Lara Adrian's Midnight Breed 8-Book Bundle (67 page)

“What’s the matter? Too bright for you, vampire?” He grinned through bloodstained teeth. In his hand was a piece of broken drawer, which he held before him like a jagged club. “How about a little lesson from
Die Hard
?”

He swung his arm back and shattered the window, knocking the blinds askew and sending glass flying all around them. Sunlight poured in, searing Dante’s eyes behind his shades. He roared at the sudden agony shredding his corneas, and in that brief second of inattention, Ben Sullivan rolled out from under him, trying to escape.

Temporarily blinded, his skin heating up through his protective clothing and sizzling where the light met his exposed flesh, Dante tracked the Minion with his other senses, all of them heightened as his rage transformed him. Fangs stretched long in his mouth. Pupils narrowed on the other side of his dark lenses.

Launching up into the air, he leaped across the room in one fluid motion, pouncing on Sullivan from behind. The impact took both of them to the floor. Dante gave the Minion no chance to react. He grabbed him by his chin and brow and leaned down so that his sharp fangs brushed the bastard’s ear.

“Yippeekayay, muthafucker.”

With a sharp twist, Dante snapped the Minion’s neck in his hands.

He dropped the limp corpse to the floor, vaguely aware of the acrid smell in the air and the faint sizzle that buzzed in his ears like a swarm of flies. Pain washed over him as he stood up and turned away from the broken window. He heard the heavy pound of boots outside the room, but he could hardly force his eyes to focus on the dark shape that filled the space between the jambs.

“It’s all clear out—holy shit.” Niko’s voice trailed off, and then the warrior was at Dante’s side, ushering him out of the light-washed room at an urgent clip. “Oh, Jesus, D. How long were you exposed?”

Dante shook his head. “Not that long. Bastard knocked out the window.”

“Yeah,” Niko said, his voice oddly grim. “I can see that. We have to get you out of here, man. Come on.”

CHAPTER Thirty-six

H
oly. Hell.”

The black-clad warrior in the front seat of the SUV with Tess—Chase, he’d been called—threw open the driver’s-side door and leaped out, just as Dante and another man came running out of the clinic.

But Dante wasn’t so much running as he was stumbling, his body being held up by the warrior helping him out. His head was dropped down against his chest, uncovered, and the front of his fatigues were torn open, exposing the tawny skin of his torso, which glowed a fiery red in the bright light of the morning.

Chase opened the SUV’s back door and helped the other man get Dante inside. Dante’s fangs were long, the sharp points glinting white with each breath he dragged in through his open mouth. His face was contorted in pain, his pupils thin black slits in the middle of bright amber irises. He was fully transformed, the vampire Tess should fear but couldn’t now.

His friends worked fast, their grim silence making Tess’s blood run cold. Chase shut the back door and ran around to the driver’s seat. He hopped in, threw the vehicle into gear, and they were off.

“What happened to him?” she asked anxiously, unable to see blood on Dante or any other indication of injury. “Is he wounded?”

“Exposure,” said the one she didn’t know, his urgent tone tinged with a Slavic accent. “Fucking Crimson dealer busted out a window. Dante had to take the bastard down in direct sunlight.”

“Why?” Tess asked, watching Dante shift on the backseat, feeling his agony and the concern that emanated from both of his grave companions. “Why would he do this? Why would any of you do this?”

With small but determined movements, Dante managed to strip off one of his gloves. He reached out to her from where he lay.

“Tess…”

She took his hand in hers, watching his strong fingers engulf her own. The emotion that traveled through their connection reached deep inside her, a warmth—a knowledge—that stole her breath.

It was love, so profound, so fierce, it rendered her speechless.

“Tess,” he murmured, his voice little more than air. “It was you. Not my death…yours.”

“What?” She squeezed his hand, tears welling in her eyes.

“The visions…It wasn’t me, but you. I couldn’t—” He broke off, inhaling sharply through obvious anguish. “Had to stop it. Couldn’t let you…no matter what.”

Tess’s tears spilled over, running down her cheeks as she held Dante’s gaze. “Oh, God, Dante. You shouldn’t have risked this. What if you had died in my place?”

