by Lara Adrian
“Did you use me, Lazaro?”
His ebony brows crashed together. “Use you? Christ, no. Melena, you can’t possibly think that—”
“Two decades of denial gone after just two days,” she reminded him. “And now, with my blood living inside you, you’ll never be tempted by another Breedmate. You have no ability to bond with anyone else as long as I live, so when you walk away from me now, you’re free. Free as you’ve never been all this time. Congratulations. I’m so pleased I could permanently scratch that annoying itch for you.”
He moved so fast she couldn’t track him. One moment he was several feet away at the closed door of the room, the next he was crowding her with his big body, his hands clamped around her biceps. His eyes flashed with furious amber.
“You are not an itch I needed to scratch.” His voice rumbled, low and deep and hard with outrage. “Damn it, Melena. Don’t say that. Don’t ever believe that.”
“Then what are we doing? You’ve been shutting me out since we left Rome. If you care for me—and I know you do, I can see it, I can feel it—then why are you pulling away?”
“Because I can’t do this again. You know loss, Melena, but you don’t know what it is to lose a mate. I don’t ever want to know that pain again. And with you—” He blew out a harsh curse. “I’ve seen you nearly die twice. I don’t want to know what that would feel like now that your blood lives inside me. And I don’t want to be the reason you’re not safe. My life is committed to the Order now. It’s a dangerous life. I won’t put you in the crossfire.”
“Don’t you think that’s something I should decide for myself?”
He stared at her for a long time, silent but unswaying. “I’ll see you home safely to Baltimore tonight. Your brother should already be there as well.”
“You’ve talked to Derek? When?” Despite the fact that her heart was breaking, it perked at the mention of her brother. “Where is he? How is he? Does he know I’m okay?”
Lazaro shook his head soberly. “There was no time to contact him before we arrived. Trygg found him on a flight coming in from London tonight.”
“I need to see him,” she murmured. “Derek needs to know that I’m alive.”
“Yes,” Lazaro agreed. “We can leave as soon as you’re ready.”
“Then what?” she asked cautiously. “What about you?”
“Then I’ll be returning to Rome.”
“When?” she asked, although her dread already knew that answer.
“I leave tonight. Arrangements have already been made. The Order’s jet is refueling and waiting for me to return a few hours from now.”
“So soon.” She exhaled sharply. “I imagine you must be eager to unload your burden and get on with your life.”
“Don’t think this is easy for me,” he said, frowning as he brought his hand up to stroke her cheek. “It would be easier to stay, or to bring you back with me to the command center in Rome. It would be the easiest thing in the world to fall in love with you, Melena.”
She swallowed hard, trapped in his bleak, tormented eyes. Afraid to believe he might love her already. Afraid he never would.
He let his hand fall away. “It’s become far too easy to imagine you at my side, as my mate. But those are things I can’t give you. I can’t ask you to risk your life by coming into my world. People die around me. I can’t allow myself to be responsible for anyone else’s life—your life. Don’t you understand?”
“Yes, I think I finally do.” The realization settled on her with clarity now, and not a little rage. “You’re not doing this out of concern for me at all. You’re doing it because you’re afraid. I thought you were being noble by denying yourself another blood bond all this time. I thought it was honor that made you refuse to let another woman into your heart—and I think I loved you even more because of that. But I was wrong, wasn’t I? You’re pushing me away now because you’re scared. You’re running away from something that could probably be pretty fucking amazing because you’re terrified of feeling any kind of pain again. The only person you’re concerned about taking care of is yourself.”
He didn’t deny it. He didn’t try to defend or justify anything she said. He let out a slow exhalation. His jaw was set and rigid, his aura uncompromising. “Whenever you’re ready, I’ll take you home to your family’s Darkhaven.”
“No, don’t bother. You’re not responsible for me, remember? I’ll find my own way home.” She tried to walk past him and he grabbed her arm, misery smoldering beneath the resolve in his dark blue eyes. “Let me go. That’s what you want, so I’m giving it to you.”
