“I’m sorry,” she says. “That was presumptuous of me. But she—”

“What on earth are you apologizing for?” My eyes roam her beautiful face, her tied-back hair, her swirled badge. She drops her eyes and I realize she feels bad because now I’ll have to cover her expenses. It must’ve given her some sense of comfort to know she could pay for something if necessary.

I tear my eyes from Anna and back to the road when the light turns. My hands tingle, and it’s spreading. My heart is beating entirely too hard as unfamiliar feelings swell to an alarming size, filling every available space of my body and soul.

I’m nervous and excited all at once. I want her. I want Anna with every hot-blooded cell of my body, and I wish I could say it was only lust. Lust is familiar. What I’m feeling is huge and frightening and altogether unfamiliar. I want more than her skin and touch. I want all of her—all the madness that goes along with a female—the small touches and laughter, the talking after the hookup, the phone calls and hand-holding. I want it more than I’ve ever needed sex.

Bugger. Shite. No. This is too much for me. I am freaking out.

And then I nearly slam on the brakes and shout. Up ahead on the boulevard is a shadowy demon spirit. It takes all my control not to panic and bust a U-turn in the middle of Hollywood Boulevard, bunging up every car in my path, but that would draw even more attention. So I keep calm as I speak.

“Legionnaire.” I hold my hand down and point in the direction of the demon whisperer. Anna sucks in a breath and stares around blankly. She still can’t see them! I explain what the spirit is doing. “Whispering to that man in the blue suit. If he comes this direction I’m going to ask you to hide. Be ready to move.”

She slides lower in the seat and we both watch the contact between a man and a prostitute. I wish Anna didn’t have to see this. I’m prepared to order her down to the floor, but when the couple walks off, the whisperer flies down an alley and is gone.

I grip the wheel and grit my teeth to keep from shaking. Bringing Anna into Hollywood was royally stupid. I mumble angrily and get us out of there, wanting to bowl down every slow pedestrian in my path. What had I been thinking? I’d been so keen on wanting to watch her experience life that I forgot about the myriad of negative experiences to be had as well.

When had I ever forgotten that before now? Never. It’s usually the other way around.

I am so deeply ensnared in her angel voodoo. I know I should run. I should drop her at the nearest hotel and leave her far behind like the ticking bomb she is, but I feel as if I physically can’t. A new craving has taken root and the deepest part of me salivates for it. I can’t leave her yet.

Just a bit longer, I tell myself. I promised Patti I’d get Anna to this nun and to Duke Belial, and then I will leave her for good and get my mind right again.

However, for now I think I’ll let myself indulge in this new sensation while I can. I feel as if I’m carrying some epic secret, and the only reason I’m safe is that nobody else will ever know. It’s so rare to feel anything different, anything positive, and this is most definitely out of the ordinary. Shiny. New. Amazing.

Temporary.

In our room I change into basketball shorts and flop onto my bed.

“We could go for a swim,” I suggest.

“Didn’t bring a bathing suit,” she tells me.

Damn. I don’t suppose the hotel allows skinny-dipping.

“Kaidan . . .” Her sweet voice sails over me, relaxing me. “What happened to all of the Nephilim? Why are there so few of us now?”

So much for feeling relaxed. She will not let this subject go until I tell her. Yes, she needs to know our Nephilim history, but I hate seeing how it affects her. Female tears are one of my least favorite substances in creation.

I sigh and move to sit next to her. She listens raptly as I explain the Great Purge—the killing of every Neph on earth over one hundred years ago—and the measures the Dukes have since taken to keep our numbers at bay.

Anna covers her mouth in horror as it sinks in. “They sterilize them?” There’s shock and question in her eyes.

“Yes, me too,” I say. “All of us had the procedure.” I’d been eleven when Father flew a Neph doctor from India to our London home to give me a vasectomy. My body had burned through the pain meds faster than the doctor could administer them. I cringe as I recall it.

Anna becomes angry and indignant now. She jumps to her feet to pace and turn away from me, but I can see in the way she wraps her arms around herself that she’s crying. I lie back against the headboard.

“I knew it would only upset you,” I say with regret.

“Of course it upsets me! Doesn’t it upset you?”

She looks right at me, full of passion about the things I don’t let myself ponder.

“There’s no use wasting time thinking about things that can’t be changed.”

She comes back over and sits next to me, pulling her knees up to her chin and sliding her feet under the blanket. I want to comfort her with my arms, because I don’t have the words to make any of this right. I move closer, talking low, and take her hand into mine.

She watches our hands together—the way I trace her small fingers and thumb. I want her to look up at me.

Look at me, lovely Anna.

We’re so close. I want a redo on our kiss. I want to do it properly this time, and stay in control of the beast. I want to own that gorgeous mouth for as long as she’ll let me. I want to roll around the bed with her, completely clothed, testing the limits of my control for this girl until she’s ready for more.