Darkness Hunts (Dark Angels 4)

“I know.” He hesitated. “And I’m not exactly sure why this has happened.”

Liar. “It hasn’t got anything to do with Amaya’s presence, has it?”

“No. Your sword will never harm you.”

I snorted softly. “Then what do you call her attempt to gain control over my body?”

“An attempt to save your life. As she saw it, she was the stronger spirit, and therefore the logical choice to control your flesh.”

And I’d agreed to that control—temporarily. I wouldn’t have survived the onslaught of the Rakshasa otherwise. But once I was safe, Amaya had refused to leave my flesh, and it took every ounce of strength I’d had left to get her back into the sword. “Does that mean every time I’m feeling low she’s going to make a takeover bid?”

“Only if she believes your life would be in danger if she did not. And remember, you did invite the invasion.”

Something I will not be doing again. Not unless I’m at death’s door.

Ten minutes later, I sensed Rhoan’s approach. Azriel rose and held out a hand. I twined my fingers through the warmth of his, and he pulled me up. We ended up standing so close that my breasts touched his chest and his breath teased my mouth with possibilities. God, it would take only the slightest movement on either of our parts for our lips to meet, but as my eyes searched his, I knew he wouldn’t do it. Not this time, not yet. He was still fighting to delay the inevitable.

“Nothing is inevitable.” There was a huskiness in his voice that suggested his control was closer to the knife edge than I’d thought. “And you have no idea of the risk we run—”

Behind us someone cleared his throat, and I jumped as if stung. Rhoan walked toward us, amusement crinkling the corners of his gray eyes.

“Riley will be pleased,” he said.

No, she won’t, I thought grumpily. Not when I was having zero luck in getting Azriel back into bed—a problem she’d never had when it came to men, human or otherwise. I waved a hand at Dorothy’s body. “I haven’t touched her, and only went close enough to the table to check whether her blood had been collected or not.”

His gaze slipped to the woman on the table, and in the blink of an eye, he became the guardian rather than the uncle. It was a chilling change.

“What?” I said warily, knowing there had to be something more behind his reaction than merely this particular death.

“I’ve seen this before.”

I briefly closed my eyes. Of course he had. Why I’d thought this was a one-off murder I had no idea. “How many have there been?”

“Three in three days.” His expression was as intense and cold as his voice. “He normally contacts the Directorate an hour after the death.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Why would he do that?”

“To taunt us.” His gaze centered on me. “How did you get involved?”

I told him about the gray fields and what I’d witnessed there.

“Unfortunately, it doesn’t give us much to go on.” He paused, then added more severely, “You’re not intending to chase this one down yourself, are you?”

It was a warning more than a question, and I gave him a lopsided smile. “No. I’m not a guardian and have no desire to be.”

He grunted. “That’s the first sensible thing I’ve heard you say in weeks.”

“I can do sensible.”

“Really?” Rhoan’s tone was disbelieving. “This is the first evidence of it that I’ve seen, and I’ve known you a very long time.”

I punched him lightly—though it was like hitting a brick wall—and he grinned. “Go home and get some rest, Ris. You look beat.”

I raised my eyebrows. “You don’t need a statement?”

“Yeah, but later will do.”

“Thank you.” I dropped a kiss on his cheek, then left. Once we were outside, I raised my face to the sky. Though it was barely ten, the promise of heat was in the air, and sunshine bathed my skin. But it wasn’t warm enough to burn away the uneasy fear that had first stirred on the astral plane. The no-face killer wasn’t my problem, but I still couldn’t escape the notion that he and I would meet again. I had to hope that notion was wrong, because I needed to get back to the business of chasing down portal keys and deadly sorcerers.