Midnight Breed - Book - 01
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him. They were equally matched in strength, but Lucan’s
blood burned hotter than his opponent’s.
All Lucan had to do was think of Gabrielle, and of the
terror this beast would inflict on her, and he was on fire
with rage.
He fed that fury, driving the Rogue back with blow af-
ter relentless blow. He didn’t feel the strikes he took on his
own body, though there had been many. He forced his op-
ponent down. Readied himself to deliver the final, killing
blow.
With a roar, he sliced deep into the neck of the Rogue,
liberating the huge head from its savaged body. Arms and
legs spasmed as the vampire collapsed in a convulsing
heap on the floor. Lucan’s fury was still hammering hard in
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his veins; he flipped his blade over in his hand and drove it
hard into the suckhead’s chest, speeding the disintegration
of the corpse.
“Holy hell,” Rio said from somewhere nearby, his voice
wooden. “Lucan—above you, man! Got another one in
the rafters!”
It happened in an instant.
Lucan wheeled around, battle fury tearing through
every muscle in his body. He threw a glance up to where
Rio had indicated. High above his head, another Rogue
vampire was crawling through the trusses of the ware-
house ceiling, holding something that looked like a small
metal football under his arm. A small red light on the de-
vice blinked quickly, then began a steady burn.
“Get down!” Nikolai raised his customized Beretta and
took aim. “Dude’s about to drop a fucking bomb!”
Lucan heard the sudden blast of the gunshot.
Saw the Rogue take Niko’s slug right between its glow-
ing yellow eyes.
But the bomb was already airborne.
Half a second later, it blew.
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C H A P T E R
Twenty-seven
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Gabrielle sat up with a start, jolted out of a fitful doze on
the sofa in Savannah’s living room. The women had been
gathered there for the past few hours—taking comfort in
one another’s company—with the exception of Eva, who
sometime ago had gone to the chapel to pray. The
Breedmate had been edgier than the rest of them, spend-
ing the good part of the evening pacing and chewing her
lip with anxious impatience.
From somewhere above the labyrinth of corridors and
rooms, muted sounds of movement and clipped male
voices carried down into the living room. The muffled
hum of the elevator vibrated the thick air as the vehicle be-
gan its descent to the main floor of the compound.
Oh, God.
Something was wrong.
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She could feel it.
“Lucan.”
Gabrielle pushed aside the chenille throw that covered
her and swiveled to put her feet on the floor. Her heart was
racing, squeezing tight in her breast with every frantic
beat.
“I don’t like the sound of this, either,” Savannah said,
sliding a tense look around the room.
Gabrielle, Savannah, and Danika poured out of the
apartment to greet the warriors, none of them saying a
word, hardly breathing as they hurried toward the arriving
elevator.
Even before the steel door slid open, it was apparent
from the urgent sounds within that bad news was coming.
Just how bad, Gabrielle had not been prepared for.
The stench of smoke and blood hit her nose like a phys-
ical blow. She winced at the foul odor of war and death as
she strained to get a clear picture of the situation in the el-
evator car. None of the warriors were coming out. Two
were down on the floor of the car, three others were
crouched around them.
“Get some clean towels and blankets!” Gideon shouted
to Savannah. “Bring as many as you can, baby!” As she
sprang into action, he added, “We’re gonna need some
wheels, too. There’s a gurney in the infirmary.”
“On it,” Niko answered from within the elevator.
He leaped over one of the two ravaged forms lying
supine on the floor. As he passed, Gabrielle saw that his
face and hair and hands were black with soot. The war-
rior’s clothing was torn, his skin peppered with easily
hundreds of bleeding abrasions. Gideon bore similar con-
tusions. Dante, too.
But their wounds were nothing compared to the
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massive injuries sustained by the two Breed warriors who
had been carried, unconscious, off the streets by their
brethren.
Gabrielle knew from the leaden weight in her heart
that one of them was Lucan. She crept forward, and
caught her breath to see her fears realized.
Blood pooled beneath him, spilling wine-dark out onto
the white marble of the corridor. His boots and leathers
were shredded, as was most of the skin on his arms and
legs. His face was an ugly mess of soot and crimson cuts.
But he was alive. He curled back his lips and hissed
through extended fangs when Gideon had to move him in
order to apply a makeshift tourniquet to stanch a gash on
his arm.
“Shit—I’m sorry, Lucan. It’s pretty deep. Jesus, it won’t
stop bleeding, either.”
