by Adrian, Lara
The idea put a coldness in his blood—and iron in his resolve. Just another reason to make sure Selene never got her hands on more than the one crystal she had left.
And God forbid Opus Nostrum ever ended up with that kind of power.
While Micah’s thoughts churned with all the disturbing scenarios that were possible, the locked door on the safe opened on its own, as if in invitation. Phaedra began to walk toward it.
A jolt of dread shot through him, images of the scorched carnage left behind in the Deadlands flashing in his head. He reached out, halting her, his hand clasped around her wrist. “Stop, Phaedra. You’re not going anywhere near that thing.”
She arched a brow. “If you’re still concerned I’m secretly in league with Selene and that I might try to steal the crystal from right under your nose, you needn’t worry. If that’s what I wanted to do, I’d already be gone with it.”
He growled under his breath. That wasn’t the source of his concern at all, even if it should be. To his shock, the only concern he had right now was her.
Even though she wasn’t a fragile human by any means, he didn’t want to imagine what might happen if she was wrong. For all his mistrust and suspicion in the beginning, he had to admit some of those walls were coming down the more time he spent with her.
Pulling out of his loosened hold, she continued to approach the glowing safe. She paused in front of the opened door and looked back at Jenna. “Do you mind if I take it out?”
Jenna shook her head. “It belongs to you as much as it does anyone else.”
As Phaedra reached inside to retrieve the small metal box, the glow surrounding the safe spread to her. Soft silver light skated over her limbs and into her hair, infusing her chestnut waves with unearthly luminescence.
She was stunning anytime, but bathed in the glow from the crystal, she was nothing less than a goddess kissed by heavenly fire. Micah stared. Christ, he could hardly do anything else as he watched her walk back to the group.
She set the small box down on the worktable in the center of the room as he, Jordana, and Jenna gathered around.
Jenna slid a hesitant look at him. “Since we haven’t seen this kind of reaction from the crystal before, I’m not sure you should be here when we open the box.”
“It’s all right,” Phaedra said. “This light will bring no harm to him.”
Micah smirked. “You sure about that? You’ve probably got more than a few reasons to want to scorch my ass.”
“Now that you mention it.” She gave him a wry smile. “If you think you can trust me, stay.”
Crossing his arms over his chest, he gave her a nod to continue.
She lifted the lid on the titanium box, then gingerly reached inside. The crystal was smaller than he’d expected—roughly the size of a hen’s egg. But the power that emanated from it was indescribably intense.
The hairs on his arms prickled as Phaedra lifted the crystal out of the box and held it in her palms. His veins thrummed, his cells vibrating as he stared at the silvery, translucent orb that looked similar to mercury glass. The soft glow that clung to both the crystal and Phaedra warmed the entire room, not with cosmic fire as he’d experienced in the Deadlands, but with a peaceable, soothing calm.
“You can feel it, too,” Phaedra said, less a question than a certainty.
He nodded. So did Jenna and Jordana.
“You feel them,” she said. “That warmth you feel is my parents. This is the only way for me to be near them now, to touch them.”
Phaedra’s eyes closed and she held the crystal in silence for a short while, cradling it like a precious treasure. Her expression softened as if she could feel things beyond the others in the room. As if she were communicating in a wordless language with the small orb that glowed in her palms.
When she opened her eyes again, they glistened with emotion. The illumination that had surrounded her slowly faded, all of the light seeming to pour back into the crystal, where it swirled and sparked.
Gently, she placed it back inside the box and closed the lid.
“Thank you, Jenna,” she said, her voice quiet.
As Jenna returned the box to the safe, Phaedra walked slowly out of the room. Micah followed, catching up to her in the corridor. Although her skin and hair were no longer infused with light, the calmness lingered. But so did a tender sadness.
“Are you okay?”
She met his gaze and gave him a small nod. “I miss them, that’s all.”
