Obsidian Prey Read Free Page B

had been instantly and indelibly tuned to Cruz Sweetwater the first moment they had met. She had never actually concocted a mental image of her personal dream man, but she had recognized Cruz the moment she met him. This is the one you’ve been waiting for .
    That bone-deep certainty had intensified with each hour they had spent together and with each scorching kiss. Three months and a futile lawsuit later, the psychic bond had not weakened one bit. She was pretty sure that three years, three decades, or the rest of her life could pass, and still a frisson of knowing recognition would alert her if Cruz suddenly showed up anywhere in her vicinity. You were supposed to be mine .
    “Don’t look now, but I think he’s spotted you,” Nancy said. “He’s coming this way.”
    A cascade of tangled emotions slammed through Lyra. Anger, frustrated desire, the yearning for revenge, and a fragile sense of hope all snarled together in a chaotic mix.
    “Looks like he’s expecting you to make a run for the ladies’ room,” Nancy said. “He’s circling around through the crowd, cutting off that route.”
    That did it. Adrenaline, hot and bracing, surged through Lyra. If there was one thing that was sure to make her stand her ground tonight, it was the knowledge that Cruz thought she might try to bolt. She was a Dore, damn it. The last of her line. She had a family tradition to uphold. Dores did not run from anything. Most definitely they did not run from a Sweetwater.
    She did not need Nancy’s wide-eyed expression to tell her that Cruz had invaded her personal space. She could feel him directly behind her.
    “Hello, Lyra,” he said.
    His voice was low, dark, infused with power, utterly masculine.
    She turned coolly to face him, amazed that she was able to maintain a degree of self-control now that the confrontation was upon her. She even managed an icy bright smile.
    Nothing had changed, especially not his hunter’s eyes. She had seen those eyes night after night in her dreams. Like the black stone in the heavy ring he wore, they were obsidian dark with green fires burning in the depths.
    His hair was just as black as she remembered it, still cut close and short. The roughly sculpted planes and angles of his hard face were just as thrillingly feral. An intimate excitement swept through her.
    Down, girl.
    “Good evening, Mr. Sweetwater,” she said, giving him smooth surprise for all she was worth. “I wasn’t aware that you were interested in picking up antiquities at gallery auctions. I was under the impression that you preferred to acquire whatever you wanted with more direct methods.”
    “Such as?” Cruz raised one black brow, politely quizzical.
    “Oh, say, by crushing the competition,” Lyra said sweetly.
    Nancy gasped and choked on her champagne. “For heaven’s sake, Lyra.”
    Cruz looked at her. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Cruz Sweetwater.”
    “Yes, of course, Mr. Sweetwater,” Nancy said. She coughed a couple of times but recovered quickly. “I’m Nancy Halifax. Halifax Gallery in the Old Quarter? I’m sure you’ve never heard of it. I specialize in modern art.”
    “A pleasure to meet you, Nancy. Lyra mentioned you several times.”
    “Back when you two were seeing each other, you mean?” Nancy asked.
    Cruz looked at Lyra. “Yes.”
    “Back when I believed that Mr. Sweetwater was a legitimate client who wished to engage my professional services,” Lyra said evenly. “Back when he was using a phony name.”
    Nancy looked vaguely horrified.
    True to form, Cruz did not take the bait. That was the thing about Cruz Sweetwater, Lyra thought. He never lost his cool. He was probably just as controlled in bed. Not that she was likely to find out.
    Cruz was all about control. She was no para-shrink, but she had a strong suspicion that powerful self-mastery was a direct result of the psychic side of his nature. He had never confided the truth about his psi senses to her—one of the many