Aden Clarkson
His inner gargouille sips on her scent once more. Fear no longer dominates the aroma swirling around her. No. There's something else. He's picking up traces of an unknown fragrance. And it's something that's sweet, alluring, and damn sure enticing.
Her eyes call to him like those of a long-lost lover.
She licks her lips - pink, full, kissable lips.
The beast inside him stirs. There's an undeniable connection that draws him to her. But why?
Sighing, he pulls her trembling body to his frame, cradling her to his chest.
"You're okay," he whispers in her ear. "You're safe. And I won't let anything, or anyone, hurt you."
His words surprise him. Not because of what he said, but because he meant them with every cell of his body.
She sucks in a sharp breath. Her shoulders roll forward, and her body relaxes, molding to his frame as if made just for him.
Tears brim her eyes, but she blinks them back.
His inner beast burns the scent of the gargouille hunter, the Maalik, to memory, so he can recall it later for a search and destroy mission.
No one hunts in my territory, he thinks to himself, and a Maalik assassin damn sure doesn't track down and attack someone like her.
Aden brushes a curly lock of dark-brown hair from her face, then tucks it behind her ear. His eyes lock on hers.
A raw vulnerability fills her gaze. It's an innocence that tugs at him. He presses his lips against her forehead, and the contact makes his flesh tingle and leaves him wanting more.
"You're safe. I assure you."
"Hey, Aden. The park police are on their way." Logan hands her the cell. "Here you go."
"Thanks." She grabs the device, and her fingers touch Logan's.
An arc of light discharges from the tip of her index finger, causing a bright flash that illuminates the night.
"What the . . ." Logan jumps back. His eyes narrow into thin slits, and he studies her.
A surge of static electricity shoots through Aden's hands, then travels up his arms. The hair on the back of his neck stands on end.
"Holy crap." Her eyes widen. "Did you feel that? You just shocked the s**t out of me. You both did."
Logan shakes his hand. "The police will be here in less than ten minutes."
Aden's body buzzes with energy. It's pure untapped power, raw magic.
What is she? His beast sips on her emerging scent, which mainly smells like a human, but there's an underline aroma that subtle.
He releases Sophia and takes a few steps back. Her torn purple jogging blouse catches his eye.
She crosses her hands over her chest as if shielding herself. The sports bra covers her breasts, but her cheeks flush anyway.
"It's all I have." Aden pulls off his shirt. "But you're welcome to it, that is, if you want it."
Her gaze lingers on his upper body, traveling from his pecs down to his navel.
He studies her as she looks at him. Her high cheekbones give her an almost angelic appearance. He clears his throat.
She glances at him, and heat returns to her cheeks, and she glances away. When she takes hold of the shirt, her hand touches his, and an additional arc of light flashes from the tip of her finger.
The contact ignites a second spark that flickers and sways on the tip of her index finger. It shoots forward and travels through his hand, and stops at his shoulder.
Yeah. That's untapped magic, white magic.
Her eyes widen, and confusion etches her face. "Thanks." Her voice sounds more like a squeak.
Aden strokes his jaw. "My pleasure." The stubble under his fingers only adds to the prickling sensation buzzing through his palm and fingers.
Quickly, Sophia slips the garment over her head and down her body.
From her scent, she's not entirely human. So, what is she?
Aden places a hand on the small of her back. The warmth of her skin permeates the garment.
Magic buzzes around her and spreads out across the palm of his hand, further exciting his inner beast, which he struggles to keep in check.
"We can wait for the park police over there." Slowly, he guides her to a bench a little over six feet away.
She takes a seat between Aden and Logan, waiting for the police to arrive. While she waits, she relays what happened. But parts of her story don't seem to add up, and Aden's not sure why.
He drapes an arm behind her on the back of the bench.
The heat from her body travels through the fabric of the shirt and warms this tingling hand.
"They're coming." Logan rises and faces the left-hand side of the trail.
Sophia scoots to the edge of the bench and looks in the direction of the path. "I don't see anything."
Aden grins because, whatever she is, she doesn't possess the sensitive hearing or vision his kind does.
"Two officers on bikes," whispers Aden. "They're about to come around the turn."
When the police arrive, they take Sophia's statement.
"I'd like to gather some evidence." One of the human officers pulls out a small kit from a pouch connected to his bike. "Is that, okay?"
She shakes her head but remains silent.
The policeman methodically scrapes under the surface of each fingernail on her right hand. Once done, he moves on to her left. Nervous energy mixed with fear flows around Sophia, making him want to comfort her.
"I'll drop this off for processing." The officer places the contents in a small clear bag. "If it turns up a hit, we'll let you know." He marks it with the date, her name, and the location within Brackenridge Park where the attack took place.
"You shouldn't jog these trails alone, especially after sunset. It's not safe." The second officer hands her a card with a case number written on it and his contact information. "If you think of something else, don't hesitate to call."
"Okay." She slips the card into the phone holder wrapped around her bicep.
Silence falls, and Aden watches the officers ride down the trail.