she put space between them, but she was too shaken to make herself move.
And as the SUV sped into the night, her mind absorbed the din of the city’s corruption, her talent cracking her wide open.
“Come here,” Tegan murmured. He pressed his palm lightly to her brow, trancing her with a touch and silencing her pain before it could really begin. His hands were gentle on her, even though his face was dispassionately cool. “Is that better?”
She couldn’t hold back her relieved sigh. “Yes, much better.”
It took him a moment to draw his hand away. When he did, Elise felt a pair of eyes fixed on her from the front passenger side of the vehicle. She glanced up and met the measuring stare of the warrior seated there. The blue gaze was intense beneath the light brows and black knit cap, but not quite friendly.
Dear Lord.
“Sterling,” she whispered, astonished.
He said nothing, the silence stretching interminably.
She hadn’t seen him for four months—not since Camden’s death that terrible night outside their home. Sterling had walked off alone that night, the last anyone at the Darkhavens had heard from him. Elise knew he blamed himself for taking Camden’s life—she had too. That blame was misplaced, however, and seeing him so unexpectedly now made her heart ache to tell him how sorry she was…for everything.
But the eyes that once looked at her with noble compassion, even affection, now dismissed her with a slow blink and a turn of his head. Sterling Chase was no longer her brother-by-marriage. He was a warrior, and if she hoped to reclaim him as her ally—as her last remaining kin—that hope bled away as the SUV roared out of the city, toward the Order’s headquarters.
“Is Lucan still topside?” Tegan asked as Gideon met him and the others upon their arrival at the compound.
“He came in from patrol about twenty minutes ago. Decided to stick around after you called in.”
“Good. I need to see him. The tech lab?”
Gideon shook his head. “He’s in his quarters with Gabrielle. What the hell is going on, T?”
“See that she gets medical help for that wound,” he said instead of answering, gesturing to Elise’s bloodied arm and already heading off with the book she’d intercepted, down the corridor toward Lucan’s private apartments in the compound.
He found the Gen One leader of the Order in the room his Breedmate favored most: the library study that was lined with floor-to-ceiling bookcases and a handcrafted tapestry depicting Lucan himself in chain mail armor and astride a rearing medieval warhorse beneath a cloud-streaked crescent moon. There was a hilltop castle burning in the background, its parapet smoking and under siege—a declaration of war instigated by Lucan.
Tegan remembered the night represented in the intricately rendered needlework. He remembered the carnage that had come before. And afterward. He’d been there with Lucan when the Order was conceived in blood and fury—the two of them and six others banding together in a pledge to fight for the future of their race, the Breed.
Jesus, that had been a lifetime ago. Several lifetimes ago.
A lot of death had followed the Order to this moment, both within their ranks and without. Most of the original warriors were lost to time and combat. Only Tegan, Lucan, and Lucan’s elder brother Marek—now their most dangerous adversary, having recently resurfaced to anoint himself leader of the Rogues—had survived of the original cadre of eight.
As Tegan paused in the open doorway of the library, Lucan looked up from an array of color photographs that Gabrielle spread out before him on the squat table in the center of the room. She had a gift that extended beyond her artist’s eye for beauty: Gabrielle’s camera lens was often drawn to vampire locations, both Breed and Rogue. It was in part how she and Lucan met the past summer; now it wasn’t unusual for the Breedmate to return from occasional daytime outings
And as the SUV sped into the night, her mind absorbed the din of the city’s corruption, her talent cracking her wide open.
“Come here,” Tegan murmured. He pressed his palm lightly to her brow, trancing her with a touch and silencing her pain before it could really begin. His hands were gentle on her, even though his face was dispassionately cool. “Is that better?”
She couldn’t hold back her relieved sigh. “Yes, much better.”
It took him a moment to draw his hand away. When he did, Elise felt a pair of eyes fixed on her from the front passenger side of the vehicle. She glanced up and met the measuring stare of the warrior seated there. The blue gaze was intense beneath the light brows and black knit cap, but not quite friendly.
Dear Lord.
“Sterling,” she whispered, astonished.
He said nothing, the silence stretching interminably.
She hadn’t seen him for four months—not since Camden’s death that terrible night outside their home. Sterling had walked off alone that night, the last anyone at the Darkhavens had heard from him. Elise knew he blamed himself for taking Camden’s life—she had too. That blame was misplaced, however, and seeing him so unexpectedly now made her heart ache to tell him how sorry she was…for everything.
But the eyes that once looked at her with noble compassion, even affection, now dismissed her with a slow blink and a turn of his head. Sterling Chase was no longer her brother-by-marriage. He was a warrior, and if she hoped to reclaim him as her ally—as her last remaining kin—that hope bled away as the SUV roared out of the city, toward the Order’s headquarters.
“Is Lucan still topside?” Tegan asked as Gideon met him and the others upon their arrival at the compound.
“He came in from patrol about twenty minutes ago. Decided to stick around after you called in.”
“Good. I need to see him. The tech lab?”
Gideon shook his head. “He’s in his quarters with Gabrielle. What the hell is going on, T?”
“See that she gets medical help for that wound,” he said instead of answering, gesturing to Elise’s bloodied arm and already heading off with the book she’d intercepted, down the corridor toward Lucan’s private apartments in the compound.
He found the Gen One leader of the Order in the room his Breedmate favored most: the library study that was lined with floor-to-ceiling bookcases and a handcrafted tapestry depicting Lucan himself in chain mail armor and astride a rearing medieval warhorse beneath a cloud-streaked crescent moon. There was a hilltop castle burning in the background, its parapet smoking and under siege—a declaration of war instigated by Lucan.
Tegan remembered the night represented in the intricately rendered needlework. He remembered the carnage that had come before. And afterward. He’d been there with Lucan when the Order was conceived in blood and fury—the two of them and six others banding together in a pledge to fight for the future of their race, the Breed.
Jesus, that had been a lifetime ago. Several lifetimes ago.
A lot of death had followed the Order to this moment, both within their ranks and without. Most of the original warriors were lost to time and combat. Only Tegan, Lucan, and Lucan’s elder brother Marek—now their most dangerous adversary, having recently resurfaced to anoint himself leader of the Rogues—had survived of the original cadre of eight.
As Tegan paused in the open doorway of the library, Lucan looked up from an array of color photographs that Gabrielle spread out before him on the squat table in the center of the room. She had a gift that extended beyond her artist’s eye for beauty: Gabrielle’s camera lens was often drawn to vampire locations, both Breed and Rogue. It was in part how she and Lucan met the past summer; now it wasn’t unusual for the Breedmate to return from occasional daytime outings
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