Midnight Breed Series New Generation Box Set

by Adrian, Lara

  “I wasn’t distracted,” she informed him tightly. “I don’t get distracted.”

  “No? So, you came out here deliberately to watch me?” His cocky grin widened. “I’m flattered.”

  Why the hell her stomach should be doing a little flip at his teasing was beyond her. And why her pulse was suddenly hammering in a tempo too eager to be outrage, she really didn’t want to know.

  Brynne tilted her head at him, frowning. “What you are is mistaken. And I’m perfectly capable of picking up after myself, so if you don’t mind . . .”

  “I don’t mind at all.”

  Ignoring her protests, he gathered the last of the pieces and held them all in one hand. Then he stood up and reached out to her with his free hand.

  Brynne stared skeptically at his large palm and long, elegant fingers. “You’re not going to zap me with that Atlantean glowy trick, are you?”

  He shrugged. “You might enjoy it.”

  “Ha. I doubt it.”

  Humor still danced in his eyes as she stood on her own, bypassing his offered hand. “Are all Breed females this skittish around men?”

  “Are all Atlantean males so certain of their own charm?”

  He smirked. “This one is.”

  Brynne snorted a laugh as she took the broken cup inside to throw it away. He followed.

  “I’m Ekizael, in case you’re too shy to ask. Friends call me Zael.”

  She pivoted to face him. “In that case, hello, Ekizael. I’m Brynne.”

  He made an amused sound in the back of his throat. “Distracted, skittish and dismissive. How intriguing.”

  “Arrogant, presumptuous and insolent. How predictable.”

  “Predictable?” He chuckled. “That’s one thing I’ve rarely been accused of.”

  Why did her body have to react as if he’d just said something sexual? She pushed the sensation aside. “Well, they say there’s a first time for everything.”

  “Hmm,” he said. “By the way, arrogant, presumptuous and insolent all mean roughly the same thing.”

  Brynne smiled sweetly. “Since we just met, perhaps I thought it would be too rude to say annoying.”

  Now he frowned. “Am I annoying you? I apologize. From the pretty flush of your cheeks and the uptick of your pulse, I thought we were getting acquainted rather enjoyably. Exchanging some friendly banter. Possibly even flirting.”

  God help her, but the heat in her face flamed even hotter now, and all over, her skin felt too warm, too tight beneath her clothes. She lifted her chin. “I don’t have time for banter, and I never flirt.”

  “Really?” His voice was somewhere between a growl and a purr, a sound that sent her blood drumming in her temples and in several points lower. His gaze drank her in shamelessly before returning to hers. “That is a tragedy, Brynne.”

  Before she could respond with a searing retort, several pairs of footsteps approached. Carys strode in alongside Jordana and Nova.

  The three women stopped abruptly, falling into an odd silence as if they too could feel the electricity in the air.

  Jordana smiled brightly. “Brynne, I see you’ve met my friend, Zael. Isn’t he charming?”

  Brynne raised a brow in the Atlantean’s direction. “Charming doesn’t even begin to describe him.”

  Zael’s chuckle was meant for her alone. “Until we meet again, Brynne. The pleasure was mine.”

  “Yes, it was,” she agreed, smiling pointedly. She turned to Carys. “Ready to go?”

  “All set.”

  Thank God. Brynne couldn’t get away fast enough from Zael and his disturbing effect on her. Hopefully, it would be a good long while before she ever found herself in the arrogant Atlantean’s presence again.

  CHAPTER 30

  Little had changed in the long years that Rune had been gone from his father’s castle Darkhaven.

  The musty, cool dampness of the old stone walls and worn slate floor seeped into his bones the instant he was brought inside by his uncle and the other armed guards. Their footsteps echoed hollowly as they progressed down the main passage into the heart of the ancient fortress.

  “Fineas is waiting for you down below,” Ennis told him. “Reckon you remember the way, eh, boyo?”

  Rune didn’t have to ask where they were taking him. There was only one thing below the main floor of the stronghold. And, yes, he still recalled the path, down the spiraling flight of stairs, then through the winding corridor of the underground portion of the keep.

