been infuriated by the mere question. Nothing was more important than tracking down the bitch who’d killed his friends.
But his priorities had changed. While he would never be satisfied until Dylan was brought to justice, his focus was now on ensuring that Angela was protected.
“That will be the decision of the Tagos,” he said.
She frowned. “What’s a Tagos?”
“The commander of the Sentinels.”
“And what will happen to me?”
“One problem at a time, angel,” he murmured, forcing himself to step back so he could pull his cell phone from his pocket.
“Wait,” she said, grasping his arm, her expression troubled.
“What is it?”
“I haven’t agreed to go with you.”
He squashed his impulse to inform her that he didn’t need her consent. After years of giving commands and having them obeyed, he was going to have to learn the art of negotiation.
A wry smile twisted his lips. He suspected it wouldn’t be the first, or the last change he would have to make for this female.
“Fine, but I have to check in and let them know Dylan is still out there,” he said.
She regarded him with open suspicion. “No tricks?”
“No tricks.” He leaned down to brush his lips over her furrowed brow. “The kitchen is fully stocked. See if there’s anything that you’d like for dinner.”
She took a hasty step backward, a revealing blush staining her cheeks.
“What about you?”
He swallowed a groan, the sweet taste of her skin clinging to his lips and the scent of her frustrated desire teasing his nose.
Sometimes superior senses weren’t always a bonus.
“Me?”
“You eat, don’t you?”
His gaze drifted down the length of her slender body before returning to meet her wide gaze.
“What I’m hungry for isn’t in the kitchen.”
Her lips parted, but perhaps aware he was looking for any excuse to yank her back into his arms and consume her on the spot, she turned to scurry toward the wide doors that led to the back of the cabin.
He breathed deeply of her lingering scent before pressing the number to Valhalla on his cell phone.
Within seconds he was patched through to Wolfe, the current Talos, and all-around badass.
“You have her?” the powerful leader of the Sentinels demanded, not bothering with pleasantries.
“Not Dylan, but I have the scientist.”
“You let your prey escape?”
“Yes.”
There was a startled silence before Wolfe sucked in an audible breath.
“Talk to me, Niko.”
“I’ve been . . .” It took an effort to say the word he’d never thought he’d utter. “Compromised.”
Wolfe muttered a low curse. “Explain.”
“I’m no longer impartial,” he said, proving the point as he crossed the room so he could keep Angela in sight as she entered the kitchen. “I’m afraid my judgment can’t be trusted.”
“None of us are impartial,” Wolfe said in rough tones, the words thick with self-disgust. As Tagos, Wolfe held himself personally responsible for the death of Adam and Fiona. Not that he wouldn’t have even if he wasn’t the leader. Calling Wolfe a control freak was like calling a nuclear bomb a small explosive. “Dylan’s betrayal has affected us all.”
“This is more than my thirst for revenge,” Niko confessed without apology. Odd. He should be horrified by the thought that he was about to let a female come between him and his duty. Instead all he wanted was to be done with the conversation so he could head into the kitchen. “I’ve allowed myself to become personally invested in Angela.”
“The scientist?”
“Yes.”
“Well, well.”
Niko ignored the mocking drawl in his friend’s voice. Wolfe was notorious for his belief that Sentinels shouldn’t allow distractions in their lives. Lovers were fine as long as they understood they came in a distant second place to the job.
“I need to get her to Valhalla,” he said. “But there might be a problem.”
He could sense that Wolfe was on instant alert. “Why? It’s not that long a drive.”
Niko grimaced. “No, but I can’t be sure Dylan is working alone. I’d be vulnerable to attack on the road.”
“There’s something else.”
Niko rolled his eyes. All Sentinels were hyperperceptive. It was part of their special ability.
But Wolfe was very close to being a psychic.
Annoying bastard.
“Angela is not entirely pleased by the thought of going to the freak-house,” he muttered. “I can’t be sure that once we’re away from a controlled environment she won’t try to escape.”
Wolfe’s bark of laughter echoed through the phone. “She hasn’t become a slave to your charm? There was a time when you only had to smile to get a woman to devote herself to your pleasure. You must be losing your touch, old man.”