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Kiss of Midnight_ A Midnight Breed Novel - Lara Adrian [842]

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the warmth of his caress—even as fleeting as it was—felt too good to deny. “You can be honest with me, Alex. You can trust me that whatever you tell me, I mean you no harm.”

God help her, but she was tempted to blurt out everything right then and there.

She didn’t know this man from Adam, really, and yet when she was looking in his eyes, still feeling the trailing heat of his touch on her skin, she wanted to believe that she truly could trust him. In some frightened, little-girl corner of her heart, she actually hoped that he might be able to help her banish some of the demons that had haunted her nearly all her life.

She felt, inexplicably, that if she told him about the beasts that killed her mom and her little brother—the same beasts she felt certain had killed the Toms family, as well—Kade would understand. That he, of all people, would be her strongest ally.

“You can tell me,” he said, his deep voice so gentle and coaxing. “Tell me about the track in the snow. You know what made that footprint, don’t you? Tell me, Alex. I want to help you, but I need you to help me first.”

“I …” Alex swallowed hard, finding it took more effort than she expected to work up her courage. “What I saw … it’s hard to say the words …”

“I know. But it’s okay, I promise. You’re safe with me.”

She drew in a nervous breath and got a sudden whiff of acrid smoke and the odor of unwashed clothing from somewhere nearby. No sooner had she registered the stale stench than she saw Skeeter Arnold and a couple of his stoner buddies shuffling from the bar back to the game room. A cell phone decorated in a skull-and-crossbones motif in one hand, a beer in the other, Skeeter tipped his bottle in Kade’s direction as he passed. “Thanks for the brewskies, dude. That was straight-up righteous of you, man.”

Kade hardly spared Skeeter a glance, but Alex couldn’t hide her revulsion. And she was glad for it, because the disgust she felt for Skeeter Arnold doused some of the temporary insanity that was making her think she could trust the stranger who was playing her like an instrument of his own design.

“I take it you aren’t fond of that guy,” Kade said as Alex weathered an inward shudder of repugnance.

She grunted. “You know that video you mentioned to me, the footage of the Toms family that had been uploaded to the Internet? Well, that’s the creep who did it.”

Kade’s eyes narrowed as they locked on to Skeeter from across the room. His gaze was more than intense—it was lethal. And as Alex watched him, she noticed that the pattern of tattoos on his forearms, part of them just visible under the pushed-up sleeves of his shirt, were not the henna color she remembered but a dark shade of deep blue-black.

Well, that was certainly odd.

Maybe she’d had one beer too many if she was seeing his tattoos change colors. Or maybe she simply remembered wrong. She’d been so gobsmacked by the unexpected sight of him at the Toms place earlier today, not to mention the fact that his incredible body had been half naked besides, it was completely possible that she’d mistaken the color of his ink. Except she’d never seen such an amazing work of body art ever in her life, and the image of him standing there, buttoning up his jeans like she’d just roused him out of bed, was a sight burned indelibly into her memory.

After a long minute of searing Skeeter Arnold with his eyes, Kade finally looked back at Alex. “I’ll deal with him later. What you have to say is more important.”

Alex took a step back now, sensing the danger in the man even though he was speaking to her in the same gentle tones as before. But something was different. There was an air of menace about him that put her on edge.

And there remained the fact that when she’d asked him if he was good or bad, he hadn’t answered her.

“I think I’d better go now,” she murmured, retreating another step before making a quick dodge past him.

“Alex,” she heard him call from behind her.

But she kept moving, cutting through the knot of people packed into the bar and desperate for some cold, sobering air—and freedom from her

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