  He strode ahead of the guns trained on his back, bracing himself as the sound of his father’s low voice reached his ears. The guttural chuckle had haunted his dreams for years after he’d fled this place.

  Now it was all Rune could do to resist the urge to lunge forward and attack in a murderous rage as soon as Fineas Riordan’s dark head and broad shoulders came into view on the catwalk gallery overlooking the pit below.

  As much as Rune wanted the bastard’s throat between his teeth, there were five semiautomatic pistols poised to open fire on him the instant he showed any hint of aggression. If he meant to get back to Boston after he was finished here—back to Carys, if she would have him—he had no choice but to keep his rage on a tight leash for now.

  Thoughts of Carys put a cold ache in the center of his chest.

  She had been on his mind every minute since he’d been gone. The terrible way they had parted. Her beautiful face, stricken with worry and confusion as she saw him with his father’s men and heard the unfamiliar name they’d called him. She had seen their scarab tattoos, and Rune could tell she knew what those marks meant. She knew who they belonged to, and now she knew that he, too, belonged to Fineas Riordan.

  Rune had broken her heart in that moment. He only hoped she’d be willing to forgive him. That she might still love him enough to consider taking him back once he returned to her.

  But first, he would have to survive the coming confrontation with the monster who’d sired him.

  His uncle nudged Rune forward with an ungentle shove as they drew near the catwalk above the pit. “Here’s your special delivery, brother. All the way from Boston.”

  Fineas Riordan swiveled his head away from a pair of armed Breed males who were watching the combat along with him. When his dark gaze met Rune’s eyes, a brittle chill seeped into their fathomless depths.

  “It has been quite a while, son. I have to say, I was very disappointed when you left.”

  Rune couldn’t curb his sharply exhaled breath. “You must’ve been bored without me here to provide your entertainment.”

  A thin, evil smile spread across his lips. “Oh, I managed to find other diversions.”

  Rune’s guards guided him out onto the viewing gallery. In the dirt-floored, stone enclosure below, a pair of Breed males were engaged in a tremendous fight.

  Sweat-soaked, bloodied, with flesh torn in numerous places, the two combatants fought with fists and fangs. Their eyes blazed with hot amber, and their pupils were so thinned, the vertical slits were hardly discernible. The males’ dermaglyphs churned like tempests on their bruised and lacerated bodies as they crashed into each other in a blur of gnashing teeth and punishing blows.

  The fight was brutal, animalistic. A feral display of Breed strength and savagery.

  Worse than anything Rune had experienced in that hellish circle of granite and sand.

  It was . . . unnaturally violent.

  Rune’s question must have shown in his eyes, because when his father glanced over at him, a broad smile broke across his face.

  “Exciting, isn’t it? Talk about performance enhancement.” He glanced back down into the pit. “The drug was only a prototype until a few weeks ago. Soon it will be in every major city across Europe and the United States. How long do you think it will take the humans before they beg for someone to make the madness stop?”

  Rune stared at him, abhorred. “About as long as it will take them to declare war on the entire Breed population.”

  His father s
hrugged, thoroughly unfazed. “Ah, well. Either way.”

  He laughed, and was joined by Ennis and the rest of the guards.

  Rune’s veins throbbed with disgust. He had always suspected Fineas Riordan was insane, but now he realized it was something even worse than that. He was psychopathic. “You really wouldn’t care, would you? Not so long as you can get off watching others in pain.”

  Riordan stared down at the worsening combat below. “You always did have a weak stomach when it came to these things. I blame your mother for that.”

  “Is that why you killed her?”

  He glanced over, brows raised in surprise. “I didn’t realize you knew that.”

  Hatred seethed in Rune. “I didn’t until you just confirmed it.”

  Riordan waved his hand as if to dismiss the whole idea as he returned his attention to the pit. “She was a bad match from the start. I should’ve known better than to take her to mate. The bitch could take a punch, I’ll grant her that. But raise a hand to anyone else and she crumbled. She never approved of my . . . inclinations. Eventually, I simply got tired of her judgment.”

