As the wind slid lovingly through his hair, he looked at her with such torment. She felt pierced by his gaze, as if he’d stabbed her with the weapon he wielded with such obvious agitation.
Ani ohev otach, tzel, he’d said to her dream self. I love you, shadow. But I cannot have you. You know this. Why do you tempt me? Why do you flaunt what I crave, yet am forbidden to possess?
Her sorrow over his pain had constricted her lungs and created an ache so overwhelming it roused her from a dead sleep. She’d bolted awake to find tears wetting her face and pillow, and the remnants of sympathy and grief twisting in her stomach. He’d been talking to her, as if she was the source of his agony, yet she couldn’t imagine doing anything to elicit that devastated look on his face. She would die before she ever wounded him so deeply.
Spending the rest of the night alone in her suite at the Belladonna had felt nearly as desolate as when she’d talked to Adrian on the phone four days earlier. The urge to call him again was becoming too forceful to resist. She was worried about him and missed him more than she should.
She sucked in a sharp breath, fighting through a rush of greedy desire and feelings of possession she had no right to. She’d lived her entire life struggling to find a place for herself on the outside looking in at the “normal” people, but it had taken only a couple days to get irrevocably used to fitting in somewhere. Forging it alone after that acclimation was damn hard; wondering if Adrian might be feeling equally adrift was even harder.
Lindsay hit the DIAL button on her phone and lifted it to her ear.
He picked up almost instantly. “Lindsay—is everything all right?”
The knot in her stomach loosened at the sound of his warm, confident voice. “I called to ask you the same question.”
“Ask me . . . ?” His voice faded. “I—”
“Adrian? Are you okay?”
“I’m sorry. I’m still getting used to being asked that question. It’s been a rough couple of days, but it’ll soon be over.”
Her heart faltered a beat. He was so collected and smooth, so pulled together and in command of himself and others; she could see how easy it would be to assume he was always all right. Whom did he lean on when his burdens wearied him? With Phineas gone, did he have anyone?
He’d given her an outlet for her private self. If she could return the favor, if he trusted her enough to do so, she’d consider it an honor. “You don’t sound happy about that.”
“Someone I care about is hurting, and I will have to inflict more pain on her before all is said and done.”
Jealousy dug its claws into her, a response so alien and unwelcome it unsettled her deeply. “I’m sorry. I wish there was something I could do.”
“Just hearing your voice and knowing that you’re thinking of me is enough.”
Lindsay felt a fierce rush of pride that she might continue to be a source of comfort for him, despite everything that stood between them. “I dreamt about you last night.”
“Did you?” His voice took on a seductive smoothness. “Will you tell me about it?”
“You asked me to leave you alone. To stop tempting you.” Sighing heavily, she slumped over the table. “And some horrible part of me didn’t care that I was hurting you by making you want me. I was almost giddy over your anguish. It made me feel powerful to have such a hold on you. I wanted you—whatever the cost.”
He exhaled slowly. “The dream disturbed you.”
“Damn straight it did! I hate that I would think that way for even a moment. I don’t feel that way. I won’t.”
“Lindsay.” He paused. “I know you don’t. It was just a dream.”
“Which means that somewhere in my subconscious that thought exists.” She shoved a hand through her curls. “I don’t want to be that person, Adrian. I don’t want to hurt you, but look at me. I can’t even go a few days without calling you, even though I know we need to keep a professional distance between us.”
“You are not that person.” The gruff note of vehemence in his tone took her aback. “Just as I’m not the Adrian you dreamt of. If anything, the roles in your dream were reversed. You’re asking me to let you walk away, and I won’t. I know you want me, and I’ll exploit your desire to the fullest—I want you that badly. With every day that passes, with every conversation we have, I want you more. It burns in me, Lindsay. I ache for you.”
“Adrian—” Her eyes closed on a sigh. “I’m so sorry we met.”
“No, you’re not. You’re only sorry that there are risks involved.”
“I should run while I can.” She’d moved so far away from her dad for the same reason, because she knew it was too dangerous for him to be around her. She would never forgive herself if something happened to him because of her hunting, just as she’d never forgive herself if Adrian paid a price for being with her.
“I’d find you,” he said darkly. “Wherever you’d go, however you’d hide . . . I would find you.”
A knock came to the adjoining door, yanking her rudely back into the here and now. “I should let you go.”
“I’ll see you soon, neshama. Stay out of trouble until then.”
“No worries there. You’re all the trouble I can handle right now.”
She hung up, then called out, “Come in, El.”
Elijah entered. His hair was still damp from a shower and slicked back from his forehead. He was dressed in his usual loose jeans and T-shirt, and his gaze raked the room as it always did whenever he entered one. The man was a warrior through and through.
“Are you hungry?” she asked, even though she knew the answer already. The guy ate like a . . . wolf.
“Starved.”
“Can we please not have room service again? I need to get out of this hotel. It can’t be that dangerous to hit up the Denny’s around the corner, can it?”
“Hmm . . .” He glanced out the window at the cloudless, sunny day. “All right. Bring your bag of tricks.”
Lindsay stood. “I know it sucks for you to be stuck with me, but I’m glad you’re here.”
She adored Elijah, despite the fact that he was a constant reminder of Adrian and the life she could have shared with the angel, if only they were friends and not crazy with desire for so much more. After losing her mother, she couldn’t bear to lose anyone else she loved, and with her hunting, her life was too dangerous to pledge to someone else. It wouldn’t be fair to anyone. But Adrian was special. He shared the life she did, and she resented that she couldn’t even try to have a relationship with him. After all the times she’d wished for someone who could know and understand why she hunted, she’d finally found him—only to discover they could never be together. Even the wind seemed to mourn that injustice, howling softly every time she stepped outside.
“This is a good place for me to be,” Elijah said, rolling his shoulders back as if the muscles were too tight.
“You’re bored out of your mind.”