“Help . . . Rio.” The words came out in a dark growl, a
direct command, even though he was lying flat on his
back. “I’m good”—he broke off with a pained snarl—
“Damn it . . . want you to . . . look after . . . him.”
Gabrielle kneeled down beside Gideon. She held out
her hand to take the end of the binding from him. “I can
do that.”
“You sure? It’s ugly. You really gotta get your hands
right in there to pull it tight.”
“I’ve got it.” She nodded toward Rio, who lay nearby.
“Do as he says.”
The injured warrior on the floor beside Lucan was
plainly in agony. He, too, was bleeding profusely from
torso wounds and horrific damage to his left arm. The
mangled limb was wrapped in a blood-soaked rag that
might have been a shirt. His face and chest were burned
and lacerated beyond recognition. He started moaning,
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low in his throat, a piteous sound that brought hot tears to
Gabrielle’s eyes.
When she blinked them away, she found Lucan’s pale
gray eyes locked on her. “Nailed . . . the bastard.”
“Shh.” She smoothed sweat-dampened strands from
his batt
ered brow. “Lucan, just be still. Don’t try to talk.”
He ignored her, though, swallowing on a dry throat
and then pushing the words out. “From the nightclub . . .
son of a bitch was there tonight.”
“The one who got away from you?”
“Not this time.” He blinked slowly, his look as fierce as
it was stark. “Can’t ever . . . hurt you now . . .”
“Yeah,” Gideon drolly piped from where he was work-
ing on Rio. “And you’re damn lucky to be alive for it,
hero.”
Gabrielle’s throat constricted further as she gazed
down at him. For all his protestations that his duty came
first and that there never could be a place for her in his life,
Lucan had been thinking of her tonight? He was bleeding
and injured, partly because of something he did for her?
She picked up his hand and held it to her, cradling the
part of him that she could, pressing his bent fingers close
against her heart. “Oh, Lucan . . .”
Savannah ran up with an armful of the requested sup-
plies. Niko followed closely behind, pushing the rolling
hospital bed ahead of him.
“Lucan first,” Gideon told them. “Get him into a bed,
then come back for Rio.”
“No.” Lucan groaned, a sound of determination more
than pain. “Help me up.”
“I don’t think you sh—” Gabrielle said, but he was al-
ready trying to raise himself up from the floor.
“Easy, big guy.” Dante stepped in, putting a strong
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hand under Lucan’s arm. “You got laid pretty low out
there. Why don’t you take a breather, let us wheel you
down to the infirmary.”
“Said I’m good.” With Gabrielle and Dante each hold-
ing a hand, Lucan hoisted himself to a sitting position. He
panted a bit, but remained upright. “Took a few hits, but
damn it . . . gonna walk to my own bed. Not letting you . . .
drag me there.”
Dante glanced at Gabrielle and rolled his eyes. “You
know he’s thickheaded enough to mean it.”
“Yeah. I know he is.”
She smiled, grateful for the stubbornness that kept him
strong. Lending the support of her body, she and Dante
put their shoulders under his arms and held on to him as
Lucan began a slow crawl up to his feet.
“Over here,” Gideon told Niko, who moved the gurney
into position for Rio, while Savannah and Danika did
what they could to stanch his wounds, remove his soiled,
tattered clothing and the unneeded bulk of his weapons.
“Rio?” Eva’s voice was pitched high as she ran into the
chaos, her rosary beads still clutched in her hand. She
came up on the open elevator and instantly shrank back,
choking on her breath. “Rio! Where is he?”
“He’s hanging in there, Eva,” Niko said, moving away
from the loaded gurney to intercept Eva. He steered her
away with firm hands before she could get too close to the
carnage. “There was an explosion tonight. He took the
worst hit.”
“No!” Her hands came up to her face in horror. “No,
you’re wrong. That’s not my Rio! It can’t be!”
“He’s alive, Eva. But you’re going to have to be strong
for him.”
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“No!” She started screaming in wild hysteria, trying to
force her way near her mate. “Not my Rio! God, no!”
Savannah came around and took Eva under her arm.
“Come away now,” she said gently. “They know how to
help him.”
