Lara Adrian's Midnight Breed 8-Book Bundle (72 page)

The dark head bobbed awkwardly.

Tegan glanced to Tess as she knelt down and began collecting the shattered glass and porcelain from the foyer tiles. “Have you seen Chase around tonight?”

“Not for a while,” she said. “He and Dante are still out on patrol.”

Tegan smirked. Four months ago, the two males had been ready to tear out each other’s throats. They’d been tossed together by Lucan as unwilling partners when Darkhaven agent Sterling Chase showed up at the compound with info about a dangerous club drug called Crimson and to solicit help from the Order in getting the shit off the streets. Now he and Dante were almost inseparable in the field, had been ever since Chase left the Darkhavens and came on board officially as a member of the Order. “The pair of them are a regular Mutt and Jeff, eh?”

Tess’s eyes held a trace of humor as she looked up from the mess in front of her. “More like Larry and Curly, if you ask me.”

Tegan exhaled a wry laugh as he steered Rio into the hallway. He brought him to the mansion’s elevator, walked him inside, then pushed the code to begin the journey down to the underground headquarters of the Order.

After dropping Rio off in the warrior’s compound apartments, Tegan headed back to the tech lab to check in. Gideon was at his post, as usual, the blond vampire rolling back and forth on a wheeled office chair, working his magic on no less than four computers at the same time. A wireless cell phone headset curled around his ear and he was giving a string of coordinates over the small mic that arced toward his cheek.

The consummate multitasker, Gideon looked up as Tegan entered the lab, gestured him over, and brought up a set of satellite stills on one of the monitors. “Niko’s got a possible lead on that Crimson lab,” he informed Tegan, then went back to his conversation as his fingers flew over the keyboard of another machine. “Right. I’m running a check right now.”

Tegan stared at the images Gideon had called up on the screen. Some were known Rogue lairs—most of them former lairs, due to the efforts of the Order—and others showed Rogues and Minions coming and going from various locations in and around the city. One face caught Tegan’s eye more than the rest. It was the human Crimson dealer, Ben Sullivan.

Although Dante had taken the bastard out last November, the whereabouts of his manufacturing lab were yet unknown. Problems with the drug had simmered down in the months since the Order got involved, but so long as the Rogues possessed the means to manufacture more of the shit, the threat of a resurgence in Crimson use among the Breed still existed.

“Hold up. I’m getting a match on a location out in Revere,” Gideon was saying now. “Yeah, whaddaya know, I think it’s a legit lead. You guys wanna do a drive-by down by the Chelsea River, see what you find?”

Tegan zeroed in on the photo of Ben Sullivan’s grinning, busted-up face. The human had killed a lot of young vampires with his drug, including Camden Chase, Elise’s teenage son. If not for Crimson, that kid would never have turned Rogue and had to be put down. And a gently bred female like Elise wouldn’t be holed up in that slum apartment downtown, out of her head with grief and anger, and hell-bent on some maternal brand of vengeance that was probably going to get her killed too.

A weight settled on Tegan as he considered all the bloodshed, the centuries he and the others like him had been fighting this battle against the savage side of the Breed. There were peaks and lulls, of course, times of relative peace, but the unrest was always there, burrowed deep within the race. Festering and corrupting.

“It’s fucking never going to end, is it?”

“Sorry?”

Tegan didn’t realize he’d spoken until he glanced over and saw Gideon looking at him over the rims of his pale blue shades. Tegan shook his head. “Nothing.”

He stalked away from the computers, his thoughts gone dark and churning as Gideon swung back to his monitors and sent his fingers clacking over a keyboard. Another satellite image filled the screen, this one showing an old industrial lot not far from the riverfront.

Tegan knew the location. He didn’t need anything more.

“Yeah, Niko,” Gideon said into the mouthpiece. “Right. Sounds good. If things look hot over there, yell for backup. Dante and Chase are less than an hour away and Tegan’s right…here…”

But Tegan wasn’t there anymore.

