Wolf drew his lips back over wet teeth, a growl rolling in his chest. That bed should be soaking with red. Annabella’s soft body on her knees, back arching for him.
But he could not enter. The angel-light banished him. He was not strong enough yet. Not nearly strong enough to break their carnal communion. Mortality was diminishing him, darkness slower to amass his form, Twilight’s Shadow less ready to feed his re-creation. His rebirth required time, the bane of human existence.
If not for his name, Wolf, the process would have been interminable. A name. Wolf. Power.
And she had given it to him. She had to know that she belonged with him. That together they could do great things, that he could exceed her every fantasy. She had to know.
And if she didn’t, he would show her.
Oh, hell. What had he done?
Custo didn’t have to reach in her direction to perceive the thoughts tumbling around her head. She kept telling herself to relax, stay calm, to chill—so her emotions had to be all over the place. He really should explain things now, tell her that he was leaving. Face her hurt and give her the opportunity to curse him to his face.
Custo patted Annabella’s hip. “Better get up and get ready. I’ll check in with Adam.”
She frowned up at him, her bare skin rosy beautiful. “You’re not telling me something.”
That he was leaving her at her most vulnerable? That he was turning her scary wolf problem over to someone else? She’d never forgive him.
Custo managed to lift one side of his mouth. It was the best he could do. She’d find out soon enough. “Big day.”
Annabella rolled her eyes, but crawled out of bed, magnificent and easy in her naked skin. She knew she looked good—slender, yet subtly curvaceous, sculpted by her art. That awareness had his blood heating again, his hands twitching to touch her. She stood and her breasts pinked slightly under his scrutiny, but she made no motion to cover herself as she padded to the bathroom, her ass sweetly swinging side to side. She glanced over her shoulder, eyes sparkling, to see if he was watching, then turned back, making the motions of knotting her hair behind her head to show her body off to its best advantage. Custo shifted in the bed to follow the siren, but a jab of well-deserved pain in his side reminded him about the day.
She left the door ajar, still afraid to be alone and trusting him to protect her.
Hell, he was a bastard, in all senses of the word. But…he’d do it again.
Custo labored into a sitting position and grabbed his mobile.
Adam picked up on the first ring. “Did you find the place?”
He must have been waiting for the call. “I did. I take it Talia’s not doing well?”
Adam sighed. “She’s hanging in there, but she can’t engage wraiths or the wolf again before she delivers.” Adam’s subtext was brutally clear: Once Custo was gone, there was no way to protect Annabella, not without costing the lives of Talia and possibly the twins. Adam was telling him whom he’d choose if it came down to life and death.
Warring emotions rose in Custo: First, simple understanding. Of course Adam would put his wife and children before anyone else. Second, betrayal. Hadn’t Custo given his life for Adam? And this was how Adam would repay him? This emotion, irrational, Custo pushed vehemently to the side. There were no ledgers between him and Adam; everything had always and would always be freely given. And finally, helpless urgency. If Adam couldn’t help Annabella, Custo had to find someone who could.
That left Luca.
“Be ready to leave by eight,” Custo said. “The sooner we get these women taken care of, the better.”
“I’m ready now,” Adam answered.
Custo glanced over at the cracked doorway to the bathroom. Something clattered to the tiled floor and Annabella cursed. It would be another minute or two on their end. “Have you ID’d the Segue leak yet? You know someone had to have tipped off the wraiths to your location at City Center.”
The threat inside Segue was Adam-specific. Had to be. The wraiths could have caused far more destruction and mayhem by attacking the audience contained in the theater. By blocking the exits, they could have fed and murdered with little opposition, then escaped when Segue finally organized enough forces against them.
Instead, the wraiths chose a concentrated attack on the area outside the theater. Why there?
Somebody had to have let them know where Adam would be stationed, ready to support Annabella at need. If they got Adam, Talia might falter, especially stuck in bed rest for the next few weeks. And if the world lost Talia’s scream, the wraiths could attack and feed unchecked. Life as humanity knew it would be forever changed.
“I haven’t got him yet,” Adam said, “but I have a strong lead.”
“Go on.” This was the reason Custo had escaped Heaven, after all. If he had to go back (or to a warmer climate), it would be somewhat satisfying to know that the traitor was neutralized.
“Twenty-seven of the thirty-five soldiers survived the wraith attack. They were the only ones privy to the details of the mission. All are accounted for except one, Geoff, his partner murdered, but not by a wraith. Geoff logged on briefly to the Segue server during the cleanup, so it’s unlikely he was taken by the wraiths for a little late-night snack. And it makes sense that he’d run, now that the pool of suspects has been narrowed from several thousand to only twenty-seven.”
Sounded too easy. Custo didn’t like it.
“But to be completely safe,” Adam continued, “I’ve asked the rest of the team from last night to move to voluntary containment at the New York Segue compound for the duration of the investigation. I intend to question them all regardless.”
That was better. Adam would be thorough, especially where Talia was concerned.
If there’d been enough time, Custo would’ve liked to have performed the interviews himself. A couple of pointed questions would’ve yielded the man pretty quickly, even if he were lying. Mind reading was much more efficient than a lie detector test.
There were too many dangers from too many different sides. “Adam, I’m going to need a weapon. I don’t want to be unarmed.”
“Got your Glock right here.”
Annabella emerged from the bathroom, leaving the light on, scared of the dark. Her hair was parted to the side and hung in soft, deep toffee waves around her face to her shoulders. She wore little makeup that he could see, except for a deepening of color at her lips.
“Good,” Custo said. “We’ll be right up.”
Annabella looked from Adam’s ashen sober face to Custo’s. Neither was talking and the tension in the car was poisoning the air. The connection she’d shared with Custo that morning felt weirdly severed and distant, though just looking at his profile made her want him all over again. Wanting Custo was a fantastic distraction from the lure of the Shadowlands. That is, if Custo would talk to her or signify in some way that they were in this together. They were a team, weren’t they?
But it wasn’t as if she could ask while third-wheel Adam was right there, especially with Custo riding shotgun and her in the backseat. She’d just have to wait until they were alone again.
The mood heightened the sense that everything seemed shadowed today, the darkest places falling to impenetrable black. A prickly awareness told her that they were being followed. Flashes of adrenaline jumped her nervousness to paranoia. She hugged the fear close to keep her on edge, her mind sharp. Her anxiety, added to last night’s aches, made her muscles and joints complain bitterly, but ballet had taught her to tell good pain from bad pain. Bad pain meant you were hurt. Good pain kept you on the top of your game. This was good pain, a centering pain; she couldn’t afford to lose herself to Wolf again.