by Adrian, Lara
When she didn’t think she could bear the sensation any longer, he cleared his throat. “So, are you saying there could be a crystal out there in the Deadlands?”
“There has to be. That kind of blast couldn’t have come from anything else.”
He nodded tightly, and she could practically hear the wheels of his mind turning. He glanced at his father and Lazaro Archer. “We need that crystal. As soon as night falls, I’ll head back out to the taiga to find it.”
Tegan scowled. “Like hell you will.”
“I’m healed. I know the way back to the area of the blast. I don’t need a team behind me; I can run the recon on my own.”
“And risk taking a second hit?” Tegan firmly shook his head. “You got lucky once. Don’t think it’ll happen again. Your ass is staying put until I decide you’re ready to be back in the field, end of discussion. I’m not saying that as your father. I’m saying it as an Order commander.”
Both males squared off against each other, evenly sized and obviously equally stubborn. “If there’s another crystal out there somewhere, the Order needs to have it. You know it.”
“Another crystal?” Phaedra couldn’t keep from interrupting. Nor could she hide her confusion. “The crystals belong to Atlantis, to our people. What does the Order want with them?”
The warriors all exchanged a cryptic look, one that also included Zael.
She stared at the former Atlantean royal guard. “What is this really about?”
“It’s a bit of a long story,” Zael said, clearly hedging.
Tegan slanted her a contemplative look as well. “We’ll tell you more on the way.”
She frowned, not sure she liked the sound of that. “On the way to where?”
“Order headquarters in D.C. Based on everything I’ve just heard, Lucan Thorne is going to want to meet with you personally and ask a few questions.” He stated it as if there was no room for further discussion or argument. “As you’re already packed for a few days away from Rome, we can depart as soon as Lazaro arranges our flight back to the States.”
CHAPTER 7
By the time the Order’s private jet touched down in Washington, D.C., several hours later, Phaedra’s head reeled with all of the astonishing things she’d been told during the flight. She couldn’t decide which one shocked her the most.
To begin with, not only was one of Atlantis’s original five crystals in the possession of Lucan Thorne and his Breed warriors, but it had come to them through the one-time captain of Selene’s royal legion, a guard named Cassianus. This same guard who had fathered a child twenty-five years ago with Selene’s daughter, Soraya.
The lovers had been doomed from the start, for everyone in Atlantis knew the queen’s sole heir was demanded to remain pure. Cass and Soraya tried to defy that law, but their union ultimately ended in tragedy. After Soraya took her own immortal life, Cass fled Atlantis along with his infant child—and one of the realm’s remaining crystals. Knowing Selene and her legion would hunt endlessly for him and the two treasures he stole from her, Cass assumed a new life as a supposed mortal in Boston while carrying out a clever plan to conceal the crystal, and his full-blooded Atlantean child, virtually in plain sight.
Cass eventually paid with his life for crossing Selene. His daughter, Jordana, hadn’t known anything of her father or her Atlantean origins until very recently. She had since taken one of the Order warriors as her mate, and while Phaedra hadn’t heard the details of Jordana and Nathan’s story, she didn’t imagine it was an easy one.
As for Selene, her temper had long been legend. Betrayal was the worst offense, and she was not a woman to forgive easily. Or ever. The fury that had been poisoning her for most of her long life only seemed to have grown more bitter with these recent blows.
According to Tegan, Selene had all but declared herself at war with the Order and the entirety of the Breed.
Between the Atlantean queen’s simmering ire and the frequent, escalating problems with a secretive international terror organization calling itself Opus Nostrum, it was clear the Order more than had its hands full in trying to maintain any kind of peace and stability in the world.
“You’ve been very quiet since we touched down,” Brynne remarked. She sat beside Phaedra in the back of a large black SUV that had met their plane on the tarmac of a private runway at the airport.
