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And yet he claimed he meant her no harm. He'd clearly refrained from hurting her in the park. He'd refrained from attacking her last night in Austin's apartment. He claimed to drink blood from a bottle, and she'd seen him drink from a flask.
Emma closed her eyes and rubbed them. This was wishful thinking. She was attracted to him. She enjoyed talking to him, looking at him. She liked indulging in a fantasy of the brave, heroic warrior. And if he wore a kilt, so much the better.
But that's all it was. A fantasy. The reality was he'd existed for centuries by preying on innocent mortals. It was about time the tables were turned, and an innocent mortal preyed on him.
She leaned forward and typed him a message.
I'll be ready. Wear something sexy.
She held her breath and pushed Send.
There, it was done. She glanced at the computer clock. Three P.M. In little more than five hours, Angus MacKay would be dead.
He had worn something sexy.
Emma had been in the bathroom, applying a darker shade of lipstick than she normally wore, when she heard him call out to her from the living room. She fluffed up her hair, wished herself good luck in the mirror, and rushed into the bedroom. A quick glance at the bedside clock confirmed it was eight P.M. He was right on time.
She'd left the bedroom door slightly ajar, and she peered into the living room. Her mouth dropped open. No kilt, no sporran. He was wearing black jeans, a tight black T-shirt, and a black duster - all sexy. His long auburn hair was tied back with a black leather cord. Her heart squeezed in her chest. Oh God, why couldn't he be human? Over five hundred years old. They just didn't make men like this anymore.
She swung the door open, and he turned to look at her. His gaze lowered, taking in her short silk bathrobe. When his eyes returned to hers, she could see the heat sizzling to life. So far, so good.
"I'm running a bit behind. I still need to get dressed." She raised her arms to prop them against the door and doorjamb. His expression remained the same. She glanced down. Shoot. She'd practiced this maneuver a dozen times in front of the mirror. Her robe was belted loosely so when she raised her arms, it was supposed to come undone and accidentally cause her robe to fall open. But no, the robe had remained closed.
"Ye look fine to me." He motioned to the leather sofa. "Have a seat and we'll talk."
She forced a smile. What a mess. The trap was in the bedroom. "I - I need to get dressed. I'm practically naked."
The corner of his mouth lifted. "I doona object." He gestured toward the couch once more. "I'll be a gentleman."
She gritted her teeth. What was she supposed to do now? Yell at him, You're my love slave, get in the bedroom now! "I'm uh, really thirsty. Could you bring me a bottle of water from the fridge?"
She didn't wait to see how he would react to that. She turned and strode into the bedroom. She stopped in front of the bed and gripped the cast-iron railing of the bed's footboard. Shit. She was a lousy seductress. It just seemed wrong, somehow. Dishonest. She'd been trained, though, in her counter-terrorism classes, to expect one's hands to get dirty when fighting evil. The problem was, she hadn't seen any real proof that Angus was evil other than his status as a vampire.
She'd caught the other vampires in the act of raping and feeding. Angus had done nothing but ask to talk to her. Was his status as a vampire enough to warrant his execution? A few days ago she would have said yes. Now she wasn't sure.
"Ye wanted this?" he asked softly.
She whirled around to face him. His eyes widened.
She glanced down. Brilliant. Now her robe decided to fall open. Her lacy black panties and bra didn't conceal much. "Thank you." She stepped forward with her arm extended.
He placed the water bottle in her hand, then gazed around the room.
He suspected something, she could tell. She unscrewed the top of the bottle and took a quick gulp. "I'd offer you something to drink, too - " She winced. "Actually, no, I wouldn't."
His mouth twitched. "That's all right. I drank quite a bit before coming."
"Is it true then? You drink all your meals from a bottle?"
"Aye." His gaze drifted south and lingered. "I no longer have to seduce a woman for food. I only make love when I truly wish to." His eyes met hers, and the heat was unmistakable.
She ignored the tingling sensation sweeping over her skin. "And you no longer use mind control to get what you want?"
"I try not to."
She took another gulp of water. "I don't believe you. You invaded my mind last night."
"I did?" He looked doubtful. "I doona remember that."
"You did." She lifted her chin. "I cannot allow such a threat to continue."
"I threatened you? What did I say?"
"You... you wished me good night."
His mouth curled up. "Och, how insulting of me."
"That's not the point. You entered my mind without my permission."
"I dinna try to. Believe me, ye would know if I tried. Ye'd feel a blast of cold air tunneling between yer eyes. Did ye feel that last night?"
"No. But why should I believe you?"
He frowned. "Verra well. I'll show you."
A swoosh of frigid air blew toward her with enough power to knock her back a step into the footboard. She immediately strengthened her wall of defense, but still, she could feel his presence, swirling about her, seeking entrance, powerful yet restrained. A terrible suspicion crept into her thoughts. If he unleashed his full power, she might not have enough strength to withstand it. "That's enough!"
The swirling stopped. The cold dissipated.
He tilted his head, studying her. "Did ye feel that last night before I wished ye good night?"
She inhaled deeply and let it out. "No, I didn't." There was no mistaking a true psychic assault from him.
"There's only one explanation. I wasna broadcasting my thoughts, but ye picked them up. Ye're a powerful receiver."
She already knew that. She'd caught her father's last minutes in Moscow, even though she was in Edinburgh. The memory hit her like a punch to the gut. She'd seen her mother murdered through her father's eyes. Heard her father's last words before dying. Avenge us.
Angus stepped toward her. "Are ye all right?"
"I - no." She turned her back to him so he couldn't see the pain in her eyes. She skirted the bed and set the water bottle on the bedside table. Her father's dying words kept echoing in her head. She had to do this. She had to kill Angus MacKay.
"I should leave ye alone."
She glanced up to see Angus watching her with a confused look. He could probably tell she was upset about something. "I'd like to talk, if you don't mind." She sat on the bed, close to her pillow, and turned to face him. Her robe fell open as she rested one bent leg on the bed in front of her.
His jaw shifted. Heat blazed in his eyes as he approached her. "Are ye trying to get me in yer bed, Miss Wallace?"
Her pulse quickened. "I thought we could talk, maybe get better acquainted."
He paused beside the bed, frowning. "Ye hate vampires with a passion. They murdered yer parents, and ye've been seeking revenge ever since."
"I call it justice." She closed her eyes and rubbed her brow. Shit. She should have known he'd see through this.
"If it helps, I can tell ye that I'm having my operative in Moscow investigate the matter."
She lowered her hand. "You are? You'd do that for me?"
"I want to know who's responsible."
She stood. "Thank you. I have tried and tried to find out, using my resources in MI6, but they don't know about vampires, so there was no information."
"I'll do what I can to help ye find the culprits. I'm hoping once ye've had justice, ye can stop the slaying."
She blinked. Stop slaying?
He tilted his head, studying her. "Can ye stop, Emma?"
She sat on the bed. How could she stop when vampires were killing night after night? Didn't the other innocent victims deserve as much justice as her parents?
Angus sat beside her. "Ye have to stop. 'Tis suicidal to keep attacking an enemy who is stronger and faster than ye are."
"I've done all right so far."
"Ye canna catch them by surprise any longer. They'll start hunting for ye in groups. Ye canna survive if several attack ye at once."
She clutched the comforter in her fist. "What if you never find the ones who murdered my parents? You think I should just give up?"
