Edge of Danger

“I know what the Casus are—what they’re capable of,” she whispered, hating the way her throat shook and her eyes burned. Hating that she couldn’t hide it from him—from this beautiful stranger whose presence completely screwed with her body and her mind. “I don’t need details.”

“Maybe you do.” His tone was equally soft, but hard, his mesmerizing eyes still narrowed with frustration. “Especially if you think you can traipse off through the jungle like a stupid little idiot when you have a sadistic killer on your tail.”

“Excuse me for panicking,” she ground out, caught in that dizzying, explosive state between fury and fear, “but I wasn’t thinking about monsters when I ran. I was too busy trying to get away from you and your perverted mental sex show!”

The second the words left her mouth, his expression turned livid. “Just what the hell does that mean?”

Saige glared at him, while in a far corner of her mind she accepted the fact that this was by far the strangest conversation she’d ever had—and God only knew she’d had a few. She hadn’t meant to blurt that little tidbit out, but terror had apparently seized her ability to self-edit.

Clearing her throat, she tried for a calmer tone. “I…I know what you were thinking about back at the barra.”

His gaze sharpened with suspicion, the sharp ridges of his cheekbones flushed a dull shade of red that she could clearly see in the thickening lavender twilight. For a moment it looked as if he was going to demand how she knew, but then he scraped his hands back through his short black hair, the raised position of his arms accentuating the predatory power of his muscles, making him look like some kind of carnal god come down to tempt her with the savage beauty of his body. Pressing one hand to her pounding heart, Saige could have sworn that a nearly silent, gritty burst of laughter rumbled deep in his chest, though the seductive sound never quite reached her ears.

“Do you read minds, then?” he asked.

Unwilling to reveal the truth, she hedged, saying, “I’m not blind, Mr. Quinn. It wasn’t hard to read your thoughts with that look you had on your face.”

She couldn’t believe it, but his blush actually deepened. “Christ, you Buchanans are all the same, aren’t you?” He pushed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, staring at her with a searing intensity that made her feel hot and cold all at once.

Taking a deep breath, Saige searched his expression…and found herself mesmerized by the shifting heat and shadows in his dark, beautiful eyes. Was he after the Marker? Or was it something else he wanted?

“What do you know about the Buchanans? What exactly do you know about me?” Other than the fact that you know I want to bite you, she silently groaned, thinking uncomfortably of the vision. It was madness, how much the idea of sinking her teeth into him excited her. The heaviness and stinging heat in her gums was growing worse, signaling the release of the Merrick’s fangs.

It won’t be long now, she thought. Like a match set to a fuse, there was something about the tantalizing Michael Quinn that had her primal blood surging, pulling her awakening closer to the surface…urging it on.

Which meant that her hunger would grow stronger, demanding to be fed.

He watched her with that hard, silent gaze, making her feel as if he were listening in on her private thoughts, which she seriously hoped wasn’t the case. Finally, after what seemed like a long, painful forever, he answered her question in a low rumble of words. “I know enough to believe that you understand what’s going on here. I also know about your family, your mother, even the cross you found in Italy. And I’m also pretty damn sure that you’ll know exactly what I mean when I say that I’m a Watchman.” He paused, as if waiting for her to deny it, but she simply stood there, dazed, wondering what in God’s name she was going to do. Being a Watchman meant that he was one of the good guys, which should have been a relief…and yet, Saige couldn’t deny that she felt more restless than ever.

“You can trust me, Saige. If we’re going to make it out of here alive, you have to trust me.”

“Trust you?” She stared, thinking he was unlike anything or anyone she’d ever imagined as a Watchman—and yet the truth burned in that dark, smoldering gaze. She believed him. But if he was what he claimed, then he was clearly breaking every one of the Watchmen’s rules. “I know how this is supposed to work,” she murmured, unable to disguise her suspicion. “You’re meant to watch me, to keep your distance. Not walk right up to me in the middle of a crowd…while thinking about…about what you were thinking,” she finished lamely.