Outside the dark-tinted windows, D.C.’s iconic buildings and monuments gleamed under the starlight as the vehicle sped into the heart of the city. Phaedra shivered under the wrap she’d pulled from her bag when they’d landed. She had been dressed and packed for a week in the sunny Mediterranean of the colony, not the bracing autumn chill of Washington.
“I had no idea of all the threats the Order was facing from all sides. You certainly have some powerful and dangerous adversaries.”
“Now you understand why we need to hold every advantage possible,” Tegan replied, seated beside Zael on the facing second-row bench.
Although there was plenty of room for everyone in the cabin of the spacious SUV, Micah opted to take the passenger seat next to the vehicle’s dark-haired driver, a strikingly good-looking Breed male who’d introduced himself as Lucan Thorne’s son, Darion. After doing his best to ignore her for the duration of the flight, Micah seemed equally determined to put as much space as possible between them now as well.
Not that Phaedra should notice, let alone care.
The less she had to cope with his simmering mistrust and prickly disposition, the better. To say nothing of the disturbing reminders of their shared dream and all the impossible implications that came with it.
“Having one of the Atlantean crystals certainly gives the Order an edge,” she said, glancing at Zael in unspoken understanding.
He gave her a grim nod. “It’s also one less crystal for Selene to wield against us, should she decide to escalate her contempt into an official war.”
A low scoff sounded from the front seat of the vehicle. “I’d like to see her try.”
Phaedra would have expected the comment to come from Micah, but instead it was Darion’s deep voice that issued the challenge. In the rearview mirror, his dark brown eyes remained fixed on the highway ahead, but the glow from the dashboard lights illuminated the hard, determined set of his square jaw and firm, sculpted lips.
“Trust me, you would not want to see Selene’s wrath up close,” Zael replied gravely. “No one would want that. The only thing keeping her in check is the fact that she’s got just one remaining crystal. She can’t use it as a weapon without weakening its protective powers and leaving both herself and the realm vulnerable to any incoming threat.”
“She would’ve had two, if the colony had lost theirs,” Phaedra pointed out.
Zael nodded, but it was Brynne who answered. “That’s why it’s so crucial for us to continue fortifying our diplomatic strides with the council at the colony. They have to understand that while the Order will never take their crystal by force, there may come a time when we’ll need the combined power of theirs and ours in order to hold off Selene.”
“Or take her down,” Micah growled from the passenger seat up front.
He and Darion exchanged a dangerous look, and for the first time in her life, Phaedra worried for her formidable, immortal queen.
Micah’s grim statement hung over the silence in the vehicle as they navigated the city, heading onto a residential street lined with opulent embassy mansions flying a range of flags from various countries all around the world.
The SUV slowed in front of one of the largest estates on the row, a sprawling eighteenth-century compound set back several hundred yards from the soaring security gate at the street. No flags or signage declared the property to the public, but it was obvious the impressive mansion and grounds could be nothing less than the Order’s global headquarters.
“Be it ever so humble,” Darion quipped, pausing the vehicle for a retina scan at the entrance before continuing through the parting black iron ga
tes and up the long drive toward the house.
They parked in an underground fleet garage the size of an airport hangar and lined with easily a dozen dark-windowed vehicles of varying makes and purposes. More than a few appeared to be outfitted for urban warfare, with chunky tires and sturdy chassis that looked as unstoppable as tanks.
Phaedra followed her escorts to an elevator, uncertain what to expect as the car rose through the building to the main level. If she’d envisioned the Order’s headquarters to be a cold military bunker or a Gothic nightmare of black walls and lightless rooms, or furnishings crafted from the bones of Lucan Thorne’s enemies, she couldn’t have been more wrong.
Even more elegant and refined than the Rome command center’s residence, the D.C. mansion was a feast for the eyes. Beautiful millwork, wood, marble and tile gleamed from every corner of the spacious living quarters. Stunning antique French and English furniture was complemented by lovely sculptures, paintings and tapestries. All of it was bathed in soft golden light from cut-crystal chandeliers and table lamps that glowed invitingly in nearly every room Phaedra could see. She hadn’t been near such jaw-dropping luxury since she left Selene’s court more than a century ago.
