by Lara Adrian
He didn’t answer right away, not that she needed him to spell anything out for her. He watched her absorb the idea, her brow creasing in a slight frown. “Have you been there?”
Tegan lifted his shoulder slightly, wondering why the hell he felt bad about admitting it. “Reichen took me there to meet Helene last night.”
“Last night,” she said, her pale purple eyes narrowing on him. “Last night, you went out to a brothel … after we … oh. Okay. I see.”
“It’s not what you think, Elise.”
He had the sudden absurd impulse to assure her that nothing had happened while he was at Aphrodite, but Elise didn’t seem interested in hearing any excuses. With brisk movements, she put on her coat and started buttoning it up.
“I think I’m ready to go now, Tegan.”
He fell in step beside her as she headed up the corridor. “I shouldn’t be long with Reichen. Once I finish up, I’ll come back to the Darkhaven and we can try to make sense out of what little we got from Odolf tonight.”
Elise turned a level look on him. “We can talk about that on the way to Aphrodite,” she said. “I’m going with you.”
He met her unwavering stare and exhaled a defeated chuckle. “Suit yourself then. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Despite living a sheltered existence in the Darkhavens, Elise had never considered herself a prude. But walking with Tegan into the private back entrance of Aphrodite gave her an instant education in eroticism.
They were let in by a huge, muscle-bound man in a dark, tailored suit. He wore a wireless communication device on his ear, with a small microphone that extended near his goatee-rimmed mouth. He spoke into the mic, presumably advising his employer that her guests had arrived, as he escorted Tegan and Elise through the main floor of the club.
Festooned in bright carnival colors, with polished brass fixtures and sumptuously appointed furnishings, the lounge and bar area was a visual feast. Beautiful nude women reclined on animal-print sofas, some of them entertaining a male client or two in full view of all. Still others performed together, kissing and caressing one another as men wearing silk robes or sauna towels watched with rapt, heated stares.
On another cushioned nest near the bar, a man was being serviced by four women at once. Elise could hardly keep from gaping at the erotic tangle of tanned arms and legs. Even over the soft, pumping beat of the music pouring in through the overhead speakers, she could hear the slap of skin meeting skin, and the pleasured moans and hoarse shouts of release coming from practically every corner of the lounge.
Surrounded by so much humankind, Elise weathered the low drone of her talent, which stirred to life as soon as they entered the club. Fortunately, most of the input hitting her was of a lustful nature, some of it graphically so, but nothing disturbing enough to cause true pain.
She remembered Tegan’s coaching and reached with her mind for one of the least offensive voices that was filling her head. She brought it forward, using it to damper the others as she made her way through the place.
When she braved a glance at Tegan, she found him staring at her. If he noticed any of the public couplings taking place all around them, he didn’t seem fazed in the least. No, he seemed to be more interested in measuring her reaction. His gaze was hard, penetrating. His jaw seemed clamped tight enough to shatter his teeth.
The intensity of his look made her too warm inside. Elise blinked, glancing away. But glancing away from him meant seeing more of the club. More raw, pulsing sexuality, which only made her all the more aware of Tegan and the very vivid knowledge of how good their bodies felt together.
She couldn’t have been more relieved when their escort paused in front of an elevator bank and led them inside a waiting car.
They rode up to the fourth floor. The elevator opened into a glass-walled suite outfitted as both office and bedroom. Reichen stood up to greet them, rising from an elegant sprawl on the luxurious round bed. His white dress shirt was unbuttoned and hanging loose, his finely cut gray trousers showcasing his trim waist and smooth, muscular chest. The vampire’s dermaglyphs swirled over his pecs in winglike flourishes, drawing the eye to the masculine beauty of his form.
He seemed accustomed to being admired and merely smiled as Elise and Tegan strode into the room.
“I didn’t realize you would be accompanying Tegan here,” he said, gallantly taking Elise’s hand. “I hope you aren’t too shocked.”
“Not at all,” she said, hoping her discomfiture didn’t show.
