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found. She had no one else to look for her. She couldn't outrun them. She couldn't outfight them. Her only chance was help. "Be my guardian," she suggested to him. "I'm worth it. You can always kill me later if you decide that's the best choice." It wasn't much of an offer, but she had a feeling that her guardian/assassin wouldn't make a long-term commitment to her well-being.
    He glanced at her. "Excellent point. I will reserve the right to kill you later, should I deem it appropriate." He held out his hand. "Shall we go? I prefer not to fight unless I'm getting paid to do it."
    Again, with the cultured tones that were the antithesis of the dangerous predator in leather and denim that had hunted her down. Was she really going to put her safety in his hands? He'd tried to kill her—
    A flash of light whipped past her, and she yelped, jumping backward as her potential guardian snatched a knife out of the air, a split second before it plunged into her heart. She stared at the knife in his hand. He'd tried to kill her once, but saved her three times. She was going to have to go with the odds. "Okay." She put her hand in his. "What now?"
    "We disappear." He yanked her over to him, swept her up in his arms so she was anchored against his chest. "Hang on. I've never done this with a passenger."
    She didn't have time to ask what. She had time only to lock her arms around his neck, and then he took off like a streak of lightning, moving so fast that the world became a blur, and all she could do was hang on for dear life.

Chapter 4
    S he smelled incredible .
    She felt right in his arms.
    She made him want.
    She made him crave a lot of things. Her. Sex. An endless night of bare skin and long kisses. All of it. Now.
    What he did, however, was dump her on the couch in one of his safe houses and back up until he was standing on the other side of the room. Slade folded his arms over his chest and stood with his weight even on both feet, ready, watching her, curious.
    He hadn't conversed extensively with a woman in a long time. He didn't know how they thought. He wanted to know why she affected him like she did. He needed to know why she was so important. And he was burning with the need to know what it would be like to kiss her again, without the goal of killing her. He wanted to kiss her just to see what it would be like.
    She righted herself on the couch, her dark hair tumbling over her shoulders. Her shirt was stained with his blood, as was her left hand, where she'd reached for him when he fell. He considered that. He'd been in the process of killing her, and yet she'd reached for him when he'd been attacked.
    It was unwise, indicating a lack of attention to her well-being and personal safety.
    But at the same time, he found it immensely interesting. "Why did you reach for me?"
    She glanced around the room, rapidly assessing their surroundings, which were no more than a single room, furnished only with a couch and a blanket. "What are you talking about?"
    "When the demon took my heart, and I fell. You reached for me even though I'd been about to kill you. Why?"
    She looked at him, her brows knit as she considered his question. "I don't know. Instinct. You'd been hurt terribly. What was I going to do, drop you?"
    "Yes. I was trying to kill you. When you get a chance, you run. Do you understand?"
    She stared at him, and then a slow smile spread across her face. For a split second, he was too shocked to do anything but stare. Her smile was absolutely riveting. Her smile was genuine, directed at him, of her own free will, without guile or manipulation.
    He'd never had anyone smile at him like that before. Women smiled because they wanted to coax him into their beds. Men smiled to try to defuse his aggressiveness or win his favor. His prey smiled because he projected their fantasies into their head. No one had simply smiled at him before.
    He liked it. It felt good. It felt like she'd poured sunshine into his body.
    So he frowned. "Why are