Midnight Breed - Book - 01

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Midnight Breed - Book - 01 Page 39

by Kiss of Midnight


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  After nine hundred years of living, he was finally tast-

  ing heaven.

  He drank urgently, deeply, need overwhelming him as

  Gabrielle’s quenching blood surged down his throat, into

  flesh and bone and cell. His pulse hammered with re-

  newal, pumping blood into fatigued limbs and healing his

  recent wounds.

  His sex had come alive with the first taste; now it

  throbbed heavy and hard between his legs. Demanding

  even more possession.

  Gabrielle was stroking his hair, holding him close as he

  drank from her. She moaned with each hard tug of his

  mouth, her body melting, her scent going dark and humid

  with desire.

  “Lucan,” she gasped, shuddering around him. “Oh,

  God . . .”

  With a wordless snarl, he pressed her down beneath

  him on the floor. He drank deeper, losing himself to the

  erotic heat of the moment and to a frantic desperation that

  terrified him.

  Mine, he thought, selfish and utterly savage with the

  idea.

  It was too late to stop now.

  This kiss had damned them both.

  While the initial bite had been a shock, the sharp nick of

  pain had quickly dissipated into something lush and intox-

  icating. Pleasure bloomed all over her body from the inside

  out, as if each long pull of Lucan’s mouth at her neck sent

  a shaft of warm light back into her, reaching down

  through her core to stroke her soul.

  He covered her with his naked weight, their robes

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  askew as he took her to the floor with him. His hands were

  rough as they sank into her hair, holding her head to the

  side as he drank from her. Heedless of any pain his injuries

  might be causing him, he pressed his bare chest against her

  breasts. His lips never broke contact with her neck even for

  a second. She could feel the intensity of his need in every

  hard draw.

  But she felt his strength, too. It was coming back, bit by

  bit, renewing because of her.

  “Don’t stop,” she murmured, speech slowed for the

  mounting ecstasy that was building in her with each pul-

  sating movement of his mouth. “You won’t hurt me,

  Lucan. I trust you.”

  The wet, succulent sounds of his hunger was the most

  erotic thing she’d ever heard. She loved the heat of his lips

  on her skin. The ungentle graze of his fangs as he drew her

  blood into his mouth was a sensation that was both dan-

  gerous and exciting.

  She was already soaring toward a splintering orgasm

  when she felt the thick head of Lucan’s erection nudging

  against her sex. She was wet, aching for him. He drove in

  deep with one thrust, filling her completely with rigid, vol-

  canic heat. Detonating her in an instant. Gabrielle cried

  out as he plunged hard and fast, his arms like a cage

  around her, clutching her tightly. He was mindless in his

  rhythm, a force of raw, magnificent desire.

  And still he remained fastened at her neck, pulling her

  into a blissful, creamy darkness.

  She closed her eyes and let herself float away, toward a

  beautiful obsidian fog.

  From someplace distant, she felt Lucan buck and pound

  above her, his strokes urgent, his large body vibrating with

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  the power of his own release. He shouted something harsh

  and went completely still.

  The delicious pressure at her neck abruptly eased, then

  vanished, leaving coldness in its wake.

  Still drifting, still awash in the heady feel of Lucan

  sheathed inside her, Gabrielle lifted her heavy lids. Lucan

  was poised over her on his knees, staring down at her as

  though frozen. His lips were bright red, his hair wild

  around his head. His feral eyes were throwing off amber

  sparks, they were so bright. His skin color was healthier,

  the network of markings on his shoulders and torso glow-

  ing a deep crimson-black.

  “What is it?” she asked him, worried. “Are you okay?”

  He didn’t speak for a long moment.

  “Jesus Christ.” The rough growl of his voice was

  tremulous, a pitch she’d never heard in him before. His

  chest was heaving. “I thought you were . . . I thought I

  had—”

  “No,” she said, giving a lazy, sated shake of her head.

  “No, Lucan. I’m fine.”

  She couldn’t read his intense expression, but then he

  didn’t give her a chance. He recoiled, sliding out of her.

  There was a stricken look in his transformed eyes.

  Her body felt cold and empty without his warmth. She

  sat up, rubbing off her sudden chill. “It’s okay,” she as-

  sured him. “Everything’s okay.”

  “No.” He shook his head and vaulted to his feet. “No.

  This was a mistake.”

  “Lucan . . .”

  “I never should have let this happen!” he bellowed.

  With a furious roar, he stalked to the foot of the bed to

  retrieve his clothes. He yanked the black camo pants and

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  nylon shirt on, then grabbed his weapons and boots, and

  left the room in a tempest of seething rage.

