by Lara Adrian
And it was too late now, too much for her to bear.
Rage spiked through her, breaking loose from its thin leash. She shoved at him, but he was strong too. And he was fast. He grabbed her hands and held her still, restraining her.
She roared, no longer in control of her senses or her reactions.
The beast owned her now.
The monstrous power she could not contain exploded out of her and she knew only that she was lethal like this. She couldn’t hold herself back—not even with Zael. A bellow shot out of her, anguished and unhinged fury setting her into motion.
She broke loose from his hold and flew at him on a banshee howl.
Zael raised his hands as if to fend her off. They were glowing, his fingers limned in pure white light. In the center of both palms, the symbol of a teardrop and crescent moon was illuminated with energy so pure it blinded her.
She couldn’t fight it. Couldn’t fight him.
Zael’s power was too strong.
He touched her, and light instantly engulfed her vision. His light. It poured into her, obliterating her senses as it seeped into her mind and her limbs, and into every raging cell of her body.
~ ~ ~
Zael knelt on the pavement, holding Brynne in his arms. She was unconscious, unmoving, except for the slow rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.
He hated that he’d used his power on her—for several reasons—but she’d given him little choice.
Brynne was formidable enough as a Breed female. What he saw in her just now was something far more lethal.
Ancient.
Or something damned close to it.
He didn’t know how it was possible, but the proof had been right in front of his eyes.
If relations between the Breed and his people were tenuous, it was nothing compared to the visceral loathing that every Atlantean felt toward their otherworldly enemies who had spawned the Breed on Earth. That hatred was especially strong in Zael and his former comrades of Selene’s royal legion, who had been on the front lines of every war with the Ancients.
Yet despite what he saw in Brynne just now, it wasn’t hatred he felt for her.
Holy hell. Far from it.
Glancing down at her, he watched as the dermaglyphs that had been so livid and pronounced on her face and neck and limbs now began to subside. The glyphs on the backs of her hands had vanished, along with the black talons that had sprouted from the tips of her fingers in her transformation. She rested now, forced into a heavy calm.
The light had done that for her, just as he’d hoped it would.
He didn’t know what she needed, but one thing was for damned sure—he had no intention of leaving her side. Nor would he let her endure her torment alone.
He needed to get her out of the city. He needed to see that she was safe.
They both needed to get somewhere secure, before the recklessness of using his power brought even more problems down on them.
Although he could teleport using the crystal amulet at his wrist, he couldn’t take her with him that way. Only Atlanteans could connect to the energy and use it to leap from one location to another.
Scooping her up, he rose to his feet and carried her out of the alley. The city was ghostly quiet, no sign of the warriors on this dark, empty stretch of asphalt.
Zael felt a jab of guilt for concealing Brynne and himself in the alley when Chase swept through earlier, searching for them. The Order was his ally, but if the warriors had a right to know about the secret Brynne was keeping, it would be on her terms and no one else’s.
On the main street, the Order’s SUV still sat vacant at the curb. Zael brought Brynne to the vehicle and carefully set her in the passenger seat. He couldn’t resist reaching out to stroke her cheek. She stirred slightly under his touch, but her eyelids remained closed. Her face was slack and peaceful in her sleep, as sweet and innocent as a kitten.
Zael gazed at the dark-haired beauty who had come into his life so unexpectedly and turned it upside down. He couldn’t deny the surge of possessiveness—the fierce protectiveness—that ran through him as he looked at her.
Brynne Kirkland was no helpless kitten in need of saving. She’d be the first to tell him that, more than likely with her fangs bared and claws unsheathed the instant she awoke from the drowse he’d put her under.
And given what he’d seen here tonight, he would do well to keep his distance.
Damn it, if he were smart, he’d leave Brynne and her problems to the Order right here and now, and vanish back to the colony and his people where he belonged.