“Melena...”
She wrenched out of his loose grasp. “Good-bye, Lazaro.”
This time, he didn’t stop her. He stood unmoving, unspeaking, as she stepped around him and walked out the door.
CHAPTER 11
An hour later, Melena sat woodenly in the passenger seat of the Order’s SUV as it rolled up to her family’s Darkhaven in Baltimore. The big brownstone should have been a welcome sight in so many ways, yet all she felt was sorrow when she looked at it through the tinted glass of the vehicle’s window.
Sorrow that she’d never hear her father’s voice inside the house again. Sorrow for the pain her brother must be feeling as he walked into the empty home, believing he’d lost not only his father but Melena as well. She didn’t want to imagine Derek’s anguish, being the sole blood kin of Byron and Frances Walsh, both gone now.
And yes, Melena felt sorrow for herself too. Because instead of facing all of these heartaches with Lazaro’s strong arms around her and his love to hold her up if she crumbled, she would be doing it alone.
“I’m ready,” she murmured, more to herself than the Breed male behind the wheel.
Lucan and Gabrielle’s son, Darion, put the vehicle in park and turned a sympathetic look on her. “I’ll walk you inside, Miss Walsh.”
“No.” She shook her head, warmed by the kind offer. Darion was as gentlemanly as he was attractive. “Thank you, but that’s not necessary. My brother won’t be expecting me, and I don’t imagine it will be easy for him when I walk in the door and he sees that I’m alive. I’d rather do this on my own.”
“Okay.” Darion frowned, but gave her a nod. The dark-haired Breed male’s aura was golden and kind, steadfast with the strength of a born leader. “But I’m gonna wait here until you’ve gone inside.”
She reached over to touch his large hand. “Thank you.”
Melena climbed out of the vehicle and headed up the walkway toward the front door. It was unlocked, the soft light in the vestibule a warm, welcoming beacon. She stepped inside and pivoted to wave good-bye to Darion. As the black SUV rolled away, she took a steeling breath and closed the door behind her.
She was home.
She was back on safe, familiar ground. And yet, as she walked quietly through the house, she felt like a stranger to the place. Like a ghost drifting through a life that no longer quite fit anymore.
She drifted past the front rooms and grand central staircase, unsure if she should call to Derek or wait and let him adjust to seeing her once she found him.
She didn’t have long to wonder. She heard her brother talking farther down the hallway. In her father’s study. Derek was on a call with someone, the low rumble of his voice drawing Melena with a relief and a comfort she definitely needed right now.
“Yes, sir, the shipment is en route and everything is in order. That’s right, I saw to it personally.”
Melena paused at the open doorway. Derek stood with his back to her, dressed in loose sweatpants, his brown hair still wet from a recent shower. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and although the sight of her Breed brother’s glyphs were no surprise to her, something did make her breath catch abruptly in her throat.
Derek now sported a number of tattoos on his broad back and shoulders. Unusual-looking stars, crossed swords, some kind of black beetle—a scarab, she realized, confused by the body art that hadn’t been there the
last time she saw her brother. He must have gotten the tattoos after he’d moved overseas a year ago.
“It should be in your hands tomorrow, Mr. Rior—” Derek’s voice dried up.
He realized he wasn’t alone now. Disconnecting the call without a word of excuse, he smoothly slipped the phone into his pants pocket.
When he pivoted around, his face was slack with shock...with stark disbelief.
“Melena. My God.” He frowned, gave a vague shake of his head. But he didn’t rush over to embrace her. He didn’t react the way she would have expected at all from a sibling who loved her, worried for her. “I don’t understand. The news reports said there were no survivors. I thought you were...”
“Dead,” she replied, only understanding in that instant why her brother seemed less than relieved to see her.
He hadn’t expected to see her again at all.
His sickening aura told the truth. It hovered around him, oily with corruption. Foul with deceit.