As dazzled as she was by the surroundings, it was nothing compared to her first glimpse of the people gathered to greet her as she stepped off the elevator with her companions. Three men and three women stood in the spacious marbled foyer, and there could be no mistaking the dark, commanding presence of the Order’s founder and leader, Lucan Thorne.
Black-haired with stormy gray eyes, he stood at least a head taller than the other two Breed warriors accompanying him. One of them sported spiky, almost disheveled-looking blond hair and translucent silver-lensed sunglasses even though he was indoors. The other enormous male was dark-skinned and stoic, a wall of muscles and menacing presence that seemed at odds with the warmth in his brown eyes.
As for the women, Phaedra could hardly keep from staring. Each was a remarkable beauty, from the serene African American whose hand was linked with the blond warrior’s, to the regal auburn-haired woman standing at Lucan’s side. But it was the third female who captivated Phaedra the most.
Tall and athletic, with short brown hair and penetrating hazel eyes, it was her skin that held Phaedra entranced. It was covered in unusual markings—dermaglyphs. Phaedra didn’t sense that she was Breed, but something about the woman put a strange prickle of “otherness” in her senses.
The female standing beside Lucan offered a polite smile. “You must be Phaedra. I’m Gabrielle Thorne.”
“Hello.” Phaedra didn’t know if she’d be welcomed or treated with the same animosity and mistrust she’d received from Micah, but Gabrielle’s kindness instantly set her at ease. So did the other two women who approached her with warm smiles.
“I’m Savannah,” said the beauty with the mocha-rich skin tone and velvety voice. “The hot geek in the shades over there is Gideon, my mate.”
“And I’m Jenna.” Grinning at her friend’s humor, the glyph-covered brunette strode forward. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you ever since Brock told me you were coming.”
Phaedra sent an acknowledging glance at the black warrior who beamed at Jenna as she spoke. “It’s nice to meet all of you.”
Lucan, who had been observing Phaedra with inscrutable silence, now gave her a slight nod. “I trust the flight was uneventful.”
“Uneventful?” She let out a small laugh. “The trip was fine, but it’s going to take me a while to process everything I learned on the way.”
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, in spite of the gravity in his stare. “Zael personally assured me that you could be trusted with the information. He’s never let the Order down yet. I expect he won’t where you’re concerned.”
She heard Micah’s low scoff from somewhere beside her. Lucan heard it too, of course. His gaze traveled the group, those thundercloud eyes managing to look both relieved and censuring at the same time when they landed on Micah. “Glad to see you on your feet again.”
“Commander Thorne.” His stance rigid with attention, he gave the Order’s leader a deferential nod. “I wish the rest of my team could be standing here with me too.”
Lucan grunted soberly. “We all do, son.”
With a quiet exhalation, Gabrielle moved from her place at Lucan’s side and drew Micah into a brief embrace. “We were all so worried about you.” The big warrior stood unmoving until she released him, about as accepting of the affection as a giant oak tree. “Your poor mother has been beside herself ever since you left for Budapest a few months ago. All the waiting for word about you these past several days has been torture, especially for her.”
Micah actually looked contrite at the mention of his mother’s worry. His tawny brows knit. “Is she here?”
“She’s on the way,” Tegan answered. “Chase and his team in Boston will be picking Elise up in New York and bringing her with them.”
“They should be arriving within the hour,” Gideon added. His smooth voice contained the traces of an English accent. “Nathan and Jordana will also be making the trip.”
Micah frowned at the news, raking a hand over his head. “I didn’t expect to come back to a full-blown family reunion.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, brother.” Darion chuckled as he gave Micah’s shoulder a light punch. “They’re all curious to meet Phaedra as much as they’re coming out of concern for your sorry ass.”
