golden eyes hadnât changed. They looked the same as when she was in human form. âHey, I remember her. She was sitting in first class with us.â Her gaze whipped over to Brawn. âAnd you. I saw you in coach.â She made an angry circle in the air that encompassed the room. âAll of you were there.â She glowered at Striker. âDid you glamour me last night? Thatâs what happened, isnât it? I knew it.â
Striker didnât explain his actions to anyone, and it was beneath him to argue with pushy, overbearing females. He grabbed her shoulder and plowed into the barrier of her white magic. For a second, her dogmatic resolve fought his own. He rarely met an enchanted human who could resist him, and he could feel annoyance swelling inside his chest.
âIf you want to live, donât do that juju thing again. I mean it.â Her fists shot up to push his hand away.
His power broke through before she could fend him off. He gave her the subliminal suggestion to relax.
Her arms fell at her sides, even as her eyes lost their luster, the gaze of someone who had spent too long in a bar with a bottle of cheap gin.
âNow Iâm the only person you can trust,â he said.âYouâll do exactly as I command.â He enjoyed this little victory more than he should. He had a feeling Takala Rainwater rarely lost contests of will. What she didnât know was that he never lost them. âWeâre going to walk through this airport without incident, and you follow my commands to the letter. Is that clear?â
âRight, chief,â she repeated in a toneless robotic voice.
Striker received a call on his phone. He recognized Hacker, a young vampire and B.O.S.P. agent. He must have been on the team Mimi had dispatched to the airport ahead of them. âYes?â
âWe have the target. Sheâs getting into a taxi.â
âStay out of sight and do not engage. I repeat, do not engage. I want ten-minute updates on her movements.â
âYes, sir.â
Striker shut his phone, grabbed Takala Rainwaterâs elbow and escorted her through the airport. âTen minutes?â she asked distractedly, staring over at him. âWe could lose her in ten minutes.â
âI did not ask for your advice, Miss Rainwater.â
âItâs free, so take it.â A flaunting smile lit up her face.
âFree or not, keep it to yourself.â Striker tried not to look at her lips.
Her brows rose slightly, as if she was having a hard time with that command. Then she said, âOkay. Where are we going?â
âThat remains to be seen.â
âI donât like this.â
âThat makes two of us.â
âGosh, Iâm hungry. Can we get a burger?â she asked in a candid, almost childish entreaty. She batted her long lashes at him innocently.
Striker thought she was way too alluring when she was subjugated and compliant. His expression darkened. Now that he had her, what could he do with her? Culler knew what Takala looked like and her identity. She might want to tie up loose ends. He couldnât just put her on a plane back to the States; she could be in danger. No, heâd have to keep her with him. He heard her whine again for food, and he frowned so hard his forehead hurt.
Chapter 7
âG et in,â Nightwalker pointed to the backseat of the Saab.
âSure, then can we eat?â Takala nodded a greeting to the driver sitting behind the wheel, a female with red hair and freckles. She looked all of sixteen, the girl next door, save for the pale luminous skin and the fangs that had jutted just below her upper lip when Takala sat down behind her. Takala was certain she didnât like or trust vampires, but she wasnât used to being rude, either, so she said, âHowâs it going?â
The woman said something in a foreign language. It sounded Russian, and the tone was not at all cordial. Nightwalker
Striker didnât explain his actions to anyone, and it was beneath him to argue with pushy, overbearing females. He grabbed her shoulder and plowed into the barrier of her white magic. For a second, her dogmatic resolve fought his own. He rarely met an enchanted human who could resist him, and he could feel annoyance swelling inside his chest.
âIf you want to live, donât do that juju thing again. I mean it.â Her fists shot up to push his hand away.
His power broke through before she could fend him off. He gave her the subliminal suggestion to relax.
Her arms fell at her sides, even as her eyes lost their luster, the gaze of someone who had spent too long in a bar with a bottle of cheap gin.
âNow Iâm the only person you can trust,â he said.âYouâll do exactly as I command.â He enjoyed this little victory more than he should. He had a feeling Takala Rainwater rarely lost contests of will. What she didnât know was that he never lost them. âWeâre going to walk through this airport without incident, and you follow my commands to the letter. Is that clear?â
âRight, chief,â she repeated in a toneless robotic voice.
Striker received a call on his phone. He recognized Hacker, a young vampire and B.O.S.P. agent. He must have been on the team Mimi had dispatched to the airport ahead of them. âYes?â
âWe have the target. Sheâs getting into a taxi.â
âStay out of sight and do not engage. I repeat, do not engage. I want ten-minute updates on her movements.â
âYes, sir.â
Striker shut his phone, grabbed Takala Rainwaterâs elbow and escorted her through the airport. âTen minutes?â she asked distractedly, staring over at him. âWe could lose her in ten minutes.â
âI did not ask for your advice, Miss Rainwater.â
âItâs free, so take it.â A flaunting smile lit up her face.
âFree or not, keep it to yourself.â Striker tried not to look at her lips.
Her brows rose slightly, as if she was having a hard time with that command. Then she said, âOkay. Where are we going?â
âThat remains to be seen.â
âI donât like this.â
âThat makes two of us.â
âGosh, Iâm hungry. Can we get a burger?â she asked in a candid, almost childish entreaty. She batted her long lashes at him innocently.
Striker thought she was way too alluring when she was subjugated and compliant. His expression darkened. Now that he had her, what could he do with her? Culler knew what Takala looked like and her identity. She might want to tie up loose ends. He couldnât just put her on a plane back to the States; she could be in danger. No, heâd have to keep her with him. He heard her whine again for food, and he frowned so hard his forehead hurt.
Chapter 7
âG et in,â Nightwalker pointed to the backseat of the Saab.
âSure, then can we eat?â Takala nodded a greeting to the driver sitting behind the wheel, a female with red hair and freckles. She looked all of sixteen, the girl next door, save for the pale luminous skin and the fangs that had jutted just below her upper lip when Takala sat down behind her. Takala was certain she didnât like or trust vampires, but she wasnât used to being rude, either, so she said, âHowâs it going?â
The woman said something in a foreign language. It sounded Russian, and the tone was not at all cordial. Nightwalker