“You know what they say about desperate times calling for desperate measures? Well, this is one of them.” He pulled a photo of her out of his back pocket, and held it up for her to see. “I have orders to get your troublesome little ass back to Colorado, to your family. Your brother Riley gave me this to help me find you.”

Saige looked at the picture taken of her two years ago, when she and Riley had spent Christmas at home with Elaina, then back at the man who called himself Quinn. “Why would Riley send you after me? And what was all that about back at the bar?” she demanded, only to immediately wish that she hadn’t, too aware of the fact that the more she thought about that explicit image, the warmer she got, until it felt as if she were melting from the inside out, and her stomach actually gave an embarrassing growl.

Cool it, Saige. You need to stay sharp…not starving.

Unfortunately, the primal creature awakening within her had other ideas.

Quinn rolled one of those broad, bronzed shoulders in a casual gesture, as though the situation was no big deal and she’d overreacted. “Yeah, I was thinking about having sex with you—but that doesn’t mean that I’ll do it. Doesn’t even mean that I want to.”

Huh. She didn’t know whether to be relieved, insulted or strangely disappointed. “Well, gee, thanks.”

“Look, my temporary case of lust, or insanity, or whatever you want to call it has been cured,” he added with an impatient scowl, probing meaningfully at the nasty gash at the edge of his eyebrow. “So let’s just get the hell out of here before that thing tracks us down.”

He returned her picture to his back pocket, then reached down and picked his T-shirt up from where she’d dropped it on the ground, his muscles bunching across his chest and arms with each movement of his beautiful body. Saige blinked, wondering what kind of gene pool a guy had to come from to look that good, the dusky, vibrant glow of twilight only accentuating his raw masculinity, as if he were some dark, sylvan creature escaped from a primeval forest—and she seriously hoped there wasn’t an embarrassing stream of drool slipping from the corner of her mouth.

“What was up with the blindfold, anyway?” she asked, her voice oddly husky as she watched him pull the shirt over his head, the soft black cotton tight against his powerful build, hard biceps stretching the seams at the sleeves.

Despite his lingering anger, he slanted her a laughing look. “Your brothers mentioned your fear of flying.”

“So you thought not being able to see would make it better?” She shook her head, her tone dry as she rubbed her palms on the front of her shorts. “And for the record, I’m not afraid of flying. I’m just a firm believer that if the gods had meant for us to take to the skies, they would have given us wings.”

He didn’t say anything, just arched one midnight brow in her direction, and she pressed her lips together, fighting the ridiculous urge to grin. Since the second she’d first set eyes on this man, she’d felt like a hormonal wreck, going from one extreme to the other in a dizzying maelstrom of emotions that were wreaking havoc on her sanity. Prickly. Frustrated. On edge and uncomfortably agitated—while at the same time filled with some odd, inexplicable sense of security. She felt sheltered and threatened all at once, aware of him in a way that she’d never experienced before, the disquieting sensation flowing through her with piercing intensity. In the past, Saige had always been at ease around men, working among them as an equal…just another one of the guys. She didn’t usually take notice of them as sexual creatures, not even the blatantly beautiful ones—and never in the way that she was “noticing” Michael Quinn.

And her “fascination,” for lack of a better word, was officially freaking her out.

Not knowing much about how Watchmen shifted into the shapes of their beasts, she wanted to ask him where the breathtaking black wings had gone, but bit back the oddly personal question, feeling as if it breached some intimate barrier that she couldn’t cross. Not when he was staring at her as if he couldn’t stop. “Hand me the photo,” she said instead, holding out one hand.

“Why?” His tone was odd…almost wary as he held her stare. For such a testosterone-oozing male, she couldn’t help but notice that he had the most amazing eyelashes, ones that actually cast shadows on his sharp cheekbones.

“Just hand me the photo,” she repeated, snapping her fingers like some kind of commando she-bitch. God only knew she wasn’t making much of a first impression, but she chalked it up to circumstance, seeing as how it’d been a bitch of a night—one that was only just getting started.

Saige took the picture from his grasp when he offered it to her, and the second her fingers touched the paper, she knew he was telling her the truth. Riley had given it to him. Damn it. She hated having to apologize, but knew it was the right thing to do.