Phaedra’s cheeks burned with the heat of the glower Micah sent in her direction. As friendly and inviting as everyone else was to her, his disapproval lingered. It burned. And although she might never succeed in convincing him she wasn’t his enemy—that it was fate that dropped her into the barren forest with him and the white doe—there was a part of her that hoped she could persuade him to believe her.
After spending most of her life taking care of people, to earn Micah’s unwarranted contempt for something as heinous as the attack that killed his comrades cut her deeply. It wounded her down to her soul.
She could probably blame that feeling on fate too.
As for the other persistent feeling that had put her senses on alert since her arrival moments ago, it hadn’t let up for a second. Her instincts continued to buzz with the suspicion that Jenna wasn’t quite human, but not Breed either, despite her visible dermaglyphs.
She had countless questions crowding her thoughts, but she couldn’t bite back the one that rose to the tip of her tongue.
“I’m sorry, Jenna, I don’t mean to stare. But I have to ask—what are you?”
“She’s my amazing mate,” Brock interjected, as he moved in close and wrapped his arm lovingly around his female. “That’s the only definition I’ll ever need.”
Phaedra wished she could crawl into the floor. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to be rude.”
Jenna smiled and shook her head. “You’re not rude at all. I was born your basic garden-variety human, but some things . . . changed a while back.” She paused, giving a nonchalant shrug. “Now, I’m sort of what you’d call a work-in-progress.”
Micah smirked, gesturing toward her with a chin bob. “Seems like you’ve got a few more glyphs than you had when I left for Budapest earlier this year.”
“Oh, yeah, a lot more.” She glanced at Brock, her expression cryptic. “The dermaglyphs have been coming in fast and furious for about the past week now.”
“So have the dreams,” Brock said, a sober edge to his voice. “At the rate they’ve been coming, we’ll need to expand the archive room to a full wing of the compound just to make space for all the new journals of notes you’ve been taking.”
“Dreams?” Phaedra had swallowed at the mention, her curiosity piqued. “What kind of dreams are you having, Jenna?”
She could feel the weight of Micah’s gaze on her even though she wasn’t looking at him. His attention sizzled through her veins like an electrical charge. Was this strange sensation part of whatever bond
their time in the Dreamscape had awakened in them?
Or was it simply her intense awareness of him as a man, that unwanted attraction she felt every time she looked at him or heard the low growl of his voice?
Either way, she was sure she didn’t want to know.
“They feel like dreams when I’m seeing them,” Jenna explained. “To be more accurate, though, they’re memories. Very old ones. And they’re not mine—at least, they shouldn’t belong to me, yet they’ve become mine. The same way all these glyphs shouldn’t belong to me, yet they do.”
The explanation only raised more questions, but Phaedra figured she’d already pried more than she had a right to. Although Jenna seemed to be a frank and open type of person, she was obviously dealing with something serious if it was not only changing her physical appearance but also invading her mind.
“If you start seeing a white deer in those visions, Jenna, do yourself a favor and kill the fucking thing,” Micah drawled. “If you don’t, you’ll wish you had. Trust me on that.”
Outraged, Phaedra swung an offended look at him. “Is everything a source of mockery for you?”
“No. In fact, I’m deadly serious about most things.” His lavender eyes pierced her, just as they had back in the barren woodland of her dream that wasn’t a dream. Phaedra wanted to look away, but his gaze held her in an unyielding grasp, as if they were the only two people in the room. “If I had known what would happen if I followed that animal into the Deadlands, I would have strangled it with my bare hands. I damn well should have. Maybe then my team would still be alive.”
Phaedra slowly shook her head, horrified at the violence in him. To say nothing of his disregard for destiny or things that were far bigger and beyond the grasp of anyone or anything that existed on the temporal plane.
“How do you know your men weren’t going to die that night regardless of whether you followed the doe into those woods that night?”
