by Lara Adrian
“Oh, fuck! Cruz, I think I’m hit. Son of a bitch, I’m bleeding!”
The olfactory punch of fresh hemoglobin hit Rafe’s nostrils at the same time the scrawny man tore off his leather jacket to reveal a blooming red stain across his stomach.
Just fucking great.
Rafe’s fangs erupted in response. It was next to impossible for a Breed vampire not to react to the sensory blast of spilled blood. His eyes burned amber, his vision sharpening with the vertical narrowing of his pupils as everything Breed in him came to dangerous life.
The gangbanger’s wailing intensified. A couple of his companions gathered around him, including the one in charge. A few others moved farther away, including the pretty brunette who averted her gaze from her wounded comrade and wheeled away from the others as if she were on the verge of throwing up.
Behind him, the Breed bartender growled through his fangs. “Fucking hell. That son of a bitch is gonna bleed out in another minute.”
Rafe couldn’t pretend he actually cared. He glanced back at the human with the likely mortal gut wound and the grave faces of his comrades. A few more seconds was probably all the life their friend had left.
Rafe had been studying the hard-partying, petty-thieving crew for weeks, looking for a way to win their attention—and their trust. The plan he’d put together with Lucan and Sterling Chase required patience he didn’t really have. Maybe this unscripted opportunity might be his best chance to grease the wheels of his mission.
Rafe glanced down at his hands. He’d been born with his mother’s gift for healing. As much as he hated to use his personal ability on vermin like these, it would all be worth it if it got him closer to his ultimate goal: the destruction of Opus Nostrum and everyone loyal to their cause.
The bartender uttered a harsh curse. “If that human dies in my bar, I’m holding both you and the Order personally responsible, asshole.”
Rafe shook his head. “He’s not going to die.”
Fisting his hands at his sides, he headed across the bar.
CHAPTER 2
Her stomach seized up as if she’d been punched.
Bloody hell. Devony Winters wheeled away from the rest of the group on a groan. She was barely able to resist the urge to run from the sight of the gushing bullet wound in Fish’s skinny gut.
Not because she was squeamish around blood.
Far from it.
The reaction she strove to conceal was something much different, and a lot more damning than fear or sickness. Her fangs surged behind her tightly closed lips. Her vision sharpened, everything tinged with an amber glow.
She was Breed—a daywalker, rarest of her kind. It was a truth she’d been hiding from Cruz and his gang since she first joined up with them five weeks ago.
Far as she could tell, the group of law-breakers were more interested in thievery and partying like kings off the proceeds than wholesale hatred of the Breed. That didn’t mean she wanted to test the theory, or lose the trust she’d been cultivating since they took her on as one of them. Now, all her meticulous caution was on the verge of being undone by an errant bullet and a pointless bar brawl.
All of it caused by the arrogant, tawny-haired behemoth across the room.
Fucking brilliant.
Too bad the pair of warriors from the Order hadn’t bounced him from Asylum at the same time they’d ejected the trigger-happy Darkhaven idiots who’d been so eager to goad him into a fight.
Devony struggled to tamp down her body’s automatic response to the sound of Fish’s drumming heartbeat and the scent of the lifeblood pooling beneath him on the floor. Daring a quick glance over her shoulder she saw that the source of all her problems tonight was now heading across the tavern. Not leaving at all, but striding toward Cruz and Fish and the others in a long-legged swagger, his large hands fisted at his sides.
Shit.
The Breed male—Rafe, his comrades from the Order had called him—was no less affected by Fish’s rapidly spilling blood than she was. But he made no effort to hide it.
His transformed irises threw off fiery heat, his pupils narrowed from their normal state to catlike slits. The tips of his fangs glinted diamond-bright behind the generous cut of his parted lips. And his dermaglyphs, the Breed skin markings that wrapped his forearms and tracked up onto his throat from below the collar of his black T-shirt, were now pulsing and alive with dark colors.
