Immortal Trust Read online

  Lucan clamped his teeth together, silencing a defensive bark. God’s teeth, for once ’twould be nice if Gabriel made the bonding of seraphs easy.

  * * *

  Lucan’s eyes hardened like steel and clashed with Chloe’s annoyed scowl. She turned her back on the three imposing men, unwilling to let Lucan’s handsome face sway her into better spirits. Held back by the insistence from the Vatican that she wait until their representatives could be present, her team had missed a full day. A delay that would cost them dearly if the overcast sky made good on its threat of snow.

  She stomped inside the trailer, letting the door bang shut behind her. Determined to ignore the twinge of guilt her unprofessional attitude brought, she dropped into her desk chair and folded her arms across her chest.

  As expected, Lucan and the other two blocks of stone ducked through the doorway and entered the single-wide’s makeshift office. They formed a triangle in front of her desk—two blond corners at the rear, with Lucan as the point man. She let her gaze wander across the masculine faces. At Lucan’s right, the slightly taller, sandy blond wore a haggard expression. As if he had seen more from life than his midthirties warranted. He regarded her with subtle curiosity. Like a colleague who assessed a competitive peer. Beside him, the other blond’s expression brimmed with humor. Soft brown eyes crinkled at the corners, as if he enjoyed some inside joke.

  Her gaze shifted to Lucan, and a strange tightness possessed her skin. Her work took her to the four corners of the world. She’d seen, spoken to, and even worked with handsome men. For that matter, her brother had been known to make women titter stupidly when he walked into the room. But this man … His broad shoulders screamed strength. His narrow waist said he knew the meaning of a hard workout. Yet, the way he looked at her, as if he could read her very thoughts, made her wholly uncomfortable. Behind the unmistakable sharpness of annoyance, interest fringed his unusual gray eyes. And the raven hair that fell almost to his shoulders suggested an uninhibited nature that contradicted his neat attire.

  A shiver raced down her spine as the word naughty flitted through her thoughts.

  He quirked a dark eyebrow. One corner of his mouth threatened to yield to a self-assured smile.

  Heat crept into Chloe’s cheeks. She quickly averted her gaze and shuffled a stack of papers from one side of the desk to the other. Handsome maybe. Cocky she could do without. Particularly if she had to work beside him for the next several months. She’d had her fill of trying to prove herself among her colleagues.

  Fixing her stare on the less threatening face to Lucan’s left, she cleared her throat. “Is there a particular reason you decided to show up today?” Sarcasm crept into her voice. “Why not tomorrow? By then we might have a foot of snow to dig through and three extra pairs of hands would be welcome.”

  With the smoothness of brandy, Lucan’s deep British accent washed over her. “I fear we are both victims of miscommunication. We were instructed to arrive this evening, milady.”

  Milady? Chloe blinked. The antiquated title prickled her arms with goose bumps. She left her chair to give herself a bit of breathing room and drifted to the long countertop behind her. Picking up a printed copy of the Vatican’s communication, she flicked the corner of the paper. “It says here Sunday the nineteenth. I assumed we’d start the week promptly this morning.” Turning, she strode back to the group of men and thrust the paper at Lucan’s wide chest.

  He pushed it gently aside. Reaching into his coat pocket, he withdrew a folded square of paper. As he pressed the creases smooth, Chloe groaned inwardly. She didn’t have to look to know what that sheet of paper would say. Inevitably, his copy would read Monday the twentieth. Her luck wouldn’t have it any other way.

  She accepted his outstretched offering and scanned the paper, confirming her suspicion. Her angry sails deflated, she let out a heavy sigh. “I apologize.”

  “No apologies are necessary.” Lucan’s mouth lifted with a smile. His eyes sparkled with the gesture, not unlike silver beneath bright sunlight. “’Tis understandable you would be upset.”

  For a moment, Chloe could do no more than stare. If he’d been handsome moments ago, that warm smile made him breathtaking. Her gaze skipped down to his boots, making note of the thick expanse of his thighs, the way the denim fitted snug. As she again met his discerning stare, and that dark eyebrow quirked as it had before, her cheeks heated once more. Good grief, he wasn’t the least bit uncomfortable by her appreciative appraisal. If anything, she half suspected he’d have no qualms mentioning it aloud if his friends weren’t present.

