care?â
He shouldnât. He was a Sentinel. A guardian of his people. And though all Sentinels vowed to protect innocent lives, heâd gone far beyond duty for Amber. But the truth was, the very thought of her being a Hunter had twisted him in knots. Clawed at him like the swift swipe of an enemyâs blade. Even now, there was a knot in his chest.
âI havenât decided that yet.â He forced himself to release her, to lean back on his heels. Steeling himself for duty, he forced aside this damnable attraction to Amber. They stared at one another, tension and awareness crackling in the air before he issued the warning heâd spoken a week before. âGo home before someone gets hurt. Thatâs as clear as I can be.â
She considered him a moment longer, and then nodded, reluctant acceptance washing over her face. âI have to find a believable reason to leave. Everyone knows how important this grant is to me, how important my fatherâs work is to me. He . . . was attacked by thieves and killed at a dig site a year ago. He lived a few hours at the hospital. I never saw him. I couldnât get there in time. But I talked to him. I . . .â She looked away. Inhaled and composed herself before refocusing on Jareth. âHe asked me to keep his private journals, but for my eyes only. You have no idea how hard it was to convince the investors to allow me to use his grant money to come here. If not for Mikeâwell, his support means a lot. His willingness to come along convinced the right people that this was worth doing. I have to talk to him. Iâll need his support.â
âWhy would you have to convince Mike to help you?â he asked. âI thought he was your fatherâs partner?â
âThey had a falling out about a year before my father died,â Amber said. âThey broke all ties. But when my father died, he was there for me. I have no idea what happened between him and my father, but Iâve known him all my life. I trust him.â
Mike was probably the money behind this operation. Him and his Hunters. âYou cannot tell Mike, or anyone else anything, Amber. Trust no one.â
âExcept you.â
âThatâs right,â he said. âExcept me. As I must trust you.â
Jareth had seen where intimate interaction with humans could lead. The death of so many Indians was but one example. Amber had no idea how vehemently Jareth had disapproved of the few humans who had been allowed inside the Yaguara inner circle. But now, here he was, forced to not only involve a human, but to trust one himself. And heâd picked a woman whose father had been one of the most prominent Hunters in existence. Heâd actually wanted her to deserve his trust. It was a questionable decision, at best. But one heâd made. One he had to live with, or perhaps, die because of.
âYou ask a lot,â she said, her hands settled on his upper arms. The wind lifted her hair, blew a strand in her face, touching his. She brushed it away and added, âI barely know you.â
Sheâd invited him into that water knowing what he was, knowing he was half man, half beast. On some level, she trusted him as he did her. âYou know far more about me than most do, I promise you.â
âYou want me to trust you?â she challenged. âThen trust me. Stop referring to Yaguara in the third person.â
He wasnât willing to offer the confession she sought. âThe less you know . . .â he said, a flash of memory besieging himâof Indians tied down, tortured to reveal Yaguara names. He couldnât let that happen to her. He wouldnât. â. . . the safer you will be.â
âSomehow I doubt I will ever be safe again,â she whispered.
The truth rolled through him, along with unexplainable protectiveness. He doubted she had ever been truly safe. Not with the man who had been her father. Holy hell, he wondered if
Martin H. Greenberg, Mark Tier