Targeted Page 5

  Suddenly she wanted desperately to jump up and run inside the house but before she could even get up, he was standing right in front of her. To her surprise, he held out a hand to help her up.

  Hesitantly she reached for it but the moment their hands touched, a strange shiver of sensation ran through her. It was like the waves of heat that had been consuming her lately but different…more intense.

  “God!” Emily gasped as her nipples hardened into tight points and the place between her legs went suddenly liquid with desire. What the hell? She snatched her hand back in fright and huddled into herself. “What…what did you do to me?” She looked up at the big Kindred mistrustfully.

  “Nothing.” He frowned, his hand still outstretched. “I simply wished to assist you.”

  “Assist me to what? To feel…to feel…” But Emily had no name for the strange rush of emotions and sensations that simple touch had made her feel. She’d had no sexual desires at all since the rape back in college. None since that fateful night when the other and the strange heat waves had pushed her relentlessly to find a man…and then deserted her when she finally had found one. Emily had believed that part of her was dead—buried by the trauma of the rape. And now, years later, to have such a strong wave of desire rush over her so suddenly for no apparent reason…

  No, there is a reason, she told herself, looking up at the Kindred. He’s the reason. But how the hell did he do that? And why?

  “Khalla?” He was still looking at her expectantly, clearly puzzled by her reaction. So whatever he’d done, he hadn’t done it on purpose. Had he?

  “I told you, that’s not my name.” Emily kept her distance from his still outstretched hand.

  “Forgive me, Emily.” He bowed to her in an oddly formal way. “I am Rivin Tragar of the Verrak but you may know me simply as Tragar. I had forgotten you don’t have any knowledge of me, though I have been watching you for days.”

  “You have?” She felt even more uneasy.

  “Of course,” he said patiently. “I told you, you have been targeted for termination. I was sent to kill you.”

  This again.

  “Great.” She began to edge away from him, wondering if she could possibly hop up and somehow get inside the house before he could grab her. But her purse was somewhere on the grass out by her car. How could she—?

  “I am not going to kill you now, of course.”

  “You’re not?” Emily stopped her edging and looked at him uncertainly. Was he lying to throw her off her guard?

  “Of course not. That would be tantamount to defiling a precious piece of art—desecrating a treasure of incalculable worth,” he said gravely. “A Khalla must be protected at all costs, which is why I must ask you to come with me.”

  “Ask me to what?” Emily began scooting again in a hurry. “Come with you where?”

  “Back to my ship. First I must endeavor to get the contract I was given to kill you revoked. Then we must be certain that no one else is attempting to assassinate you. Once I am sure of your safety, I’ll take you back to Rageron.”

  “Rageron? You mean the Kindred home world?”

  “It is one of them.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “I assume you don’t wish to stay here while going through your Tenrah. You need to go back home where there are suitable males to choose from.”

  “Back home? You mean you think that Rageron is my home?” Emily shook her head, not understanding him.

  “Of course.” He frowned. “You are clearly Khalla—your scent proclaims it as do the changes in your eyes and hair when your Kit’tara comes forward.”

  “Wait a minute—you know about that?” Emily sat up straighter and stared at him. “You know about my eyes? And the…what did you call it? The thing coming forward?”

  “The Kit’tara—your secret or second self.” He frowned. “Do you truly not know about these things? How can you be so ignorant of your rightful heritage?”

  “I don’t have any ‘heritage’,” Emily protested. “Other than being a Floridian. I was born right here in Tampa at Saint Joe’s hospital.”

  “Impossible,” he said flatly. “The Kindred haven’t been on this planet long enough for you to have been born here.”

  “But I’m not Kindred,” Emily said, exasperated. “You have me confused with someone else.”

  He looked at her, his golden eyes narrowed.

  “I could not confuse your sweet scent with another’s in a thousand years, Emily. You are Khalla—there is no denying it. As a male of the Beast Kindred I am sworn to protect you to the last breath in my body and the last drop of my blood.”