  He took a confident step forward and extended his hand a second time. “Shall we try this again? I am Lucan.”

  Swallowing hard, Chloe slid her palm into his. His fingers tightened just enough to make the strength in his hands obvious, but his grip came nowhere close to painful. Pleasant almost. If it weren’t for the overwhelming masculine presence that flooded her awareness. She tugged on her hand, anxious to be free of the unsettling sensations that accompanied the scrape of his skin.

  The pressure around her fingers strengthened, trapping her in place. Lucan nodded over his left shoulder. “This is Caradoc.” He tipped his head at the other man. “And Gareth.”

  Chloe offered the other two men an uncomfortable smile. “A pleasure, gentlemen.”

  Lucan’s thumb brushed across the back of her hand. The light gesture carried entirely too much intimacy for her liking. She pulled back, and this time, Lucan’s fingers let go. Her palm slipped free, but his gaze imprisoned her. Suggestion glinted in those steely depths. A silent, yet bold statement that invited her to enjoy a bit of wickedly sinful abandon.

  She broke free from the rush of heat that infused her blood by returning to her desk. He might be drop-dead gorgeous, but colleagues and sex didn’t mesh. She’d learned that lesson the hard way. Nothing short of absolute desperation would let her entertain the notions Lucan’s eyes conveyed. And she hadn’t reached desperate yet. Two years without a man left her a bit hungry for physical satisfaction, but the lack of orgasms hadn’t erased all sense from her head.

  Determined to communicate strict professionalism, she summoned her no-nonsense business demeanor. “So, gentlemen, since it’s so late, what do you say to an early start in the morning—assuming the weather cooperates?”

  Lucan glanced toward the door. “There is nothing you require of us this evening?”

  Chloe shook her head and forced her irritation aside. “No, we’ve done nothing today. I was instructed to wait until you arrived before we excavated any more relics that could belong to the Church.”

  Caradoc gestured at the closed crates stacked on the countertop. “We would like to see the artifacts you’ve already unearthed.”

  “Those?” She chuckled softly. “Those aren’t what you’re here for. Anything that could possibly carry religious significance is in the other trailer. My brother, Julian, already left for the hotel. He has the keys, I’m afraid.”

  Lucan’s gaze narrowed with suspicion. “But the cars outside—no one is here with you?”

  At the reminder she’d have to close up the field office alone, Chloe’s chest tightened. Out here, especially at night, the presence that had hounded her the last eight years intensified. She didn’t know what, exactly, it was, but she understood one thing clearly—it didn’t like her.

  She ignored the chill that inched down her spine. “I’ve been doing paperwork all day. I’m used to working alone.” Just not at night. Never at night.

  A slight frown pulled at Lucan’s brow. “Do you have much work remaining?”

  “Oh, not much.” She gestured at the open record book on her desk. “I need to transfer notes on three more artifacts into the computer. Then I’ll head on back.” Forcing brevity, she laughed. “Just me and the trees. The quiet’s nice.”

  The tight downturn to Lucan’s mouth evidenced his disbelief. He twisted to address Caradoc. “Go on. I will stay with her.”

  “No
!” Chloe blurted out. Lord no, not alone with him. She’d take the presence in the darkness over ten minutes alone with him. He posed a far greater risk. “I mean, thank you, but that’s not necessary. I’ve been here for a full month. I’m quite capable of locking up on my own. Rest assured, I won’t be fiddling with anything that would interest you.”

  Lucan eased out of his coat and draped it over the back of a nearby chair. “’Tis not the Church’s interest that concerns me, milady, but your safety.” Leather creaked as he sat down.

  “Till morn then,” Gareth chimed, his eagerness to be free of the trailer evident. He exited swiftly.

  Caradoc clamped his hand on Lucan’s shoulder in a brotherly gesture of support. “I shall inform Merrick we have arrived.”

