war she had no hope of winning.
"Nothing. We will wait, as you wish.” He shrugged and looked away. Hiding his eyes, she thought, as he rose. The shadows no longer wrapped themselves around his body, and the impending sense of doom had fled with them. Yet the night still ran with uneasy tension.
"Come,” he continued. “Let's go back to your car and call the police." Though there was no emotion in his voice, there was still an edge of violence in his actions. This man had saved her life twice, yet she knew nothing about him—nothing beyond the fact he could be very, very dangerous.
He turned to look at her, his eyes coal black wells that told her little. Yet a flicker of emotion from his mind suggested her distrust annoyed him.
"You have my word that I will not, in any way, touch or move Monica tonight. Is that enough?" His soft tone hinted at anger, yet she heard no lie in his words. She nodded. After tonight, Monica would be in police hands. There was little he could do to her then.
"I shall lead, if you wish,” he said, and offered her his hand. Why the sudden formality? Was it anger, annoyance, or something else entirely? The warmth of his fingers enclosed around hers, but a chill raced through her heart. This man was dangerous, in more ways than one. Yet she felt oddly safe with him.
She just had to hope this wasn't one of those rare moments when her instincts made a complete and utter hash of everything.
And that he wasn't right about Monica.
* * * *