  “Well thanks. That’s, uh, really nice.” She was edging away again, eyeing him mistrustfully. “Maybe we could talk about it later? It’s been a long day and I could really use some alone time right about now if you don’t mind. I mean not to be rude but—”

  He blew out an exasperated breath.

  “Have you not heard a word I said to you? Someone wants you dead. And the male who put the contract on you all but promised me I wasn’t the only assassin assigned to target you. Every minute you’re out here alone in this unprotected place you’re in danger.”

  “I’m not unprotected—I have an alarm system,” Emily protested.

  “The one with the code numbers 7-17-27?” He raised an eyebrow at her.

  “Hey!” Emily put her arms around herself and shivered. “That’s private!”

  “Yet it was one of the first things I found out about you when I started my surveillance.” The big Kindred crossed his arms over his broad, muscular chest and frowned at her. “I could have come into your domicile any night and killed you as you slept.”

  “Ugh!” Emily shuddered involuntarily. “What a horrible thing to say! And you wonder why I don’t want to go anywhere with you?”

  “I’m simply stating the facts. I’m a very good assassin—I haven’t missed a target yet. But it wouldn’t take a member of the Verrak to take you out. Any fool with a sonic rifle and a scope could do it.” He motioned to her front lawn. “Look how your sight lines are blocked by vegetation—foolish! The locks on your doors are easily pickable and even if they were not, the doors themselves are made of such flimsy material they could be forced with very little effort.”

  “Oh my God.” Emily leaned away from him. “You really have been studying me. Watching me…waiting for the right opportunity to…to…” But she couldn’t finish the thought.

  “As I told you—I was hired to kill you.”

  He shrugged, his massive shoulders rolling with the gesture. He was wearing a black leather vest which left his arms free. On the right one was an intricate tattoo of black cross hatched lines that ran from shoulder to wrist. For a moment it almost seemed to pulse—the lines wriggling along his tan skin.

  “Even now the narsh calls to me, reminding me that I have given my word to kill you,” he said, nodding at the tattoo she was studying. “But I will not answer its call. Though I have turned my back on everything else I ever believed, I cannot violate my most basic instincts—you are a Khalla in danger here and you must be protected.”

  “I don’t know you—I never met you until fifteen minutes ago!” Emily was up on her feet now, backing away. “How do I know you’re not just making up some kind of story to get me to come with you? I mean, maybe you’re some kind of…of Kindred serial killer and you just want to take me back to your ship and go all Silence of the Lambs on me. Maybe you want to wear my skin and eat my liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti!”

  He frowned and looked down at his large black boots. He appeared to consider for a while before answering. At last he looked up.

  “I can see why my words would seem suspect to you. If you truly believe yourself to be human and you have no knowledge of your true birthright, everything I have told you would sound like an elaborate lie to lure you away to your death.”

  “Damn right, that’s exactly how it sounds!” Emily said in a shaking voice. “So just stay away fro
m me!”

  “Emily…Khalla…” He took a step towards her and she backed up some more.

  “I said stay away! I’m not who you think I am—you have me confused with someone else.”

  Still he kept advancing, as silent and as menacing as a panther that had somehow escaped its cage to go wandering around a residential area.

  Emily looked around wildly, trying to find a way out of this situation. Maybe she could get around to the back door where she kept a key under a fake rock…

  “That’s him, officer! That’s the man I saw coming up here!” The high, quavering voice of Mrs. Harmon, Emily’s nosy next door neighbor, suddenly split the tense silence between them.

  Oh, thank God!

  Emily looked up with relief to see two police officers, guns drawn, advancing up her driveway. Behind them, wearing a pink flowered muumuu was Mrs. Harmon. Her gray hair was already up in curlers for the night even though it wasn’t yet five o’clock.

