Just maybe, she could repeat the runes and that made her a walking recipe for how to add wings to a Fallen. If that was the case, she couldn't be allowed to leave the Preserves. That information could not be allowed to fall into the hands of Zer and his lieutenants.
So the order had gone out.
The human photographer and her companions had to die. Fast or slow, it didn't matter. What did matter was ensuring she never spoke of what she'd seen.
Picking up the trail, he got his ass in gear and moved out, his pack following close on his heels. He'd lead. They'd follow. It was almost too simple, like using an Uzi to shoot fish in a barrel. Too damned easy.
Sucking air deep into his lungs, he memorized the scent and the taste of his prey. Her aura tasted like lemons and orange, ginger and cinnamon. He could almost taste the shock of her crash landing in the middle of a prison. He inhaled again, holding the breath as long as he could. And desire.
The human woman smelled most deliciously of arousal.
The Preserves had been carved out of the broad sweep of Russian steppe. Hundreds of years ago, Cossack fighters had ridden hard across this ground, driving their horses into bloody battles. Now, after the devastation of the Great Wars, the Fallen had bought up the land. There was nothing pretty left here, just a harsh, stony landscape that would have given even the fiercest Cossack warrior pause, all narrow, twisting chutes of rock shot through a barren landscape. Even in the almost impenetrable darkness that had surrounded them when the sun finally gave in and fell beneath the horizon hours ago, Vkhin's long-legged stride ate up the ground like he just couldn't wait to get where he was going. Which was far, far away from her.
Since he'd taken the lead when they'd set off, Ria had plenty of time to think—and to admire the view in front of her. Vkhin's big body was like something straight out of a dream, strong and sure. And that ass of his was something else. She wanted to beg him to take off the leather duster he wore like a suit of armor.
Which she wasn't going to do.
She didn't want to trust him. He had an ulterior motive, as he'd made perfectly clear. He wanted her pics—not her. And yet she was still tempted by him. She could admit that, to herself. She didn't have to say the words out loud, didn't have to give him that truth. He was big. He was brutal. And he was beautiful. She couldn't stop sneaking glances at him, because the reality of Vkhin was so much more than her surveillance footage had shown.
This trip had to be all business. Something was very wrong because her chopper should not have been taken down by winged angels. MVD needed that intel stat, which meant she needed to haul ass, get out and get home. With her vidstick.
Unfortunately, the only life line she had was a Fallen angel with the hardest body she'd ever seen and a chip on his shoulder even she couldn't miss. He'd made it perfectly clear that he didn't like humans. That she was trespassing on his territory. And he came with a price tag—she wanted out of here, he was claiming her vidstick for his own.
"Why do you really want my pictures?" She staked her own claim, forcing her hand not to check for the vidstick stashed in her bra. "I understand the Fallen don't want MVD sticking its nose in the Preserves. It's your territory. These are your people. You've all made that perfectly clear. But why would my pics matter? This isn't one of those just-on-principle busts, Vkhin. We both know that."
He didn't slow down, those shitkicking combat boots of his eating up the ground effortlessly. "This isn't about MVD," he said, climbing over a pile of rocks blocking their path.
"Alright." She took the hand he held out to her. His fingers wrapped around her wrist, tugging her up. "They're just pictures," she argued. His fingers were warmth against her own, cooler skin. "Nothing you'd want."
"You have no idea what I want." As soon as her feet were firmly
So the order had gone out.
The human photographer and her companions had to die. Fast or slow, it didn't matter. What did matter was ensuring she never spoke of what she'd seen.
Picking up the trail, he got his ass in gear and moved out, his pack following close on his heels. He'd lead. They'd follow. It was almost too simple, like using an Uzi to shoot fish in a barrel. Too damned easy.
Sucking air deep into his lungs, he memorized the scent and the taste of his prey. Her aura tasted like lemons and orange, ginger and cinnamon. He could almost taste the shock of her crash landing in the middle of a prison. He inhaled again, holding the breath as long as he could. And desire.
The human woman smelled most deliciously of arousal.
The Preserves had been carved out of the broad sweep of Russian steppe. Hundreds of years ago, Cossack fighters had ridden hard across this ground, driving their horses into bloody battles. Now, after the devastation of the Great Wars, the Fallen had bought up the land. There was nothing pretty left here, just a harsh, stony landscape that would have given even the fiercest Cossack warrior pause, all narrow, twisting chutes of rock shot through a barren landscape. Even in the almost impenetrable darkness that had surrounded them when the sun finally gave in and fell beneath the horizon hours ago, Vkhin's long-legged stride ate up the ground like he just couldn't wait to get where he was going. Which was far, far away from her.
Since he'd taken the lead when they'd set off, Ria had plenty of time to think—and to admire the view in front of her. Vkhin's big body was like something straight out of a dream, strong and sure. And that ass of his was something else. She wanted to beg him to take off the leather duster he wore like a suit of armor.
Which she wasn't going to do.
She didn't want to trust him. He had an ulterior motive, as he'd made perfectly clear. He wanted her pics—not her. And yet she was still tempted by him. She could admit that, to herself. She didn't have to say the words out loud, didn't have to give him that truth. He was big. He was brutal. And he was beautiful. She couldn't stop sneaking glances at him, because the reality of Vkhin was so much more than her surveillance footage had shown.
This trip had to be all business. Something was very wrong because her chopper should not have been taken down by winged angels. MVD needed that intel stat, which meant she needed to haul ass, get out and get home. With her vidstick.
Unfortunately, the only life line she had was a Fallen angel with the hardest body she'd ever seen and a chip on his shoulder even she couldn't miss. He'd made it perfectly clear that he didn't like humans. That she was trespassing on his territory. And he came with a price tag—she wanted out of here, he was claiming her vidstick for his own.
"Why do you really want my pictures?" She staked her own claim, forcing her hand not to check for the vidstick stashed in her bra. "I understand the Fallen don't want MVD sticking its nose in the Preserves. It's your territory. These are your people. You've all made that perfectly clear. But why would my pics matter? This isn't one of those just-on-principle busts, Vkhin. We both know that."
He didn't slow down, those shitkicking combat boots of his eating up the ground effortlessly. "This isn't about MVD," he said, climbing over a pile of rocks blocking their path.
"Alright." She took the hand he held out to her. His fingers wrapped around her wrist, tugging her up. "They're just pictures," she argued. His fingers were warmth against her own, cooler skin. "Nothing you'd want."
"You have no idea what I want." As soon as her feet were firmly
Similar Books
