Predatory (Immortal Guardians #3.5)(9)

She gave a restless shake of her head, her madness refusing to acknowledge she’d been treated with nothing but kindness.

“How did you find me?”

“I’m a Sentinel.”

“My trail was in Texas.”

“You didn’t escape to kill humans.”

“So you knew I was coming for the scientist,” she murmured, glancing over her shoulder at the white-faced Angela before turning back to Niko with a sudden realization. “Ah, you used her as bait.”

“Yes.”

There was a raw, pained sound from Angela that pierced Niko’s heart. Christ. That was a little tidbit he’d intended to keep to himself.

But even as he ground his teeth at the thought of Angela’s sense of betrayal, his gaze never strayed from Dylan.

The bitch was still too close to Angela for him to strike.

“Always so clever, Niko,” the Sentinel mocked.

Clever. Yeah, not clever enough to avoid his own trap, he acknowledged wryly, belatedly accepting that Dylan wasn’t the only one to have fallen for the bait.

He took a step forward. “It’s time to end this.”

“Oh no, this isn’t the end. The game is just beginning.” With the fluid speed of all Sentinels, Dylan turned to Angela, her hand shooting out to grasp her chin with claws that bit into the tender skin. “I’ll come for you later, sweet Angela. Niko can’t guard you forever.”

“Damn.”

Niko launched himself forward, but as fast as he was, Dylan was already leaping through the window over the sink and dropping the two stories to the parking lot below.

Without hesitation Niko was in pursuit.

Chapter Four

On some level Angela knew she must be in shock.

Otherwise she’d be curled in the middle of the floor screaming in terror. Or at the very least, calling nine-one-one.

Instead she stumbled toward her bedroom, barely aware of what she was doing as she found a gym bag on the floor of her closet and began stuffing it with clothes.

She had to get away.

Somewhere.

Anywhere.

The destination didn’t matter. Just so long as it wasn’t here.

Vaguely realizing the bag was full, she zipped it shut and rose to her feet.

It was only when she turned that she realized she wasn’t alone.

“Shit.” She dropped the bag, reaching behind her back to retrieve the carving knife she’d grabbed on her way out of the kitchen. “Stay back.”

In answer Niko took a deliberate step forward, his gaze flicking down to the bag at her feet.

“Good. You’ve packed.”

Her gaze locked on the handsome face that had filled her dreams for six long weeks. God. He looked so . . .

Abruptly her tight knot of fear exploded into sheer rage. “I told you to stay back,” she snarled, waving the knife in warning.

“Please, Angela.” He held up his hands. “You need to listen to me.”

Her heart squeezed with a crippling sense of betrayal. It didn’t matter that she’d known this man for less than two months. Or that he’d never made her any promises.

She’d felt a . . . connection to him.

A tenuous hope that he would be the one man to eventually see the woman beneath the awkward nerd.

God. Could she have been more delusional?

“So I can hear more lies, Dr. Bartrev?”

His eyes darkened, as if bothered by the harsh edge of accusation in her voice.

“My name isn’t a lie,” he said. “I’m Nikolo Bartrev.”

“You’re not a professor.”

“No.” He took another step forward and Angela shivered as he dropped his pretense of a harmless professor. It wasn’t like he’d snapped his fingers and transformed into another creature. It was more a subtle hardening of his dark, beautiful features. The squaring of his broad shoulders that looked even broader beneath the cream cable sweater. And the swirl of heat that poured through the room, stroking over her in silent warning. “I’m a Sentinel.”

She tossed aside the knife. It was worse than useless considering she was more likely to poke it into herself than harm the dangerous predator that watched her with his piercing blue gaze.

And he was a predator.

She could sense it with every fiber of her being.

“I thought Sentinels were marked with tattoos?”

“Those who act as guardians are protected by wards.”

“But not you?”

“No. I’m a hunter. I need to . . . blend when necessary.”

Her jaw clenched at the painful reminder of his charade.

Bastard.

“So what makes you a Sentinel?”

He hesitated, clearly considering his words. Did the high-bloods have a code of silence? She wouldn’t doubt it. There was very little information about them in the general population.

“I’m stronger and faster than most people,” he at last admitted. “I also have heightened senses.”

“And it’s your job to track down freaks.” She deliberately used the insult.

Beneath her overriding fear she was well and truly pissed.

Who could blame her?

Her chin was bleeding from the claws used by the creepy Dylan who intended to kidnap her and force her to play the role of Dr. Frankenstein. And this man—this arrogant jackass—had treated her like she was nothing more than an expendable object.