“It was you, Derek.” She could hardly form the words, could hardly reconcile what her senses were telling her. “You were the faceless, hidden betrayer he feared. Oh, my God...it was you who arranged for our father’s death.”
* * * *
Lazaro boarded the Order’s private jet in a hellish mood.
He hadn’t expected the conversation to go well with Melena, but damn if he anticipated the kind of pain that had lodged itself in his chest from the moment she stormed away from him. That ache was still there, cold and gnawing, creating a vacuum behind his sternum that he didn’t imagine would ever be filled.
She was gone.
He’d made certain of that—for her, he wanted to reassure himself. But Melena’s words still echoed in his mind. Her condemning, all-too-accurate accusation.
He was a coward.
As the jet began to taxi toward the runway, Lazaro couldn’t dismiss the feeling that he was walking away from the best thing that had happened to him in a very long time.
And why?
Because of exactly what Melena said. He was afraid. Afraid to his marrow that he might let himself fall in love with her and risk cutting his heart open again should anything happen to her.
The truth was, he was already falling. Letting her go cut him open, and as he rubbed at the empty ache in his chest, he realized only then what a fucking idiot he was.
Pushing Melena away had been the most cowardly act of his long life.
He’d lived more than a thousand years. He had loved a woman deeply, fearlessly, for several centuries before he lost her. He knew what real love felt like. He knew himself well enough to understand that time, for him, was immaterial. Time could last forever, or it could be gone in the blink of an eye.
He loved Melena. And whether it had happened in a matter of days, or over the span of a hundred years, it was all the same to him. He wanted her beside him. Starting right now, if she would have it in her heart to forgive him.
On a snarl, he punched the call button next to his seat.
“Yes, sir?”
“Turn it around.”
The pilot went silent for a moment. “Sir, we’re next on the runway to taxi and—”
“Turn this goddamned plane around. Now.” On second thought, he couldn’t wait that long. He unbuckled his seat belt and stood up. “Never mind. I’m getting off right here.”
“But, sir—”
He unlocked the hatch and leapt down from the fuselage onto the dark tarmac. Then he was running. Heading for the Order fleet vehicle he’d parked in the private hangar when he’d arrived.
It was just as he neared the black sedan that his senses suddenly seized up, gripped by something powerful and horrifying. His veins lit up with a piercing dread.
Not his emotions.
Melena’s.
He could feel her terror rising in his blood through his bond to her.
Holy hell.
She was in danger.
She was in fear for her very life.
CHAPTER 12
Melena tried to run.
She wasn’t even halfway into the hall before Derek yanked her off her feet. His hand wound tight in her hair. Pain raked her scalp as he hauled her face backward to meet his furious sneer.
“You’re supposed to be dead, sister dear,” he hissed against her cheek. “You and Father both in one fell swoop. I’ve been planning it since he confided in me about his meeting with Turati.”
“You killed him, you bastard!” Melena could hardly contain her contempt or her fear. “You killed more than a dozen innocent people that night, Derek. My God, did you hate us that much or are you simply out of your mind?”
“Arranging for that rocket strike was the sanest thing I’ve ever done. Killing Father and Turati? Doing it while they were secreted away for a covert meeting to broker their precious fucking peace? Let’s just say it won me all the respect I deserve with the people who really matter.”
Melena’s heart sank even further. “Opus Nostrum.”
He chuckled. “I was a mere lieutenant for this past year. They barely knew my name. Now I’ve got a direct line to the inner circle. I’ll be a part of that circle soon. This was my proof of allegiance, my demonstration of worth.” Derek’s eyes flashed with vicious intent as she fought against his ruthless, unyielding hold. “As for you, Melena, I couldn’t very well let you see me after I joined the organization. Your irritating gift would’ve sniffed me out right away.”
“You plotted to kill me all this time?” she asked, hating that his duplicity hurt her so deeply.
Derek shrugged, his crackling amber eyes roaming over her terrified, miserable face with a cold disregard. “At first, I thought I could just avoid you. But then Father confided in me that he’d been having premonitions of a betrayal, and I knew it was only a matter of time before one or both of you discovered my alliance with Opus Nostrum. When he later told me about the meeting and the fact that you’d be accompanying him, I knew it was my chance to act.”
