about having sex with you—but that doesn’t mean that I’ll do it. Doesn’t even mean that I want to.”
Huh. She didn’t know whether to be relieved, insulted or strangely disappointed. “Well, gee, thanks.”
“Look, my temporary case of lust, or insanity, or whatever you want to call it has been cured,” he added with an impatient scowl, probing meaningfully at the nasty gash at the edge of his eyebrow. “So let’s just get the hell out of here before that thing tracks us down.”
He returned her picture to his back pocket, then reached down and picked his T-shirt up from where she’d dropped it on the ground, his muscles bunching across his chest and arms with each movement of his beautiful body. Saige blinked, wondering what kind of gene pool a guy had to come from to look that good, the dusky, vibrant glow of twilight only accentuating his raw masculinity, as if he were some dark, sylvan creature escaped from a primeval forest—and she seriously hoped there wasn’t an embarrassing stream of drool slipping from the corner of her mouth.
“What was up with the blindfold, anyway?” she asked, her voice oddly husky as she watched him pull the shirt over his head, the soft black cotton tight against his powerful build, hard biceps stretching the seams at the sleeves.
Despite his lingering anger, he slanted her a laughing look. “Your brothers mentioned your fear of flying.”
“So you thought not being able to see would make it better?” She shook her head, her tone dry as she rubbed her palms on the front of her shorts. “And for the record, I’m not afraid of flying. I’m just a firm believer that if the gods had meant for us to take to the skies, they would have given us wings.”
He didn’t say anything, just arched one midnight brow in her direction, and she pressed her lips together, fighting the ridiculous urge to grin. Since the second she’d first set eyes on this man, she’d felt like a hormonal wreck, going from one extreme to the other in a dizzying maelstrom of emotions that were wreaking havoc on her sanity. Prickly. Frustrated. On edge and uncomfortably agitated—while at the same time filled with some odd, inexplicable sense of security. She felt sheltered and threatened all at once, aware of him in a way that she’d never experienced before, the disquieting sensation flowing through her with piercing intensity. In the past, Saige had always been at ease around men, working among them as an equal…just another one of the guys. She didn’t usually take notice of them as sexual creatures, not even the blatantly beautiful ones—and never in the way that she was “noticing” Michael Quinn.
And her “fascination,” for lack of a better word, was officially freaking her out.
Not knowing much about how Watchmen shifted into the shapes of their beasts, she wanted to ask him where the breathtaking black wings had gone, but bit back the oddly personal question, feeling as if it breached some intimate barrier that she couldn’t cross. Not when he was staring at her as if he couldn’t stop. “Hand me the photo,” she said instead, holding out one hand.
“Why?” His tone was odd…almost wary as he held her stare. For such a testosterone-oozing male, she couldn’t help but notice that he had the most amazing eyelashes, ones that actually cast shadows on his sharp cheekbones.
“Just hand me the photo,” she repeated, snapping her fingers like some kind of commando she-bitch. God only knew she wasn’t making much of a first impression, but she chalked it up to circumstance, seeing as how it’d been a bitch of a night—one that was only just getting started.
Saige took the picture from his grasp when he offered it to her, and the second her fingers touched the paper, she knew he was telling her the truth. Riley had given it to him. Damn it. She hated having to apologize, but knew it was the right thing to do.
Still, the words were tight in her throat as she said, “I’m sorry about what happened back there.” She ended the apology with a pointed look toward his injured brow and tried not to wince.
Instead of accepting, he made a rude, utterly male sound in the back of his throat. “You threw a goddamn bottle at my head, Saige. I don’t think some lame-ass sorry’s gonna cut it.”
She bit her tongue to keep from mouthing off, wanting information more than she wanted to argue—but Quinn had questions of his own. “What can you tell me about Paul Templeton?” he grunted, taking the picture from her and slipping it back into his pocket again.
Saige didn’t recognize the name. “I don’t know anyone named Templeton.”
“He’s the Watchman who was assigned to you,” he explained with a grim expression, rubbing one hand against his shadowed jaw. “And I’ll bet money you knew Paul was trailing you. You must have some idea of what happened to him.”
She shrugged, while a sour feeling slid through her insides. “I honestly don’t know. He just seemed to disappear a few days ago.”
“Christ,” he muttered under his breath, and she wondered if the missing Watchman had been a friend of Quinn’s.
It was ironic, how she’d always taken the Watchmen’s surveillance for granted, never really appreciating it, until this man he called Templeton had vanished. Suddenly, she’d been alone and afraid, reminding her of how she’d felt as a child, when all the men in her life had turned away from her, one by one. After her dad had run out on them, her brothers had been her world, until they, too, had drifted away from her. Ian had run away from home, unable to handle Elaina’s obsession with the family bloodline, and God only knew what had happened to make Riley so resentful. He’d changed after Ian had left, and they’d never been close again.
Turning her attention back to Quinn and the missing Paul Templeton, she said, “I got worried when I could no longer sense him watching me. I’ve been…more cautious than usual the past few days, unsure of what to expect.”
Liar.
Am not, she silently growled back. Maybe that wasn’t the complete truth…but it was a version.
A skinny one that isn’t going to do him a damn bit of good. You need to tell him about the Marker!
From the way he watched her, she wasn’t even sure he was buying it, but when he spoke, he simply said, “We can talk this out later. Right now we need to get on the move. I have a room in São Vicente where we can spend the night.”
“You still haven’t explained what you’re doing here,” she murmured. All the photo had told her was that Riley had asked him to bring her to Colorado, but it’d said nothing about why.
“Like I said, I’m here to get you back. Preferably in one piece.” His tone bristled with impatience, and there was an undercurrent of energy buzzing about him that told her he was completely in tune with the surrounding jungle, reading the signs and aware of any coming danger. “After seeing what happened when they came after your brother, I have no doubt that bastard is going to be gunning for you hard and fast.”
Her stomach dropped, and she wet her mouth, not liking the sound of that. She took a sudden step forward, the distance between them no more than a foot now, bringing the details of his gorgeous face into sharper focus. “What do you mean when they went after my brother?”
Around them, the forest fell silent and still, as if waiting with her in breathless suspense as Quinn quietly said, “He’s already gone through his awakening.”
Saige hadn’t expected the
