Adrian: Bonus Material for A Touch of Crimson Read Free

in the
years that followed, it became known as an unusually peaceful spot,
one where visitors felt a joyous equanimity and departed with a
renewed sense of hope in the days to come.

The following interview appeared on
UnderTheCoversBookBlog.blogspot.com, Oct 2011.
    AUTHOR OVERRIDE
    Interview with Adrian Mitchell
     
     
    I’m not overly surprised to find Adrian in a
pensive mood when I visit him for this interview. I know he’s under
a great deal of pressure now, although he hides it beautifully, as
always.
     
    I find him in his office, looking out the
window at the native Southern California landscape. His hands are
clasped beneath his wings and his inky black hair touches the
collar of his dress shirt, having grown longer over the last few
weeks as his world has steadily unraveled. Those beautiful wings of
his, so pristinely and blindingly white except for the crimson
tips, reveal so much about him. I wonder if he realizes that. He
can hide them at will and the fact that he’s chosen not to do so
today tells me how agitated he is. They stretch and flex when he’s
of a mood, the only visible sign he gives of how he’s feeling.
     
    I know it’s those feelings that are
exacerbating his problems now. He’s a Sentinel, after all. An angel
created to hunt and punish other angels. He was designed and built
to feel no emotion, to function almost like a machine. A
Terminator, perhaps. One mission, one purpose, no deviations. But
he’s deviated a lot over the years. Now more so than ever before.
And he’s paid the price. He’s paying it even now.
     
    “Hi, Adrian,” I say in greeting, although he
knows I’ve been standing here watching him.
     
    He faces me and I’m struck, as I always am,
by the brilliance of his cerulean eyes. All of the Sentinels have
blue eyes and he explained why when I asked him previously. The
Sentinels are seraphim angels—the “burning ones.” The blue of their
irises is literally the flame inside them. Pure and hot. Beautiful
in an eerie, preternatural way.
     
    “Ms. Day,” he returns, in his smooth deep
voice with its unique resonance. He can compel with that voice, but
so far he’s resisted compelling me to do anything. At least I think
he’s resisted... “Ah, you’re dressed today. I’d almost forgotten
how you look when you’re not wearing your pajamas.”
     
    I grin. “Hey, it’s one of the perks of being
a writer. How are you today?”
     
    “As well as can be expected.”
     
    “Where’s Lindsay?”
     
    “Training.”
     
    I nod, understanding. The woman he loves can
kick some serious ass, but she’s still fragile compared to the
vampires she hunts and the Sentinels who are training her. “Are you
ready for the interview?”
     
    “No.” But he moves to his desk, gesturing for
me to take a seat.
     
    His wings dissipate like mist just before he
sits, which always fascinates me. They’re so much a part of him and
yet he can tuck them away where mortals like me can’t see them.
     
    I eye him as he gets comfortable, admiring
the savage beauty of his face. He’s stunning, with a dark and edgy
sensuality that makes him seem more fallen angel than not.
     
    “What do you like most about yourself?” I
ask.
     
    His brows rise. He leans back in his chair
and studies me in return. “Is this part of the interview?”
     
    “It can be.”
     
    “Hmm... That I can still learn, I suppose.
That I can change my mind, be surprised, discover something
new.”
     
    “You’re evolving.”
     
    “Yes, perhaps that’s the way to say it. After
all these years... after all I’ve seen, I’m not done formulating
new opinions of things that should be old hat to me.”
     
    “What do you like least about yourself?”
     
    His lips curved wryly. “How much time do you
have?”
     
    Now it’s my brows that rise. “Really?”
     
    “Part of evolution is trial and error, and
I’ve made more than my share of mistakes. Unfortunately, I also
keep making new