Midnight Breed Series New Generation Box Set

by Adrian, Lara

  He raked the thick waves back from his brow and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his bent knees as he gave her time to get all of the words out. His oceanic blue eyes held her gaze, solemn in his sculpted, sun-bronzed face.

  And while she was certain she must reek of smoke and death, his scent was fresh and clean, as crisp as a sea breeze. Its presence calmed her.

  In this moment, with everything she once knew now blown to bits a thousand miles behind them, he calmed her.

  More than she’d ever stoop to admit.

  “I stayed late at headquarters most nights,” she said. “Sometimes, if I finished one case earlier than expected, I’d start right away on another. Sometimes I worked all night.”

  Being a daywalker, a very rare thing among her kind, she didn’t have to work at night like her Breed colleagues. But more often than not, she chose to. Why wouldn’t she? It wasn’t as if she had anyone waiting at home.

  And she’d loved her work. It had been the one constant in her life, her purpose. The one thing she could call her own.

  Until today.

  “JUSTIS was all I had, Zael.”

  She practically cringed as the admission slipped past her lips. But she was too tired and empty to hold it back. And the weight of the terror and violence dealt on the hundred killed and the organization she’d pledged her life to was almost too much to bear.

  Glancing away from him, she looked out of the oblong window at her side. In the distance, the sun was just beginning to crest the far horizon. She stared at it as if seeing it for the first time, all too cognizant of how fortunate she was to be alive to witness it. The realization raked at her, putting an acid burn in the back of her throat.

  “If I hadn’t been let go today, I’d have been there with the rest of them at headquarters.”

  “And you’re feeling guilty that you weren’t.”

  She swung her gaze back to him, astonished that he understood. “Many of those people left behind mates and children. They had lives waiting for them to return.”

  “Are you saying you don’t?”

  Oh, God. She’d gone too far down a path she had no intention of sharing with him.

  Least of all him.

  “JUSTIS was important to you, I get that. But it’s not all you have. For one thing, you’ve got a very worried sister coming to meet us when we land in D.C.”

  Brynne couldn’t deny the tender pang in her chest at the mention of Tavia. They’d only been able to exchange a few words when Zael had called in to the Order to report their location.

  Tavia had been beside herself with concern—a notion that Brynne was still adjusting to. Although her connection to Tavia was strong, she and the other daywalking Breed female had not even known about each other until they were adults.

  “Tavia and I are half-sisters,” Brynne said, somewhat dismissively, hoping to close the door on this line of conversation before she allowed the Atlantean to crawl any further into her head.

  “Did you have the same mother or the same father?”

  Brynne stared at him. He didn’t know the history she and Tavia shared?

  The madman’s laboratory. The breeding program that produced genetic anomalies like daywalkers and Breed females that had never been seen in the world before. The brutal experiments and abuse. The decades-deep web of betrayal that was used to keep the progeny of that breeding program under control until they could be utilized as weapons of war.

  If Zael didn’t know those pitiful facts about her, Brynne wasn’t about to be the one to tell him.

  Haunted by memories she’d kept locked up all of her life, she shook her head. “I’m tired. I don’t want to talk anymore.”

  But there was another pitiful fact that she preferred would not come to life anytime soon. One that needed to be discussed, no matter how much she dreaded it.

  “Speaking of Tavia and the rest of the Order, I would like to have your word that you won’t mention what happened between us tonight.”

  Zael sat back in his seat, his gaze trained on her under the rise of his brows. “You mean the dancing?”

  She glowered. “I’m talking about all of it. I’d like you to promise me you’ll keep our indiscretion to yourself.”

  “Our indiscretion.” Dark amusement lit his eyes. “If I recall correctly, I wasn’t the one thrusting my tongue down someone’s throat on a crowded dance floor then drunkenly suggesting we needed to tear each other’s clothes off and get horizontal ASAP.”

  If she could have wilted into the leather seat, she would have gladly done so. Thank God she didn’t go to bed with him. It was unbearable enough just to think she might have.

