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her crimson hair that caught his eye—and the eye of every other man walking the street—it was her combat boots that held his attention. They were black, self-sealing, and made of a material that didn't exist on Earth.
    Aidan slowed his pace and adjusted his sunglasses to better shield his appearance. She was traversing the busy street at an angle, moving from the opposite sidewalk to the one he was walking on. He fell back, allowing more pedestrians to fill the space between them.
    It was a gorgeous day in Rosarito Beach, Mexico. The sky was a pristine blue and dotted with pure white cottony clouds. Just beyond the shops to his left, the ocean kissed the shore in steady, rhythmic waves. The air was crisp and salty, the temperature warm, the breeze cool. The six-pack of Coronas he held in his hand were sweaty with condensation, and in the hotel room around the corner, his lover awaited him. Naked. Beautiful.
    In danger.
    He watched the Guardian—possibly an Elder—as she joined the light flow of foot traffic just a few feet ahead of him. Dressed in a short summer dress with thin straps and a flowered pattern on white, she might have looked innocent if not for the multiple tribal tattoos on her arms and the spiked leather bracelets.
    Aidan rolled his shoulders back, limbering his body in preparation for battle. If the woman turned the upcoming corner and headed toward his hotel, he was ready to throw down.
    Luckily for both of them, she didn't.
    His relief was minimal. Every bit of his training told him to follow her and see what she was after. His heart, however, urged him to head down the small side street to his room and keep Lyssa safe. The struggle within him was worse than the one he'd been gearing up for. He
hated
sparring with women, detested it, but that would be easier to deal with than risking Lyssa's life.
    Aidan began to cross the street that led to his hotel. He glanced to the side swiftly, scoping out the exterior of the building. Seeing nothing amiss, he clenched his jaw and kept going. He followed his quarry, ignoring the cramp in his gut that protested his decision. He couldn't go to Lyssa straightaway, regardless. It took him an average of thirty minutes to make the five-minute trip to the liquor store because of the precautions he took to make certain he wasn't followed.
    Because of his anxiety, he was grateful that it wasn't long before the redhead deviated from the main street and made her way to a small dive motel that had definitely seen better days.
    He fell farther behind.
    When she tossed a furtive glance over her shoulder, Aidan linked arms with a nearby petite brunette and offered her a beer. His unsuspecting accomplice's surprise turned into sensual appreciation when she noted his appearance. He smiled down at her but kept his eye on the Guardian, who apparently found him innocuous enough to disregard.
    "Thank you," he murmured to his companion when the redhead slipped into a room on the ground floor. Aidan noted the number on the door, then extricated himself carefully from the brunette. "Enjoy the beer."
    She called after him, but he was already heading back the way he'd come. Back to Lyssa. He took a long, roundabout, and thoroughly unplanned route on the return trip to his hotel, pausing to examine various ponchos, hats, jewelry, and shot glasses displayed on tables near the street. He was acutely conscious of those who moved around and behind him. Only when he was absolutely certain he wasn't being followed, did he walk through the small open iron gate that decoratively bisected the manicured lawn of the hotel from the dusty public road.
    As he stepped into their third floor room and engaged all the many locks on the door, Lyssa complained, "That took forever."
    Aidan tossed his shades on the dresser by the television, set the remaining six-pack on the nightstand, and crawled over her sheet-draped body. Straddling her, he lowered his head and took her mouth, his eyes squeezing closed as