He was stalking purposefully up the corridor outside the tech lab now, where he heard Gideon’s voice trail off as the lab’s glass door hissed shut.

CHAPTER
Five

T
his is it. Hang a left up here at the stop sign,” Nikolai said from the backseat of the Order’s black SUV. He was busy reloading the weapons that he and the two new warrior recruits accompanying him tonight had put to good use on the city’s east side. The custom rounds he’d made were his favorite Rogue-blasting numbers—kick-ass hollowpoints filled with powdered titanium. One taste of that metal meant certain death to the blood-addicted members of the vampire race. Niko slapped the clip into the tricked-out Beretta 92FS he’d converted to full auto, then shoved the weapon into its holster under his coat.

“Park behind that piece of shit pickup truck,” he told the warrior doing the driving. This part of Revere was tight with houses and run-down businesses, thick clusters of humanity clinging to the outskirts of Boston and a briny stretch of the Chelsea River. “We’ll hoof it the rest of the way. Go in nice and quiet so we can get a good look around.”

“You got it.” Brock, a towering nightmare of a fighter recruited out of Detroit, was as smooth behind the wheel as he was with the ladies. He swept the vehicle over to the side of the snowy curb and killed the engine.

Next to Brock in the front seat, Niko’s other trainee pivoted around and held out his hand for the refreshed weapon. Kade’s wolflike silver eyes were still glowing from the night’s earlier action, his black hair spiky and wet with melted snow. “Think we’re gonna find something out here?”

Niko grinned. “I sure as hell hope so.” He handed pistols and fresh clips to both of them, then pulled a couple of silencers out of the leather duffel bag at his feet and slapped them into the warriors’ palms. When Brock arched a brow on his dark forehead, Niko said, “I’m all for cooking a bunch of Rogues with some 9mm high-test, but there’s no need to wake the neighbors.”

“Nah,” Kade added, flashing the tips of his pearly white fangs, “that would be just plain rude.”

Nikolai grabbed the rest of his gear and zipped the duffel shut. “Let’s go sniff around for some Crimson.”

They climbed out of the Range Rover and skirted the residential area on foot, all three of them keeping to the shadows as they navigated back to the old warehouse lot where Niko’s tip had led them.

The building looked like shit from the outside—a 1970s industrial eyesore of concrete, wood, and glass. Steel posts from what had once been part of a chain-link fence poked out of the perimeter lot at various angles, not a single one of them straight, not that it mattered. The place had a derelict, keep-out quality about it, even amid the snowglobe flurries that were filling the night sky.

Niko and the guys stepped onto the loose gravel of the empty lot, their boot heels cushioned by the fresh fall of snow. As they neared the building, Niko spotted a dark ash trail on the ground. The large, irregular shape was still visible, still smoldering and hissing as the delicate white flakes fell on it and melted on contact. He gestured to the pile of disintegrating remains as Brock and Kade came closer.

“Someone smoked a Rogue,” he told them, his voice low as a whisper. “Still fresh too.”

Gideon hadn’t mentioned sending in backup, so they’d be wise to be cautious of what else they might find. Rogues were basically savages, and it wasn’t unheard of that they took one another out over turf or petty disagreements. It was all good as far as the Order was concerned; saved the warriors time and effort when the Bloodlusting bastards lost their cool and offed their own.

Another suckhead had taken a lethal hit of titanium near the entrance of the building. A large padlock lay in the cellular goo, and Brock motioned toward the battered steel door. It was slightly ajar, just a thin wedge of darkness behind it.

Kade shot Niko a look of question, waiting for the signal to act.

Nikolai shook his head, uncertain.

Something wasn’t right here.

He heard a faint rumble from somewhere deep inside the place, a rumble he felt as a slight vibration in the soles of his feet. On the night’s soft chill, he caught a whiff of something sweetly cloying, chemical. It was…kerosene?