Bile rose in her throat as he spoke. “You’re a cold-blooded murderer, Derek. You’re a sick, backstabbing fuck!”
“Careful, little sister. I’m the only thing standing between you and your grave.” He snagged a cord from the table lamp on the desk, sending the thing crashing to the floor. Then he quickly bound her wrists behind her back. “Don’t rush me to put you in it.”
With that, he wrenched her into a more punishing hold and shoved her forward. He guided her out of their father’s study and down the opposite end of the hallway. Melena had no choice but to shuffle ahead of him, panicking when she realized he was taking her outside.
He walked her toward their father’s GNC-issued silver SUV parked in the drive.
“What are you doing, Derek?”
He opened the back door. Shoved her into the farthest seat.
“Where are you taking me?” she demanded, hysteria bubbling up as he calmly climbed behind the wheel. “If you’re going to kill me, then just do it, damn you!”
“I’m not going to kill you, Melena.” His cold eyes met her gaze in the rearview mirror. “I’m going to take you to my comrades in the organization. They’re not nice people, I’m afraid. You’re going to wish you died in that fucking explosion.”
He started the engine. Then he backed away from the Darkhaven and started speeding for the highway.
* * * *
Lazaro gunned the black sedan through the late-night traffic on the highway, speeding like a bat out of hell for Baltimore. He didn’t know what had Melena so terrified, but her fear was visceral. And it was eating him alive from the inside.
“Hang on, baby,” he muttered as he dodged one lagging car and nearly sideswiped another. “Ah, God, Melena...know that I’m coming for you.”
He was just about to veer toward the exit he needed when all of his instincts lit up like fireworks.
She was somewhere close—right now.
Possibly on the same stretch of highway, by the way his veins were clanging with
alarm bells.
He scanned both sides of the divided lanes, a chaos of headlights and commuting vehicles. She might as well be a needle in a goddamned haystack.
And then—holy shit.
His Breed senses pulled his attention toward a light-colored SUV that had just merged on to the opposite side of the highway. The vehicle was speeding almost as fast as he’d been. In a big fucking hurry to get somewhere.
Melena.
She was inside the silver SUV. He knew it with total, marrow-chilling certainty.
And whoever had her was going to have bleeding hell to pay if she’d been harmed in any way.
Lazaro yanked the steering wheel and sent the sedan roaring into the median. Grass and mud flew in all directions as he tore across the divider and launched his car into the traffic on the other side. He floored the pedal, tearing up the pavement as he tried to catch the bumper of the vehicle that held his woman.
Flashing his lights, laying on the horn, he tried to get the attention of the vehicle bearing GNC diplomatic plates. It belonged to Byron Walsh, but Lazaro wasn’t certain who the Breed male was behind the wheel. But then, as he ran up alongside it briefly, he caught a glimpse of the driver. A cold, sickening recognition set in.
Son of a bitch.
Derek Walsh.
And judging from the vampire’s murderous glower, he had no intention of giving up Melena without a fight. The SUV lurched into a more reckless speed. It careened behind a semitrailer, dodging between a car of teens and a commuter bus. Lazaro could only follow, negotiating the traffic and keeping his focus trained on his quarry.
Walsh drove erratically for several miles with Lazaro chewing up his bumper. More than once, there was the opportunity to ram the bastard and send the SUV rolling, or to draw one of his semiautomatics and blast a hole in the Breed male’s skull...but not with Melena inside. Not when Lazaro’s heart was tied to her and every breath in his body was devoted to keeping her safe.
He hissed when Walsh narrowly avoided a collision with a car drifting into his lane. And when another near-miss snapped off the SUV’s passenger side mirror, Lazaro shouted a furious curse. He saw a break up ahead—a chance to get in front of Walsh and force him into the median. Lazaro buried the gas pedal and flew past.
