Love Knows No Bounds (16 page)

Die? Were they talking about her?

Phoebe inched closer, her gaze flickering between the two people. The woman appeared relaxed, even amused, while Cade’s figure radiated tension, and a low growl rumbled in his chest.

“Die?” Phoebe said. “But this is just a dream, right?”

The woman regarded Phoebe, her eyes as black as midnight. “I am Lilith,” she said. “I rule here.” She considered Phoebe, head cocked to one side. “What if it were reality?”

“But it’s not, is it?” Phoebe turned away and searched for the rest of her clothes. She found her underwear draped over a boulder and her long, baggy pants behind it. She pulled them on.

Cade had risen to his feet. He was pacing the black sand. “I have five days.”

“Five days?” Phoebe realized she was sounding like a parrot but couldn’t help herself. “Five days to do what?”

Nobody answered, and she plonked herself down on the boulder and waited to see how this dream would work itself out. She wished she had her recorder, she wanted to remember what was said, but how likely was that in a dream? Cade still wore nothing but his pants, and she admired his half-naked body and tried to ignore the wings, which were twitching in obvious agitation.

“Only if you stick to the rules,” Lilith said, “and don’t reveal who and what you are. And the rules are already broken.”

“Er…actually, I don’t know what he is,” Phoebe muttered. “What is he?”

Again, they ignored her, and she ground her teeth in annoyance.

“However, I’m inclined to feel generous. It all depends on the woman.”

The woman?

Did she mean her? Well, it was her dream after all. Lilith strolled toward her, and Phoebe fought the need to jump to her feet and put a barrier between them. Despite Lilith’s beauty, there was something vaguely repellent about the woman.

She came to a halt a foot away. Reaching out, she placed one slender finger under Phoebe’s chin, turning it slightly to the side. Her brows drew together.

“Really, Caden, couldn’t you have shown a little restraint?”

Phoebe resisted the urge to reach up and touch her neck. She had a flashback to Cade’s mouth at her throat, the sharp pain.

Had he bitten her? Was he some sort of vampire? It seemed unlikely she’d bring a blood-sucking monster into her fantasy, but what other explanation was there?

She’d been so drugged by pleasure, she probably wouldn’t have noticed if he’d devoured her whole. Cade didn’t answer, and she glanced across to where he stood, scowling, his lips pressed firmly together.

Lilith dropped her hand and stepped back. “We have a small problem. According to the Covenant, Caden has five days to make you love him, but he’s not allowed to reveal his true self in that time. Now he’s shown himself to you, which means his soul is forfeit, as is your life.” She pursed her lips. “But I’m feeling generous, so I’m willing to give you a chance.”

The words made no sense. “A chance?”

“Let me be more direct. Do you love Caden Wolfe?”

“Just who are you?”

“Answer the question,” Lilith snapped.

Phoebe frowned. Queen or not, Lilith, was starting to seriously piss her off. She glanced at Cade. He was watching her, a hungry, hopeful look in his dark eyes. She turned away from the intensity of his gaze. He couldn’t really expect to tell him she loved him after a few hours.

Phoebe had never told anyone she loved them. Not even her closest family. She had always found the words impossible. She desperately wanted to retreat into her normal flippancy, but she peeked again at Cade, saw that same look in his eyes, almost pleading, and the urge to be flippant drained away.

“I don’t believe in love,” she said with an apologetic shrug in Cade’s direction. Her words weren’t entirely true. It wasn’t so much that she didn’t believe in love, as she wouldn’t allow herself to love. Not even in a dream. Especially not in a dream—Phoebe’s whole life had been haunted by nightmares of a love taken from her, and she wouldn’t risk that pain.

“How…fascinating.” Lilith seemed lost in thought, as she considered Phoebe. After a minutes silence, she turned to Cade. “She’s a dead woman walking. But you know, it might be amusing to watch you squirm. You have your five days. They will begin from the moment of your next meeting, but it must be as though this encounter never happened—she must forget.”

At her words, Phoebe’s panic flared. “I don’t want to forget.”

Even if it wasn’t real, and even if she wasn’t ready to admit to some complete stranger that she loved him, she wanted to remember this more than anything in her entire life. Cade was staring at Lilith, and Phoebe could see the tautness in every muscle, right to his wing tips that quivered and strained. Then the tension seemed to bleed from him, and he nodded once.

He came back to her, cupped her face in his large hand. His eyes filled with regret and something else.

“You’ll forget this,” he murmured. “But you will remember me. When the time is right, you
must
remember.”

“No, I—” But the light was already growing dim, his face fading, that same sense of loss washed over her and sucked her under.

…

Her face was damp.