  Cheeks flaming with outrage, she lifted her chin. “As you so accurately pointed out, I’d had too much whisky and it went to my head. I wasn’t myself. I had no idea what I was saying and I sure as hell didn’t mean any of it.”

  Zael grinned. “Don’t get me wrong. I liked who you were on that dance floor, Brynne. I hope I’m going to see that woman again, but preferably when she’s sober.”

  She scoffed. “None of that would’ve happened if I’d been sober. Nor will it ever again.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “Completely.”

  Although it hadn’t been purely whisky doing the talking with Zael back in the bar. Or the kissing. Or…the rest of it.

  She wanted to think so then. She desperately wanted to believe so now too.

  She wanted to reassure herself that what happened with him had been an impulsive mistake. One that would not be repeated.

  But she knew better. The one person she couldn’t fool was herself.

  And possibly Zael.

  She could see that by the way he looked at her as the jet began its descent into D.C. air space. He held her unsettled gaze with unflinching, arrogantly assured intensity, as if he was recalling every second of their encounter the same way she was. As if he still felt the hard drum of desire in his veins too.

  Brynne wanted to deny what she saw in him, what she felt.

  But the truth sizzled in the air around them, and in those fathomless bright blue eyes that told her in irrefutable terms that what happened between them on that dance floor back in Cheapside was only a beginning, not an end.

  CHAPTER 6

  Brynne still wasn’t speaking to him, even after they arrived at Order headquarters that morning. As soon as they’d touched down at the airport and were met by Tavia and her hulking warrior son, Aric—both of them daywalkers—Brynne had been swept into the military-grade black SUV amid tight hugs and anxious chatter with her sister.

  As for Zael, he’d ridden shotgun up front with Aric, all too conscious of Brynne’s disgust with him and the tension that only seemed to expand for every minute she strived to act like he didn’t exist.

  When they were brought into a private meeting room where Lucan Thorne and the rest of the Order’s senior command had already assembled, she stubbornly kept her distance, taking a position as far away from him as she could get. Zael might have been tempted to continue goading her just for the pleasure of it, but the gravity of the situation facing everyone now demanded all of his attention.

  Live feed from London filled the monitors that lined the back wall. On another wall, three more Breed warriors looked in on the meeting via video screens—one reporting in from Berlin, another from Rome, the other from Montreal. Zael had been briefly introduced to both of them in this same manner his first time to Order headquarters a few days ago.

  He nodded to Andreas Reichen and Lazaro Archer, the European-based commanders, then to Nikolai, the formidable Siberian-born Breed male in charge of operations in Canada.

  The mood in the room was thick with solemnity as the gathered members reviewed the carnage of last night and discussed their next tactical move against Opus Nostrum.

  “Tell all of your teams to increase patrols immediately,” Lucan growled from the head of the long conference table. “I want every recruit in combat gear tonight. We nee
d an obvious Order presence in every major city starting at sundown.”

  Zael didn’t miss the pause in conversation as he strode inside. He was still a stranger in their midst. The outsider they had no choice but to trust.

  How it happened that he—a former warrior of the Atlantean queen’s legion—had recently found himself in the position of advisor and ally to blood-drinking killers spawned from his people’s greatest enemies, he had no idea.

  Except the group of Breed males in the room with him were not killers. Not brutal animals like their race’s Ancient fathers had been.

  Not cowardly murderers like the skulking, anonymous members of Opus Nostrum.

  The men of the Order were warriors, like Zael once was—before he defected from Selene’s vengeful reign to walk a different path, far away from her Atlantean court.

  As of a few days ago, the Order wanted him to return to the fray—fighting on their side this time. Against his own people, if that’s what it came down to. He’d gone away thinking they asked too much. He still hadn’t decided if he was ready to stand against his queen, but he couldn’t deny that tonight Opus Nostrum had earned another enemy in him.