Devony’s own glyphs itched beneath her long-sleeved turtleneck. In public, she always took care to keep them covered, particularly in front of Cruz and the others. Right now, it was her fangs and glowing eyes that were going to out her to the gang if she didn’t pull herself together.
Of course, there was a chance they might not pay any attention to her. Especially if the Breed male stalking over with such purpose meant to end Fish’s misery by opening his carotid right in front of them now.
Devony moved farther away from Cruz and the others as they huddled around Fish, who howled and writhed on the scuffed plank-wood floor. She sat down at an empty table, holding her head in her hands if only to shield her face from view. Better if they judged her weak-stomached than learn the truth. She willed herself into a state of forced calm, but it wasn’t easy. The blood was still pumping fresh and warm behind her, a siren’s call to her Breed senses.
“Move away from him.” Rafe’s command was a deep, otherworldly growl.
Devony lifted her gaze in time to see him stepping between a couple of the guys. Ocho and Axel weren’t the kind of men to be pushed around by anyone, but neither of them seemed willing to stand up to this scowling Breed male and his bared fangs. Not even Cruz made a move to defy him, though his hand rested on the pistol concealed beneath his leather jacket.
Fish erupted in a sputtering panic. “Oh, shit! Get me outta here, guys. This bloodsucker’s gonna kill me!”
“He doesn’t have long.” In a toneless, dispassionate voice, the Breed male addressed Cruz alone as if he understood everyone in the gang answered to him. “I can help him.”
Cruz said nothing, but he took a measured step back, making room for the male in front of Fish.
“S-stay away from me!” Fish wailed. He tried to sit up, but only slipped in the puddle of slick red cells beneath him. “Don’t drain me, man. I’m begging you!”
Rafe sank to his haunches on the floor and placed his hands on Fish’s abdomen. “Calm down. Your panic is only making you bleed out faster.”
Devony held her breath and watched, confused and curious. She tried to crane for a better view, but all she could make out was the big Breed male leaning over Fish, his hands holding steady over the wound.
After a moment, she heard the soft rattle of a spent round clatter onto the floor. Then the pungent scent of fresh, flowing blood began to fade. Fish’s panting slowed, his pain and fear dissipating into a muted moan.
“Holy shit.” It was Cruz who spoke first, amazement in his eyes as he stared down at the two men. “You healed him.”
Now that the flow of red cells had dried up, Devony’s thirst abated. Her fangs no longer filled her mouth. Her vision, still inhumanly sharp, no longer burned like embers. She got up from the table and drifted over to the rest of the group.
“I’m okay,” Fish gasped. He ran his hands over his sticky, stained midsection, searching for the wound. It was gone. Not a trace of it on his pale white skin. He let out a whoop. “Son of a bitch, I’m really okay!”
The Breed male rose from his crouch beside him while Ocho and Axel helped Fish up from the floor, all of them marveling at what they’d just witnessed.
Cruz nodded, clearly awed by what he’d seen. “That was . . . impressive.”
“I can’t believe it,” Fish murmured, still shell-shocked. He stared at the Breed male as if he were looking into the face of a saint. “I was dying, I know I was. Another minute or so, and I—” He shook his head on a quiet curse. “What you did is a miracle. You fucking saved my life. Why?”
“Because I could, I g
uess.”
Fish blew out a sigh. “Well, I don’t care why you did it, man. I owe you. And I make good on my debts. I’m gonna repay this somehow, you have my word.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Rafe shrugged off the promise like pulling someone out of the clutches of death was something he did every day.
With Fish recovered, Ocho and Axel called for a fresh round of drinks for their resurrected comrade. While the men carried on with one another, the Breed male’s gaze swung away from them to settle on Devony.
Shrewd aquamarine eyes studied her beneath the tousled waves of his dark honey-blond hair. She had never been inspired to call a man beautiful before. Especially not a dangerous looking Breed male who stood six-and-a-half feet tall and whose immense body was wrapped in heavy muscle and a low-simmering menace.
