Edge of Danger. Rhyannon Byrd

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      Before she could think better of it, she opened her mouth and gave voice to the snide retort perched on the tip of her tongue. “Let’s get one thing straight here, birdbrain. You may have been handy back there, but I did not ask for your help.”

      He’d started to move closer, but halted midstep, his dark, onyx-colored eyes narrowed to menacing slits. “Did you honestly just call me birdbrain?”

      Saige lifted her chin a notch higher at his outraged tone, almost giving herself a crick in the neck. “You’re damn right I did,” she muttered, figuring she had no choice now but to brazen out her loss of sanity.

      He shook his head, clearly at a loss as to what to make of her. “I’m starting to think you’d rather I’d left you back there to become its next plaything. Is that it, Saige?” His tone was more graveled now, his jaw hard as he stalked closer. “Or do you not know what Casus do to women before they kill them?”

      She shivered and wrapped her arms around her middle, chilled despite the stifling heat of the evening. Now that the terror of that blind flight was over, her mind spun with dizzying speed, centering on one undeniable fact. After all the worrying…and wondering, she now knew, without any doubt whatsoever, that the Casus were real—that they were the ones after her. A bloody monster who could rip her apart with its bare hands as if she were nothing more than a troublesome insect, and in that moment, Saige finally realized that there’d been a silent, frightened part of her that’d been wishing…hoping…that maybe, just maybe the legend was wrong. After all her planning and research and the crazy things she’d done to make sure she protected the Dark Markers, she’d been hoping it wasn’t real—the monsters and murder and mayhem. And now that she knew the truth, there was no going back. Ever.

      “I know what the Casus are—what they’re capable of,” she whispered, hating the way her throat shook and her eyes burned. Hating that she couldn’t hide it from him—from this beautiful stranger whose presence completely screwed with her body and her mind. “I don’t need details.”

      “Maybe you do.” His tone was equally soft, but hard, his mesmerizing eyes still narrowed with frustration. “Especially if you think you can traipse off through the jungle like a stupid little idiot when you have a sadistic killer on your tail.”

      “Excuse me for panicking,” she ground out, caught in that dizzying, explosive state between fury and fear, “but I wasn’t thinking about monsters when I ran. I was too busy trying to get away from you and your perverted mental sex show!”

      The second the words left her mouth, his expression turned livid. “Just what the hell does that mean?”

      Saige glared at him, while in a far corner of her mind she accepted the fact that this was by far the strangest conversation she’d ever had—and God only knew she’d had a few. She hadn’t meant to blurt that little tidbit out, but terror had apparently seized her ability to self-edit.

      Clearing her throat, she tried for a calmer tone. “I…I know what you were thinking about back at the barra.”

      His gaze sharpened with suspicion, the sharp ridges of his cheekbones flushed a dull shade of red that she could clearly see in the thickening lavender twilight. For a moment it looked as if he was going to demand how she knew, but then he scraped his hands back through his short black hair, the raised position of his arms accentuating the predatory power of his muscles, making him look like some kind of carnal god come down to tempt her with the savage beauty of his body. Pressing one hand to her pounding heart, Saige could have sworn that a nearly silent, gritty burst of laughter rumbled deep in his chest, though the seductive sound never quite reached her ears.

      “Do you read minds, then?” he asked.

      Unwilling to reveal the truth, she hedged, saying, “I’m not blind, Mr. Quinn. It wasn’t hard to read your thoughts with that look you had on your face.”

      She couldn’t believe it, but his blush actually deepened. “Christ, you Buchanans are all the same, aren’t you?” He pushed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, staring at her with a searing intensity that made her feel hot and cold all at once.

      Taking a deep breath, Saige searched his expression…and found herself mesmerized by the shifting heat and shadows in his dark, beautiful eyes. Was he after the Marker? Or was it something else he wanted?

      “What do you know about the Buchanans? What exactly do you know about me?” Other than the fact that you know I want to bite you, she silently groaned, thinking uncomfortably of the vision. It was madness, how much the idea of sinking her teeth into him excited her. The heaviness and stinging heat in her gums was growing worse, signaling the release of the Merrick’s fangs.

      It won’t be long now, she thought. Like a match set to a fuse, there was something about the tantalizing Michael Quinn that had her primal blood surging, pulling her awakening closer to the surface…urging it on.

      Which meant that her hunger would grow stronger, demanding to be fed.

      He watched her with that hard, silent gaze, making her feel as if he were listening in on her private thoughts, which she seriously hoped wasn’t the case. Finally, after what seemed like a long, painful forever, he answered her question in a low rumble of words. “I know enough to believe that you understand what’s going on here. I also know about your family, your mother, even the cross you found in Italy. And I’m also pretty damn sure that you’ll know exactly what I mean when I say that I’m a Watchman.” He paused, as if waiting for her to deny it, but she simply stood there, dazed, wondering what in God’s name she was going to do. Being a Watchman meant that he was one of the good guys, which should have been a relief…and yet, Saige couldn’t deny that she felt more restless than ever.

      “You can trust me, Saige. If we’re going to make it out of here alive, you have to trust me.”

      “Trust you?” She stared, thinking he was unlike anything or anyone she’d ever imagined as a Watchman—and yet the truth burned in that dark, smoldering gaze. She believed him. But if he was what he claimed, then he was clearly breaking every one of the Watchmen’s rules. “I know how this is supposed to work,” she murmured, unable to disguise her suspicion. “You’re meant to watch me, to keep your distance. Not walk right up to me in the middle of a crowd…while thinking about…about what you were thinking,” she finished lamely.

      “You know what they say about desperate times calling for desperate measures? Well, this is one of them.” He pulled a photo of her out of his back pocket, and held it up for her to see. “I have orders to get your troublesome little ass back to Colorado, to your family. Your brother Riley gave me this to help me find you.”

      Saige looked at the picture taken of her two years ago, when she and Riley had spent Christmas at home with Elaina, then back at the man who called himself Quinn. “Why would Riley send you after me? And what was all that about back at the bar?” she demanded, only to immediately wish that she hadn’t, too aware of the fact that the more she thought about that explicit image, the warmer she got, until it felt as if she were melting from the inside out, and her stomach actually gave an embarrassing growl.

       Cool it, Saige. You need to stay sharp…not starving.

      Unfortunately, the primal creature awakening within her had other ideas.

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