Except he couldn’t stay away from this woman. Not since that first morning on the Order’s terrace patio. And sure as hell not after seeing the anguish in her eyes as she faced off against him, looking like something out of an old nightmare.
She could fight him all she wanted. She could hate him for refusing to do what she begged of him and leave her alone.
It wouldn’t change what he felt when he looked at her now.
She was his.
Zael closed the passenger door, then went around to hop into the driver’s seat of the SUV. As soon as he hit the ignition, the dashboard comm unit illuminated with Gideon’s face on the display.
“Zael,” the warrior said, surprise in his expression. “Jesus, where’ve you been, man? I’ve got two patrol teams scouring the city looking for you. Any sign of Brynne?”
He nodded. “She’s here with me.”
“Glad to hear it. Is she hurt?”
“No.” Zael glanced at her resting in the seat beside him. There was no trace of trouble in her features. Nothing left of the Ancient that lurked under her skin. “She’s fine,” Zael said. “I’m bringing her in now.”
CHAPTER 22
Brynne startled awake from a nightmare more disturbing than any she’d had in a long time. Her breath raced, sawing raggedly past her parted lips. Her head throbbed. Worst of all, the back of her throat was raw and bitter with the coppery taste of blood.
She moaned, her eyelids peeling open a fractional crack in the tranquil semidarkness. Soft mattress under her. Tall ceiling framed by elegant crown molding above her.
Thank God.
She was resting in her guest suite at Order headquarters¸ not crouching in some dank alley in Georgetown with a dead Rogue at her feet and her fangs sunk deep into the wrist of a dying human.
Nor was she standing in front of Zael, blood-soaked and seething, exposed to him as the monster she truly was.
Please…not that.
And yet the images flew at her too vividly to be a dream. Not even one of the hellish night terrors that had haunted her so frequently since her time in Dragos’s labs could top the sensory torment that clung to her now.
She turned her head on the pillow and was sickened to catch the sharp metallic stench of dried blood in her hair. The ends of the long tresses were stiff and matted, reeking of death.
The blood was real, not imagined.
Not a dream.
“No!” She shot upright on the mattress in her bra and panties, pawing at her hair in abject horror and revulsion. “Oh, no… No!”
Warm hands came to rest on her shoulders. Calm permeated her panic, and she realized it was Zael’s touch on her now, his deep voice at her ear as he came to sit beside her on the bed. “Shh, it’s okay. You’re safe, Brynne.”
“No.” She was shaking, her heart banging inside her rib cage. “It’s not okay.”
Breaking out of his light hold, she scrambled to the edge of the mattress. Her stomach roiled with disgust for what she’d done.
For what Zael must have seen.
She felt naked, exposed. Sick with herself for countless reasons, including the fact that he was looking at her with a sympathy and understanding that she didn’t deserve.
“My clothes…”
“They were ruined,” he said. “I took them off you so you’d be more comfortable.”
Frowning, she glanced at the closed door that seale
d her inside the room with him. She didn’t remember returning. She didn’t remember anything after the blinding explosion of light that had filled her head. “How did I…?”
“I brought you back from Georgetown with me,” he answered as he rose to his feet beside her. “As for the rest, I told Tavia and everyone else that I found you in the alley unconscious. I told them I guessed you must’ve fainted after your struggle with a Rogue.”
“Fainted.” She scoffed quietly, gesturing to his hands. “I saw your palms glowing. You zapped me with them. You knocked me out.”
He stared at her, a flicker of remorse in his eyes. There was still a combativeness inside her that flared at the thought of being overpowered by anyone—even if her behavior invited it. But it was difficult to hold on to her anger toward Zael, knowing she had left him little choice but to defend himself.
He could have done anything to her in that alley tonight after he’d subdued her with his light, even kill her. Instead he brought her back to the shelter of the command center. He’d sat with her while she slept. Now he stood here offering comfort when she wouldn’t blame him if he wanted nothing to do with her ever again.