Reichen brought her in front of the tall brunette Elise had seen him with the other night. The woman wore a simple yet sophisticated ivory sweater and pants outfit that looked like it belonged in a boardroom more than a brothel. Tonight her long raven-dark hair was swept up in a loose chignon, secured with a pair of gleaming, tortoiseshell chopsticks.
She was the picture of professionalism, a curious contrast to the live video feeds playing on flat-screen monitors mounted behind her on the wall of the office. While images of people on the main floor of the club writhed and bucked on-screen, the woman merely smiled pleasantly as Reichen and Elise paused in front of her.
“This is Helene,” Reichen said. “She owns the club, and she is also a trusted friend of mine.”
“Hello,” Elise said, offering her hand. “A pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise,” came the accented purr in reply. Elise’s fingers were gripped in a firm yet feminine hold that echoed the confidence gleaming in Helene’s dark eyes. That self-assured gaze slid in Tegan’s direction and politely feigned unfamiliarity, a gesture that seemed for Elise’s benefit. “Hello and welcome to Aphrodite. Both of you.”
“Good to see you again, Helene,” Tegan said, his tone cutting through all pretense. “Reichen tells me you have some intel.”
“Yes, I do.”
The woman picked up on Tegan’s all-business tone and reached for a laptop computer that sat on her desk. She opened it and typed something on the keyboard. Behind her, one of the wall-mounted video screens went black, then came back on with a freeze-framed surveillance image of a man seated at the club’s bar downstairs. The scar down the Minion’s face identified him instantly.
“That’s him,” Elise said. She could still feel his punishing hands on her, could still hear his ugly thoughts ringing in her ears.
“He came here only a few times. He was a prick, very nasty to the girls. I banned him a couple of months ago. It wasn’t until later that I heard rumors of his involvement in the blood clubs.” Helene glanced over at Elise. “You were lucky today. I’m glad you gave him some pain.”
Elise didn’t feel any pride in what she’d done. But more than that, she inwardly shuddered at the mention of blood clubs. They were all but unheard of in Boston for many decades, due mostly to the Enforcement Agency’s crackdown on the illegal operations. Quentin had especially despised them as little better than organized sport where humans were the captive playthings of twisted members of the Breed. To think that she and Irina had been in arm’s reach of one of the suppliers for that kind of activity put a chill in her marrow.
Tegan’s hard gaze on her now told her that he didn’t like the idea any more than she did. “Do you have any leads on the area’s clubs? Anything on this guy’s associates, or someone who might know his name or where to find him?”
Helene nodded and typed something else into the laptop. “I have cultivated a few close friends among the police. Not surprisingly, this Minion is no stranger to the law.” She walked over to a laser printer behind her desk and retrieved a sheet of paper as it came out of the machine. “I was able to get his most recent arrest record, which contains his name and last known address.”
“Beautiful and resourceful,” Reichen said approvingly as Helene passed the report to Tegan.
Elise watched Tegan drink in every detail of the report, his eyes narrowed, calculating. He glanced over at Reichen. “Will you see Elise back to the Darkhaven?”
“Of course. It
will be my pleasure.”
“What are you going to do, Tegan?” Even as she asked the question, she knew his intentions. He was going out to kill the Minion who’d attacked her. She could see the warrior side of him locking in to place, its sights fixed on the target with deadly focus. “Tegan, just … be careful.”
He met her gaze for a long moment, then looked again to Reichen. “Get her out of here. I’ll meet you back at the Darkhaven when it’s finished.”
Elise wanted to throw her arms around him, but Tegan was already stalking toward the elevator, a solitary warrior with a single purpose. This was who he was, who he would always be.
She closed her eyes as he stepped inside the waiting car and the polished brass doors closed behind him. Her senses tracked him as he descended, her blood link to him warm and alive in her veins. It was the only part of him she could truly hold on to; she wasn’t sure he would ever let her close enough to have anything more.