It was the first thing she noticed when she regained consciousness. Her face was damp, and she was lying on the hard ground, the sand sticking to her cheek. She shifted slightly then stopped as a piercing pain splintered her skull. A moan escaped from her.

There was something she needed to remember, but it slipped away even as she tried to hold it tight.

“Eleni.” The word whispered through her mind, then drifted off on the breeze, leaving her bereft and empty.

“Don’t move, Miss.”

Her eyes blinked open at the sound of someone speaking close to her head. A man crouched next to her. He was big and wore camouflage gear with the Stormlord Securities insignia on his chest. She recognized him as the bodyguard she’d seen flanking Caden Wolfe. He ran his hands impersonally over her body, then sat back on his heels and examined her, a strange, intense expression on his face.

“I think you’re okay apart from a bang on the head,” he said. “Do you want to sit up?”

She pushed herself up, wincing at the pain, but found she could function.

“What happened?”

She peered about her. The place was in ruins. Small fires blazed at various points around the compound. She flinched. She’d hated fire for as long as she could remember. Her eyes shifted away to the bodies that lay unmoving among the rubble. She realized she was searching for someone. When she didn’t see him anywhere, she turned to the man crouched next to her.

“Caden Wolfe? Is he okay?” She didn’t know why she asked, but she needed to know.

“Yeah, he’s okay. He’s helping out.” He nodded across the compound, and Phoebe saw Caden Wolfe’s distinctive dark red hair. His back was to her; he’d stripped off his jacket and was tending to someone on the ground. He went still as though he could sense her stare, but didn’t turn.

He was safe, and the tight knot of tension inside her relaxed. She sagged against the wall, then glanced back to the man beside her. “What now?”

He straightened, then leaned down and picked her up easily, held her cradled against his chest. “Now, I take you to safety.”

Phoebe fought down the urge to struggle. She didn’t want to go. She wanted to stay close to Caden Wolfe. It was crazy, but with each step that took her away from him, the need to call out built up inside her.

She must have banged her head harder than she’d thought. She swallowed the words and closed her eyes against the fires that burnt all around her.

Chapter Three

Day One

“You are not taking me off this story.” Phoebe slammed the glass door and stomped into the office.

Patrick, her boss, glanced up and winced. “Great to have you back, Phoebe. How are you feeling?”

Phoebe’s hand went automatically to the back of her head, and she rubbed absently at the raised ridge of scar tissue. “Don’t try and change the subject.”

He stood up and came around the desk to stand in front of her, his gaze running over her. She straightened her spine and scowled at his chest. She hated tall men. And Patrick knew it. Even when she wore three-inch heels, like now, he towered over her.

“Why would you think I’m taking you off the story?”

She pursed her lips. “You mean you’re not? You’re not going to tell me it’s too dangerous?”

“Nope.”

“Hmm.”
That was way too easy.

“You’re not going back to Afghanistan, though.” He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her around, ran his fingers through the hair at the back of her head, and whistled softly. “Nice scar.”

Phoebe shrugged out of his hold and moved to face him once more. “It’s nothing.”

“I know you think you’re indestructible, but you could have died out there. Ten people were killed in that attack. I still don’t know how you escaped virtually unharmed.”

A shudder ran through her. “Neither do I.” She forced herself to remember that day. She’d been so sure she was going to die. Closing her eyes, she tried to picture what had happened, but all she saw was
his
face. Dark blue eyes, the narrow blade of a nose, sharp cheekbones, to-die-for mouth.

There was something important she was forgetting. Something about him.

“What are you thinking?”

Her eyes flashed open, and she took a step back so she could look him in the face. “Why?”

He was studying her, his head tilted to one side, and she barely prevented herself from squirming under the intense look. “Your face went all soft.”

“No it didn’t.”

Of course it hadn’t. Had it? Time to change the subject. “So, the story…”

Patrick picked up a paper from his desk and handed it to her. It appeared to be a printout of an email received that morning. As she read the words, the excitement mounted inside her.

“Stormlord Securities are giving me an interview? They never give interviews.”

The email was signed by Torrin Stormlord, the elusive owner of Stormlord Securities, but the interview was with the company CEO, Caden Wolfe, and it was today.

“Nope, I checked. They’ve never given an interview. Not a single one. So why now? And why you?”

“I don’t know.”

“He was there, wasn’t he? Maybe he thought you were cute.”

She narrowed her eyes. She was quite aware Patrick had only made the comment to irritate her, but equally aware that he had succeeded. “I was wearing local gear, scarf over my head and everything—I mean
everything
—was covered from head to toe. Believe me—I was not cute. But I think he saved my life. Maybe that’s why.”

“What? You never mentioned that before.”