  Emily thought she had never been so glad to see her nosy neighbor in her life. When she’d first moved in, Mrs. Harmon had made her life semi-miserable coming over constantly with pies and casseroles and invitations to join this book club and that bridge club and every other intrusive thing under the sun. Now Emily swore to herself that she’d join anything her neighbor asked her to, no matter how irritating it seemed.

  Of course Mrs. Harmon was a little late—it would have been nice to have help while Grayson was menacing her. But his blond American good looks and expensive suit probably hadn’t pinged her elderly neighbor’s radar nearly as hard as the big Kindred’s long hair, tattoos, and leather vest. Not to mention his sheer size and his brilliant golden eyes.

  That’s him—that’s him,” Mrs. Harmon exclaimed again, pointing at the Kindred who’d said his name was Tragar. “Get him, officers!”

  “Just stand back, Ma’am,” one of the policemen said to Mrs. Harmon. “We can handle it from here.”

  “You’d better handle it! I told you what I saw him do to that other man’s hand! And poor Emily is all alone here since she still doesn’t have a husband.”

  Emily felt a little of her goodwill and gratitude slipping. She tried to remind herself that her neighbor came from a generation that believed getting married and having kids was every woman’s sole purpose in life but it was still irritating to hear the tone of pity in Mrs. Harmon’s voice—as though being single was some kind of disease Emily was afflicted with.

  “Ma’am,” the officer said, this time speaking to Emily. “Are you all right? Is this individual harming or threatening you in any way?”

  “I—” Emily began but she didn’t know what to say. Both the policemen and the big Kindred were staring at her, waiting. “He…said he was sent here to kill me,” she said at last. “But then he said he wouldn’t,” she continued quickly as Mrs. Harmon sucked in a gasp of dismay. “Because I’m, uh, special somehow. Some kind of something that needs to be protected.”

  “Sir, I think you’d better come with us,” the second officer said to Tragar.

  The big Kindred shook his head, not even looking at the police. His eyes were locked on Emily’s, giving her the uncomfortable sensation that he could somehow see through her.

  “Khalla,” he said softly in that deep, rumbling voice of his. “You are making a mistake. You’re not safe here.”

  “I—” But before Emily could say anything else he simply melted into the bushes at the edge of her lawn and disappeared.

  “What the hell! Stop—that’s an order!” the first policeman yelled, running for the Breadfruit bushes.

  “Did you see where he went?” The second officer went running into the bushes too, gun ready.

  But though the two of them searched the bushes with increasing urgency and anger, they couldn’t find even a trace of the huge, golden-eyed Kindred.

  He was simply gone.

  * * * * *

  Tragar moved his vehicle a few blocks down and parked on the other side of the street. Then he enabled the light refracting tech and sat there, invisible for all intents and purposes, to watch the peace keeping officers search for him.

  Emily was still outside too—he caught a glimpse of her through the large gaps the officers had made in the vegetation while searching for him. She was standing there—as much a target as ever—talking to her elderly neighbor. The same female who apparently hadn’t been a bit worried when that bastard of a rapist had come upon Emily by herself and unarmed but had decided the law must be called when a male like himself came on the scene. They seemed to be talking and Tragar could imagine what they were saying—Emily was probably confiding the whole, frightening story to the older female who was no doubt consoling her.

  He cursed himself for a fool as he watched. Why had he told her he was there to kill her—that she was a target for termination? And why had he revealed that he knew all the particulars of her flimsy security system? At the time, he’d been simply trying to convince her she wasn’t safe and needed to come with him. In retrospect, he could see how his words would come across as menacing and ominous.

  I actually told her I could have come into her domicile and killed her at any time I wanted. Gods, what’s wrong with me? She’s probably frightened to death of me and rightfully so.

  It had to be her scent affecting his mind to make him act so stupid. Gods, he’d never smelled a Khalla in heat before but his old instructor, Xen’dex, had told him he would never be able to mistake it if he did. And he had been completely right—Emily smelled like a warm, ripe fruit, ready to be plucked.

