Alphas - Origins by Ilona Andrews Page A

The plan couldn’t be to fall for Lucas and be that one sole person who comforted him.
    He was looking at her.
    â€œI’m really confused right now,” she told him. “So this actually doesn’t mean anything.”
    He nodded. “Okay.”
    â€œBend your arm at the elbow.”
    He did. Karina reached out. What am I doing? She put her hand on his forearm and raised her chin. The two women on the bench stared at them, openmouthed.
    â€œNow we walk,” she murmured, avoiding looking at him.
    â€œWe can do that,” he agreed. They started down the walkway. His arm was rock-steady under her fingers. A few moments, and the dense greenery of rhododendron shrubs hid the women from their view.
    â€œWhy?” he asked.
    Because she lost it, that’s why. “Would you hurt those two women?”
    â€œNot unless they tried to hurt someone else first.”
    â€œThen they’re in no danger and they know it, but they still make a big production out of you walking by, minding your own business.”
    â€œThat still doesn’t answer my question,” he said.
    â€œCan we stop talking about this?”
    He didn’t say anything. They simply kept walking. It was surreal, Karina reflected. Beautiful flowers, Emily and a tame bear-dog, and she and Lucas striding side by side.
    â€œI’m tired,” Emily said.
    Karina bent down and picked her up. The effort nearly made her lose her balance. Apparently she was weaker than she thought.
    Cedric sniffed at her feet.
    â€œLet her ride him,” Lucas offered.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œLet her ride him. He doesn’t mind.”
    â€œI want to ride!” Emily squirmed in her arms.
    Karina surveyed the bear-dog. He was almost as big as a pony. Gingerly she lowered Emily on his back.
    â€œHold on to his fur,” Lucas said. Emily dug her fingers into Cedric’s brown mane and they were off again.
    They emerged from the stand of rhododendrons. Lucas stepped aside, revealing a round plaza paved with dark red stone. A bronze statue rose in the center, a nude man, muscled with crisp precision. Enormous wings thrust from his shoulders. An angel, but not a garden cupid or some mournful cemetery statue. The angel leaned forward, one arm stretched out, his muscles knotted on his frame. The wings thrust up and out, featherless, as if made of sharp bone. The angel’s perfect face stared into the distance, its gaze focused. Everything about it communicated fury and power. This was a predatory being about to kill its victim. Metal letters beveled on the side of the statue read “A. Rodin.”
    Karina glanced at Lucas. “A. Rodin? The sculptor who created The Thinker ?”
    Lucas shrugged. “He says so, but I wouldn’t put it past him to have the name slapped on there over the actual sculptor’s signature. He is vain enough.”
    What? He who? She scrutinized the statue.
    Oh, God.
    The angel wore Arthur’s face. It had to be figurative—she hadn’t seen any wings on Arthur’s back when he offered her tea.
    â€œBut Rodin died in the beginning of the last century.”
    Lucas circled the statue and kept walking.
    â€œLucas!”
    He turned and looked at her over his shoulder, light eyes under black eyebrows like two chunks of ice. “Arthur is a Wither. Subspecies 21. They live a long time.”
    â€œHow long?”
    â€œLong enough to have met Rodin. Come.”
    She wanted to freak out. She wanted to scream and kick her feet in panic, because right here, in cold bronze, was the final proof that this was not a nightmare. Instead Karina waved Cedric ahead of her and they kept going deeper into the garden.
    Lucas turned left, down a path leading to a section of the building structured with an almost Japanese flair. Except for the white roof, it could’ve been part of a teahouse. An older woman waited on the covered porch, a stack of clothes neatly folded next to