pack of frenzied Rogues.
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With the club erupting in full-on anarchy, the leader
strode to a private backstage room, and took the ringing
cell phone from his inside suitcoat pocket. He had ex-
pected to see the untraceable number of one of his many
Minions, most of whom had been dispatched to gather in-
formation on Gabrielle Maxwell and her apparent in-
volvement with the Breed.
But this was not one of them.
He could tell as much even before he flipped open the
device and saw the blocked ID flashing on the display.
Intrigued, he picked up the call. The voice on the other
end was not unfamiliar to him. He had done some illicit
business with the individual recently and they still had a
few things to discuss. At his prompting, the caller relayed
details about a raid being hatched that very night on one of
the smaller Rogue cells in the city.
In a matter of seconds, he was given everything he
needed to make sure the raid turned in his favor—the lo-
cation, the warriors’ intended method and route, their ba-
sic plan of attack—all on the condition that one member
of the Breed be spared retaliation. This sole warrior was
not to be exempt entirely, however, only wounded enough
that he would never be able to fight again. The fate of the
rest, including the nearly unstoppable Lucan Thorne, was
for the Rogues to decide.
Lucan’s death had been part of their agreement once
before, but execution of the task had not gone quite as
planned. This time, the caller wanted assurances that the
deed would, in fact, be carried out. Even went so far as to
remind him that he had been given considerable compen-
sation for the act, but had yet to make good on his part.
“I am well aware of our bargain,” he seethed into the
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cell phone. “Do not tempt me to demand further payment
from you. I promise you will regret it.”
He snapped the device shut on a black curse, cutting
short the politic backpedaling that had begun on the heels
of his threat.
The dermaglyphs at his wrist pulsed with the deep hue of
his rage, colors shifting within the pattern of other mark-
ings that had been tattooed on his skin as a form of dis-
guise. He scowled at the need to hide his lineage—his
birthright—with crude ink and secrecy. He loathed the ne-
cessity of his shadowy existence, almost as much as he did
all those who stood in the way of his goals.
He was fuming as he stalked back inside the main area
of the club. Through the dark, his gaze lit at once on his
lieutenant, the only Rogue in recent history to have looked
Lucan Thorne in the eyes and lived to tell about it. He ges-
tured for the huge male to come over, then gave him orders
for carrying out the night’s fun and games.
Regardless of his secret negotiations, when the smoke
cleared tonight, he wanted Lucan and all of the other war-
riors with him to be dead.
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He avoided her the rest of the day, which Gabrielle fig-
ured was probably just as well. Now, just past dusk, Lucan
and the five other warriors strode out of the training facil-
ity as a unit, each of them a picture of menace in black
leather and deadly weaponry. Even Gideon was joining in
tonight’s raid, going out in place of Conlan.
Waiting in the corridor to see them off, Savannah and
Eva went to their mates and took them in long embraces.
Soft, private words were exchanged in low, loving voices.
Tender kisses spoke of a woman’s fear and a man’s strong
reassurances that he would return safely to her.
Gabrielle stood some distance away in the hall, feeling
so much an outsider as she watched Lucan say something
to Savannah. The Breedmate nodded and he put a small
object in her hand, his gaze trailing past her shoulder to
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light on Gabrielle. He said nothing, made no move to ap-
proach her, but his eyes lingered, drinking her in across the
wide space that separated them now.
And then he was gone.
Striding ahead of the others, Lucan turned a corner at
the far end of the corridor and disappeared. The rest of
his cadre followed, leaving nothing but the hard clip of
boot heels and the metallic jangle of steel in their wake.
“You okay?” Savannah asked, coming up to Gabrielle
and wrapping a gentle arm around her shoulders.
“Yeah. I’ll be fine.”
“He wanted me to give you this.” She held out
Gabrielle’s cell phone. “A peace offering of some sort?”
Gabrielle took it, nodding her head in agreement.
“Things aren’t going well between us right now.”
“I’m sorry. Lucan said he trusts you’ll understand you
can’t leave the compound, or tell your friends where you
are. But if you need to call them . . .”
“Thank you.” She looked up at Gideon’s mate and
managed a small smile.
“If you want some privacy, just make yourself at home
anywhere you like.” Savannah hugged her briefly, then
glanced to Eva as the other woman came over to join
them.
