On the Hunt (Sentinel Wars #3.5)(2)
Author: Gena Showalter

Why can’t I move? Because of him? Quaking, she fought a fresh round of terrified tears. She wasn’t safer with this man, this fallen angel, she realized with certainty. Not even close.

"Good girl. Now." He dragged a chair in front of her and eased down, resting his elbows on his thighs and leaning toward her. He smelled of peat smoke and wildflowers, of all things, and the fragrance made her . . . ache. From more of that fear, surely. "What’s your name?"

Too close. He was too close. And that ache, it was too unsettling, born of fear or not.

"Name." Another demand.

"R-Rose."

"Pretty. My name is Vasili, and I’m going to ask you some questions, Rose, and you’re going to answer. If you lie to me, I’ll know, believe me, and I will not be happy." He waited until she nodded in acknowledgment before continuing. "Do you know what happens to people who fail to make me happy?"

She gulped, shook her head.

"They die. Slowly, painfully."

Said so easily, he left no room for doubts. One lie and he would killher. Dear God. Breathe.

"Why are you here, Rose?"

"I—I don’t know. I swear to God, I don’t know," she rushed out, expecting him to punish her for her ignorance.

He merely arched a black brow. "You weren’t told to spy on me? To hurt me?"

"No! I don’t even know who you are."

"What a terrible blow to my ego," he said, clutching his heart.

Life and death rested in his hands, and he . . . teased? Sparks of anger bloomed inside her, numbing some of the fear and kicking her common sense in the teeth. "I’m sure you’ll survive," she replied before she could stop herself. "Unfortunately."

"What’s this? Spirit from my little mouse?"

Now he mocked her. Several more sparks joined the fray.

Don’t forget a predator lurks under that easy charm.

Thank you, Common Sense, for finally coming out of your coma. Wisely, she offered no reply to him.

"Do you know what you are, Rose?"

What kind of question was that? "I’m human. Educated. Civilized. Unlike—" Uh-oh. She’d forgotten. Rein in the temper—a temper that had always been her downfall.

"Unlike me?"

Her lips pressed together in a mulish line. Again, he’d get no reply from her. Her, a "little mouse." Oh, how that still burned. She liked to hunch her shoulders, sure, to make herself appear smaller, and she’d always preferred to blend into the background of a room, rather than stand out.

And yes, she avoided confrontation whenever possible. But sometimes she snapped and lashed out, consequences be damned, and those "sometimes" were not pretty.

"In this, you clearly have no education," he said, tapping the tip of her nose with a strong finger.

As if she were a naughty child. "But allow me to instruct you. You are what’s called a Dimension Walker. You crossed from your dimension and into this one, the dark side of your golden world."

"No." What was he talking about? Dimension Walker? "No, that isn’t possible. That only happens in books and movies."

"Then you tell me. How are you here?" He spread his arms. "What is this place?"

"I don’t know. All I know is that what you described is—"

"Ridiculous?"

She nodded firmly. "Yes."

He ran his tongue over his perfectly white teeth, considering her for a moment. Firelight glimmered over his fallen-angel features, stroking him with loving fingers. "Your father and mother . . . tell me about them."

The subject change threw her, a pang of homesickness suddenly bombarding her. She was about to graduate high school, and for the past few months had most looked forward to moving out of her parents’ house and into a tiny apartment she’d already picked out with Claire. But oh, just then, she wondered why she’d ever wanted to leave. Just then, she wanted to cuddle into her mother’s arms and never let go.

"Rose. I issued a command." Steel seeped into Vasili’s voice. "Do I really have to remind you what happens when you fail to please me?"

She swallowed the lump growing in her throat. "My father is a science teacher, junior high, and my mother is a receptionist at a law office." Perfectly middle-class, which was why they’d placed such strong hopes on her medical degree. Only, she didn’t want to be a doctor. She didn’t know what she wanted to be. Or do. Nothing . . . fit. Yet. She’d figure it out, though. She always did.

Problems were simply opportunities for finding solutions.

"Well, that doesn’t help my case as I’d hoped, does it? So, let’s pretend for just a moment that I’m right. That I’ve met others like you." Bitterness joined the steel. "Let’s pretend for just a moment that of the two of us, I’m the more educated. I would know that you were born to your world, but are bound to this one. Now, does anyone in your family disappear every year on their birthday? Maybe they say they like to be alone for the big event."

She didn’t have to think about it. "No."

"Are you sure? No one has told you they were moving away, yet never wrote or called?"

"No." Truth.

"No one has told you scary stories about a land that has no sun? Where monsters roam and a cruel king slaughters?"

"No." Those kinds of stories a girl would remember.

"Pity." His gaze raked over her, hot, lingering. "If you’d had just one Dimension Walker in your tree, I would have had a use for you."

So. His questions hadn’t been asked for her benefit, to convince her. He’d merely sought to learn about her family. Cruel of him. Still. That sultry gaze made her think of one thing and one thing only: sex. And she liked the shiver that followed—which made her feel stupid. And guilty.

She had a boyfriend. Hoyt was an inch taller than she was, which was why she had asked him out. (See. She wasn’t a mouse!) They’d dated for seven months, he’d been her first, her only, and she loved being with him. Loved how gentle he was with her.

"Y-you shouldn’t look at me like that," she said.

"Well, you shouldn’t enjoy when I do. But concentrate on my threats, darling, nothing else." So amused. "I can’t be interested in bedding you. You’re a little too . . . young for my taste."

The hesitation implied he’d wanted to say something else. Like . . . too silly? Too timid? "Good," she found herself snapping. Temper, temper. "Because you’re far too old for me." And too dangerous. And too mentally unstable.

A muscle ticked in his jaw. "I’m not too old for anyone."

Clearly, she’d made a direct hit, and the idea of besting him, even in so small a way, filled her with a sense of power. "Whatever you say," she replied, offering him a sugar-sweet smile.