As they neared a stairwell that led to an upper floor of the house, Elise’s veins lit up with an electric kind of intuition. She could almost feel Tegan’s heart beating inside her own body, his labored breath a constriction in her own lungs.
“Lucan,” she whispered, pointing to the open door. “It’s Tegan. Up there.”
He moved into the unlit well and peered up the stairs. “Stay close, and stay behind me.”
Together they climbed the steep, narrow steps. At the top was a barred door. Lucan lifted the metal lock. He glanced back at her, and even in the darkness she could see the expression that seemed to caution her to brace herself for whatever they might find on the other side.
Tegan was alive behind that closed door—that much she was sure of—and that’s all she needed to know. “Do it, Lucan,” she whispered.
He pushed the door open and barreled through like a freight train, drawing a large blade and burying it into the Minion guard who pounded toward them in attack. Elise held back her scream as another one moved in and got like reward, going down in a bleeding, heavy crumble to the wood-planked floor.
But it was the sight of Tegan that nearly ripped a keening howl from her throat. Shackled to a pair of thick beams with irons on both wrists and ankles, his body bowed out, hanging limply from its restraints. His beautiful face was nearly concealed by the lank droop of his sweat-soaked, blood-coated hair, but Elise could still see the damage there. He was bloodied and beaten all over from a recent bout of torture, his body not yet having the time to speed healing to the abused tissue and bones.
She thought him unconscious until a visible tension suddenly crept over his muscles. He knew she was there. He felt her presence just as she would know his anywhere.
“Tegan…” She started to run to him, but drew back sharply when he lifted his head and she saw the razor-edged glint of fury in his eyes. “Oh, God…Tegan.”
“Get out of here!” His voice was raw gravel. The amber eyes glaring at her from under the bruised brow were filled with animal rage and pain. His fangs were enormous, more deadly than she’d ever seen them. He railed against the chains that held him. “Goddamn it! Get the fuck out of here now!”
“Tegan.” Lucan stepped up now, approaching warily but without hesitation. He reached out to take hold of one of the manacles fastened to Tegan’s wrist. “We’re taking you out of this place.”
“Get back,” he growled.
Lucan sniffed at the air. “What the fuck?” He wiped his thumb under Tegan’s nose, where a faint pink crust had collected. “Ah, Christ, Tegan. Crimson?”
“Marek…he gave me a lot of the shit, Lucan…” Tegan grunted, the slits of his pupils going thinner in the middle of all that glowing amber. “You get it now? It’s Bloodlust. I’m too far gone.”
“No, you’re not,” Elise told him.
“Jesus,” he hissed through the huge fangs. “Leave me—both of you! If you want to help me, Lucan, get her the hell out of here. Get her far away from here.”
Elise walked up to him and gently touched his matted hair. “I’m not going anywhere. I love you.”
As she tried to soothe Tegan, Lucan tore the shackle and chain free from the post with a mighty yank of his arm. Tegan’s right arm dropped down loosely, metal clanking. When he reached for the other, it was Tegan who growled a warning.
“Lucan—”
Too late.
The gun blast cracked sharply in the dim room, an orange explosion coming from near the stairwell. Lucan took the hit in his back and went down on one knee. Another shot rang out, but the reporting ping said it missed the target and hit stone instead.
More gunfire erupted as two Minions and a Rogue—Marek’s henchman, all of them armed with semiautomatic weapons—poured in and started squeezing off rounds. Elise felt a heavy weight curl down around her, pulling her into the shelter of hard muscle. Tegan’s breath sawed roughly in her ear, but his free arm was wrapped around her, his body arched over her to protect her from the fray.
She felt helpless, watching Lucan battle three opponents while she cowered in the cage of Tegan’s body. Lucan dodged many of the rapid-fire rounds, but a good lot of them hit their mark. The Gen One warrior weathered the assault, returning fire as the dance of combat put the room in a smoke-filled, ear-splitting chaos. The Rogue went down in the fray, killed by Lucan’s titaniumlaced bullets. The body sizzled and convulsed on the floor, writhing as death swiftly claimed it.
When one of the Minions came in closer, his sights trained on Lucan, who was eluding the gunfire of another and sending back more of the same, Elise reached down to feel for the hilt of her dagger. She pulled it loose of the sheath, knowing she would have to throw it, and she would have only one shot.