  Lucan could hardly catch his breath for the way his heart

  was banging in his chest.

  When he’d felt Gabrielle go slack beneath him as he

  drank from her, a stark fear had torn through him, shred-

  ding him from the inside out.

  She trusted him, she had said while he had been drink-

  ing feverishly at her neck. He’d felt the spurs of Bloodlust

  jabbing into him as Gabrielle’s blood flowed into him. Her

  voice had eased some of the pain. She was tender and car-

  ing, her touch, her naked emotion—her presence itself—

  grounding him when the animal part of him might have

  slipped its reins.

  She trusted him not to harm her, and that trust gave

  him strength.

  But then he’d felt her drifting away from him and he

  feared . . . God, in that instant, how he’d feared.

  It still gripped him, the black, cold terror that he might

  have harmed her—could have killed her—if he’d let

  things go any further than they had.

  Because, for all his pushing her away, all his denial, he

  belonged to her. Gabrielle owned him, down to his soul,

  and not simply for the fact that her blood was nourishing

  him now, healing his wounds and strengthening his body.

  He had bonded to her, long before now. But the irrefutable

  proof of it had come in that bleak instant a moment ago

  when he feared he might have lost her.

  He loved her.

  Down to the darkest, loneliest part of him, he loved

  Gabrielle.

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  And he wanted her in his life. Selfishly, dangerously, he

  wanted nothing more than to keep her with him for all the

  rest of his days.

  The realization made him weave in the corridor out-

  side the tech lab. In truth, it nearly sent him to his knees.

  “Whoa, easy there.” Dante came up to Lucan almost

  without warning and grabbed him under the arm.

  “Damn. You look like holy hell.”

  Lucan couldn’t speak. Words were beyond him.

  But Dante didn’t need an explanation. He took one

  look at Lucan’s face and fangs and Dante’s nostrils flared

  as they picked up the obvious scents of blood and sex. He

  blew out a low whistle, a gleam of wry amusement flashing

  in the warrior’s eyes.

  “You gotta be kidding me—a Breedmate, Lucan?” He

  chuckled, shaking his head as he clapped Lucan on the

  shoulder. “Shit. Better you than me, brother. Better you

  than me.”

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  Thirty

  Three hours later, with night full upon them, Lucan and

  the other warriors were geared up and sitting in a black

  SUV parked about a half mile down the road from the old

  asylum.

  Gabrielle’s photographs had proven extremely useful in

  planning the hit on the Rogue lair. In addition to several

  exterior and ground-level, entry-point photos, she’d taken

  interior shots of the boiler room, various corridors, stair-

  wells, and even a few containing inadvertent images of

  mounted security cameras that would need to be disabled

  once the warriors gained access to the place.

  “Getting in’s going to be the easy part,” Gideon said, as

  the group of them began the final review of the operation.

  “I’ll interrupt the security signal on the ground-level cam-

  eras, but once we’re inside, planting those two dozen bars

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  of C4 in critical areas without alerting the entire colony of

  suckheads will prove a little trickier.”

  “Not to mention the added problem of unwanted pub-

  licity with the humans,” Dante said. “What the hell’s tak-

  ing Niko so long to locate that gas main?”

  “Here he comes,” Lucan said, spotting the vampire’s

  dark shape nearing the SUV from the ridge of trees out-

  side.

  Nikolai opened the back door and climbed in next to

  Tegan. He pulled off his black head covering, wintry blue

  eyes alive with excitement. “Piece of cake. The main line is

  in a lockbox on the west end of the complex. The suck-

  heads may not need heat, but public service has plenty of

  gas running to the buildings.”

  Lucan met the warrior’s eager look. “So, we get in, set

  up our party favors, clear the location—”

  Niko nodded. “Signal me when the shit’s in place. I’ll

  flip the main line, then detonate the C4 once we all ren-

  dezvous back here. On the surface, it’ll look like a gas leak

  caused the explosion. And if Homeland Security wants to

  get involved, I’m sure some of Gabrielle’s photos of gang-

  banger graffiti will send the humans sniffing around in cir-

  cles for a while.”

  Meanwhile, the warriors would be sending a big mes-

  sage to their enemies, particularly the Gen One vampire

  who Lucan suspected was at the helm of this new Rogue

  insurgency. Blowing their headquarters into the next cen-

  tury ought to be a sufficient invitation for the bastard to

  come out into the open and dance.

  Lucan was anxious to get started. Even more anxious

  to finish the night’s mission because he had his own unfin-

  ished business back at the compound. He hated leaving

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  Gabrielle like he had, knowing she had to be confused and

  probably more than a little upset.