CHAPTER
Twenty-six
Tegan crouched low on a rooftop, his eyes trained on a light-filled, curtainless window in the building next to him. The Minion had been on his cell phone for the past fifteen minutes. Judging from the speed his lips were moving and the look of worry on his distorted face, it appeared he was in the process of trying to talk his way out of some pretty serious shit. No doubt his Master was on the other end of the line, getting the unhappy news that his orders hadn’t been executed quite as planned.
Tegan’s mouth quirked as he watched the Minion squirm and pace his filthy, rathole apartment. The human’s neck was bound with thick gauze, a spot of blood coming through the white bandage where Elise had stuck the bastard. His bare chest was similarly doctored up and from the way he was clutching at his ribs as he spoke, Tegan guessed he was probably sporting a perforated lung as well.
Next to him, on a coffee table cluttered with porn magazines and empty beer bottles, was a blood-soaked shirt and open boxes of medical supplies. More cotton gauze, white surgical tape, even a used roll of suture filament and a bent sewing needle. Evidently he’d been busy with a little do-it-yourself first aid after he fled Irina Odolf ’s place that day.
Wasted effort, Tegan thought with grim satisfaction as the Minion abruptly ended his call and threw the cell phone down onto the table.
He disappeared into another room, then came out a second later, gingerly shrugging into a flannel shirt. He buttoned up, shoved the phone into the pocket of his jeans, then grabbed his coat and headed for the door.
Tegan was already on the pavement below by the time the Minion exited his building. He stepped into the human’s path and shoved the guy back with a sharp mental command.
“What the hell!” The Minion’s look of annoyance quickly bled into one of alarm when Tegan flashed him his fangs. “Oh, shit!”
He pivoted to run back into the building, but Tegan blocked him faster than the human’s eyes could follow. He reached out and grabbed the Minion by the throat, closing his fingers around the thick neck.
“Aagh!” the Minion cried, struggling and wheezing against the sudden choke hold.
“Yeah, that probably hurts,” Tegan said coolly. He squeezed harder, increasing pressure to allow only the smallest bit of air to pass into the Minion’s lungs. “Had a little trouble in town today, did you?”
“Let … go … ”
Tegan’s touch told him of the Minion’s recollection of what happened at Irina Odolf ’s place. He read the Minion’s anger, his surprise at Elise’s retaliation, his disgusting intent to make her suffer for it deeply, had she not been able to get away from him.
“Who sent you after her?” Tegan demanded, all but certain on his own, but needing to hear it. “Who’s your Master, you sick fuck?”
“Piss off, vampire,” the Minion gasped, but inside he was panicking and in a great deal of pain. His mind surrendered the name to Tegan’s touch, even though his tongue refused to speak it.
Marek.
It came as little surprise to Tegan that Lucan’s brother owned this one. He wouldn’t doubt that the powerful vampire had a far-reaching network of human mind slaves at his disposal. God knew he’d had many long years to covertly lay the groundwork for whatever dark plan the deceptive son of a bitch was working on.
But it wasn’t anger at Marek that tightened Tegan’s grip on the Minion’s injured throat, as much as he wanted to tell himself he was just crippling one more leg of his enemy’s army. What filled Tegan’s mind as he choked the life out of the sorry excuse for a man was the cold knowledge that the human had put his hands on Elise.
For the fact that the Minion had enjoyed hurting her, Tegan intended to take his sweet time ending the bastard.
“Was the lamb not to your liking?”
Elise snapped back to attention and met Reichen’s gaze across the intimate restaurant table. “No, it’s delicious. Everything was just incredible, Andreas. You really didn’t have to do this.”
He made a casually dismissive gesture with his hand, but his smile was full of pride. “What kind of host would I be to let you go all day without a proper meal? It seemed only fitting that I treat you to one of the city’s finest dinners.”
They were seated together in a top-floor restaurant in one of Berlin’s most exclusive hotels. After learning Elise hadn’t eaten for several hours, Reichen had insisted they detour there after they’d left Helene’s club.