“I don’t really remember much, but he was standing right in front of me when the attack happened. He must have pushed me, or rather, hurled me out of the way. Otherwise I would have been right in the middle of it.”

She hadn’t felt like herself since, though she wasn’t admitting that to anyone. She put it down to the blow to the head and tried to ignore the amount of times Caden Wolfe invaded her mind.

Now she was going to see him again.

She still had every intention of exposing him and his company. No company legitimately got that many government contracts. They had to be paying kickbacks—she just needed to find out how and who to. She wanted this story, but she needed some hard evidence and so far, she hadn’t got it. This would give her the opportunity to get Caden Wolfe off guard, and maybe he’d let something slip. She had copious notes—she’d better start going through them, work out her questions.

“And Phoebe—”

“Yes?”

“Don’t piss the guy off.”

“I won’t—” She grinned. “Well, I probably will, but not today. I’ll be good, I promise.”

She turned away, eager to get started. Pausing at the door, she glanced back at Patrick. “Would you have taken me off the story if it wasn’t for this?” She waved the paper in the air.

“Yup.”

…

Cade paced the floor of the office. He came to a halt by the tall windows, shoved his hands in his pockets, and stared down at the city of London far below.

Nearly two weeks since he’d found her. He needed to act, but terror battled with the impatience inside him.

Once they met again, he would only have five days. Right now, there was still a chance, and just to know that she was here in this world filled him with a wild sense of exhilaration.

“You know Lilith will be looking for her?”

The question came from behind, and Cade swung around. Torrin lounged in the huge leather chair, feet resting on the desk in front of him. His black hair fell loose around his shoulders, framing a long face with pale skin. A scar ran down from his right eyebrow across his cheekbone to the corner of his mouth, pulling his lip into a perpetual half-smile rarely reflected in those sleepy golden eyes.

A scar from an angel’s sword—mortal weapons would not mark them.

He appeared relaxed, but Cade knew his friend too well and could sense the tension, the barely suppressed excitement behind the impassive façade.

“Lilith has spies everywhere,” Torr continued. “It won’t take her long to hunt her down. I know you’ve got people watching her, but you need to move.”

He didn’t need Torr to point that out. He was quite aware that while Lilith had given the impression she was bestowing a favor by letting Phoebe go, in reality she’d had no choice. Within the rules of the Covenant, he had a right to save Phoebe should her life be in peril. He shouldn’t have shown himself, but there had been no other way. Lilith would not be so lenient should Phoebe come within her grasp a second time. While his queen cared nothing for Caden personally, if Phoebe returned to him, then Lilith would lose his allegiance, and Lilith hated to lose anything she considered hers.

He pressed his eyelids. “Christ, how the hell do I keep her safe from Lilith when I can’t tell her the truth?”

They had vowed allegiance to Lilith when there had been nothing left in the world but vengeance. At the time, it had seemed a good deal; Lilith bestowed on them her dark powers in exchange for their loyalty, and Torr at her side and eventually in her bed.

Those first years had passed in a fog of red hot rage. They’d had their revenge many times over, sated themselves on the blood of their enemies. Torr had become the Destroyer, a wild thing, a force of nature. And they had followed him, the Storm Lords of destruction.

For a thousand years, they had wreaked havoc on the world, so powerful that even the angels came to fear them. Until one day, when Gabriel had appeared.

He’d revealed that their wives were not dead and lost to them forever, as they had believed, but instead were caught in a perpetual cycle of death and rebirth, tied to the earth by the elixir they had taken.

Cade and his brothers had been offered a chance to make good the harm they had done to mankind, to become a force for good.

But a vow of allegiance could not be put aside lightly, and Lilith had the power to draw them to her.

She wanted Torr back. But in her way, she loved him, and she didn’t want his hatred. And so the covenant had been drawn up, between the Stormlords, Gabriel, and Lilith, who had fought for every point.

One thousand years of freedom, they’d been granted—if they found their wives in that time, Lilith would release them from their vow. But their wives must see them, know them, love them without being told anything of the past. They had five days, and if they failed, their wives would die, and this time they would not be reborn.

They had clawed their way out of the darkness, fled the Abyss in search of redemption and the women they loved. But their thousand years was nearly up. One of their brothers had found his wife two years ago. He had failed and she’d died and was lost forever. Now Bryce was a hollow shell who fought the darkness every day. Cade shuddered as he considered the same happening to him. Would he survive? Would he even want to?

“Well?” Torr prompted, dragging him from his thoughts.

“I plan to go to her.”

“That’s not good enough.”

Anger flared inside him. He straightened, and his fists balled at his side. He ground his teeth as he thought of an answer. The problem was, he knew Torr was right. He had to go see her, somehow make her fall in love with him all over again.

But what if he failed?

