Midnight Awakening(93)
“I haven’t said those words in a very long time, Elise. I didn’t think I ever would again.”
“Don’t do that.” She sat up and drew out of his reach, embarrassed that he’d invaded her emotions with his touch. “And don’t feel that you have to say anything kind because of what just happened here.”
“I don’t feel that I have to say anything.”
“Good. Please don’t. I don’t think I could stand your charity right now.”
He reached out and took her hand in his. “If I tell you that it pissed me off to see you kissing Reichen, and that I never want to see you kissing any other male ever again, it’s not because I feel I have to tell you that.”
Elise stared at him, hardly daring to breathe. His amber-tinged eyes were intense as he held her gaze, his pupils still thinned from desire. When he spoke, his voice was rough, the tips of his fangs gleaming.
“I don’t feel I have to be kind because of what we just did here, so that’s not why I’m telling you that you are unlike any woman I’ve ever met before. I wasn’t prepared for you, Elise. Holy hell…not even close.”
She glanced down to where their hands were linked together, his strong fingers firm and protective, always so gentle with her even though they were trained for war and combat.
“It wouldn’t be charitable of me at all to tell you that I hope you never want another male as much as you want me.” He exhaled a wry laugh. “Do I love you? Yeah, God help you, but I do.”
“Tegan,” she whispered, bringing her hand up to rest against his cheek. The bite she’d given him was already healing over, his skin knitting together. She touched the red mark tenderly, then looked up into his eyes. “Kiss me again.”
His mouth quirked at the corner as he pulled her into his arms. They had barely gotten started before a low buzzing sound drew Tegan’s head up with a groan.
“What is it?” she asked as he vaulted out of the bed and grabbed his cell phone from his discarded pants.
“It’s our ride back to Boston. I’ve arranged a flight out tonight.”
He answered the call, his tone clipped and serious—back to warrior mode in an instant. “Yeah. Right. Tegel Airport. Corporate terminal. Departure in one hour.”
Elise slid off the mattress and padded over to where Tegan stood, naked and gorgeous. She wrapped her arms around him, pressing the front of her body against the hard muscles of his backside. She nipped his shoulder blade, smiling as goose bumps rose along the beautiful dermaglyphs on his arms. She heard his low growl of interest and couldn’t help but smile as he cast a heated look at her.
“You’d better make it two hours from now,” he instructed the person on the other end of the line. “Something’s just come up.”
Elise glanced down as he turned to face her. Something had indeed come up—quite impressively, in fact. She backed away, her lip caught in her teeth as Tegan disconnected the call, his hooded eyes rooted on her.
He tossed the phone aside.
Then he pounced.
CHAPTER
Twenty-eight
They slept most of the trip back to Boston, Elise contentedly curled up in Tegan’s arms. He’d told her that the Minion who attacked her at Irina’s was dead. He’d also informed her that the human mind slave was just one of several in Berlin who’d been given orders by Marek to hunt her down. Elise had accepted the news with her usual calm understanding, but Tegan couldn’t help holding her a bit tighter as she dozed across his lap.
Marek was a treacherous enemy. He’d been a formidable warrior, ruthless in battle, often unnecessarily cruel. Tegan had known Lucan’s elder brother well, had trusted him with his life more than once on the field. They’d fought side by side in the Old Times, when the Breed was young and trouble with Rogues was commonplace. Marek had been one of the original members of the Order, but he’d always been the renegade. He balked at his younger brother’s command—Lucan was founder of the warrior class and a natural-born leader, two things Marek seemed unable to accept. Impatience and arrogance were Marek’s strongest traits, and the two things that prevented him from getting the respect he felt he deserved.
The fact that he’d been presumed dead for so long—some six centuries—only to resurface in Boston with obvious plans to target the Order, seemed to indicate that Marek had somehow learned to bide his time. He’d shown great patience in staying hidden as long as he had, and Tegan had no doubt that the vampire had been using those years to his benefit. He had a plan, and he was slowly but surely putting it into motion. That the name Dragos was suddenly in the mix, along with the Odolfs’ cryptic ramblings, hinted at trouble of a very old nature.