  There were things to be said, certainly, things he hadn’t

  even been prepared to think about much less discuss with

  her in that moment when the stunning reality of his feel-

  ings for her had hit him.

  Now, his head was full of plans.

  Reckless, stupid, hopeful plans, all of them centered

  on her.

  Around him in the vehicle, the other warriors were

  checking their gear, loading up the bars of C4 into zip-

  pered duffel bags and making final adjustments to the ear-

  pieces and mics that would keep them in contact with one

  another once they breached the asylum perimeter and split

  up to place the explosives.

  “Tonight, we do this for Con and Rio,” Dante said,

  flipping one of his curved blades with nimble, black-gloved

  fingers and stabbing it into the sheath on his hip. “Ven-

  geance time.”

  “Hell, yeah,” Niko replied, a sentiment echoed swiftly

  by the others.

  When they started to go for the doors, Lucan lifted his

  hand.

  “Hold up.” His grim voice stilled them all. “There’s

  something you need to know. Since we’re about to go in

  there and possibly get our asses handed to us, I suppose

  now’s as good a time as any to be straight with you about a

  couple of things . . . and I need a promise from each of

  you.”

  He met the faces of his brethren, warriors who’d been

  fighting beside him, as tight as kin, for what seemed like

  forever. They had always looked to him to lead, trusting

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  him to make the hard calls, certain he would never be at a

  loss for strategy or decision.

  Now he wavered, hesitant, unsure of where to begin.

  He raked a hand over his jaw, blew out a sharp sigh.

  Gideon frowned at him, concerned. “Everything good,

  Lucan? You took a pretty massive hit in the ambush last

  night. If you want to sit this out—”

  “No. No, that’s not it. I’m fine. My injuries are

  healed . . . thanks to Gabrielle,” he said. “Earlier today, she

  and I . . .”

  “No shit,” Gideon replied when Lucan’s explanation

  trailed off. Damn the vampire, but he was actually grin-

  ning about it.

  “You drank from her?” Niko asked.

  Tegan grunted in the backseat. “That female’s a

  Breedmate.”

  “Yes,” Lucan said, answering with serious calm. “And if

  she’ll have me, I mean to ask Gabrielle to take me as her

  mate.”

  Dante smirked at him, rolling his eyes. “Congrats, man.

  Seriously.”

  Gideon and Niko offered similar responses, clapping

  Lucan on the shoulder
.

  “That’s not all.”

  Four pairs of eyes fixed on him, everyone but Tegan

  looking at him with grim expectation.

  “Last night, Eva had some choice things to say about

  me—” There was an immediate defensive vocal barrage

  from Gideon, Niko, and Dante. Lucan spoke over the an-

  gry rumbles. “Her betrayal of Rio and the rest of us is in-

  excusable, yes. But what she said about me. . . it was the

  truth.”

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  Dante gave him a narrow look. “What are you talking

  about?”

  “Bloodlust,” Lucan replied. The word fell hard into the

  silence of the SUV. “It’s ah . . . it’s a problem for me. Has

  been for a long while. I’m dealing with it, but there are

  times . . .” He dropped his chin, stared at the unlit floor of

  the vehicle. “I don’t know if I can beat it. Maybe, with

  Gabrielle at my side, I might stand a chance. I’m going to

  fight it like hell, but if it gets worse—”

  Gideon spat a vivid obscenity. “Ain’t gonna happen,

  Lucan. Of all of us sitting here, you’re the strongest.

  Always have been. Nothing’s gonna pull you down.”

  Lucan shook his head. “I can’t pretend to be the one al-

  ways in control anymore. I’m tired. I’m not invincible.

  After nine hundred years of living the lie, it took Gabrielle

  less than two weeks to tear my mask off. She’s forced me to

  see myself as I truly am. I don’t like a lot of what I see, but

  I want to be better . . . for her.”

  Niko scowled. “Damn, Lucan. You talking about love

  here?”

  “Yeah,” he said solemnly. “I am. I love her. Which is

  why I need to ask something of you. All of you.”

  Gideon nodded. “Name it.”

  “If things get bad with me—sometime soon, or down

  the road—I need to know that I can count on you guys to

  have my back. You see me lose it to Bloodlust, if you think

  I’m going to turn . . . I’ve got to have your word that you’ll

  take me out.”

  “What?” Dante recoiled. “You can’t ask that of us,

  man.”

  “Listen to me.” He wasn’t accustomed to begging. The

  plea was like gravel in his throat, but he needed to spit it

  out. He was tired of carrying the burden alone. And the

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  very last thing he ever wanted was to fear that in his weak-

 

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