The rumble got deeper, stronger. Like gathering thunder.

“What the fuck is that?” Kade hissed.

Niko smelled the tang of hot metal—

“Oh, shit.” He glanced at the other two warriors. “Go! Move it! Go, go, go!”

They all sprang into a dead run, hauling ass across the lot as the rumble became a roar. There was a deep percussion—sharp, violent—as the explosion erupted from within the bowels of the old building. Glass blew out from the top floor windows, shooting flames and thick black smoke in its wake.

And as the three of them watched in awe, the front door of the place banged open, tearing clean off its hinges. Not by the force of the blast, but by the will of a single individual.

Rolling orange fire silhouetted him from behind, backlighting the warrior’s broad shoulders and casual, long-legged stride. As he strolled away from the inferno, the ends of his loose black coat winged out behind him like a cape befitting the prince of darkness himself.

“Holy hell,” Brock murmured. “Tegan.”

Niko shook his head, chuckling at the blatant awe in the newbies’ faces. Not that it wasn’t deserved. They didn’t come much more impressive than Tegan, and this display was going to go down as legend, he was sure. Behind him now, the warehouse was engulfed in flames, throwing off heat like hell’s own furnace. It was incredible, really, a thing of roaring, violent beauty. By the blasé flatness of Tegan’s expression as he approached, he might as well have just come back from taking a piss.

“Everything good in there, T?” Niko quipped. “You need backup or anything? Bag of marshmallows to roast over that little campfire you just started?”

“It’s handled.”

“No shit,” Niko replied, he and the other two warriors watching sparks erupt from the burning warehouse, a plume of fire reaching high into the night sky.

Tegan strode past them as cool as could be, giving neither excuse nor explanation. But then it was always that way with him. He was the ghost you never saw coming, death breathing down your neck before you even realized you were in the crosshairs.

He was never less than thorough in combat, but the annihilation he’d delivered to the Crimson lab was beyond anything Niko had ever seen the warrior do before. Based on the intel he had on this place, it was probably manned by half a dozen Rogues—all of them dead at Tegan’s hand and a building that would be nothing but smoldering rubble in a couple of hours. If Niko didn’t know better, he’d be tempted to call it personal.

“Glad we could be of assistance to you, man,” Niko called after him, exhaling a wry curse.

“Damn, that dude is cold,” Brock remarked as Tegan disappeared into the darkness and the scattering flurry of snow.

“He’s ice,” Niko said, glad as hell that the Gen One warrior was on their side. “Come on, let’s roll before the place starts swarming with humans.”

Tegan walked back into the city alone, the scream of sirens wailing in the distance behind him. He didn’t have to turn around to know that a fiery glow lit the night down near the Chelsea. He smirked into the darkness. No matter how much water the Revere FD threw on the old warehouse, there would be no saving it. Tegan had made sure there would be nothing left once the smoke finally cleared. He’d wanted the place torched, with a ferocity he hadn’t felt in years.

Shit, it had been more than years since he’d known the kind of savagery that ran through his veins tonight. Centuries was more like it.

And the kicker was, it had felt damned good.

Tegan flexed his hands in the wintry bite of the evening air. He was still able to feel the pain he’d delivered on the Rogues tonight—the delicious horror that swamped the hearts of each one he had killed in the Crimson lab. He’d indulged in their anguish as the titanium sped through their blood, cooking them from the inside out.

Where he’d long ago learned to disengage his own emotions, the psychic power he possessed was beyond his control. Like all of the Breed, he had, in addition to the vampiric traits of his father, certain unique extrasensory abilities passed down from the human female who bore him. For Tegan, he had only to brush against another individual—be it human or vampire—and he knew what they were feeling. Touch someone, and he absorbed the emotions into himself, feeding from the connection like a leech to an open wound.