  “It’s a relief to see both of you are safe,” Lucan said, extending his hand to Zael in greeting. He nodded to Brynne, who vigilantly kept her position near Tavia across the large room. “We’re still collecting intel from our back channels and teams on the ground, but so far it looks like JUSTIS was the only target. They wanted to make a statement.”

  “And they did,” Zael agreed. “But thugs like these thrive on making bold statements. That’s how they build their empires. That’s how they ensure the loyalty of their true believers.”

  On the video feed from Montreal, Nikolai uttered a curse. “Not to mention ensuring there’s enough chaos and fear that a terrorized public will be ready to do anything to make it stop.”

  Sterling Chase dropped his fist on the conference table. “Not on our watch. Goddamn it, this shit with Opus has gone too far already. Multiple assassinations. The attempt to blow up the GNC peace summit a few weeks ago. Manufacturing and distributing Breed-killing UV technology, and narcotics to turn any law-abiding Breed into a blood-craving monster. Their list of criminal acts is as long as my fucking arm.” The Boston commander’s fury only gentled as he glanced at Tavia. “And then, a couple of nights ago, the bastards took our daughter.”

  “We got Carys back,” Tavia said, holding his tormented gaze. “She and Rune are both safe and celebrating their blood bond. Thanks to everyone in this room. Especially Brynne.”

  Brynne’s head snapped up at the mention. “Me?”

  Tavia smiled. “If not for your quick thinking, we might not have realized Carys had been taken from Neville Fielding’s party. The Order might’ve arrived too late to help her and Rune escape from Riordan and his men.”

  Brynne looked uncomfortable with the praise. Her eyes darted around the room—although, Zael noticed, still careful to avoid him—before she glanced down at the floor. “I was only doing my job.”

  “And you’re damned good at it,” Lucan said. “Your instincts about Fielding being dirty were spot-on. Without your hunch and your cooperation in getting us inside that party to search for intel, we’d be a lot further behind Opus than we are now.”

  Chase cleared his throat. “I’m sorry that cooperation was a problem for your colleagues at JUSTIS. Tavia mentioned earlier tonight that you’d been let go.”

  Brynne shrugged. “I suppose none of that matters anymore, right?” Her tone was crisp, but Zael heard the note of regret in her firm voice. “I would do it all over again, no hesitation. Even knowing what it would cost me. Like all of you, I also want Opus Nostrum stopped. Now more than ever, I want that. Whatever it takes.”

  Around the Order’s war room, heads nodded in agreement.

  Brynne looked over at Gideon. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to provide Fielding’s computer hard drive or any of his data files for you. As soon as his body was discovered along with the poison he ingested, JUSTIS swept in to clear the house and seal it for investigation.”

  “It’s all right.” Gideon shook his head. “At least we have Riordan’s files. Well, we will have them. Eventually.”

  “Still no luck breaking that encryption?” Lucan’s question sounded incredulous. “You’ve been working on it for going on forty-eight hours. Hate to say it, but this must be some kind of record for you. And not something I want to hear right now.”

  “The encryption is…complicated. It’s actually pretty fucking impressive.”

  “Also not something I want to hear,” Lucan muttered darkly.

  “Believe me, I’m as stunned as anyone that I haven’t been able to get around it yet.” Gideon raked a hand through his spiky blond hair. “I hacked Riordan’s hard drive and passwords—that was cake. But aside from learning he had bad music taste and a fondness for farm animal porn that made me want to scrub my corneas with a razor blade, Riordan’s hard drive was a bust.”

  Lucan frowned. “We’re all but certain Opus members are in contact with one another electronically. Are you saying there’s no trace of communication software or log files anywhere on that computer?”

  “They’re too careful for that. The process to delete directories and data was set to run every night like clockwork. I was able to kill it before it took off one last time. In Riordan’s purge file, I found an ID fragment for a secured private network.” Gideon blew out a deep sigh. “And that’s where my problems began. There’s a lock on the network—a very sophisticated program that acts as a booby trap on the whole thing. I nearly set it off today before I realized what I’d run into. Whoever programmed it knows their shit. We’re talking pro skills and then some.”