But this male was beautiful. His handsome face carved in lean angles, his squared jaw bristled with the thick shadow of a beard. His lips were decadently lush, almost too tender-looking on a man. But that was where the softness of his face ended.
Those questioning blue eyes held a trace of disdain. It was the same edge of couched contempt she felt radiating off him from the moment he first walked into Asylum tonight and spotted Cruz and the rest of them at the back of the tavern.
Maybe she wasn’t the only one with something to hide.
“Feeling better?” His deep voice rolled over her senses like a caress. “You still look a little green, if you ask me.”
The uninvited observation drew the attention of Cruz and the others. They all stared at her now. Expectant, waiting to see how she would respond.
Alarm shot into her veins. For one jolting heartbeat, she worried that the Breed male could see through her. That he might be able to tell she wasn’t quite what she seemed.
But a surreptitious flick of her tongue along the edge of her teeth assured her that her fangs had receded completely. And her vision held no trace of amber anymore.
To him and the other men looking at her, there was nothing to give her away.
“I didn’t ask you,” she muttered tightly. “And how I feel is no concern of yours.”
She gave him her back for a moment and finished the shot of whisky she’d been nursing most of the night. Being a daywalker, her uncommon genetics allowed her to consume human food and drink. Right now, with the heat of his eyes still boring into her from behind, she was eager to look as commonly human as possible.
What she really wanted was to get the hell out of Asylum and as far away from this male as she could.
From her peripheral, she watched with a growing sense of concern as the exchange between the men continued, becoming chummier and more relaxed by the minute. It wasn’t good. Passing herself off as human with Cruz and his gang took some effort, but it would be nearly impossible to hide what she was for long from another member of the Breed.
The fact that he’d been trained as an Order warrior only made her dread—and her suspicion—intensify.
The last thing she needed was him hanging around the group any more than he already had tonight. She wanted him gone, and the sooner the better.
Setting the glass down on the table, she folded her arms over her breasts and eyed the Breed male with a mistrust she hoped would be picked up by her comrades. “Healing seems like an ironic skill for one of your kind.”
Her comment halted the conversation as effectively as another round of gunfire.
“One of my kind?” he asked, those sharp eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly. “You mean Breed?”
She arched a brow. “I meant an Order warrior, but now that you mention it . . .”
He stared at her. “Well, newsflash in case you missed it, sweetheart. I’m not a warrior anymore. As for my genetics, I take it you don’t approve.”
She lifted her shoulder. “Your words, not mine.”
“Sure.” A smile tugged at the edge of his beautiful mouth. “Don’t knock what you haven’t tried.”
The men chuckled. Devony’s face burned, and for an instant she wanted nothing more than to give them all a flash of her fangs—right before she leapt on the Breed male to take his arrogant ass down a peg or ten.
Fish guffawed and clapped his new best friend on the shoulder. “Hey, man, word to the wise. Don’t piss off Brinks here, or next thing you know she’ll be serving your balls to you on the end of her dagger.”
Brinks was the nickname they’d given her, the one she’d had to work damn hard to earn in order to be part of them. And now here was this smirking vampire—this former Order warrior—making jokes at her expense and ingratiating himself with the gang in a matter of minutes.
She didn’t like it.
And she damn well did not like him.
Ignoring their amusement, she caught Cruz’s gaze. “I thought we had somewhere to be tonight. We going, or what?”
He nodded. “She’s right. Let’s pack it up and get out of here.”
Devony zipped her leather jacket, giving the interloper a satisfied, sidelong glance as she stepped past him and the pool of blood that was coagulating nearby. “I’ll be waiting outside.”
The cool autumn air and wide open night sky of the parking lot was a welcome reprieve from the humid, blood-tainted confines of the tavern. She walked over to her motorcycle and swung her leg over the black Triumph’s seat. For a moment, she simply sat there, taking in deep, cleansing breaths with her head tipped up to the moon and stars.