He wasn’t having anything, of course. Those of the Breed could only consume prepared food in the smallest quantities—a practice reserved for rare moments when a vampire found it necessary in order to pretend to be human.
Elise had hardly eaten either, despite the fact that the food and wine in front of her was nothing short of amazing. As hungry as she was, she had little appetite. She could hardly think of eating when Tegan was out there somewhere, fighting her battles.
Outside the window at her left, the nighttime city twinkled with life below. She looked out, letting her gaze wander over the tangle of milling pedestrians, rushing traffic, and the illuminated beauty of Brandenburg Gate.
None of the humans out there had the first clue about the war that was rising within the Breed. Few in the Darkhavens knew either. Those who were in a position to know of Rogue conflicts chose to turn a blind eye, trusting politics and protocol to keep things in their proper place. Everyone went about their lives, oblivious, comfortably ignorant, while Tegan and the other members of the Order dirtied their hands and risked their lives to maintain the fragile peace within the Breed and its dependent link to humankind.
She had been one of those sheltered many. When she looked across the table at handsome, sophisticated Reichen, she was reminded how easy her life had been before. She had lived in the cushioned lap of wealth and privilege as Quentin Chase’s mate. A part of her realized how easy it would be to return to that kind of existence, to pretend she’d never seen the terrible things she’d witnessed outside the Darkhavens these past several months, or done the terrible things she’d convinced herself she had to do in vengeance for Camden’s death.
A cowardly part of her wondered if it might not be too late to go back to her old life and forget she’d ever met the warrior called Tegan.
The answer came in the quickening of her pulse, a stirring that flared at just the thought of him.
Her blood would never forget him, no matter how far she ran. And neither would her heart.
“Would you prefer to try another dish?” Reichen asked, leaning over the table to touch her hand. “I can call the waiter over if you—”
“No. No, there’s no need for that,” she assured him, feeling rude and unappreciative of his kindness. Tegan probably didn’t need her concern. He certainly wouldn’t want it. She couldn’t turn off her feelings for him, but that didn’t mean she had to let them consume her. “Thank you for bringing me here, Andreas. I can’t remember the last time I had such wonderful food and wine. Quentin and I enjoyed nice dinners together, but since his death, I guess I never really
saw any reason to go to the effort.”
Reichen gave her a mock scowl, as if he’d never heard a more preposterous thing. “There is always a reason to enjoy all of life’s pleasures, Elise. I personally do not believe in deprivation. Not in any shape or form.”
Elise smiled, knowing he was deliberately putting on the charm now. “With that kind of life philosophy, I’m betting that you have broken a lot of hearts in your time.”
“Only a few,” he admitted, grinning.
He lounged back in his seat, one arm slung over the back of the chair, his aristocratic profile etched in light by the warm glow of the candle flickering on the table. With his dark hair slipping loose of its queue, his tailored white shirt unbuttoned one more notch than was decent, Andreas Reichen had the look of an indulgent king surveying his subjects from atop his tower keep.
But there was a restless undercurrent to his practiced air of nonchalance, perhaps a trace of boredom. There was a cynical wisdom in his eyes that indicated for all his easy charm, the male had seen more darkness than he would ever let on.
Elise wondered if, despite his privilege and his obviously libertine ways, Andreas Reichen might have a bit of the warrior in him as well.
“What about Helene?” Elise couldn’t resist asking about the stunning female who wasn’t a Breedmate, yet seemed to know a great deal about the vampire nation due to her apparent relationship with Reichen. “Have you and she … known each other for a long time?”
“A few years. Helene is a friend. She is my blood Host on occasion, and we enjoy each other’s company, but it’s primarily a physical arrangement.”
“You’re not in love with her?”
He chuckled. “Helene would probably say that I love no one more than myself. Not altogether untrue, I suppose. I’ve just never met a woman who tempted me to want anything permanent. Then again, who would be mad enough to put up with me?” he asked, turning a dazzling smile on her that would have made any other woman leap up to volunteer for the task.
