Nightwalker. Connie Hall

his arms away and aimed for his jaw.

      He caught her hand with superhuman speed. They arm wrestled midair as he said, “You can’t resist me.”

      “Wanna bet?” Takala was surprised by his strength. Vampires might be able to move faster than she, but one-on-one they weren’t much stronger. But this one was. It felt as if her fingers were set in solid granite. Her whole arm trembled as she strained against his strength. He wasn’t struggling at all, and she knew he wasn’t using a quarter of his strength. If he chose to, he could crush her hand and send her down on her knees.

      “That was unwise.” His voice softened to a deadly hiss.

      “Sometimes you just gotta take risks.” She went for him with her other hand.

      He grabbed that one, too, jerked both hands behind her back, and kissed her.

      His will invaded her in a huge gush, sweeping into her like a windstorm, crashing into every crack and crevice. She had lost this round.

      For a second, the full brunt of his power held her muscles, her bones, her veins. It was like radioactive dye being breathed into her, burning at first; then his darkness oozed inside her and she felt herself becoming powerless and groggy in his arms. She grew aware of his cool lips, rough and pressing. Then they absorbed her human heat, and they were hot and ruthless and mesmerizing. That was her last thought before he claimed her mind.

      Striker wanted to continue the kiss, to subjugate her, to savor the heat of her lips and body engulfing him, but he couldn’t allow himself to take advantage of her in that way. No, it was bad enough he’d given in to the desire to kiss her. He could have forced his will on her by just touching her. No doubt about it, Takala Rainwater tempted him, a morsel for the taking. But he had only one resolve, and that was to find out if she worked for Raithe.

      He broke the kiss and stared down at her face, at the strong curve of her jaw. His fingers itched to touch her square chin, and he gave in to the desire.

      At his touch, her closed eyes fluttered.

      He traced the line of her jaw as he stared down at the ginger-blond lashes, a little darker than her coppery gold hair. They formed thick crescents on her high cheekbones. Her full lips were swollen from his kiss, the sweet scent of chocolate still on them. He couldn’t draw his gaze from her tanned face; it had a reddish golden glow that mesmerized him. He didn’t think he’d ever seen more beautiful feminine features assembled in one package.

      Something about her seemed familiar. What was it about her that tugged at him, that reminded him of someone? It was there, buried in the eons of his life. He just couldn’t retrieve it.

      Takala moaned seductively and pressed her shapely pliant body against him. He hadn’t noticed it before now, but there wasn’t an ounce of extra flesh anywhere on Takala Rainwater. She was all hardened, lean muscle. Her back and shoulders rippled with it. She had the physique of a female bodybuilder, slender hips, indented small waist, and high rounded breasts, all held together by sinew. Strong, yet so intoxicatingly woman. He felt his body responding, and he cursed.

      She inflamed dormant desires and sensations that he had controlled for two centuries. He thought he had evolved past all that, exorcized those demons. But there was no denying it: he wanted her right now. And the danger of being near her was growing by the second.

      He forced his mind back on the mission and his resolve to stop Raithe. He quickly propped her down on the toilet and rested her head back on the wall. Then he unwrapped the scarf from around her neck. He inhaled the overwhelming scent of her blood, and he had to fight the desire to place his lips against the pulsing jugular vein.

      You have her under your power. Taste her blood. Take what you want and need. He heard Raithe’s old voice in his head, tempting him.

      No, he wasn’t like Raithe. He wasn’t a monster. He used to be. For hundreds of years now, he’d led a monastic life of self-denial, atoning for his past evil transgressions—that is, until Takala Rainwater crossed his path. He reminded himself he had more willpower than to let a piece of tempting human baggage destroy all he’d worked so hard to accomplish.

      He felt a tremor of sheer will run through him as he made himself concentrate on the task at hand. He half expected to find Raithe’s puncture marks on her neck. When he saw only Tongue’s claw prints slashing sideways across her skin, slightly swollen and red, he felt relief. Though he wasn’t entirely convinced that she wasn’t one of Raithe’s minions. He had to invade her thoughts to be absolutely certain of it.

      He didn’t have to verbally ask her questions, all he had to do was probe her mind. He immediately detected a brain animated by magic; the insidiousness of it grinding and scraping the edges of his mind. And her thoughts were surprisingly an open book, not obstructed by dark forces as Striker had first suspected.

      Takala had arrived at Lilly Smith’s house from a lead she had received from a friend. She wasn’t certain she trusted Lilly. She hadn’t told Lilly they were mother and daughter yet. He was getting recent feelings of love and hate for someone named Akando. So, she was above suspicion. He had expected the opposite, hoped for the opposite.

      Now he had an innocent to take care of, and he’d seen evidence of how selfish and manipulative Culler could be. But weren’t those the very characteristics of a first-rate undercover agent? And not any agent, but one who had infiltrated Raithe’s organization. Her deceptive and malicious talents had to be second nature to her.

      No doubt Culler would use Takala Rainwater, then get her killed. He had to make sure Takala continued to suspect Culler, so he whispered in her ear, “You will under no circumstances trust Lilly Smith or anything she says to you. You understand?”

      “Yes.”

      “Now, you will wait here five minutes, then return to your seat and forget everything about this encounter.”

      “Okay.” She spoke without opening her eyes, in a lazy, dreamy voice.

      He picked up the phone and hit the redial button. He heard Stephen’s voice say, “About time you called back. Fala and I were worried sick.”

      Striker didn’t want the whole Rainwater clan destroying his chances of catching Raithe, so he decided to put their minds at rest. “It’s me, Winter,” he said.

      “Nightwalker. Where’s Takala?”

      He stared down at her. She was sprawled across the toilet, her eyelids closed but pulsing behind the lids. “She is indisposed at the moment.”

      “You better not let anything happen to her,” a husky female voice said. “Or I’ll find you and rip your head off.”

      “I suppose that is your new sweet bride.”

      “Yeah, and I’ll show you just how sweet I can be if you hurt her,” Fala said.

      “Be quiet, Fala,” Stephen said. “Listen, Dark, is Takala mixed up in something bad?”

      “Not really. I know she is innocent. I will make sure she’s unharmed and see that she returns home”

      “You better,” her sister said.

      Striker clicked off. He didn’t much like domineering females who threatened him, even if she was the Guardian and could probably back up her threats.

      He put the phone in Takala’s hand and wrapped her fingers around it. Then he exited and warped up to first class. The speed at which the jet was flying only enhanced his ability, and he felt a little lightheaded when he paused at the doorway. He’d never get used to airplane travel.

      Katalinga perked up from pretending to sleep and she nodded to him. She motioned with her eyes toward Culler, who sat across the aisle from her, sleeping quietly, her mouth agape.

      He moved in behind Culler. As he looked down at her, the image of his agents being murdered surfaced. He had to hold back a desire to exact retribution for them as he touched her shoulder.

      She woke with a start and pulled off the