She lowered her head, and a tendril of her rich brown hair fell into her face. Before he could stop himself, Micah reached out and smoothed the lock behind her ear. Her silken hair glided through his fingers. This close to her, the scent of lemons and roses and something far sweeter than either one hit his nose like a drug, sending his pulse racing.
The heat of her skin radiated toward him, making him hot with the need to feel her curves crushed against his body. Against his will, he recalled her tender touch on his face earlier tonight. The memory made him burn all over again, made him want to feel her caress on more than just his cheek.
She looked up at him again, her lips parted as if she was about to say something. If there had been any hint of permission in her voice, he wouldn’t be fool enough to reject her again. If she gave him even the slightest indication that she didn’t think he was a complete bastard, he’d claim her mouth in a blazing kiss right where they stood.
Christ, he wasn’t sure it would take even that much for him to act on his desire for her.
“Hey, Micah.” Darion hailed him from the other end of the corridor. He was walking alongside Nathan, with Jax and Eli trailing behind.
Micah groaned at the interruption, but in his gut he knew he should be relieved. Phaedra took a step away from him as the four males strode up to them.
“We’re all heading out to the city to catch up,” Darion said. “We’re going to hang out at Slake for a while. You want to join us?”
Micah was more than passingly familiar with the Georgetown blood Host parlor, and the fact that Darion kept a luxury VIP suite there. Over the years, Micah had partaken of the establishment’s services more than a few times.
It had been several long hours since he fed back in Rome. His healing body sure as fuck could do with more sustenance, to say nothing of the other options available for purchase at the exclusive club that catered to the Breed.
Putting some distance between him and Phaedra wasn’t a bad idea either.
At that moment, Jordana stepped out of the archive room. She sent a smoldering look at her mate, Nathan. “Did I hear someone mention Slake?”
Nathan’s stern face broke into a rare smile. “This is becoming a habit every time we come to D.C., love.”
“Are you complaining?” Jordana laughed as she walked into Nathan’s embrace. “You’re the one who’s corrupted me.”
Nathan stroked her cheek. “Baby, I’ll never complain about making you happy.”
“Good.” She glanced at Phaedra. “You should come with all of us.”
“What’s Slake?”
“It’s a feeding parlor,” Micah growled, appalled at the idea of gentle, lovely Phaedra getting a firsthand glimpse of the baser natures of his kind. He turned his scowl in her direction. “You wouldn’t like it.”
“You don’t know that,” Eli interjected, a grin accompanying his whiskey-smooth drawl. “It’s one of the swankiest clubs in Georgetown, Breed or otherwise.”
Jax nodded. “It also has two dance floors and sim-lounge. You should come.”
Micah felt his frown furrow deeper. “It’s not Phaedra’s kind of place. Trust me.”
“Nathan didn’t think it was my kind of place either,” Jordana argued. “Besides, Phaedra and I haven’t had a chance to talk yet, and she’s going back to Rome tomorrow.”
Why the reminder of her departure should put a twinge of regret in him, Micah didn’t care to know. Her gaze met his and an unspoken acknowledgment of the desire still crackling betw
een them made her golden eyes dusky with awareness.
“I should probably stay here,” she said. “I’d love to spend some more time with you, Jordana, but Jenna wanted me to tell her more about the incident in the Deadlands before I have to leave with Zael and Brynne.”
“I can wait,” Jenna said, stepping out to join the small group in the corridor. “I’m actually feeling a little tired right now, anyway. If you don’t mind, we can meet again tomorrow before you have to go.”
Micah might have suspected it was only an excuse, but Jenna did look a bit piqued. “Is anything wrong?”
“No. Just par for the course lately. I’m just going to close my eyes for a while. You all have fun.”
As Jenna headed for the elevator up to the mansion’s residence, Jordana smiled. “I guess it’s settled. Shall we go?”
“Tell you what,” Eli added, turning all of his easy charm on Phaedra. “If you decide you don’t like the place at any time after we get there, I’ll personally see you back here to the command center.”