Still, the words were tight in her throat as she said, “I’m sorry about what happened back there.” She ended the apology with a pointed look toward his injured brow and tried not to wince.

Instead of accepting, he made a rude, utterly male sound in the back of his throat. “You threw a goddamn bottle at my head, Saige. I don’t think some lame-ass sorry’s gonna cut it.”

She bit her tongue to keep from mouthing off, wanting information more than she wanted to argue—but Quinn had questions of his own. “What can you tell me about Paul Templeton?” he grunted, taking the picture from her and slipping it back into his pocket again.

Saige didn’t recognize the name. “I don’t know anyone named Templeton.”

“He’s the Watchman who was assigned to you,” he explained with a grim expression, rubbing one hand against his shadowed jaw. “And I’ll bet money you knew Paul was trailing you. You must have some idea of what happened to him.”

She shrugged, while a sour feeling slid through her insides. “I honestly don’t know. He just seemed to disappear a few days ago.”

“Christ,” he muttered under his breath, and she wondered if the missing Watchman had been a friend of Quinn’s.

It was ironic, how she’d always taken the Watchmen’s surveillance for granted, never really appreciating it, until this man he called Templeton had vanished. Suddenly, she’d been alone and afraid, reminding her of how she’d felt as a child, when all the men in her life had turned away from her, one by one. After her dad had run out on them, her brothers had been her world, until they, too, had drifted away from her. Ian had run away from home, unable to handle Elaina’s obsession with the family bloodline, and God only knew what had happened to make Riley so resentful. He’d changed after Ian had left, and they’d never been close again.

Turning her attention back to Quinn and the missing Paul Templeton, she said, “I got worried when I could no longer sense him watching me. I’ve been…more cautious than usual the past few days, unsure of what to expect.”

Liar.

Am not, she silently growled back. Maybe that wasn’t the complete truth…but it was a version.

A skinny one that isn’t going to do him a damn bit of good. You need to tell him about the Marker!

From the way he watched her, she wasn’t even sure he was buying it, but when he spoke, he simply said, “We can talk this out later. Right now we need to get on the move. I have a room in São Vicente where we can spend the night.”

“You still haven’t explained what you’re doing here,” she murmured. All the photo had told her was that Riley had asked him to bring her to Colorado, but it’d said nothing about why.

“Like I said, I’m here to get you back. Preferably in one piece.” His tone bristled with impatience, and there was an undercurrent of energy buzzing about him that told her he was completely in tune with the surrounding jungle, reading the signs and aware of any coming danger. “After seeing what happened when they came after your brother, I have no doubt that bastard is going to be gunning for you hard and fast.”

Her stomach dropped, and she wet her mouth, not liking the sound of that. She took a sudden step forward, the distance between them no more than a foot now, bringing the details of his gorgeous face into sharper focus. “What do you mean when they went after my brother?”

Around them, the forest fell silent and still, as if waiting with her in breathless suspense as Quinn quietly said, “He’s already gone through his awakening.”

Saige hadn’t expected the sharp stab of fear that twisted through her middle, along with something that felt uncomfortably like guilt. For a moment all she could do was hold that dark gaze, trying to find some kind of reassurance in it, and then she finally found her voice. “Is Riley okay? What happened? Was he prepared? Please tell me that Ian didn’t throw out the Marker.”

“Riley’s fine,” he told her, watching her closely. “But he wasn’t the one.”

She blinked. “Ian?” she said, her hoarse tone thick with surprise. “Jesus, it was Ian?”

“Yeah, but he’s all right. A little lost at first, but we found him in time to give him the information he needed.”

There was a note of censure in his graveled voice that cut her deeper than she’d have thought possible. After all, it wasn’t that she hadn’t tried to share what she knew with her brothers. Well, maybe not with Ian, but damn it, she’d tried to warn Riley. Not that she’d known then as much as she did now. She’d learned so much since she’d last seen him at their mother’s funeral—things that she’d planned on sharing when she made it back to America, whether he wanted to listen or not.

But time had run out…more swiftly for Ian than it had for her, if what this man claimed was true.