Eva’s broken sobs filled the corridor and pierced
Gabrielle with a private anguish that was a mix of relief
and stone-cold fear. She worried for Rio, and it shattered
her heart to think what Eva must be feeling. Gabrielle
knew some of that hurt herself because it could have been
Lucan in Rio’s place. A few bare millimeters—mere frac-
tions of a second—might have been all that determined
which of the two warriors would be lying in a deepening
pool of blood, fighting for his life.
“Where’s Tegan?” Gideon asked, keeping his attention
rooted on his own fast-moving fingers as he continued to
inspect and treat the fallen warrior under his care. “Has he
come back yet?”
Danika shook her head, but shot an anxious glance at
Gabrielle. “Why would he be here? Wasn’t he with all of
you?”
“We lost track of him soon after we hit the Rogue lair,”
Dante put in. “Once the explosion went off, our main goal
was getting Lucan and Rio back to the compound as
quickly as possible.”
“Let’s roll here,” Gideon said, taking the head of Rio’s
gurney. “Niko, help me get this thing moving.”
Questions about Tegan were eclipsed as everyone
scrambled to do what they could for Rio. They all made
their way down to the infirmary, Gabrielle, Dante, and
Lucan moving the slowest along the corridor as Lucan
swayed on his feet, holding fast to both of them and work-
ing to keep himself steady.
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Gabrielle braved a glance at him, wanting so badly to
caress his bruised and bleeding face. As she looked at him,
heart twisting, his dark lashes flicked up, and he met her
eyes. She didn’t know what passed between them in that
prolonged instant of quiet amid the chaos, but it felt warm
and right, despite everything that was terrible about the
night’s events.
When they reached the room where Rio was being
tended to, Eva stood at the side of the gurney, hovering
over his broken body. Tears streamed down her cheeks.
“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” she moaned. “It
shouldn’t have been my Rio. Not like this.”
“We’ll do everything we can for him,” Lucan said, his
breath rasping heavily from his own injuries. “I promise
you, Eva. We won’t let him die.”
She shook her head, staring down at her mate on the
bed. As she pet his hair, Rio murmured incoherent words,
semiconscious, and in obvious pain. “I want him out of
here at once. He should be taken to the Darkhavens. He
needs medical care.”
“He’s not stable enough to be moved from the com-
pound,” Gideon told her. “I have the training and the
equipment to treat him here for now.”
“I want him out of here!” Her head snapped up, her
glittering gaze flitting from one warrior to another. “He’s
no good to any of you now, so let me have him. You don’t
own him anymore—none of you. He is all mine now! I
only want what is best for him!”
Gabrielle felt Lucan’s arm tense at the hysteri
cal out-
burst. “Then you need to stay out of Gideon’s way, and let
him work,” he said, slipping easily into the role of leader
despite his own battered condition. “Right now, the only
thing that matters is keeping Rio alive.”
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“You,” Eva said, her voice dry as she leveled a teary
glare at him. Her eyes took on a wilder sheen, her face
transformed into a mask of pure hatred. “It should be you
dying right now, not him! You, Lucan. That was the deal I
made! It was supposed to be you!”
A chasm opened up in the infirmary, swallowing all sound
but the stunning truth of what Rio’s mate had just con-
fessed.
Dante and Nikolai’s hands went to their weapons, both
warriors prepared to strike at the slightest provocation.
Lucan lifted his hand to stay them, his eyes holding fast to
Eva. He really didn’t give a damn that her venom was
aimed squarely at him; if he’d been some kind of target for
her rage, he had survived it. Rio might not. Any one of his
brethren present on the raid tonight might not have sur-
vived Eva’s betrayal.
“The Rogues knew we were going to be there,” Lucan
said, his voice held all the more cool by the depth of
his fury. “We were ambushed at the warehouse. You
arranged it.”
Low growls sounded from the other warriors. If the
confession had come from a male, there would have been
little Lucan could do to keep his brethren from attacking
with lethal force. But this was a Breedmate, one of their
own. Someone they had known and trusted as kin for more
than one lifetime.
Now Lucan looked at Eva and saw a stranger. He saw
madness. A deadly desperation.
“Rio was to be spared.” She bent over him, cradling his
bandaged head in the crook of her arm. He made a noise,
something raw and wordless, as Eva tugged him into her
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embrace. “I didn’t want him to be able to fight anymore.
Not for you.”
“So you would see him maimed instead?” Lucan asked.
“This is how you care for him?”
“I love him!” she cried. “What I did—all of it—was out
of love for him! Rio will be happier somewhere else, away
from all of this violence and death. He will be happier in