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startled him enough that he hesitated to destroy the possessor of such brilliance.
    He fought past his shock and gripped his weapon at his side, trying to prepare his limbs to wreak destruction. Trying to force icy determination through his veins and push away any thoughts of mercy or sorrow. He knew what he had to do. Strike. Destroy.
    That was his oath.
    But her hair…His eyes basked in their first intake of color in over three hundred years. His fingers itched to touch. His senses longed to explore. He should have hated it. He’d wanted his senses barren. Hadn’t he? But he’d looked at her, thought of the family he’d once loved, and his determination had cracked. That crack had been all his senses needed to activate.
    Kill, his mind demanded. Act!
    His teeth gnashed together, and his shoulders tightened. His tutor’s voice echoed through him. “Killing travelers is your obligation. Killing them is your privilege.”
    There were times, like now, he loathed the tasks he performed, but never once had he hesitated to do what was needed. He’d simply continued on, assassination after assassination, knowing there was no other alternative for him. His dragon life force had long since overpowered his mortal side. There was a conscience living inside him, yes, but it was shriveled and decayed from lack of use.
    So why was he hesitating now, with this traveler?
    He studied her. Freckles dotted every inch of her skin, and streaks of dirt marred her jaw. Her nose was small and elfin, her lashes thick, sooty, and so long they cast spiky shadows on her cheeks. Slowly she opened her eyes, and he sucked in a heated breath. Her eyes were green and flecked with ribbons of blue, each color dusted with determination and fear. These new colors mesmerized him, enchanted him. Made his every protective instinct surface. Worse…
    It shouldn’t have—gods, it shouldn’t have—but desire coiled inside him, powerful coils that refused to loosen their grip.
    When the woman realized his sword tip pointed to the ground, she crouched down ever so slightly, clutching an oddly shaped metal object. He could only assume she was in attack position. She wasfrightened, true, but to survive she would fight him with all of her strength.
    Could he really destroy such bravery?
    Yes. He must.
    He would.
    Mayhap he truly was the heartless beast Tagart had called him. No, surely not, he thought in the next instant. The very actions that made him evil made him a keeper of the peace and provided safety for all residing in Atlantis.
    There could be no other way.
    Yet looking at this newest intruder, really looking at her, he felt like a beast. Her features were so guileless, so angelic, sparks of some unfamiliar emotion crackled within him. Concern? Regret? Shame?
    A combination of all three?
    The sensation was so new, he had trouble identifying exactly what it was. What made this traveler so different from the others that he hesitated—and, gods forbid, felt desire? The fact that she resembled a delicate fairy queen? Or the fact that she was everything he’d always secretly wanted—beauty, gentleness and joy—but knew he could never have?
    Unbidden, his gaze drank in the rest of her. She was not tall, but had a regal bearing that gave her an air of height. Her skin was smudged with grime and sweat that did nothing to detract. Her clothing fit her rounded curves to perfection and paid her beauty proper homage.
    More unwelcome sensations pulsed through him, unnamable sensations. Hated sensations. He shouldfeel nothing; he should remain detached. But he felt; and he wasn’t. He yearned to trace his fingertips all over her, to immerse himself in her softness, to bask in her colorful brilliance. He yearned to taste, yes, actually taste her entire body and drive away the flavor of nothingness.
    “No,” he said, more for his benefit than her own. “No.”
    He must destroy her.
    She had broken the law of the mist.
    All those years ago a Guardian had failed