  Tragar wondered how long she’d been in Tenrah. Such a state was very dangerous but he was more concerned with the fact that someone else might be targeting her now. His ten solar days were officially up and the narsh on his arm was burning. There might not be a formal time limit set in his contract but Emily’s time was clearly running out.

  Another thing bothered him too. He’d told her they would try to get the contract on her life revoked but he knew such things were not done—not in the Verrak. Once a contract was taken, it must be finished—either with the death of the target or the death of the assassin who had failed to kill said target. For years Tragar had courted death—hoping in his secret heart that each new target would be the one who was able to kill him. But now he felt differently—he had a purpose again, other than seeking death. A Khalla must be protected, no matter what the cost.

  That cost is apt to be very high, you know, whispered a little voice in his brain. Up to and including your life.

  Tragar shook his head, pushing the thought away. He would deal with the contract and his violation of it when the time came. For right now, he simply wanted to keep her safe. Unfortunately she had hidden herself away in her flimsy dwelling, preferring the illusion of security to the harsh reality that she was in danger.

  He wondered if there was any way to get to her before it was too late.

  Chapter Six

  Emily settled down for the night and pulled the covers all the way up to her chin. For the hundredth time she wished she’s taken her big sister Anna’s offer to stay at her place tonight. Actually, it hadn’t been so much an offer as an order.

  “You’re coming here tonight and that’s settled!” Anna had insisted when Emily had spilled out the whole messy story on the phone—after she’d finally gotten rid of Mrs. Harmon, that was, which had taken forever.

  “I don’t know,” Emily had hedged.

  “What do you mean you don’t know? You just told me that not one but two men tried to attack you today! And one of them is Richard Grayson, that son of a bitch! You need to come over here now!”

  Emily had shifted uncomfortably, glad her older sister couldn’t see her. She hadn’t been completely honest about what had happened, especially when it came to Grayson. After all, how could she explain that she’d gone feral and nearly ripped his throat out? She’d never told Anna about the other inside her—had never told anyone. In her version of events, the Kindred warrior ha
d come just in time and broken up the encounter. Which he had, but not before she’d bitten a chunk out of Grayson’s neck.

  Speaking of Grayson, where was he now? Since she had yet to get a call from the police or a lawyer saying they were filing charges, she had reason to hope that he would leave the matter well enough alone. But you never could tell…

  “You need to come stay with me,” Anna had said again. “You know you can always have the guest room.”

  Right—the one right beside the nursery? I don’t think so, Emily thought. If she really was in danger, she didn’t want to bring that danger into her beloved sister’s house, especially if it might affect her new little niece and nephew. That was the main reason she’d decided to stay put in her own place. The place where that huge Kindred knows your alarm code, a snarky little voice in the back of her brain reminded her. But Emily had pushed it to the side.

  “I’ll be fine,” she’d told her sister. “The police have left a squad car right outside in my driveway and there’s going to be an officer watching all night long. Nobody’s getting anywhere near me.” She hoped, anyway.

  “Well…all right.” Anna had sounded really unhappy about it but Emily could also hear the fatigue in her voice. The twins had been keeping her up all night, giving her precious little sleep. The last thing she needed was to worry about her sister. After a few more exchanges, Emily had finally gotten off the phone and had gone to do her usual night time routine.

  She had thought that her nightly bubble bath and a glass of white wine would help her relax but she’d been looking over her shoulder the entire time she was in the tub and jumping at the least little thing. Every sound made her wonder if Grayson or the huge Kindred warrior was coming in the back door, every whisper of a tree branch against the windows sounded like someone slitting the screen with a long silver knife to get to her.

  It’s no wonder I can’t relax, Emily told herself, as she lay there rigid in her bed. After the day I’ve had and having to see Grayson again after all these years…But though confronting her rapist was extremely distressing, it was the things the big Kindred had said to her which kept coming back to haunt her.