Dark Surrender

But he wasn’t here to seduce the woman.

“I’m someone you don’t want to upset,” he warned.

“If you get any closer, I’ll scream,” she tried to sound brave, though her voice wavered. “Security will throw you out of here—”

“Security would never get here in time.” He boldly traced one of his fingers along her jaw, using the invasion of her personal space to put her on edge. Her skin was so soft. “Tell me where to find the ring.”

He forced his way into her mind, using his persuasion to compel her answer.

“I… I don’t know what ring you’re talking about.”

Despite the fact that she felt afraid and vulnerable, she was fighting against him, pushing him out of her mind.

“Gold, Ms. Whitmore, with a big, shiny ruby,” he said. “Foreign symbols etched around the band. Sound familiar now?”

She hesitated, searching for a lie.

What a strong mind she had to fight his persuasion. He admired that quality. It made her an exciting challenge.

“If you know about the ring, then you know you could be in danger,” he tried to draw her out. “I’m here to help you. Will you tell me where it is?”

Kyriel stared at her rosy mouth, waiting for her to answer. How badly he wanted to kiss her. How sweet would she taste? Would she kiss him back?

“You know I reported the ring stolen,” she replied. “How should I know where it is? If you want to help me, why don’t you find the ring?”

Her words struck a nerve. He already felt like he was failing at his task, and she wasn’t making things easy.

Kyriel shifted his weight forward, crowding her even more, looking down as he towered above her. “Perhaps you reported it stolen to make people think you no longer have it.”

Her emotions scattered. She was afraid, yet excited. Kyriel liked having an effect on her, getting her all flustered and making that sweet blush come to her cheeks. It seriously turned him on.

“I reported it stolen because someone broke into my grandparent’s house and stole it,” she snapped, looking up to meet his eyes. “Along with their wedding rings, all my grandmother’s antique jewelry, and a flat screen television.”

The hard defiance in her eyes and the firm set of her lush lips made not kissing her impossible. Unbearable.

He wanted to know how she kissed, how she tasted.

Cupping her face in his hands, he closed his mouth over hers in a slow, languid kiss. She tensed at first, but then relaxed and softened, angling her head to accept the thrust of his tongue as he swept past her parted lips and dipped into her moist, warm mouth.

She was delicious, beautiful, all too tempting… and a distraction he didn’t need. He had to remember getting the ring was his top priority. He wanted his redemption more than anything else. Gabriel’s source of information told them the woman would have the ring, so why didn’t she?

Kyriel wasn’t kissing her simply for the thrill. He wasn’t the only one after the ring. With Father Antonelli and all the Keepers dead within weeks of each other, and two of the rings gone, Jillian Whitmore was his last hope. She would have inherited the ruby from her dead grandfather, and rather than obtaining it from her like he’d expected, Kyriel was learning it was out there floating around.

He had work to do.

He deepened the kiss, getting one last sweet taste of her before he had to leave. She breathed heavily, watching him as he lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed the ridge of her knuckles. “You’ve been lovely.”

He took a few lingering steps back, admiring her beautiful face, then turned and left her behind without another word. He hurried through the museum lobby and out the front doors, across the parking lot to his red Corvette.

He told himself it was best this way. He would take the ring from Jillian without ever having to involve her in a fated battle between Heaven and Hell. Kyriel didn’t want to see the woman come to any harm.

He wanted to see her naked, in his bed.

He had to get his mind straight. Focus on the task at hand. The planets were already aligning and he didn’t have even one of the rings. He hit the button on his key ring to deactivate the car alarm, opened the door, and slid down into the leather seat of his Vette.

He didn’t need to drive to get where he wanted to go. With his powers, he could flash himself to any location, but he preferred not to do it in front of the humans for obvious reasons. He cranked the powerful, roaring engine to life, shifted into gear, and pulled out of the parking lot.

The race for the rings was on, and if Jillian Whitmore was smart, she’d disappear.

***

I’m in deep shit.

Jillian’s grandfather had warned her that people would always be after the ring for its powers, she just hadn’t expected they would come looking so soon. First Jonathon, saying it belonged to him because of the Will, then it was stolen, and now she had Mr. Smith scaring her and making threats.

At first, she’d thought he was going to strangle her if she didn’t tell him what he wanted to know. People were murdered in this city every day, and he looked fierce enough to do it.

Instead, he’d kissed her.

Kissed her until her knees went weak. A long, unhurried, extremely thorough kiss that left her dizzy, breathless, her thoughts muddled, and afterwards he’d just walked out and left like it was nothing.

She thought about what he’d said, about her being in danger. If he and Jonathon were after the ring, how many others would be coming?

She’d barely had it for two months.

How had her grandfather managed to defend a ring coveted for its magical powers for the last fifty years?

Jillian had better find a way, or she wouldn’t survive nearly as long. The police were her only hope for recovering the ring, and then what would she do?

Leave New York?

Travel the world like her grandfather? He’d always been on the run, and now she knew why.

Jillian wasn’t good at traveling. Everyone she loved had died in car accidents. Planes crashed all the time. Trains derailed. Boats sank.

She tried to focus on the positive. She could do this. Her grandfather wouldn’t have prepared her to guard the ring one day if he hadn’t thought she was capable. The fact that the Will left all material goods and possessions to Jonathon meant nothing. She didn’t believe her grandfather meant him to have the ring, and he was the last person on Earth she’d give it to.

Right now, Jillian had to go back to work. She took a moment to calm herself, not sure what had her more shaken: Mr. Smith kissing her, or him questioning her about the ring. For some odd reason she’d felt compelled to tell him everything she knew, and she’d had to fight hard not to reveal her secret. It hadn’t been easy to do. There was something different about him, an intensity that drew her right in and made her want to give him whatever he wanted. It helped that he was deliriously handsome. An amazing kisser.

He was dangerous.

She smoothed her hands over her hair, and then adjusted her glasses on her nose. With the back of her hand she wiped away the remnants of her lip gloss, but she could still taste Mr. Smith’s kiss.

Next she tugged the half-sleeves of her blouse so they each came just below her elbows, then straightened her watch so it was aligned with the bones in her wrist. Three deep breaths—calm, blue ocean—and she emerged from the dark corner of the exhibit.

No one was around. There was no reason for anyone to be there. She would do the final walk-through of the exhibit with Jonathon tomorrow.

Jillian hurried towards the white pillars marking the entrance, pretending she was fine and that everything was normal. Her high heels clicked along on the marble floor, then dulled when she hit the red carpet and passed into the lobby. She prayed if there was a God, the ring would come back to her and she’d have another chance to keep it out of the wrong hands.