“I don’t know about anyone else,” Eva said, her beauti-
ful face drawn with worry, “but I could use a drink. Or
three.”
“Maybe we all could use a little wine and company,”
Savannah replied. “Gabrielle, you come join us when
you’re ready. We’ll be in my place.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
The two women moved off together, speaking quietly,
their arms linked as they walked up the snaking corridor
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toward Savannah’s and Gideon’s apartments. Gabrielle
wandered in the other direction, not sure where she
wanted to be.
That wasn’t actually true. She wanted to be with
Lucan, in his arms, but she’d better get over that desperate
wish, and quick. She wasn’t about to beg him to want her,
and assuming he made it back from tonight’s raid in one
piece, she had better prepare herself to put him out of her
mind completely.
She strolled toward an open door down one quiet,
dimly lit spoke of the hallway. A candle burned some-
where inside the empty chamber, the only light in the
place. The solitude, and the smells of faded incense and
old wood drew her in. It
was the compound’s chapel; she
remembered passing it on her tour with Savannah.
Gabrielle walked between two rows of bench seats,
toward a raised pedestal at the front of the chamber. It was
there that the candle burned, a thick red pillar of slow-
melting wax, its flame nestled deep in the core radiating a
soft crimson glow. She sat down on one of the front row
benches and simply breathed for a while, letting the peace
of the sanctuary wash over her.
She flipped open her cell phone. The message symbol
was blinking. Gabrielle hit the voicemail button and lis-
tened to the first call. It was from Megan, time stamped
two days ago, around the same time she’d been calling
Gabrielle’s apartment following the Minion attack in the
park.
“Gabby, it’s me again. I’ve left a bunch of messages for you at
home, but you haven’t called me back. Where are you? I’m really get-
ting worried! I don’t think you should be alone after what happened.
Call me back as soon as you get this—and I mean the very second you
get this, okay?”
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Gabrielle erased it and moved on to the next message,
left last night at 11 P.M. Kendra’s voice came on, sounding
a little tired.
“Hey, there. You home? Pick up if you are. Shit, I guess it’s kinda
late—sorry about that. You’re probably sleeping. So, I’ve been mean-
ing to call you guys, try to hook up for drinks or something, maybe hit
another club? How about tomorrow night? Call me.”
Well, at least Kendra was safe as of a few hours ago.
That took away some of Gabrielle’s concern. But there
was still the matter of the guy she’d been seeing. The
Rogue, Gabrielle amended, feeling a shiver of fear for her
friend’s unwitting proximity to the same danger that was
currently dogging her own heels.
She skipped to the last message. Megan again, from just
a couple of hours ago.
“Hi, sweetie. Just checking in. Are you ever going to call me and
tell me how it went at the station the other night? I’m sure your detec-
tive was glad to see you, but you know I’m dying to hear in detail just
how glad he was.”
Megan’s voice was calm and teasing, perfectly normal.
Completely changed from the panic of her earlier mes-
sages at Gabrielle’s home and on the cell.
God, that’s right.
Because to her, and to her cop boyfriend as well, there
was no reason to be alarmed about anything since Lucan
had wiped their memories.
“Anyway, I’m meeting Jamie for dinner tonight at Ciao Bella—
your favorite. If you can make it, swing by. We’ll be there at seven.
Save you a seat.”
Gabrielle clicked erase and checked the clock on the
cell phone: 7:20.
She owed it to her friends to at least call and let them
know she was all right. And part of her longed to hear
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their voices, her only connection to the life she knew before
Lucan Thorne turned her entire world upside down. She
speed-dialed Megan’s cell and waited anxiously as it rang.
Muffled talking came over the receiver in the second be-
fore her friend said hello.
“Hi, Meg.”
“Oh, hey—there you are! Jamie, it’s Gabby!”
“Where is that girl? She coming, or what?”
“I don’t know yet. Gabby, are you gonna join us?”
Gabrielle listened to the familiar chaos of her friends’
chatter and wished she could be there. She wished she
could go back to the way things were, before . . .
“I, ah . . . I can’t. Something’s come up, and I . . .”
“She’s busy,” Megan told Jamie. “Where are you, any-
way? Kendra called me looking for you today. She said she
went by your apartment but it didn’t look like you were
home.”
“Kendra stopped by? Have you seen her?”
