by Adrian, Lara
Not that they’d felt anything close to adversarial on that dance floor in London.
And not that the low thrum of her pulse had anything to do with making peace with him and moving on as if their kiss—and her embarrassing proposition—hadn’t happened.
Brynne gnawed her lip in silent indecision as she watched him slowly lower his arms to his sides. She was about to collect her nerve and hurry down when Zael lowered his head, turning to face someone who approached him in the gardens.
Brynne’s breath halted in her lungs. The woman was beautiful. Flame-red waves bounced as she walked, her beaming smile trained fully on Zael. She raised her hand in greeting to him.
He knew her. His answering smile conveyed recognition, affection. The way he opened his arms to her then enfolded her within them seemed to say that Zael felt something more than simple affection for this woman.
Brynne reflexively stepped back from the window, feeling awkward and intrusive.
Feeling stung.
She watched from within the shadows of her room as Zael and the woman finally released each other from their unrushed embrace, then began a leisurely walk together in the gardens.
Apparently, the Atlantean had no shortage of fawning admirers among the Order.
He certainly didn’t need Brynne feeding his oversized ego any more than she already had.
With an unimpressed roll of her eyes, she pivoted away from the window. Although she’d come back to her room to relax, she knew if she stayed in there now she’d only be tempted back to the window eventually to look some more for Zael and his smitten female companion.
Instead, Brynne took her time showering, then slipped into her fresh clothes. She couldn’t deny that she was still rankled by her reaction to Zael and the other woman, but the suds and warm water had washed away most of her indignation’s edge.
She hoped the vast collection of books in the library next door would be enough to keep her mind distracted from any further thoughts of Zael for the rest of the day. With her damp hair falling in loose waves down her back, she padded out of her suite and into the adjacent room.
With any luck, Zael would not only be finished chatting up his pretty friend, but also be gone from Order headquarters long before Brynne had to leave her cozy third floor sanctuary.
Resolved to stay where she was until Tavia or someone else came to drag her out, Brynne perused the bookcases. Everything from contemporary novels and classics, to history and biographies, foreign language novels and poetry filled the beautiful old wood shelves. She browsed several different titles, flipping through the pages with preoccupied disinterest.
Wondering who Zael’s companion was and trying not to imagine how many other beautiful women the Atlantean probably had wrapped around his finger.
Not to mention other parts of his anatomy.
A female’s laughter sounded somewhere near the far end of the hallway. The warm, happy sound snapped Brynne’s head up from the tenth or twentieth book she’d taken from the shelf and replaced.
She didn’t recognize the woman’s pleasant voice.
But she did recognize Zael’s. “I enjoyed our walk, Dylan. I hope we can find time to talk some more while I’m here.”
A sharp, bitter emotion stabbed Brynne at the sincerity she heard in his tone.
“I never dreamed we’d have this chance to reconnect and spend time together like this,” the woman said. “I can’t tell you how much it means to me, Zael.”
“To me as well.”
Ugh, please. Brynne’s unwilling jealousy morphed into alarm an instant later when she realized the pair was coming her way up the corridor.
Too late to make a smooth escape now, she was trapped where she stood. Or faced with the even less attractive option of attempting to sneak out to the passageway ahead of them and slip back into her suite. They were too close for that already, mere steps from the library’s open door.
Instead, Brynne snatched the nearest novel off the shelf then hurried to take a seat in a high-backed wing chair, curled into it as if she’d been there for hours.
She made it barely in time to see Zael and the copper-tressed beauty pause right outside the library. He’d at least put his shirt back on since Brynne saw him outside, but the gauzy white linen was unbuttoned halfway down his bronzed chest, the sleeves rolled up to bare his tanned forearms and the leather thong that rode on his wrist.
“Here’s your guest room,” his companion announced as she opened the door directly across the hall. “If you need anything, you know where to find me.”
At his smile and polite nod, she went up on her toes and kissed his cheek. She pivoted and started walking away, with Zael’s bright blue eyes tender on her.
Brynne tore her gaze away, rooting her focus on the book she held open in front of her face. As much as she hoped—fervently prayed—he wouldn’t notice her there, she knew she couldn’t possibly be so fortunate.
“Brynne,” he said, surprise in his deep voice. “I didn’t realize you were in here.”
Obviously. She glanced up from her book as if she was equally unaware of him. “Hmm? I’m sorry, I was reading and not paying any attention. What did you say?”
He smirked knowingly. Damn him. “I said, I didn’t realize Dylan and I had an audience just now.”
Dylan and him. He said it with a familiarity that grated more than she wanted to acknowledge.
“You had no such thing.” To demonstrate, she held up her book. “I came in here to relax and read for a while. If you hadn’t interrupted me just now, I might not have even noticed you were there.”
Zael stepped inside, uninvited. “Engrossing stuff, is it?”
She started to reply, but the citrusy, ocean scent of him hit her senses like a drug and she couldn’t find her voice. His skin radiated heat that made her cheeks flush and her own skin feel too warm and tight on her body.
