Midnight Awakening(16)

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.

“It’s okay, Elise. You’re all right.”

She didn’t seem to hear him. Her lavender eyes were wide, but out of focus, and not just from the lack of light in the apartment. She moaned as if in pain and flopped off the futon in a clumsy sprawl, her hands casting about frantically for the remote near her feet. She grappled for the device and began pushing the buttons in a frenzy. “Come on, turn on, damn it, turn on!”

“Elise.” Tegan walked over to her and knelt down beside her. He scented more blood on her and when he lifted her chin with the edge of his hand, he saw that her nose was bleeding. Scarlet droplets stained the bright white lapel of her bathrobe, some fresh, and some from an earlier bleed. “Jesus…”

“Turn it on!” she howled, then she glanced over and saw the open window, the loose acoustic foam hanging askew. “Oh, God. Who moved that panel? Who would do something like that!”

She pushed herself to her feet and hurried over to repair the breach, slamming the window closed and throwing the lock. Her hands moved restlessly over the soundproofing as she tried to wedge the material back into place over the glass.

“Elise.”

No response, just a deepening sense of anxiety radiating out from her petite form under the white terry robe. With a keening moan, Elise gripped her temples in both hands and slowly sank to the floor below the window, as if her legs just gave out beneath her. Huddled tight on her folded knees, she leaned forward, rocking herself back and forth.

“Make it stop,” she whispered brokenly. “Please…just…make it stop.”

Tegan approached her slowly, not wanting to upset her any further. With a curse, he crouched down, and carefully put his hand on the delicate arch of her spine. Fingers spanned wide, his senses open to the connection, Elise’s pain shot into him like an electrical current.

He felt the splintering agony of the migraine that gripped her, felt the hard thud of her heartbeat ringing in his ears as if it were his own. He tasted acid on his tongue, his teeth aching from the force with which she clenched her jaw to combat the torment that was riding her.