Predatory

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be careful,” Arel called, disappearing into the darkness.



Niko moved to shut the door and reset the alarm, then headed to the back of the house to check the locks. Stepping into the kitchen his instincts were on full alert.



Dylan.



The scent of her filled the air.



On cue, the slender female still dressed in black stepped out of the pantry and offered him a mocking smile.



“About time,” she drawled. “I thought Arel would never leave.”



“Dylan.” He clenched his hands at his side. His weapons were upstairs, but it didn’t matter. He could kill as easily with his hands. Or even a well-placed kick. “How did you get past the security system?”



Her eyes glowed with an eerie crimson heat as she strolled forward, one hand held behind her back.



A hidden weapon?



That was the most logical guess, although he couldn’t catch the scent of gunpowder or the metallic tang of a blade.



He would no doubt find out soon enough, he conceded with an explosion of frustration.



Goddammit.



Why the hell couldn’t this female simply accept that she was made precisely as nature had intended? She was graceful, strong, intensely intelligent and beautiful in an exotic fashion.



Everything most women wanted to be.



“I was watching the property when dear Arel was kind enough to punch in the codes so I didn’t have to waste time trying to sneak past the cameras,” she confessed.



Fan-fucking-tastic.



“What about the alarm that just went off?”



She shrugged. “I set it off with a delayed explosion.”



Ah. Of course.



“Clever, but a waste of your time,” he said, his voice steady and his expression carefully devoid of his seething fury.



She strolled forward, a smirk curling her lips. “There’s no need for us to be enemies, Niko. Give me the female and I’ll walk away. No harm, no foul.”



“The female’s name is Angela,” he said from between clenched teeth. “It’s not going to happen.”



“Then I’ll take her.”



He shifted, making sure he was standing between the crazed bitch and the door.



“It won’t do any good. She can’t help you.”



Bitterness flared in the crimson eyes. “Oh, I think you would be surprised what people can accomplish when they’re desperate.”



“So you’ve proven,” he pointedly reminded her, his acute hearing picking up the sound of the shower being shut off overhead. Oh. Christ. Don’t come down here, Angela. “You betrayed and murdered your own family. And for what?”



“For a life beyond the prison walls.”



His brows snapped together. “Valhalla has never been a prison.”



She hissed in anger. “Not to you.”



Niko shook his head. He was wasting his breath. Dylan had convinced herself that her life had been some sort of torture at Valhalla. How else could she excuse the murder of those who’d offered her only kindness?



“And you believe if you can pass as a normal human your life will be filled with endless happiness?” he instead sneered.



Her chin tilted, the slits of her flat nose flaring in anger.



“Endless happiness? No. But fleeting happiness? Maybe,” she ground out, taking another step closer. “Why shouldn’t I have the opportunity to fall in love? To have children.”



He barely listened to her whining. He could smell . . . what? Something he couldn’t identify.



Which was worrying the hell out of him.



“If a man loves you he doesn’t care about your appearance,” he said in absent tones.



“Don’t insult me,” she snarled. “Would you be bedding your scientist if she looked like a monster?”



Niko didn’t even have to consider. “Her looks have nothing to do with my feelings.”



“Liar.”



Niko narrowed his gaze. “Believe what you want, Dylan, but be very clear on one thing.”



“What’s that?”



“I’ll kill you if you lay a hand on Angela.”



A slow smile of anticipation curled Dylan’s lips as he widened his stance and squared his shoulders.



“So at last we get to discover who the better Sentinel is.”



“Being the superior fighter doesn’t make you the better Sentinel,” he reminded her, his attention torn between the threat standing in front of him and the nagging fear that Angela would return to the kitchen before he could disable Dylan. The last thing he needed was her leaping into the fray. And she would leap. He didn’t have one damned doubt about that. “Or didn’t you learn anything in our training?”



“You mean all that shit about loyalty and honor and protecting the weak?” she mocked. “Blah, blah, blah.”



“You’re lucky Wolfe never heard you call his teaching shit.”



“I’m a warrior not a fucking Girl Scout.”



Yeah. No argument there.



The mere thought of Dylan as a Girl Scout made him shudder in horror.



“With power comes responsibility.” He repeated the words that had been drilled into his head from the minute he’d walked into Valhalla.



Dylan gave a sharp laugh, pulling her hand from behind her back to reveal the small device that was strapped around her forearm.



“And your insistence on clinging to honor will make sure I win.”



“Dammit, Dylan,” Niko breathed, recognizing the weapon that had been developed as an advanced stun gun only to be banned when it was discovered the electrical charge was enough to stop all but the strongest heart. “Where the hell did you get that?”



“I made it.” She lifted her arm toward Niko. “We all have our little talents.”



Niko darted to the side, acutely aware that it was a fifty-fifty shot of whether he could survive. If he died, or was even incapacitated, Angela would be at the mercy of the crazed Dylan.



As fast as he was, however, he wasn’t fast enough.



Even as he moved he felt the barbs pierce the skin on his back, a massive jolt of electricity blasting through his body.



Shit.



With his last coherent thought, he tried to send a mental message to Arel and warn him of the danger. Then, as his heart threatened to explode, he dropped to the floor, his head banging against the ceramic tiles with enough force to knock him unconscious.



Angela stayed in the shower until the water turned cold and her skin was pruny. She wanted to give Niko and Arel plenty of privacy to talk.



Or argue.



Or have a beer and play lawn darts.



You could never be certain with men.



She blow-dried her hair and then slipped on the one pair of clean jeans she’d managed to stuff into her bag along with a stretchy top.



She was searching for her shoes that had become lost during the heat of Niko’s lovemaking when she heard a low grunt of pain.



Had that come from the kitchen?



Had the two men come to blows?



Well, she’d be damned if she would stand aside and allow them to beat each other bloody. Especially if they were fighting about her.



Taking the steps two at a time, Angela jogged into the kitchen, not sure what to expect.



She didn’t have enough experience with men to know if they could punch one another and then make up and play nice. Or if she’d have to get between the two and try to make them stop.



Yeah, like she could actually separate two Sentinels.



Her ridiculous imaginings were destroyed by the sight of Niko lying motionless on the floor with Dylan standing next to him.



“Oh my God.” Skidding to a halt, she sucked in a horrified breath, her heart forgetting to beat. “What have you done?”



Dylan lifted her head, her crimson eyes shimmering in the overhead light.



“He’s alive, at least for now,” she purred, her fingers lightly stroking over a strange device strapped to her forearm. “Come with me without a fight and he’ll stay that way. Otherwise poor Niko will join his beloved Fiona in the grave.”



Angela nearly went to her knees at the tidal wave of relief that flowed through her.



Niko was alive.



That’s all that mattered.



“I’ll come,” she croaked. “Just leave him alone.”



Stepping over the unconscious man, Dylan moved toward Angela with a smirk.



“I knew you’d be reasonable once you understood the situation.”



A blast of anger shook through Angela. This female had murdered over a dozen innocents, not to mention members of her own family, for her own selfish desires. Now she threatened to kill the man Angela loved—yes, loved—to force Angela to perform a miracle.



If she truly could alter cells, she’d turn the bitch into a newt.



“I understand that you’re a psycho,” she muttered.



“Careful, scientist,” Dylan hissed. “My temper isn’t always stable and I might break your neck before I remember that I need you.”



It wasn’t an empty threat. Angela could see the barely leashed desire for violence shimmering in the crimson eyes.



With a shudder, she struggled to form a coherent thought through the fog of anger and sheer terror.