the empty alley in the sweet relief of escape. Lucan was seconds behind her, and side by side, in silent agreement, they kept running. Rocks and pavement bit at her feet, but she pushed through it, aware they had no weapons, that at any moment they could be attacked.
When finally they reached a populated area, and had left the alley behind for the bustle of street vendors and people, Kresley and Lucan slowed to a casual walk. But Kresley was breathless, her chest ready to explode from the pumping of her overactive heart. Her feet were sore from the rocks, the pavement beneath them disgustingly dirty. And now, Lucan was headed for the subway entrance.
“Wait,” Kresley said urgently, trying to balance as she struggled to put on one shoe. Someone bumped into her. She stumbled and fell into Lucan’s towering form, his muscular frame absorbing her impact with ease, a big hand on her waist. She looked up at him, their eyes locking, holding. Tension spiked between them, tension bred with equal parts desire and anger. Lots of anger. Lucan was downright pissed and not at their attackers. At her.
“We need to keep moving,” he said sharply.
She ground her teeth, irritated. No, angry herself now.
She cut her gaze, and slid on her shoes. He held her steady as she did so–part of her wanted to scream for him to let her go, part to hold on to her. But his anger hurt; it felt unfair, a double-edged sword. She'd come to help him, not become the brunt of anger. She straightened, her task completed, her will to remove herself from his touch powerful now.
“I’m ready,” she said, starting forward, her stride longer than before. It was her turn to be angry, and when she had the chance, she was going to have a few words to say.
But now Lucan was flagging a passing cab, detouring from the subway, pulling Kresley along with him. One moment they were on the street, the next, alone in the back of a dark cab. Kresley slid to the far side, and stared forward.
Silence, thick with electricity, with lust and passion, with anger and emotion, surrounded them. She didn’t know what to do with all these things she was feeling. Never before had a man warmed her with a mere touch, a look. But never before had a man fired her temper, set her on edge. Any minute they would be at her apartment, with no driver to overhear their words, no Demons present. They would be alone, and there was far more than unspoken words between them. There was a firestorm ready to explode. A firestorm she had to survive, with her will to achieve what she had come to achieve.
No matter what Lucan demanded, no matter how loudly he yelled. . .She cut off the rest of the thought, balling her fists in her lap. She slowly, discreetly, inhaled. Her mind raced onward. No matter how much Lucan made her want and need, and he did make her want and need – and had since the moment she’d met him a year before – she would not lose her focus. She was going to save him from the Guardians. She was going to send him back to his rightful place with the Knights. A place she could never return. That was how it was. That was how it was going to be.
Chapter Seven
The minute they entered the apartment, Lucan flipped the locks in place. Kresley tried to dart across the hardwood floor only to find herself under Lucan’s control, her back against the hallway wall, his hands pressed to the navy-colored wall on either side of her head. He wasn’t touching her, but he didn’t have to. He was close, so close she could feel the heat of his body, damn near taste the scent of angry male.
Refusing to be intimidated by his obvious strength, his dominating presence, she tilted her chin upward. He didn’t give her time to argue. “You don’t belong here, Kresley.”
“Funny,” she rebutted. “Last time I looked, the lease had my name on it.”
He grimaced. “Smart ass doesn’t suit you any more than the lying back in that bar.”
“How would you