“No, but she wants to get together with all of us.
Sounds like she’s done with that guy from the club.”
“Brent,” Jamie supplied loudly and dramatically over
Megan’s voice.
“They broke up?”
“I don’t know,” Megan replied. “I asked her how it was
going and she just said she’s not seeing him anymore.”
“Good,” Gabrielle said, so very relieved. “That’s really
good news.”
“So, what about you? What’s so important that you
can’t come out for dinner tonight?”
Gabrielle frowned, staring at her surroundings. The
red candle’s flame wobbled as the air in the chapel stirred
slightly. She heard soft footsteps, then a quietly indrawn
breath as whomever walked in realized the chamber was
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occupied. Gabrielle turned and saw a tall blond in the
open doorway. The woman gave Gabrielle an apologetic
look, then started to turn away.
“I’m, ah . . . out of town right now,” she told her friends
in a hushed voice. “I might be gone for a few days. Maybe
longer.”
“Doing what?”
“Um, I’m on a commission job,” Gabrielle lied, hating
to do it, but seeing no other choice. “I’ll give you guys a call
as soon as I can. Take care of each other. I love you.”
“Gabrielle—”
She clicked off the call before she was forced to say
anything more.
“I’m sorry,” the blond woman said as Gabrielle came
toward her. “I didn’t realize the chapel was in use.”
“It’s not. Please stay. I was just . . .” Gabrielle released a
pent-up sigh. “I just lied to my friends.”
“Oh.” Gentle pale blue eyes settled sympathetically
on her.
Gabrielle closed the phone and smoothed her finger
over the polished silver case. “I left my apartment in a rush
the other night to come here with Lucan. None of my
friends know where I am, or why I had to leave.”
“I see. Maybe one day you can explain everything to
them.”
“I hope so. I just don’t want to put them in danger by
telling them the truth.”
The halo of long, golden hair shifted as the woman
nodded with understanding. “You must be Gabrielle?
Savannah told me that Lucan had brought a female here
under his protection. I’m Danika. I am— I was—Conlan’s
mate.”
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Gabrielle accepted the slender hand Danika offered in
greeting. “I’m very sorry about your loss.”
Danika smiled, sadness swimming in her eyes. When
she withdrew her hand from Gabriell
e’s grasp, it moved
absently to cradle the nearly imperceptible swell of her ab-
domen. “I’ve been meaning to come and find you to say
welcome, but I fear I’m not the best company right now. I
haven’t much had the desire to leave my quarters these
past few days. It’s still very hard for me, trying to make
this . . . adjustment. Everything is so different now.”
“Of course.”
“Lucan and the other warriors have been very gener-
ous to me. On their own, they’ve each sworn their protec-
tion if I should ever need it, wherever I am. For me, and
my child.”
“You’re pregnant?”
“Fourteen weeks. I’d hoped this would be the first of
many sons for Conlan and me. We were so excited about
our future. We’d waited a long time to start our family.”
“Why did you wait?” Gabrielle winced as soon as the
question left her lips. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry. I’m
sure it’s none of my business.”
Danika dismissively clucked her tongue. “There’s no
need to apologize. I don’t mind your questions, truly. It’s
good for me to talk about my Conlan. Come, let’s sit
awhile,” she said, walking with Gabrielle to one of the
chapel’s long benches.
“I met Conlan when I was just a girl. My village in
Denmark had been sacked by invaders, so we thought. It
was actually a band of Rogues. They killed nearly every-
one, slaughtered women and children, our village elders.
No one was safe. A group of Breed warriors arrived in the
middle of the attack. Conlan was one of them. They res-
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cued as many of my people as they could. When my mark
was discovered, I was taken into the nearest Darkhaven. It
was there I learned all about the vampire nation and my
place within it. But I couldn’t stop thinking about my sav-
ior. As fate would have it, a few years later, Conlan came
through the area again. I was so excited to see him.
Imagine my shock to discover that he’d never forgotten
about me, either.”
“How long ago was this?”
Danika hardly paused to calculate the time. “Conlan
and I shared four hundred and two years together.”
“My God,” Gabrielle whispered. “So long . . .”
“It passed in a blink, if you want to know the truth of it.
I won’t lie and tell you that it was always easy being the
mate of a warrior, but I wouldn’t have traded a single
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