The gift had been both weapon and curse to him throughout his life; now it was his private vice. He used it as infrequently as possible, but when he did, it was with deliberate, sadistic relish. Better that he siphon enjoyment out of others’ pain and fear than let his own feelings rise up to rule him as they had before.

But tonight he’d felt the kindling of some inner satisfaction as he dealt death to the Rogues and the couple of Minions who’d evidently been recruited to continue the manufacture of Crimson. And after none of them were left breathing, the concrete floor of the old warehouse running red with blood and stinking with the cellular meltdown of the Rogues he’d offed with blades and bullets, Tegan had needed something more.

For reasons he had no interest in examining even now, he had stood in the center of the carnage he’d wrought, wanting nothing less than complete obliteration.

Fire and cinder, smoldering rubble. He had wanted the Crimson lab erased from existence, nothing but a scar of black ash on the empty lot where it stood.

And whether he wanted to acknowledge it or not, he knew that his want for destruction had more than a passing connection to Elise. It had been her face he’d seen in his mind as he lit the place up. It had been the thought of her grief that made him savor each of the Rogue deaths he delivered tonight.

Shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat, Tegan headed against the wind and cut down a South End side alley. He wasn’t sure where he was going, although he supposed he should have known. He recognized Elise’s shitty neighborhood even before he turned onto the street that would eventually dump him onto her block.

Tegan still couldn’t fathom her living in such squalid conditions. As the widow of a high-ranking Breed government official, Elise had to be more than financially set. She could have lived in any of the Darkhavens, wanting for nothing, whether or not she chose to take a new mate. That she had chosen to leave her old life to exist topside among basic humankind was surprising. She’d seemed so sheltered and fragile when he met her some four months ago. He couldn’t have been more shocked to find her earlier tonight, awash in Minion blood and armed like one of the Order.

But for all her defiance and resolve, Tegan had not missed Elise’s weariness. She’d appeared bone-tired and exhausted, in a way that seemed to go deeper than just plain fatigue. He supposed that was why he found himself outside her apartment again now.

He wasn’t about to go to the front door. It was late, she was probably asleep, and so long as it was dark outside, his priority one was the Order.

When he rightly should have kept on walking, Tegan instead slipped between Elise’s building and the one next to it, heading around to the back. The interior of her first-floor unit appeared dark as pitch from outside, but the acoustic foam covering the windows would have blocked out nearly any light. Even with the soundproofing in place, Tegan could hear the heavy bass of her stereo and the competing chatter of the TV. He ran a hand through his snow-dampened hair, then pivoted around and paced three long strides into the strip of backyard behind the place.

Forget about her and just walk away.

Yeah, that was damn well what he should do, all right. Put the heartbroken, beautiful female with the apparent death wish out of his head and walk the fuck away.

Except…

He crept closer to the building, scowling at the blocked glass of the windows. He didn’t hear anything other than music and television noise, but that was the thing that pricked his warrior’s senses onto alert.

That, and the faint tickle of a blood scent coming from within the apartment. Elise’s blood. His nose registered a subtle heather-and-roses sweetness that could only be the Breedmate inside. She was bleeding—perhaps not a lot by the trace scent of it, but it was impossible to tell much with brick and glass and three-inch-thick foam in the way.

Tegan opened the sash lock on the window with his mind—the second time he’d perpetrated a B&E on her place in one night—and lifted the heavy pane from outside. There was no screen, and it took all of a second to push away the acoustic panel and peer inside.

There were no lights on, but his vision was even sharper in the dark. Elise was there, on the futon, curled up in a tight, fetal ball, and still wearing the white terry robe from her shower several hours ago. Her arms were wrapped around her head in a protective cage, the short crown of silky blond hair mashed and spiked in complete disarray from her sleep.

She didn’t even stir as Tegan hoisted himself over the windowsill and swung himself inside, although he moved in silence and the audio racket in her place was deafening. Tegan willed the stereo and television to mute—and that’s when she suddenly shot straight up, not quite awake but jolted into a semiconscious panic.