Instead of turning away from her in fear or abhorrence, he had looked after her. Protected her. And he still was.
“You lied to my sister and the Order for me.”
He stepped toward her. “I thought you’d want to explain to them yourself. When you’re ready.”
“No. I’m never going to tell them. They’ll never look at me the same way again.”
The idea of allowing anyone else to know what she truly was sent a shudder through her. She had protected this secret all her life, keeping herself isolated, devoting herself to her work because it was the only thing she could hold on to. The only thing she had.
But now there was Zael.
She hated that he’d seen her as she had been in that alley.
As kind as he was treating her, she couldn’t delude herself into thinking he would ever forget what she was. For his own safety and her peace of mind, she hoped he would finally stay away for good.
Yet he only drew nearer.
When she pushed some of the blood-stiffened strands of hair from her face, he gently caught her hand. Shook his head slowly as he threaded his fingers through hers.
“Come with me, Brynne.”
He led her into the en suite bathroom, leaving her only long enough to turn on the water in the large shower.
“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said, reaching around her to unfasten her bra.
She wanted to protest his careful treatment of her, but her need for comforting overrode all of her old defenses. She was miserable and distressed, and so very tired. Tired of the hiding. Tired of the loneliness.
Her bra fell away. Zael reached for her panties and slid them over her hips, down her thighs, then bent to help her step out of them completely. This wasn’t about sex, and yet she could not keep her body from responding to every light touch of his fingers, from the clean, enticing scent of him as he stood close enough that she could feel the heat of his skin.
Her dermaglyphs began to darken with color as her desire awakened. She had never been ashamed of the part of her that was Breed. But she was Ancient, too, and because of that she brought her hands up to cover herself as her markings deepened, their colors flickering over her skin.
“No,” he murmured. “You don’t hide from me anymore. Not after tonight.”
She swallowed as he drew her hands away and placed them at her sides. “Zael…”
Without another word, he walked her toward the open door of the shower. She stepped in, grateful for the wet heat of the spray. At her back, she heard Zael moving, taking off his clothes too. He walked into the shower behind her, his presence making a new heat travel down her spine.
She sighed with bone-weary pleasure as he silently gathered her tangled hair behind her, then turned her to face him under the water. Red rivulets spiraled around their feet as the blood rinsed away and ran down the drain. Wordlessly, Zael reached for a bottle of shampoo and squirted some into his palm. He washed the rest of the foulness from her hair, his fingers combing through the tangles, then guided her forehead against his shoulder as he massaged the fragrant suds into her scalp and worked the knotted tension from her nape.
No one—not in all her life—had ever taken such care with her.
That Zael would do so now, after everything he saw in her tonight, humbled her in ways she could never express.
As if he understood the depth of her weariness and her gratitude, he lifted her chin and tenderly stroked her cheek. “Tilt your head back, love.”
The endearment made the tender spot in her chest tighten even more. She did as he instructed, tipping her head under the spray to wash the shampoo from her hair. It was impossible not to notice how her naked breasts brushed the smooth muscles of his chest. Her nipples hardened as he ran his fingers through her wet hair, rinsing away the suds with one hand and holding her steady with the other palm splayed at the small of her back.
When her hair was clean, he soaped her body with equal care, taking his time, massaging every inch of her with slick, strong fingers and careful hands. Brynne wanted to weep for the gift he was giving her. Not only the physical comfort of his touch and attention, but the far bigger gift of his trust.
His unquestioning confidence.
She closed her eyes under the blissful sensation of his hands moving wetly on her body, stroking away all of her fatigue.
“I was twenty before I realized what I was.”
Her voice sounded rusty, her words muffled under the hiss of the spray. When her lids lifted, she found Zael’s bright blue gaze locked on her. He had set the soap back on its shelf and now sluiced warm water over her arms and down the wet planes of her torso.
“I never knew my parents.” She laughed brittly at the term, frowning as she recalled the circumstances of her birth. “Does a lab experiment even have parents?”