He leaned over the side of her chair, until his face was nearly level with hers. His arched brow and slow grin tugged her core, made her breath dry up in her lungs.
“Broody billionaires and red rooms of pain?” Zael chuckled. “I wouldn’t have guessed that was your particular kink, but I have to admit I’m intrigued.”
Brynne glanced at the cover and felt her face ignite. She set the book down on the side table next to the chair and folded her arms tightly across her chest. “I imagine all it takes to intrigue you is a warm pulse and a vagina.”
He stared at her shamelessly. “It’s definitely a good start.”
“You’re unbelievable.” On a huff, she stood up and walked away from him.
“Hey. Wait,” he said. He didn’t let her get far before she suddenly found him standing right in front of her, blocking her path. He frowned. “It was a joke, Brynne. Don’t tell me you’re still upset with me because of the other night?”
“I’m not upset. I’m simply not interested.”
“No? Then why are you acting like a jealous lov—” He drew back, a look of confusion on his face. “What do you think you saw between Dylan and me just now?”
“Nothing,” she denied, then doubled down on the lie. “I could not possibly care less what’s going on with you or any of the females you keep company with. I came in here to read and relax. Alone. So, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to find somewhere else to do that now.”
She stepped around him, disgusted with herself for the bitter anger flooding her veins. She should be pleased he was directing his attention on another woman. She certainly had bigger things to worry about in her life than this male or anything he—
“Dylan is my daughter.”
Brynne’s feet stilled beneath her, two paces short of her escape. Slowly, she pivoted to face him again. “Your daughter?”
That explained the intimacy, the affection she saw in both of them. That explained Zael’s obvious tenderness toward the woman.
Brynne had no experience with parental bonds, or the skills to recognize them. She’d never had anything clo
se to that in her life. Her own parents were unwilling laboratory prisoners forced together as part of a sick breeding experiment. She’d never seen either one of them, and both were long dead now.
According to Brynne’s research, the Breedmate who bore her had never escaped the lab. And while the Ancient who sired her and Tavia and all the rest of their dozens of half-sisters had eventually managed to break away from his captor some two decades ago, it was only to wreak havoc and cut a bloody swath across thousands of miles before being killed in a confrontation with the Order.
Brynne was little more than a genetic cocktail of monster and innocent—a fucked up mixture besides.
“I found out about Dylan when I came to meet with Lucan the first time,” Zael explained, his deep voice level and sincere. “She’s mated to one of the warriors, Rio. For more than twenty years she’s been a part of the Order’s family, but until last week I didn’t even know she existed.”
How stupid she felt now, how petty, for assuming the worst about him. Again. But why wouldn’t she? Zael seemed to take great pleasure in provoking her and then gloating over her reaction.
But he wasn’t needling her now. When he spoke, his tone had been solemn, edged with something that sounded unmistakably like regret.
“I met Dylan’s mother many years ago in Greece. I was passing through and she was on holiday from the States. She was also married. She wasn’t happy, but that doesn’t excuse the way I pursued her. We had a brief affair, then went our separate ways. I . . . never saw her again.”
An affair with someone else’s wife wasn’t something he was proud of—that much was certain. But Zael wasn’t telling her everything. Brynne’s investigative training spotted the dodge around the full truth. She also thought she detected a note of shame behind those fathomless blue eyes—shame that went beyond what he felt about seducing a married woman.
But it didn’t matter what he kept from her. Brynne hadn’t been forthright with him about every shame in her life either. She wasn’t about to start now.
Reminded of all the reasons she could never drop her guard with anyone, she steeled herself against the softening of her feelings for him.
“Congratulations on your reunion with your daughter. I’m sure it must be difficult keeping track of all the fruits of your affairs.”
He stared at her, clearly taken aback. She couldn’t blame him. It was a cheap shot, but she was desperate.
She turned to head back for the door, but this time Zael grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her back to him. His strength was a shock. As was the fury and confusion she saw smoldering in his narrowed glower.
“What are you doing, Brynne?” His low voice dropped to a fierce growl. “Why do you try so hard to push people away?”
She scowled, feeling her blood start to race. She didn’t know if it was fear or fury causing her veins to light up. All she knew was that she was treading on dangerous ground with him now. Had been practically from the first moment they met. “Let go of me.”
He didn’t. Slowly, he shook his head. “Tell me why you fight so hard to be left alone. What are you so damned afraid of?”
“N-nothing.”
“Not even me?”
Outrage surged inside her, but it was little match for the fire licking through her veins. She swallowed. “Zael, please…”
She hated how small and choked her denial sounded. His firm grasp on her arm and her gaze said he wasn’t buying it anyway.
Panic beat inside her rib cage like a trapped bird. She knew she could break loose from his hold if she tried. She was no mere mortal either. She had to be equal to him in terms of preternatural strength despite his larger size and muscular bulk. And while she didn’t actually think he would refuse to release her, she couldn’t summon the will to test him.
“When was the last time you let a man hold you?” he demanded softly. “How long has it been since you let a man make love to you?”