  Rune listened in simmering fury to his father’s admission. He thought about the gentle woman who’d borne him. Her unique Breedmate gift for withstanding extreme pain had been passed down to him. As a boy thrown into the pit, Rune had leaned on that ability to endure his father’s training. Over time, he’d learned to fight without calling upon it, and hadn’t used it once since he’d left his father’s domain.

  But his mother . . .

  Rune had been too young, too blind. He had no idea she was being abused, as tortured by Riordan as he was. The realization now made a growl boil up the back of his throat.

  “You sick bastard. I should’ve killed you back then.”

  The guns held at Rune’s spine and the back of his head inched closer at the threat, but his father only chuckled. “Don’t be such a pussy, son. Life is pain. I’d have thought I taught you that, if nothing else.”

  “You taught me a lot of things,” Rune muttered.

  Riordan looked over at him. “Good. That training will pay off for you even more lucratively than it has in Boston all these years now that you’re home again. You’ve been building your little empire over there, but I’ve been busy building too. My comrades and I have been laying the foundation in secret for years. Now, we’re nearly ready to put our plans in motion.”

  “What comrades?” Rune asked. “What fucking plans?”

  His father studied him for a long moment. “You really don’t know?” A wicked glint shone in his dark eyes. “Opus Nostrum, boyo. You’re looking at its new leader.”

  Jesus Christ.

  His sick fuck of a father was the current head of that terror group?

  Did the Order know? If not, he needed to get that information into their hands as soon as possible. What’s more, he needed to get as much intel on his father as he could before he murdered the bastard with his bare hands.

  “Congratulations,” Rune gritted out tightly. “You must be very proud.”

  “Oh, I am. But I’ll be even prouder once the world understands that Opus is the only true power. If they want peace, the world will come through us to secure it. If not, we’ll be ready to deliver a war like no one has ever seen.”

  “How do you intend to do that?”

  Riordan wagged a finger. “Patience, son. We’ll have time to talk about all of that later. Right now, I want to enjoy the match.” He bared his teeth and fangs in a sadistic smile. “We’re just getting to the best part.”

  In the pit below, the combat had escalated. One of the Breed males was finally tiring. His shoulder was ripped wide open, the arm dangling uselessly at his side. His opponent flew at him on a bellow that shook the ancient rafters overhead. The two massive bodies crashed together, and the weakened vampire was slammed onto the dirt floor.

  Fangs gleamed like daggers as the pair bit and gnashed at each other, powerful fists striking and connecting in a blur of speed and brutality. Blood sprayed from arteries torn open in the struggle. Howls of anguish and fury rose to a deafening level from the enclosure far below.

  The male on the bottom couldn’t hope to hold off the other. Disabled, fatigued, he made the fatal error of leaving his throat open for attack. His opponent seized it, hitting as hard as a viper.

  Fangs sank deep and shredded the other vampire’s neck in a single strike, all but severing the head from its body.

  The victor lifted his head in a shout of triumph, blood and gore dripping from his enormous fangs. There was no humanity left in that face. Nothing but madness and savagery.

  Beside Rune, his father and the other Riordan men hooted and applauded the finish. They were giddy with enthusiasm, avid in their enjoyment of the sadistic spectacle below.

  The champion seemed to notice his audience for the first time now.

  Lips parted, breath sawing out of him, he cocked his head and stared directly up at Rune and the others on the catwalk high above.

  He gave no warning of what he was about to do.

  One moment he was crouched atop his dead opponent, the next he was airborne—leaping up from the floor of the pit with a feral snarl.

  “Holy shit!”

  Rune jumped back as the big male vaulted at them. His father and the other men didn’t so much as flinch.

  Rune understood why less than a second later.

  The fighter’s escape was stopped by an invisible barrier. The very instant his body connected with it, bright sparks exploded. Pungent smoke and blinding light made Rune avert his eyes—though not before he realized the vampire was dead.