“Like hell you will,” Micah muttered.
Phaedra sent him an uncertain, questioning glance.
With Jordana and his comrades staring at him now, too, he scowled and exhaled a low curse. “If we’re going, let’s get on with it.”
He strode past the group, hearing them all fall in behind him, Phaedra included.
Although he didn’t like the idea, he had no right to dictate what she did or didn’t do. And while it put a boil in his blood, if she decided to take Elijah up on his offer—or any other one the handsome Breed male might have in mind—there was nothing Micah could say about it.
He had no claim on Phaedra at all, even if the persistent thrumming in his veins wanted to balk at that fact.
CHAPTER 11
Slake was packed and pulsing with activity. No surprise, given that the elite club was the pinnacle of Breed gathering places in the city.
Expensive, exclusive, and exceedingly luxe.
Stepping off the elevator from the underground VIP parking garage, Micah and his companions turned a lot of heads despite the crowds already filling the main floor. Being a member of the Order, and dressed in black patrol gear like the other warriors accompanying him, Micah was used to drawing attention. Inside the elegant club, human blood Hosts—male and female alike—and civilian Breed males from area Darkhavens paused in mid-conversation to watch the group of five warriors and the pair of stunning women in their company cleave a path through the crowd on their way up to the second-floor suite that belonged to Darion.
Micah hardly noticed the stares, except for the ones that followed Phaedra. She was damn hard to miss. As beautiful as Jordana was, with her graceful bearing and long hair the color of moonglow, it was Phaedra’s sultry, understated beauty that attracted even more attention. Far more than Micah liked.
He told himself it was only the protector in him—not the stab of sharp possessiveness he felt—that made him place his hand at the small of her back while they ascended the black marble stairs leading up to the higher level of the club. Although she was a powerful, immortal being as well as a gorgeous woman, that didn’t mean he wasn’t honor-bound to keep her safe. Especially when he was walking her through a pack of vampires who’d all come to Slake in search of a juicy carotid to tap, along with whatever other cravings they wanted to fill.
No one would dare make a move on her or Jordana, but that didn’t mean he shouldn’t broadcast the warning anyway.
Yeah, he had a dozen rationalizations for letting his touch linger on her now, but the truth was his blood hadn’t stopped burning for her since their interrupted moment outside the archive room.
It was all he could do to keep the embers in his irises from sparking into fire when she looked at him as they reached the second floor of the club. His fangs throbbed in his gums, the sharp points grazing his tongue as he fought to keep all of his unwelcome impulses in check.
Darion entered the unlock code for the suite and invited them all inside. Although neither Micah nor any of his Breed brethren needed artificial light to see, lamps and chandeliers flicked on as the group entered, illuminating the private four-thousand square-foot suite. Open-concept except for the four big bedrooms at the far end, the place had two separate lounge areas with cushioned sectionals and roomy club chairs, a fireplace, billiard table, theater room, and more.
Jordana led Phaedra farther inside. “What do you think?”
“It’s bigger than my entire house back home.”
The two women walked over to one of the living areas, already chatting like the best of friends as they settled onto the sofa together.
“Who’s up to get their ass kicked at the pool table?” Eli asked with a grin.
Micah smirked at his cocky friend. “Sounds like you are.”
Jax arched a dark brow. “Teams?”
Eli nodded. “You and me against the three of them seems fair.”
Darion chuckled. “Bring it, if you think you can.”
“You four go ahead,” Nathan said, a glimmer of amusement in the former assassin’s eyes. “I’ll take on the winning team.”
They walked over and set up the first game. As the balls cracked and a familiar banter filled the room, Micah felt himself relaxing for the first time in what felt like forever. He’d trained hard from the minute he was old enough to join the Order. Longer than that, in fact. For nearly as long as he could remember, he’d had a weapon in his hand and a mind set with determination to be the best damned warrior his father had ever seen.
For a while, he thought he’d actually gotten close to achieving that.