  “Are you going to be able to break it?”

  Zael hadn’t known Lucan very long, but he doubted any man or woman in the room right now had ever heard the note of doubt that crept into the Order leader’s deep voice.

  Gideon was quiet for a long moment, and that silence said a lot. “I’ll break it. I’m not going to rest until I do.”

  Lucan nodded grimly. “Good answer.”

  Then he turned his serious gaze on Zael. “I don’t suppose I need to tell you that anything you hear in this room tonight is to be held in the strictest confidence.”

  Zael inclined his head. “Of course. You have my word.”

  Now that Lucan and the other warriors were looking at him, Zael felt the weight of their curiosity—even suspicion—come to rest on him.

  “You never mentioned what you were doing in London last night, Zael. There on business of some kind?” Lucan studied him, his shrewd gray eyes assessing.

  “No,” Zael admitted. “I wasn’t there on business.”

  “Pleasure, then?” The Order’s leader was asking casually, but there was no mistaking that this was a test of trust. Lucan may not know for certain what sent Zael to the very city where Opus Nostrum had just done their worst, but he would damned sure know if Zael attempted to deceive him.

  And if that happened, any alliance they’d forged would be weakened practically before it began.

  “I didn’t go to London for business or pleasure. I went there to see Brynne.”

  Across the room, her tense anticipation was a palpable current in the air. Zael glanced her way now, and instead of seeing her eyes divert or avoid him, she stared at him in resignation. In unspoken misery and contempt.

  But Zael wasn’t about to lie to his new friends. He needed their trust as much as they needed his.

  “When Brynne and I met here last week, I thought there might’ve been some spark of interest. After hearing what happened with Riordan and the councilman who killed himself in the middle of a house party Brynne was attending, I decided to search her out and look in on her, make sure she was all right. See if I was right about her interest in me.”

  He didn’t have to glance her way now to know that she was silently wishing for a sinkhole to open up and swallow h
im. Tavia, Chase, and several other Order members exchanged surprised looks before those intrigued gazes volleyed between Brynne and him.

  “I was mistaken,” he said.

  Even if part of him knew better, he would give her this one courtesy in front of her sister and friends. Let Brynne call him an asshole for tormenting her when they were alone, but anything that happened between them was going to remain private if he had anything to say about it.

  Still, just thinking about Brynne’s lips on his was enough to ignite his arousal all over again. Even here, in a room full of lethal Breed warriors who’d likely want to string up any Atlantean who deigned to put his hands on one of their females.

  Zael had wanted to do far more than that with Brynne last night, but he’d been serious about not letting her blame the alcohol—or him—for it later. Now all he had to show for his dubious display of honor was regret and a bad case of blue balls.

  “By the time I realized I had overstepped with Brynne and was offering to see her home, all hell had broken loose in the city.”

  “Well, thank God you were together,” Tavia interjected. “I’m glad my sister wasn’t alone to face that kind of horror. I can’t bear to think what might’ve happened if you’d been anywhere near the blast, Brynne.”

  “I was fortunate that I wasn’t.” Despite her fleeting look of acknowledgment that Zael hadn’t betrayed her just now, Brynne still looked less than enthused to be associated with him. “Now, I’m just eager to put last night behind me and move forward. Which I plan to do just as soon as I get back home to London.”

  “Back home?” Tavia gave her an uneasy look. “I hope you don’t mean that.”

  Zael curbed his knowing chuckle. What she meant was she couldn’t wait to put a lot of miles between herself and him. If she was eager to run anywhere, it was away from him, more than back to a ravaged city where she’d admitted she had nothing waiting for her.

  As of last night, even less.

  He wondered now, as he had on the plane, just what it was that Brynne hadn’t wanted to say about her past. He’d been surprised to see the hauntedness in her eyes. He’d been furious to realize the shadows that darkened her pretty face hinted at wounds she couldn’t bear to speak.