His lip lifted slightly at the corner, baring the edge of one sharp, gleaming fang. “Worth it…seeing you here. It was worth…any risk.”

Tess grasped his hand in both of hers, furious and grateful, and not a little terrified of how he looked, lying in the back of the vehicle. She held on to him and didn’t let go until they had arrived at the compound. Chase parked the SUV in a cavernous hangar filled with dozens of other vehicles. They all got out, and Tess just tried to stay out of the way while Dante’s companions lifted him out of the car and moved him to a bank of elevators.

Dante’s condition seemed to be worsening as each minute passed. By the time they descended and the elevator doors opened, he could hardly stand up on his own. A group of three other men and two women met them in the corridor, everyone flying into swift action.

One of the women came up to Tess and put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I’m Gabrielle, Lucan’s mate. Are you all right?”

Tess shrugged, then gave a vague nod. “Will Dante be okay?”

“I think he’ll fare better if he knows you’re near.”

Gabrielle gestured for Tess to follow her down the corridor to the infirmary, the very wing where she had fled Dante in fear earlier that day. They entered the room where Dante had been brought, and Tess watched as his friends removed his weapons, then carefully stripped him out of his fatigues and boots and placed him in a hospital bed.

Tess was moved by the concern of all in the room. Dante was loved here, accepted for what he was. He had a family here, a home, a life—and yet he’d risked it all to save her. As much as she wanted to fear him, to resent him for everything that had gone between them, she couldn’t. She looked at Dante, suffering in sacrifice for her, and all Tess felt was love.

“Let me,” she said softly, moving to Dante’s bedside. She met the worried faces of the other people who cared for him—the warriors gathered around him, the two women whose tender gazes said they understood what she was feeling. “Let me help him…please.”

Tess touched Dante’s cheek, stroking his strong jaw. She concentrated on his burns, letting her fingers trail down over his bare chest, over the beautiful markings that were blistered and raw, churning with angry color. As gently as she could, Tess placed her hands on the seared flesh, using her gift to draw away the radiation, take away the pain.

“Oh, my God,” whispered one of the warriors. “She’s healing him.”

Tess heard the awestruck gasps, the words of hope that traveled among Dante’s friends—his family. She felt some of their affection pouring over onto her, but as welcome as the warmth of their regard was, Tess’s entire focus was on Dante. On making him well.

She leaned over him and pressed a kiss to his slack mouth, unfazed by the rasp of his fangs against her lips. She loved him wholly, just as he was, and she prayed for the chance to tell him so.

Dante was going to live. His UV burns had been severe—easily life-threatening—but his Breedmate’s healing touch had ultimately proven more powerful than the death that stalked him. Like the others at the compound, Chase had been astonished at Tess’s ability and at her clear devotion to Dante. She had stayed by his side every moment, caring for him as he had done for her when he’d rescued her from the Rogues’ attack.

Everyone agreed they would make a good match: both of them strong as individuals; together they would be unbreakable.

With the worst of the storm past and the compound settling down into a peaceful sense of calm at the arrival of night, Chase’s thoughts turned homeward too. His own journey wasn’t at an end yet; the road ahead of him was murky and uncertain. Once it had all seemed so clear to him, what his future should hold, where he belonged…and with whom.

Now he wasn’t sure about anything.

He said his good-byes to the warriors and their mates, then left, heading out of the Order’s world, back to his own. The drive back into the city was quiet. The wheels of his borrowed vehicle were spinning, the road falling away behind him, but where was he going, after all?

Could he really call the Darkhaven home anymore? With his senses honed from the short time he’d spent in the company of the warriors, his body weighted down by all the metal he was carrying under his coat—the sundry blades, the Beretta 9mm that had somehow become a comforting presence against his hip—how could he ever expect to integrate back into the staid life he’d once known?

And what of Elise?

He could not go back to that tormented existence of wanting a woman he might never have. He’d have to tell her how he felt about her and let the chips fall where they may. She had to know everything. Chase didn’t delude himself with the hope that she might welcome his affection. In fact, he wasn’t even sure what to hope for. He only knew that the half-life he was living was over, starting now.