Zael stilled now, studying her. Waiting for her to find the words.
“I was one of many…offspring that came out of a laboratory run by a madman named Dragos. He was trying to create an army, one bred to his exact specifications and needs.” She shook her head. “He had the last living Ancient under his control in his lab. And he had Breedmates. Dozens of them, all held captive like animals in his breeding program’s cages.”
Zael’s expelled curse was low, and utterly profane. “I know enough about the name Dragos to be thankful the bastard has been dead these past twenty years. But I didn’t know this, Brynne.”
She managed a faint shrug, even though her senses cringed at the recollection of all that Dragos had done. “His lab had been operating for decades before the Order killed him. He used the Ancient and the Breedmates to produce scores of homegrown assassins called Hunters. And because that program was so successful, Dragos began another one. But instead of breeding offspring through conventional means, he decided to start playing with DNA.”
Zael said nothing, and for a long while the only sound was the quiet hiss of the shower.
“He tinkered and he refined, and eventually he produced the first Breed females. Many of the subjects didn’t take. But a few—like Tavia and me and a small number of others—made it to adulthood.”
Zael frowned. “So, then, are you saying that Tavia… That besides being a daywalker, she’s…like you?”
“More monster than Breed? No.” Brynne chuckled humorlessly, having heard the hope in his careful voice. “She doesn’t know anything about what I am. As far as I know, I’m the only one whose DNA recipe got fucked up. Too much Ancient in my Petri dish and not enough humanity. I should’ve never made it out of the lab. I was a mistake. Dragos should’ve put me down. He seemed to enjoy trying, once he realized what he’d created. But it’s not easy to kill a monster, even one that’s only a child. Pain subsides. Wounds heal. He made a game out of it, trying to test my limits, seeing what I could withstand while he kept
me drugged and restrained. The things he did to me…” She let the thought trail off, unwilling to revisit the worst of her imprisonment and abuse in the lab. “When I grew too old and too strong for his games, he put me in confinement and left me there.”
Zael’s growl sounded more than menacing, but his touch was achingly light on her face. “How long?”
She shrugged. “Years. I didn’t find my way out until after the Order had killed him and the Minions guarding the lab died too.”
“Minions he’d made,” Zael guessed. “And when their maker died, so did they.”
“Yes. Many of Dragos’s prisoners escaped that day. I broke out of my cell and I ran. I just kept running. Eventually, I landed in London. I started a new life there.”
“What about Tavia? Was she a prisoner with you?”
Brynne shook her head. “She told me she was sent to live with a Minion handler from the time she was a child. She was lied to, told nothing of what she was. Dragos ensured her Breed metabolism was suppressed with medications and her handler made her believe she needed the treatments because she was ill.”
“Does she know what happened to you in the lab?”
“No.” God, just the thought made her cringe with humiliation. “I let her think that I was in the same program she was. It seemed easier that way. Easier for me to keep living the lie I chose, not the one Dragos forced on me.”
Zael studied her soberly. “Sooner or later, don’t you think you’ll have to tell her the truth?”
“And watch her shrink away from me in fear for herself and everyone she cares about?” Brynne couldn’t bite back the strangled sound of anguish that bubbled in the back of her throat. “She would hate me for lying to her all this time, Zael. But not before I see her pity for what Dragos made me. He would’ve done me a favor if he had just taken my head and finally ended me.”
“Don’t say that,” Zael whispered fiercely. “Don’t even think it.”
“It’s true. You saw for yourself tonight. I’m a monster, Zael.” She astonished herself by how evenly she was able to say the words to him. Words she’d never spoken before. Not to anyone. Not ever. “Every time I feed, I lose a part of who I am. And if I don’t feed, if I delay it because I can’t stand what I become, then it’s only worse when I finally do give in. If I feel threatened, or if I’m overcome with anger, it’s the same thing. I can’t control it.”