As she reached for her helmet that hung from the handlebar, she heard Cruz and the others exit the back door of Asylum.
And dammit, they weren’t alone.
Rafe strode out with them. Fish clapped the former warrior’s bicep before following Ocho to his red Ferrari and climbing into the passenger seat.
“Meet you there,” Cruz called to Devony as he and Axel walked to the gang leader’s brand-new gunmetal gray Lamborghini and revved it up. The two vehicles rolled out of the parking lot and headed up the street.
Devony always preferred to ride alone, but she deeply regretted that choice as the Breed male walked over to a sleek monster of a BMW bike parked in the space next to hers.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
“Same place you are.” He climbed onto the motorcycle and heeled the kickstand up with his boot. “Cruz invited me to come hang for a while. Guess that means I’ll follow you.”
Not if she had anything to say about that.
Without answering him, she slammed her helmet down onto her head and started the engine.
Then she opened the throttle and tore out of the parking lot, leaving him in the dust behind her.
CHAPTER 3
Rafe had spent many nights chasing from one Boston rooftop or another while on patrol with the Order, whether in pursuit of Breed vampires gone Rogue or other bad guys who’d run afoul of the law and thought they could elude capture on the city’s maze of zig-zagging streets and twisting alleyways.
But he’d never seen the city from the perspective of the multimillion-dollar, sixtieth-floor penthouse where he stood now.
He wasn’t told the name of the rich fuck who owned the place. He didn’t know any of the hundred-plus people partying and dancing inside or spilling out to the open air rooftop terrace with him. Near as Rafe could tell, he was the only member of the Breed there. The crush of humanity—inebriated, sweaty, and loud—had driven him outside not long after he arrived.
As for his newfound companions, Cruz was in a meeting behind closed doors with a few other men from the party, while Fish and his two buddies were busy continuing the celebration they’d started at Asylum. All three were well on their way to shit-faced and surrounded by a group of similarly impaired, attractive women.
Ocho lifted his right hand, the one that had likely earned him his nickname on account of the fact it was missing the last two digits. He gestured for Rafe to come in and join them, but the invitation held little interest or value. Despite the need to fortify the men’s trust and friendship,
Rafe’s attention would be better spent elsewhere right now.
He flicked his glance away as if he’d missed Ocho’s signal, then walked farther out onto the terrace.
There was still another member of Cruz’s gang he needed to win over.
Back at Asylum, the brunette called Brinks had eyed him with suspicion from across the tavern even before he’d healed Fish. Afterward, her animosity toward him only seemed to increase. He was used to raising a few hackles in people on the wrong side of the law as a member of the Order, but this woman seemed to hate him on sight.
Apparently, ditching him in the parking lot was only the start of her avoidance of him. Since he’d arrived at the penthouse party, Rafe hadn’t been able to catch more than a fleeting glimpse of her.
He could have sworn he saw her slip outside not more than two minutes ago.
Weaving through the clusters of men and women chattering over their drinks near the illuminated pool and surrounding seating areas, Rafe spotted the briefest hint of black leather and glossy sable hair retreating into the darkness. He wouldn’t mistake that tall, knockout body for anyone else. She disappeared into the shadows at the far end of the long terrace.
He homed in on her with single-minded purpose.
He found her seated on a stone bench tucked into a gloomy corner. With her arms wrapped around her bent knees and her combat boots planted before her on the bench, she glanced up as Rafe approached. “You just don’t take a bloody hint, do you, vampire?”
She leaned a bit heavily on the word, as if to remind him of their difference. Not to mention her disdain.
Rafe smiled and lifted his shoulder. “Just trying to be friendly. In case no one told you, the whole point of a party is to socialize.”
“So, go socialize. In case no one told you, the whole point of doing that is to find someone who’s actually interested in talking to you.”
“Ah. And you’re not.”
One slender brow arched, she touched her finger to the tip of her nose. “Look at you, learning to take a hint after all.”
He chuckled. “Why aren’t you inside with everyone else?”