  To Chloe’s horror, he too vanished out the door. Unable to look at Lucan, she stared at her blank laptop screen. “Maybe work can wait until tomorrow.”

  Her feeble excuse met a wall of determination. “Nay. Do what you must. I will…” Trailing off, he glanced around the trailer. On spying Chloe’s coveted, specially shipped from Tucson, latest edition of Cosmopolitan, he picked up the magazine and scanned the cover. A smirk drifted across his sensual mouth. “I will learn how to turn a weekend getaway into an erotic paradise.”

  Sheer mortification scalded her face. With a fierce push, she swiveled her chair around so she wouldn’t have to look at him and pressed the button to bring her laptop out of sleep mode. Torture. Not only did the Church seek to insult her ethics by demanding she cease excavation until their representatives arrived to oversee her work, they sought to torture her with a man who could define erotic paradise.

  CHAPTER 2

  Lucan looked over the top of the magazine he was pretending to read. Chloe Broussard was far more fascinating than the glossy advertisements. Not to mention, perusing an article that detailed the many benefits of breakfast abed with a willing partner, whilst Chloe sat across from him, made the small confines uncomfortably warm.

  Feed your partner berries to kick off your day of hedonistic pleasure.

  As Chloe chewed on the end of her pen, a vision of her lips closing around his fingers burst to life in his mind. He scowled at the unbidden intrusion. Damnation, he had not expected she who digs in dust to be so delightfully feminine.

  He studied the delicate lines of her profile. Long lashes that he could make out even across the distance separating them dusted high, regal cheekbones. A smooth jawline tapered to a chin that would fit neatly atop two of his fingers. Full lips promised softness. All features designed to torment a man. Her nose, however, made him chuckle inwardly. Or rather, the slightly crooked way it sat between her eyebrows. He found the flaw endearing. A perfect imperfection designed to remind him that though her veins ran with the blood of angels, she was still an earthly human.

  Her lashes drooped for the second time. As they lingered on her cheeks, her chin dipped with exhaustion. She jerked upright, scrubbed at her eyes, and squinted at the screen.

  “Chloe, how long have you been here today?” he asked quietly.

  “Hm?” She blinked, then regained her composure and pushed aside her momentary surprise. “Here? I come in around five every morning.”

  Lucan frowned. “’Tis almost fourteen hours of work. You should rest.”

  Her soft chuckle floated over the whistling wind. “I have four months to excavate that feudal castle before my special license expires. I lost most of January to the weather. February isn’t much better. If I take time to rest, we’ll miss out on key findings.”

  She would not see the completion of her four months. Once she uncovered the Veronica, her life would change forever. But Lucan kept that knowledge to himself. Soon enough he would have to tell her. Presently, however, she faced little danger. He fell silent as her short nails clicked across the keys, her dedication to her work a trait he found immeasurably appealing. Few mortals he knew would put in such time when they could have easily sloughed off with good excuses.

  What would she say when he informed her of her seraph’s status? Would she, like the others, disavow her fate? A frown returned to tighten his brow. Nay, she might resist, but he would not force her circumstance upon her as Merrick and Farran had done. Would not force himself upon her. ’Twas a reason good manners existed, and he would court her as she deserved. Solicit her affections afore she learned her fate and the greater duty required. As long as Azazel’s minions did not force him into conflict and fill his soul with more evil, he possessed time to wait.

  A rattle at the window lifted the hairs along his forearms. He stiffened as the certain scent of death met his nose. ’Twas faint, little more than the odor of a rotting mouse beneath the floor planks, yet present all the same. The wind buffeted the tiny window behind him, and the foul aroma of decay intensified. With it came an overwhelming awareness of a hate-filled presence.

  Mayhap he did not possess as much time as he believed.

  Centuries of combating Azazel’s dark creations triggered his warrior’s instincts. Reflexively, he dropped his hand to his hip to grasp his holy sword. His fingers, however, closed over empty air, and Lucan muttered an inward curse. Demons lurked outside, and he had foolishly left his blade in the SUV. His first day with his seraph, and already he failed to protect her accordingly.

