She didn’t know if it was nerves, or the sugar buzz she’d gotten from eating so much chocolate, but she just couldn’t sleep. The light on the complimentary cell phone blinked green, and she snatched it up and left her seat so she wouldn’t wake Lilly.
The Boeing 747 was a wide-body with three aisles. The coach section was full to capacity. She chose the left aisle and walked back to the restroom. As she suspected, most of the passengers were sleeping, but a few glassy-eyed insomniacs were watching movies or listening to music through headphones. She dialed Fala’s cell-phone number.
A sleepy voice said, “Yeah.”
“Fala, it’s me,” Takala whispered so as to not wake up anyone.
“Where are you, and why weren’t you here to welcome us home?”
“Sorry, on a case.” Takala paused at the door to the head.
“You know Nina ran away and got married?”
“Yeah, she told me.”
“She told you before me?” Fala sounded a little disappointed.
“I think she thought you might disapprove.”
“Well, he’s a shifter. That’s not too bad.”
“Rich, too. That always helps.”
They both chuckled at that.
Fala was the first to speak again. “So, what kind of trouble are you in?”
“I’m not.”
“Then why is Grandmother in the prayer cave? She says she needs to pray for you. What have you done?”
“Nothing.” Takala hoped Meikoda knew nothing of her current adventure and was only cleansing her soul. She didn’t want to tell her older sister about Lilly. She knew she’d be angry for trying to find their mother. She, like Nina, believed that their mother wanted nothing to do with them. “Can you put Stephen on the phone?”
“For what?”
“I just need to ask him about someone he might have worked with at B.O.S.P.”
“Oh, all right—Wait, I have to tell you this. Nina told me not to say anything, but you should know. I saw Akando with a strange redhead today—”
“I know all about it.”
Fala said, “I’m sorry.”
“I don’t care anymore.” A lie. His cheating still hurt like a giant was stepping on her solar plexus. What really smarted was how quickly he’d moved on and how blind she’d been to believe he had cared for her at all. She forced more conviction than she felt into her voice. “We’re history.”
“Sure you don’t want to talk about it?”
“No, he’s shown his true colors. I don’t know what I saw in him. Be glad you didn’t marry him.”
“Believe me, I found the right guy. Stay in touch, sis, okay?”
“Okay. Now put Stephen on, please.” Takala made a face at the tan door of the toilet as she heard Fala say, “Here, honey, for you.”
A lot of rustling in her ear, then Stephen’s deep voice. “What’s the problem?”
“What do you know about someone named Nightwalker?”
“He used to be my boss.” Stephen’s voice seemed to clear of sleep. “Stay away from him.”
“Too late. What I need to know is, can I trust him?”
“You can’t trust any vampire,” Fala said in the background. The phone must be on speaker, Takala realized.
“What if he warns me about someone. Can I trust his word?”
“I’d say so unless he has an ulterior motive,” Stephen said. “Basically his scruples are intact. He’s only malevolent if you get in his way. What’s this all about?”
She ignored his last question and asked, “Is he the type who would kill his own men to set up another agent?”
“Not if the agents were loyal.”
“Would you trust him with your life?”
“If we were both on the same side—what’s going on, Takala?”
A whoosh of icy breath brushed her neck and ear. It was like opening a refrigerator door. She panicked, even as cold hands snatched the phone from her grasp. She heard Stephen shouting her name until the phone clicked off, then someone pushed her through the bathroom door.
She stumbled inside. Before she could turn to ward off her attacker, hands caught her elbows and shoved. Her hips hit the sink as she wheeled and looked into Nightwalker’s face.
His eyes were inches from her. For a few heartbeats, they faced each other, breathing heavily, eyes locked.
Up close, his pale skin glowed with a pearly luminescence that didn’t seem to have clear-cut lines, the edges of his features just a tad blurred, as if his power strained at the physical boundaries of his body. Purple eyes peered out from under thick blond lashes, the intelligence in them almost palpable. He had a rugged roman nose that fit perfectly in the handsome planes of his face. His glossy blond hair was slicked back in a ponytail, adding a roguish quality to his features. The ruthlessness of his sunken cheekbones fought with the dimple in his chin and added a pleasant edge to his face that couldn’t be trusted. He wore a perfectly tailored black suit and a starched white shirt without one wrinkle. Not even his tie had been pulled out of line during the struggle. And his cologne smelled like spicy butter rum, a scent that might have made her mouth water … if she hadn’t been feeling threatened.
His eyes steadily turned the color of blackberry wine. The depths looked bleak and endless, like a long, empty tunnel. Because vampires didn’t have to blink, his stare had a relentless piercing quality, like that of a falcon, as if he hovered above her ready to dive.
All her self-preservation bells rang at once. Her heart felt like it had parachuted out of her chest and was dropping fast.
Then his eyes changed. The whites were disappearing, the pupils dilating.
She felt his will batter her. It was a thousand-pound weight throbbing in her skull. She tried to move, but the undertow of his trance-inducing eyes trapped her. Fear slithered along her shoulders, hummed down her spine.
The black orbs probed her, reached deeper, grasped for control. The edges of his form seemed to shift and blur from his unearthly force.
Then something inside her rose up like a wall, and she suddenly had a fighting chance. His underworld tug was strong, but it struggled to penetrate her white magic, the source of her strength. She locked gazes with him, aware she might lose this battle at any moment, and she hated losing a fight—especially to a vampire who had attacked her first.
The tiny bathroom seemed to shrink in size, and all she could feel was his chilly breath on her face. He had both hands on the sink, trapping her between them. He wasn’t physically touching her, but he might as well have been. His dark aura was steadily drawing over her like an iron blanket, his will lashing at her own.
“Look, bloodsucker, you can’t glamour me.” She found her voice, but it was strained, uneven. “Got that?”
The lids of his eyes flicked ever so slightly in surprise that she had fended off his power this long. Then a slow, ruthless grin twisted up the corners of his mouth, exposing the tips of his fangs. “But your sweet words only provoke me into wanting to try and glamour you.” His voice was slick and silken and echoed in her mind like he was inside her head with a bullhorn.