  Or, rather, ashed on the spot. Once the stench and sparks had dissipated, the massive body of the Breed male was nothing but a small cloud of floating dust.

  Rune gaped. “What the fuck?”

  “UV webbing.” His father grinned. “I’ve made some improvements to the pit since you’ve been here last.”

  He waved Ennis away with a pointed nod, then started walking. Behind Rune, the guns at his back encouraged him to follow.

  “Come, Aedan. I’d like to talk about your friends in the Order.”

  CHAPTER 31

  More than a hundred people, Breed and human, filled the ballroom of Councilman Fielding’s mansion in London at nine o’clock that evening. A small orchestra played in the background as the arriving guests made their way along a receiving line toward the newly engaged couple and their beaming sets of parents.

  Brynne made introductions for Carys to JUSTIS colleagues and other guests, explaining that she was the daughter of a friend back in the States, who was visiting London for a brief summer holiday. Carys, in an elegant black pantsuit and heels, smiled and shook hands as she and Brynne progressed down the line. All the while, she studied the layout of the house and its numerous archways and passages leading off to the foyer and other rooms from the bustling ballroom.

  After a Breed dignitary from Africa and his mate stepped forward to greet the hosts, Brynne leaned close to Carys and spoke around a pleasant smile. “Stop touching your ear, darling. We don’t want to draw unwanted attention.”

  Dammit. She wasn’t used to espionage, and it was damn hard to ignore the tiny transmitter and GPS tracker she carried in her left ear. “Sorry,” she whispered quietly.

  Gideon’s voice replied, equally covert. “No worries. Just pretend I’m not here. You know what you need to do, right? Locate Fielding’s office, search for any kind of hard intel you can find—login IDs, passwords, calendar appointments, anything at all. Then scatter those bugs I gave you and get the hell out of there.”

  “Mm-hmm.” Carys knew her instructions. She also knew to turn on her best smile as Brynne shook hands with Fielding’s wife.

  “Such a beautiful night for this happy event,” Brynne was saying. She brought Carys forward to meet the GNC official and his wife. “Mr. and Mrs. Fielding, I’d like to introduce Carys Fairchild, the daughter of a dear friend of mine from Boston.�
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  Carys didn’t so much as blink at the use of her mother’s maiden name. She played along, extending her hand to the portly, middle-aged councilman and his wife.

  “How nice to meet you,” Mrs. Fielding cooed. She turned and made further introductions to their daughter and her new fiancé, and to the Fieldings’ adult son, Simon.

  The introverted twenty-something human had his father’s pear-shaped body and thinning tangle of curly brown hair, but his mother’s soft blue eyes. He blinked at Carys from behind thick-lensed glasses, and, with an awkward bob of his head, took her hand in a clammy, limp grasp.

  “Carys is from Boston,” his mother informed him cheerfully. “Simon will be speaking at an economics seminar there next month. Perhaps he’ll tell you all about it. Would you like that, Carys?”

  “Of course,” she replied, dreading the prospect already. “That sounds fascinating.”

  Gideon’s quiet chuckle was a tickle in her ear. “Smoothly done. Welcome to the glamour of covert ops.”

  “Hmm. Now you tell me,” she whispered, turning her face aside to mask the subtle movement of her lips.

  Brynne had since gone on to gush over the Fieldings’ home, which they had only moved into a couple of weeks ago. “Such a lovely property. And so expansive too. Are there eight bedrooms upstairs?”

  “Ten,” Mrs. Fielding replied, beaming. “And that doesn’t count Neville’s study and meeting rooms, which occupy most of the entire east wing.”

  Carys hid her reaction, as did Brynne, who covered the direct hit with a light tease about having plenty of room for future grandchildren. With the receiving line reaching its end now, the women laughed and began chatting about the upcoming wedding and preparations being made for the honeymoon.

  Carys, meanwhile, took the opportunity to fade back into the crowd.

  She drifted casually through the scores of elegantly dressed people. A passing server offered her a flute of champagne, which she accepted with a smile before continuing on her incremental, yet deliberate path toward the far end of the ballroom.