of blue jeans, comfortable sneakers. Her goal was to blend in as much as possible, to look identical to the countless humans roaming the streets. The only distinguishing item she permitted herself was a tweed army cap, beneath which she could tuck her abundant mass of curls. She chose some clothing for Ben, stopped at the toy section long enough to select a construction set she thought he’d like. Then, after grabbing a few necessities from the shelves, she headed to the cash register.
She was glad for the long line because it delayed her return to the hotel room, where Marcus was waiting for her. After last night, the idea of facing him was more unsettling than battle. What had compelled her to ask him to hold her? Was she out of her freaking mind?
Her face burned just thinking about it. She wasn’t the kind of woman who normally needed to be held. She didn’t have meltdowns. She never relied on others to provide comfort. She took care of herself, usually with the help of a very sharp blade. She had absolutely no use for hugs.
Why then had Marcus’s arms felt so damn good around her? Her heart betrayed her with a loud thump. Her breasts tingled at the memory of his heated touch. Traitorous desire twisted low in her abdomen. Realizing she’d forgotten to inhale, Regan swallowed a large gulp of air.
Didn’t she have enough to deal with as it was? The last thing she needed was to acknowledge an irrational attraction to a man she was forbidden to have. A man she’d known forever but was only now truly beginning to see. A man whose strong, illicit embrace felt oddly like home.
The two women standing in line in front of her began to argue, and only then did Regan realize the dark energy she was emitting. Usually she was pretty good at subduing the darkness inside her so it wouldn’t negatively impact humans. This morning, however, she was a total mess, unable to control her crazy impulses, let alone the black energy that sustained her.
One woman pushed the other. The other pushed back. The arguing and jostling continued until a security guard came and dragged them out of line. Regan watched in dismay as the guard escorted the irate customers to the door, forcing them to leave their would-be purchases behind. Eerie silence engulfed the remaining people in the store. The man standing in line behind Regan glared at her impatiently.
Snapping out of her daze, she walked up to the cash register and placed her selections on the counter. With a sheepish shrug, she smiled at the cranky-looking clerk, who didn’t bother to smile back.
What the hell was keeping Regan?
Marcus stood across the tiny bathroom from Ben, next to a tub filled with sudsy water. A tub he’d begrudgingly filled, all the while cursing Regan for suckering him in to this.
“Get in.” He gave the boy an I-mean-it stare.
Not the least bit intimidated, the boy stared back at him, arms crossed belligerently over his narrow chest. “Why do I have to take a bath?”
Marcus sighed. “Because you’re covered in filth from head to toe. If that’s not reason enough for you, you smell bad.”
Ben’s lower lip trembled. If he started to bawl, Marcus was out of there. He could handle anything—armies of murderous Kleptopsychs, vicious gangs of Rogues, homicidal humans on a killing rampage—but he drew the line at tears.
The boy dug in his heels, his stance oozing resistance. “I hate baths.”
“Yeah, you and me both, kid. Now get in there and get it over with.”
With a last defiant glare, the boy untucked his T-shirt. Relieved the fight hadn’t turned ugly, Marcus turned to leave.
“They want to hurt me, don’t they?” Ben’s shaky question stopped him mid-step. “Those men that keep coming after us.”
Reluctantly, Marcus turned around to be sucked in by Ben’s guileless face. Lying would’ve been the kindest thing to do, but he couldn’t bring himself to deceive the boy. Ben had a right to know what was going
She was glad for the long line because it delayed her return to the hotel room, where Marcus was waiting for her. After last night, the idea of facing him was more unsettling than battle. What had compelled her to ask him to hold her? Was she out of her freaking mind?
Her face burned just thinking about it. She wasn’t the kind of woman who normally needed to be held. She didn’t have meltdowns. She never relied on others to provide comfort. She took care of herself, usually with the help of a very sharp blade. She had absolutely no use for hugs.
Why then had Marcus’s arms felt so damn good around her? Her heart betrayed her with a loud thump. Her breasts tingled at the memory of his heated touch. Traitorous desire twisted low in her abdomen. Realizing she’d forgotten to inhale, Regan swallowed a large gulp of air.
Didn’t she have enough to deal with as it was? The last thing she needed was to acknowledge an irrational attraction to a man she was forbidden to have. A man she’d known forever but was only now truly beginning to see. A man whose strong, illicit embrace felt oddly like home.
The two women standing in line in front of her began to argue, and only then did Regan realize the dark energy she was emitting. Usually she was pretty good at subduing the darkness inside her so it wouldn’t negatively impact humans. This morning, however, she was a total mess, unable to control her crazy impulses, let alone the black energy that sustained her.
One woman pushed the other. The other pushed back. The arguing and jostling continued until a security guard came and dragged them out of line. Regan watched in dismay as the guard escorted the irate customers to the door, forcing them to leave their would-be purchases behind. Eerie silence engulfed the remaining people in the store. The man standing in line behind Regan glared at her impatiently.
Snapping out of her daze, she walked up to the cash register and placed her selections on the counter. With a sheepish shrug, she smiled at the cranky-looking clerk, who didn’t bother to smile back.
What the hell was keeping Regan?
Marcus stood across the tiny bathroom from Ben, next to a tub filled with sudsy water. A tub he’d begrudgingly filled, all the while cursing Regan for suckering him in to this.
“Get in.” He gave the boy an I-mean-it stare.
Not the least bit intimidated, the boy stared back at him, arms crossed belligerently over his narrow chest. “Why do I have to take a bath?”
Marcus sighed. “Because you’re covered in filth from head to toe. If that’s not reason enough for you, you smell bad.”
Ben’s lower lip trembled. If he started to bawl, Marcus was out of there. He could handle anything—armies of murderous Kleptopsychs, vicious gangs of Rogues, homicidal humans on a killing rampage—but he drew the line at tears.
The boy dug in his heels, his stance oozing resistance. “I hate baths.”
“Yeah, you and me both, kid. Now get in there and get it over with.”
With a last defiant glare, the boy untucked his T-shirt. Relieved the fight hadn’t turned ugly, Marcus turned to leave.
“They want to hurt me, don’t they?” Ben’s shaky question stopped him mid-step. “Those men that keep coming after us.”
Reluctantly, Marcus turned around to be sucked in by Ben’s guileless face. Lying would’ve been the kindest thing to do, but he couldn’t bring himself to deceive the boy. Ben had a right to know what was going
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