“You won’t fail,” Torr said as though he had heard the question, but then he might well have. “She fell in love with you before. She’s been loved by an angel—that will leave a mark on her soul. She will remember.”

Cade let out a short, bitter laugh. “Loved by an angel? But what am I now? No angel, that’s for sure. A drinker of blood, a demon from the Abyss—and our dark deeds are forever written on our souls. Will she look into my eyes and see what I have done? How can she love what I have become?”

“She’ll see beyond that.”

Cade shook his head. “You hope, but do you really believe?”

Torr ran a hand through his hair then closed his eyes briefly. “I have to. At least you’ve found her.” The bitterness was clear in his tone, his normally impassive eyes filled with emotion. Cade turned away, not wanting to see his friend’s pain.

“Anyway,” Torr said, “I’ve taken it out of your hands.”

Cade swung around at the words. “You’ve what?”

“Ms. Phoebe Little has been granted an exclusive interview with the CEO of Stormlord Securities—she’s in the building and on her way up now.”

Cade felt the rage rise up inside him. A growl vibrated through his body, and a red haze swam before his eyes.

She was here, in the building. In a few minutes, he would see her. He remembered the feel of her in his arms, the softness of her, the taste of her sweet blood. Heat coiled to life low down in his belly, and adrenalin surged through his system.

She was his. She would realize that. She had to realize that.

Torr rose to his feet and came round the desk. Placing his hands on Cade’s shoulders, he stared into his eyes. “Do this, Cade. Prove to us that the last thousand years haven’t been in vain.”

Cade nodded, his mind already turning on ways to protect her. He had an idea. She was a reporter; she wanted a story, so he would offer her a story. With strings attached. Strings that would tie her firmly to him. At least for the next five days. After that…

“And Cade—” As he opened the door, Torr spoke again. “I got her here—you keep her here. Try not to come on too strong or you’ll terrify her.”

“I’m cool.”

He was lying—in fact, he was burning up.

…

It was only an interview.

She’d interviewed hundreds of people in her years as a reporter. She’d interviewed soldiers, dictators, politicians. One corrupt businessman should be easy. So why were her palms sweating? And why were her knuckles showing white where they clutched the straps of her bag? She unpeeled her fingers and took a deep breath.

Be cool.

Which was a great idea. In theory.

Thinking about it, coming here alone might not have been the best plan. She could have brought a photographer along. Why hadn’t she thought of that? Was it too late? She could go back to the office, pick up a photographer, maybe pop home first and get changed into something more…

At that moment, the elevator came to a standstill, and the doors slid open.

She was being an idiot. Just do the interview and get out of there, then she could write the story and forget all about Caden Wolfe. Except she had an idea that wasn’t going to happen easily. After all, it was hard to forget someone you dreamed about every night. She closed her eyes and saw those sexy, midnight-blue eyes fixed on her as though they were staring into her very soul.

Her cell phone rang, dragging her out of her daydream. She pulled it from her bag and looked at the caller ID. Her father. Guilt gnawed at her; she hadn’t seen him since her return from Afghanistan. But she couldn’t cope right now—she’d have to call him after the interview. Switching off the phone, she shoved it back in her bag.

The elevator led into a large reception area with a desk in the center and a pair of oak doors at the far end. The desk was empty.

Her pulse picked up as she crossed the thickly carpeted floor, until she could hear the rapid thud of her own heart. She rapped on the wood.

“Come in.”

Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door.

The office was situated at the corner of the building and two outer walls were made entirely of glass. Caden Wolfe stood with his back to her, staring out through the floor-to-ceiling windows, hands shoved in his pants pockets. He wore a charcoal-gray suit, his usually immaculate hair ruffled.

He swung around to face her and stood silent, his eyes feasting on her. As his gaze met hers, a wave of heat washed over her. His eyes filled with a carnal hunger, inhuman in its ferocity. She swayed and put out a hand to steady herself.

Then the hungry look was wiped from his face, leaving his expression blank.

His photos didn’t do him justice; in the flesh, he was magnificent, his long lean figure shown off beautifully in the dark business suit.

She finally reached his face and found him watching her, but still she couldn’t look away. He reminded her of some dissipated angel—the perfectly sculpted cheekbones, the wicked blue eyes, thick lashes, passionate mouth.

Looking at him, something stirred in her mind. Something she needed to remember.

“Are you okay?” The deep, cultured tone of his voice was like crushed velvet caressing her ears. A shiver ran through her.

He raised one arched brow, and she shook her head to clear the intruding thoughts running through her mind. “Sorry. What did you say?”

As he strode toward her, she had to fight the urge to give way before him. Then he stopped a foot away, and now her contrary mind screamed to close the distance between them.