Predatory (Immortal Guardians #3.5)(13)

Good grief.

This place had the sort of security she’d only seen in movies.

Perhaps sensing her confusion, he sent her a wry smile as he urged her over the threshold and into the house.

“I borrowed the cabin from a friend,” he said, closing the door and pressing a button that reset the lock.

He pressed another button that did something to darken the windows. She assumed it was so they could see out, but no one could see in.

“A Sentinel?” she guessed.

“No, Serra is a psychic.”

In spite of the combustible combination of fear and anger that continued to seethe through her rigid body, Angela felt an undeniable stab of curiosity.

Hardly a big shocker.

She was a scientist who’d been obsessed with genetics for as long as she could remember.

“I thought most high-bloods lived together?”

He turned to meet her searching gaze. “Most prefer the comfort, not to mention the safety, of official compounds, but psychics have a need to seek solitude on occasion.”

“Oh.” She glanced toward the windows that offered a view of the thick woods that encircled the house. The nearest neighbor was no doubt miles away. “I never thought how annoying it must be to hear other people’s thoughts.”

“This house belonged to Serra’s parents before they retired to Florida.” His features softened as he spoke of the psychic. “She was fortunate to have parents who remained an important part of her life. They chose this spot to give her a place of peace.”

“Is she your lover?”

The words left Angela’s lips before she could call them back and her face flushed with heat as he stepped toward her with a wicked smile.

“There’s only one female I want in my bed.”

A dangerous excitement spiraled through her at his low, husky voice, stealing her breath and making her knees weak.

If only that were true.

If only this intelligent, powerful, drop-dead-gorgeous man had truly been a visiting professor who’d been intrigued by me, the shy young scientist.

Yeah, and if only pigs could fly.

She tilted her chin, trying to pretend as if she couldn’t feel the heat of his hard, muscular, perfectly chiseled body searing through her clothes.

“Why did you bring me here?”

His jaw clenched, as if he was frustrated by her refusal to accept that his desire could be genuine.

“The house has a sophisticated alarm system including hidden surveillance. It’s also less than an hour from a monastery.”

She’d known that the monasteries had a close connection to Valhalla. Not only training the mysterious Sentinels who served as guardians to the high-bloods when they traveled among the regular population, but also offering asylum for any high-blood who felt in danger.

No one was allowed in the monastery without invitation from the monks.

Not the cops, or military, or even the leaders of the country where the monastery was located.

They had the mystical powers to remain impervious to politics.

“You have business with the monks?”

“Using teleportation will be the fastest way to reach Valhalla.”

She took a hasty step backward. “No.”

“There’s no need to be scared.”

He studied her as if surprised she would be afraid of being magically transported from one place to another. As he should be. Under normal circumstances she would have been thrilled out of her mind at the opportunity to not only see inside a mysterious monastery, but to travel from portal to portal. It would be . . . amazing. But these weren’t normal circumstances and she wasn’t going to allow herself to be trapped in a place that she couldn’t be sure she could escape from.

“I’m not scared,” she said.

“Good.” His lips twisted. “Despite all the entertaining tales of people disappearing into outer space or arriving at the destination half-man/half-fish I can promise you that it’s perfectly safe.”

“I meant that I’m not going to Valhalla.”

His brows drew together at her stubborn tone. “Angela, it’s the one place Dylan can’t reach you.”

“Oh yeah? It didn’t sound that way to me.”

“What didn’t?”

“You accused Dylan of killing two Sentinels before managing to escape from this supposedly ‘safe haven’,” she reminded him, shivering at the memory of the strange female. It wasn’t remotely difficult to accept she’d murdered her friends. Dylan was clearly unstable. “Now you want to plant me there like a sitting duck?” Her eyes narrowed. “Or is that the point? Am I still the bait?”

His breath hissed between his teeth, his hand lifting to rake impatient fingers through his hair.

“If you were the bait, I would have left you at the apartment and waited for Dylan to return,” he rasped. “Because I can assure you that she would have come for you.”

Okay, that was true.

Even if she wasn’t in the mood to admit it.

Instead her chin tilted another inch. “You can’t force me to go to Valhalla.”

The blue eyes darkened with a hint of the predator that waited just below the surface.

Sentinel.

She’d glimpsed the danger that lurked beneath his pretense of civilization. A damned shame she hadn’t paid attention to her instincts.