Then it all blew up in the Deadlands, along with the men who’d put their trust in him.
His self-directed anger still boiled inside him. When it was his turn at the table again, he sank the striped ball into the pocket with nearly enough force to crack it into pieces.
“Take it easy, brother,” Eli chuckled from his post on the receiving end of the table. “This is supposed to be a friendly game, not a death match.”
Jax smiled from his place at Eli’s side. “Friendly’s not exactly his strong suit.”
Micah slanted his comrades a wry look, then drove another stripe home. “You ladies gonna yammer the whole time we play? If you’re trying to distract me, it won’t work.”
“Nah,” Jax said. “There’s only one person here who seems able to distract you, and it’s not either of us.”
Micah sank a third ball and lifted his narrowed gaze. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
Eli nodded in Phaedra’s direction on the other side of the large suite. “You two looked pretty cozy back at headquarters tonight. Something we ought to know?”
“No.” Micah scowled, then went back to running the table. Except the next shot he took banked too hard and the ball missed the pocket.
Eli chuckled. “Nope. Clearly, she’s not a distraction at all.”
Jax moved in to take his turn, grinning along with his teammate. Even Darion looked amused when Micah backed away from the table to join him and Nathan while Jax quickly sank a pair of solid balls in one shot.
“Something funny?”
“No,” he said, a smile still tugging at his mouth. “I’ve just never seen anyone rattle you before, least of all a female.”
“I’m not fucking rattled,” he snarled under his breath, swiveling his annoyed glower from Darion and Nathan’s smug faces to Elijah and Jax. “There’s nothing going on between Phaedra and me.”
Nor would he allow there to be anything going on, and not only because she would be gone from his life tomorrow.
Eli nodded, looking anything but convinced. “All right, man, whatever you say. I guess you won’t mind if Jax or I step in, then.”
“Like hell you will.” The idea alone made Micah’s eyes blaze with amber fire. As much as he liked and respected all of his fellow warriors and friends, none of them were going near Phaedra if he had anything to say about it. “She’s
way out of your league. She’s out of all our leagues.”
As he muttered the words, he couldn’t help thinking about how incredible it was to see her with the crystal, limned in a silver glow, a look of longing, comfort, and profound love on her beautiful face.
Phaedra was unique from anyone he’d ever known. She was something extraordinary, evidenced not only earlier tonight in the archive room, but also in the kind, selfless work she had devoted herself to back in Rome.
“Micah makes a good point,” Darion said, humor gleaming in his eyes. “That on its own should be plenty of reason for you knuckleheads to stand down when it comes to Phaedra, but if it’s not, you’ll also have destiny to answer to.”
“What are you talking about?” Eli asked.
Micah’s low growl of warning didn’t deter his friend from explaining the highlights from the debriefing they’d sat through together with the Order elders and Zael earlier tonight. Darion summarized the whole thing, from the recurring dream of the white doe to the fact that Micah and Phaedra were apparently cosmically, inextricably connected.
“Soul bonded,” Jax said, staring at him as if he just grew a pair of horns.
“It’s ridiculous,” Micah muttered, glancing toward Phaedra and finding her engrossed in conversation with Jordana.
Eli folded his arms over his chest. “So, you don’t believe it’s true?”
Fuck, did he? A preordained bond might be the only thing that could help explain the intense, almost magnetic pull Phaedra had on him. How else could he reconcile his visceral attraction to her, even when he’d been convinced she was the enemy?
Deep down, he had to admit the feelings that were taking root in him, while uninvited, were getting stronger, harder to resist, the longer he was near Phaedra.
If their connection was real—if it was some kind of bond destined to bring them together—what would it mean when she returned home tomorrow?
It would mean he’d dodged one hell of a bullet. Phaedra leaving for Rome was the best thing that could happen to him. Soul bond or not, he needed to put a lot of distance between her and all of the troubling cravings he had where she was concerned.