“Of course Ian’s all right,” she said, her voice soft, while her mind churned it over…and over, trying to grasp it. She should have figured it out before. If she hadn’t been so scared, she’d have realized that Riley wouldn’t have had any involvement with the Watchmen, giving Quinn her picture and asking him to come after her, unless something had already happened. And she could just imagine how furious Ian must have been to discover he was the first, considering how he’d always detested any talk about the Merrick. “According to Riley, Ian’s like a cat. He must have nine lives.”

“I imagine he lost a couple during the past few weeks,” Quinn commented dryly. “The thing hunted him down, Saige, targeting some of the women he’d dated. They’re making it personal, striking where it hurts.”

Stunned, she barely managed to scrape out her words. “Are you telling me that it killed human women?”

“Killed is putting it too lightly. It tortured them, and made it a slow, grueling process, just to mess with your brother’s mind.”

“But I thought they would come after us—after the Merrick.” She wrapped her arms around her middle again, somehow trying to hold herself together. “We’re the ones they’re supposed to want. The ones they need.”

“Oh, they’ll come after you,” he rasped, the husky notes of his dark-velvet voice stroking her senses, despite her horror with the situation. “And they’ll do everything they can to screw with your life until they’ve got you.” He shifted closer, making her want to retreat from his intensity…from that piercing gaze and his devastating beauty. “That’s where I come in.”

Her breath caught so hard that her chest ached. “Meaning?”

“Meaning you’re my responsibility now. Wherever you go, I go. I’m not letting you out of my sight, so you might as well get used to it.”

Saige could tell from his tone that he was hardly thrilled by the circumstances. “I didn’t ask for this.”

“Yeah?” he drawled. “Go ahead and ask me how much that matters.”

She was angrier at fate at the moment than with him—but fate wasn’t there to hear her complaints. “Are you always this aggravating?” she demanded, giving him her best glare.

For a split second, a funny expression crossed his chiseled features, and he lifted those mouthwatering shoulders in a wry shrug. “Believe it or not, I’m usually the most easygoing guy around. I guess you just bring out the worst in me.”

“The worst in you, huh?” Lowering her brows, she wondered what she must have done in a past life to have earned such cosmically crappy luck. “Funny how I always seem to have that effect on people.”

“Aggravating or not, I intend to keep you alive, and that thing back there is programmed on to you.” Saige knew what he meant. She’d heard about a Casus’s ability to lock on to a Merrick, as though she were some kind of metaphysical beacon for its hunger. “That’s why we need to get to the safety of Ravenswing, the Watchmen compound in Colorado, as soon as possible.”

Saige shook her head, a new fear quickly taking form, twisting through her like a physical pain as she reached down and grabbed hold of her backpack, hooking it over her right shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere until I’ve checked on Javier.”

Dark brows drew together over darker eyes. “Who?”

“The boy I was with tonight,” she explained, adjusting her hold on the heavy pack. “He lives in Coroza with his brothers, not far from the bar.”

Quinn frowned. “You know he’d be better off if you just stay away from him.”

“But you said yourself that the Casus went after some of the women Ian knew,” she argued. “I need to make sure that Javier made it home okay. Give him enough money to get out of town for a while.”

“Then call him,” he said flatly.

“He and his brothers don’t have a phone,” she explained with a heavy dose of frustration.

He studied her posture, his hard, hypnotic gaze lingering on her face…her eyes, noting her determination. “It isn’t safe for you to go near him, Saige. If they’ve marked him, you’ll be putting yourself in danger again. Just going back into Coroza is a hell of a risk.”

She was going to have to go back into Coroza one way or another, anyway, considering she still had to retrieve the maps from Inez’s safe—but she wasn’t going to explain any of that to Quinn. And at the moment, her only concern was Javier. “You can try to stop me,” she said, “but I’m giving you fair warning. If you do, I’ll stab you in the heart the second you let your guard down, then come back without you.”

She’d expected him to shout at her, but it was quickly becoming apparent that Michael Quinn wasn’t an easy man to predict. Instead of reacting with anger, he actually grinned at her quietly spoken threat, the devilish curve of that hard mouth making her toes curl inside her hiking boots, though she struggled not to show it. “You’re not afraid of me at all, are you?”