  As if Chloe too sensed they were no longer alone, she glanced over her shoulder at the window. Her gaze dipped to his. A hesitant smile waivered on her lips. “Some wind, isn’t it? Guess that storm’s blowing in after all.” She let out a sigh as she swiveled back to her computer. “Tomorrow we’ll have to dig out again. I wish the damn tarps I ordered two weeks ago would get here.”

  Lucan narrowed his gaze, unable to stop the rush of suspicion. The quiver in her voice betrayed her awareness of the demons. But why did she show no fear? No concern at all about the malicious creatures waiting beyond? ’Twas as if she expected them.

  He squeezed his eyes shut to cease the mistrustful racket of his thoughts. That she did not acknowledge their unwelcome company should not surprise him. She possessed no knowledge of his purpose. She had only been informed he, Caradoc, and Gareth were the Church’s educated experts on holy relics. ’Twould be foolishness to speak of dark spirits and evil beings to a stranger. She would subject herself to condemnation.

  His belly rumbled, reminding him he had not eaten since dawn. Using it as an excuse, he pushed out of the chair and crossed the short distance between them. Hands braced on both sides of her desk, he leaned over her chair and brought his face close to hers. The subtle scent of warm vanilla and roses flooded into his awareness. His body tightened unexpectedly. At once, he was too close. Too far away. He closed his eyes to ward off the deep-rooted urge to press his mouth to the delicate shell of her ear.

  Inhaling a short breath, he steeled himself against Chloe’s powerful allure. “My belly protests its emptiness. Let us leave this place.”

  Her spine straightened like steel. She stared straight at the screen. “I’m almost finished.”

  It took every ounce of willpower Lucan possessed to not dip his chin to her shoulder. He backed away before primal instinct overrode common sense. “You said the same an hour ago. Come.” Leaning forward he closed her laptop. “Let us sup. I shall treat you to dinner.”

  A quiet laugh trilled in the back of her throat. She turned with an equally soft smile. “You have the most unusual accent.”

  Satisfied he had won the battle, Lucan grinned. “A product of too many years in the Church’s employ.” He tugged her coat off the back of her chair and held it open for her to slide into.

  She twisted close as she shrugged into her coat. So close his nerve endings rose, anticipating the satisfaction of contact. But just as quickly, Chloe escaped. “I’ll just grab something out of the refrigerator in my room. I keep it stocked for nights like this.”

  He pursed his lips, not at all content with her obvious attempt to escape spending time with him. But before he could protest, Chloe used his earl
ier words against him.

  “I’m exhausted, anyway.”

  Grumbling to himself, he reluctantly accepted her excuse. He would not push her tonight. Though the creatures beyond demanded he reevaluate his determination to take his time with her, he did not have to begin tonight. He picked up his coat and stuffed his arms inside. “Where are your keys? I will start your vehicle.”

  For one unexplainable moment, she looked like she would protest. Her brows narrowed. Her lips parted as if she sought to speak. But then, like a veil drawn over an open window, her expression smoothed. With a short, succinct nod, she fished a small collection of keys out of her desk drawer and lobbed them in his direction. “The silver Mercedes closest to the door.”

  Lucan caught them at his shoulder. He let himself out into the cold and firmly closed the door. Standing on the porch, he blocked out all thoughts of Chloe and attuned his senses to the forest around him. He could feel them, aye. Demons amidst the trees.

  Yet they kept their distance. Proof they waited for the Veronica, not the woman within.

  He breathed easier, certain tonight would not bring a battle he could not fight. Striking a brisk pace, he hurried to her car and let himself inside. The engine turned over easily, a quiet rumble in the dark. As he waited for the heater to catch, he adjusted the seat. Though Chloe was tall, he still felt like a cramped sardine. Particularly after a day and a half in the larger, more spacious Templar vehicle.

  To his absolute frustration, however, the trailer opened and Chloe exited. He tensed, thrust open the door, and set a foot outside to meet her on the stairs. But before he could fully remove himself from the Mercedes, she jogged down the graveled path and yanked on the passenger’s door.