“That’s really none of your business.”
“Wrong.” His mouth curved, but that smile was anything but friendly. It was masculine and carnal, and it sent liquid heat curling through every fiber of her being. “You made it my business last night, Brynne. You kissed me like you needed it more than your next breath.”
She scoffed. “I was intoxicated, remember?”
“You’re not now, and I think you want it just as badly as you did last night. You want me. You want this, but you’re too hard-headed or terrified to admit it.”
“You’re insane.”
“Am I?”
Releasing her wrist to capture her face gently in his hands, he moved in close to her. Their bodies brushed against each other. His hard and demanding. Hers soft and yielding, melting under the heat of him.
Brynne parted her lips to say something—she didn’t know exactly what—nor did she get the chance.
“Oh,” a female voice blurted from behind them in the threshold. “Oh, shit! I’m so sorry.”
Carys wheeled around, giving them her back as if she’d just walked in on them both standing there naked.
Brynne winced. Had she arrived a few moments later, who knew what Carys might have seen. Who knew how far Brynne might have been tempted to let Zael go.
Abruptly stepping out of his embrace, she smoothed the front of her blouse feeling awkward as hell. “It’s all right, Carys. We were just…talking.”
She tried to ignore Zael’s disapproving growl as she walked to the open doorway and drew Carys back inside.
“Please forgive me for interrupting like this,” the young Breed female said. Her discomfort went deeper than chagrin. There was something troubling about the set of her mouth. And her face seemed paler than normal, stricken. “My mother sent me to find you both. There’s been another attack.”
Brynne’s stomach clenched. “In London?”
“No. Right here in D.C.” Carys swallowed. “The Global Nations Council building has been attacked in broad daylight.”
“Not another explosion,” Zael said. “We would’ve heard it. This close to the government center, we would have felt it.”
“No, nothing like that.” Carys gravely shook her head. “Assassins opened fire inside the building a few minutes ago. Every high-ranking member on site today was killed.”
CHAPTER 10
Although there had been little question as to who had been responsible for the slaughter that took place in the Global Nations Council office, it was still a shock to see the brazen claim of responsibility by Opus Nostrum spread across the Internet and social media mere moments after the attack took place. Unsatisfied to simply issue a statement after the fact, Opus’s boasting claims were accompanied by live bodycam video footage recorded by the perpetrators as the killings took place.
Lucan had already seen the footage once, but that didn’t make his blood boil any less as he watched again with the Order and everyone else present in the D.C. compound.
Acting in unison, three men posted on the GNC building security detail had abruptly stepped out of rank and mowed down an entire office wing full of high-ranking council members and diplomats before turning their weapons on themselves. Every horrific second had been captured on video and streamed across the Web.
The victims of the attack were all humans, representatives from around the world. Many of the men and women were colleagues Lucan knew personally in his role as chairman of the GNC.
All of them executed in cold blood at the hands of Opus and their followers.
“First JUSTIS, now the GNC,” Gabrielle said quietly from beside Lucan. There was fear in her voice, and in the blood bond that connected him to her. “Will the Order be next on Opus’s hit list?”
Lucan gently stroked her worried face. “Make no mistake, both of these attacks have been strikes against the Order.” He met the grim gazes of his fellow warriors. “Opus hasn’t come for us directly, and they don’t want to. They tried that at the GNC peace summit and failed, which cost them their leader when we killed Reginal
d Crowe.”
Sterling Chase nodded in agreement. “Each time they’ve come up against us, we’ve shut them down, weakened their foundation.”
“Opus doesn’t need to risk taking us on in a true contest,” Lucan said. “What they want is chaos. They want fear and mistrust between Breed and man.”
“To what end?”
Lucan turned to see Brynne standing behind him alongside Zael. The former JUSTIS investigator’s cheeks were flushed with color, though whether in reaction to the bloody attack playing on the monitors or from some other cause, he couldn’t be sure.
“We’ve seen that Opus has both Breed and human members,” she said. “How can they do this? Why unite with the purpose of killing innocent people from both of their races?”
“To profit off the strife,” Zael murmured. “There are always fortunes to be made in war, regardless of which side you’re on. Unfortunately, peace is a far less lucrative business.”
The Atlantean was right. And unless the Order found a way to clamp a lid on the panic before it got any further out of hand, Opus might damned well succeed.
Lucan cursed as more video of screaming civilians and stampeding workers inside the GNC building filled the monitors. The attackers were dead, but the panic was still at a fever pitch.
“I’m heading out to the government center,” he said, turning away from the images of carnage and terror.
Gabrielle anxiously caught his hand. “It’s the middle of the day.”
He didn’t particularly relish the idea of a daylight tour of duty either, given that without proper equipment, his solar-averse Gen One Breed skin would start sizzling in under ten minutes. But it had to be done.
Opus attacked at a time of day that all but guaranteed little to no risk of Order interference. As the highest ranking official of the GNC and the leader of the Order besides, Lucan would be damned if he was going to sit back and wait for sundown before confronting the carnage and taking control of the situation.