She was almost grinning back at him as she said, “Just don’t forget it.”

“I’m not likely to,” he murmured, the heavy look in his eyes making her shiver with awareness. In that moment, she was distinctly aware of their differences. Of his rugged maleness compared to her softer femininity. And yet, she still didn’t feel threatened. Not by Quinn.

No, for some unfathomable reason, she felt safe.

A gentle breeze blew her hair across her face, and she lifted one hand, tucking the wayward strands behind her ear. “I understand the risk, Quinn. But I have to do this. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t.”

He held her in his dark gaze as the seconds stretched out like a body being tortured on the rack. Just when she was ready to start arguing in earnest, he blew out a rough breath, and quietly said, “How’s the leg?”

Her leg? Glancing down, Saige noticed the bloodied scratches the Casus had left on her calf. She knew it was a sign of her nerves that the wound wasn’t bothering her. Looking back at Quinn, she said, “It’ll be fine.”

He arched his brows. “Then are we walking or flying?”

Relief hit like a physical blow to her chest, though she tried to hide it. Thinking over his question, Saige listened to the night. She could tell from the distant sound of church bells that the terrifying flight had kept them close to the outskirts of the city, rather than taking them deeper into the jungle. “We’re not far from Coroza,” she murmured. “You can’t very well go flying into town.”

He shrugged, though there was an odd light in his eyes, as if he were teasing her. Not knowing what to make of him, Saige looked to the evening sky for her bearings, then headed west, acutely aware of the man named Michael Quinn following closely beside her…every step of the way. It was an odd, overwhelming sensation, having him so near. And one she wished she didn’t like nearly as much as she did.

Pressing one hand to her stomach, she struggled to push away the unwanted sensations, and reminded herself that her life had just been turned upside down…and would never be normal again.

Not that you did normal all that well anyway, she thought with a frown.

She didn’t know him, and she sure as hell didn’t trust him with her secrets, but as they walked through the verdant beauty of the jungle, Saige couldn’t deny that she was utterly…unusually…and unequivocally fascinated by the dark, intoxicating stranger who’d just landed in her life.

She only wished she had a clue what to do about him.

CHAPTER FOUR

SENSING THE ARRIVAL of a dominant predator, startled wildlife scurried back into the underbrush as Gregory DeKreznick stepped from the thick, humid veil of jungle. Wearing a feral smile, he stalked toward the center of the clearing nestled beside a meandering offshoot of the river, the darkening summer sky shot with fading, violent streaks of purple and pink. A lone wooden hut sat at the north end of the small, cleared patch of dense tropical foliage, a fisherman’s weathered boat propped against its side, testament to the trade of the man who’d lived there, until Gregory had killed him earlier that week. Mere miles from the site where Saige Buchanan had been searching for another of the lost Dark Markers, the meager dwelling had been an ideal location for him and his fellow Casus and so they’d claimed it as their own.

Tonight, the small cabin huddled silent and dark in the moonlight, telling him that at least for the moment, he had the clearing to himself.

Throwing back his wolf-shaped head, the monstrous creature stared up at the infinite, cloud-scarred stretch of night, and allowed his true shape to melt away, pulling back into the body of his human host. Rolling his broad shoulders, Gregory cracked his head to the side with a popping burst of sound, then slicked his chin-length, sun-streaked hair back from his chiseled face, the spattering of blood from the evening’s kills still warm against his skin. Scratching lazily at his chest, he savored the thick, meaty taste of his most recent victims against his tongue, running the tip across the smooth surface of his straight white teeth.

He could have taken Javier Ruiz and used him as bait to draw out his prey, but there’d been no need to go through the hassle when killing him had proven so much more effective. Gregory had gotten what he needed, and as a whole, the Ruiz brothers had been fairly satisfying—though not nearly as sweet as when he feasted on warm, womanly flesh. Men were filling, but females gave him so much more…pleasure, like savoring a fine wine after years of nothing but tepid water.