Chase turned onto the Darkhaven’s gated drive with a sense of freedom washing through him. Things were about to change for him. While he couldn’t guess at how everything might shake down from here, he felt liberated to know that he had reached a turning point in his life. He pulled up the gravel driveway and parked near the Darkhaven residence.

The house was lit up from within, Elise’s bedroom and living quarters glowing with soft light. She was awake, probably anxiously waiting for him to return with word from the compound.

Chase killed the engine and opened the door of the vehicle. The instant his boots hit the ground, he got a prickling sense that he was not alone. He pocketed the keys and got out, discreetly unbuttoning his pea coat as he stood. His eyes scanned the night shadows, peering into the darkness for some sign of the enemy he knew was there. His ears were attuned to every subtle noise in his surroundings—the rustle of naked branches as the breeze soughed through them; the muffled drone of the stereo in the house, Elise’s favorite soft jazz playing in the background….

And then, running counterpoint to all of that, the raspy wheeze of someone breathing not far from where Chase stood. There was a crunch of gravel behind him. Chase’s fingers were already curled around the grip of the 9mm as he slowly pivoted to face the threat.

Camden.

The déjà vu that hit Chase was like a cannon blast to the gut. But his nephew looked even worse than before, if that was possible. Caked in dried blood and gore, grisly evidence of recent kills that had not slaked his thirst, Camden came away from the hedge that had concealed him and loped closer. His huge fangs dripped saliva as he sized up Chase as his next fix for the Bloodlust that had taken over his body and mind. He had been unreachable when Chase encountered him in Ben Sullivan’s apartment. Now he was dangerous and unpredictable, a rabid dog left to go feral too long.

Chase looked at him sadly, full of remorse for the fact that he hadn’t been able to find him—hadn’t been able to save him—in time to prevent this irrevocable transformation to Rogue.

“I’m so sorry, Cam. This never should have happened to you.” Under the fall of his dark wool pea coat, Chase flipped off the Beretta’s safety, slid the weapon out of the holster. “If it could be me instead, I swear…”

Behind him now, up at the house, Chase heard the metallic click of the front door opening, then Elise’s sudden indrawn gasp. Time slowed at once. Everything spun out, reality descending into the thickness of a sluggish dream, a nightmare that began the instant Elise stepped outside.

“Camden!” Her voice seemed oddly distant, slowed like the rest of the moment. “Oh…God…Camden!”

Chase swiveled his head toward her. He shouted for her to stay back, but she was already running, holding her arms wide, her white widow’s garb fluttering around her like delicate moth’s wings as she flew toward her son. Toward her certain and violent death, if Chase allowed her to get close enough to touch the Rogue vampire that had been her beloved son.

“Elise, stay back!”

But she ignored him. She kept coming, even when her tear-filled eyes focused on Camden’s fearsome, hideous appearance. She choked on a sob, but her arms stayed open to him, her feet still moving across the lawn and down to the driveway.

In his peripheral vision, Chase saw the Rogue’s savage amber gaze shift attention to Elise. Fixed on her now, the Bloodlusting vampire let out a terrible snarl, lowering into a crouch. Chase pivoted around and put himself squarely between mother and son. He had the pistol drawn and level before he even realized it.

Another second ticked by.

Elise was still coming, faster now, weeping and calling Camden’s name.

Chase measured the distance with his gut, knowing that there were only seconds left before this confrontation would end in tragedy. He had no choice. He had to act. He couldn’t stand by and risk her life—

The blast of gunfire cracked like thunder in the night.

Elise screamed. “No! Oh, God—nooo!”

Chase stood there, numb, his finger still squeezing the trigger down. The titanium-filled bullet had hit its target squarely in the center of the chest, dropping the Rogue to the ground. Already the sizzle of death had begun, erasing all doubt that there might have been a chance to save Camden from the Bloodlust that possessed him. The Crimson had turned him into the walking dead; now it was ended. Camden’s suffering was over.

Elise’s—and Chase’s too—had only begun.

She raced up to him and beat her fists against him, making contact with his face, his shoulders, his chest, anywhere she could strike him. Her lavender eyes were swamped with tears, her beautiful face pale and stricken, her voice lost to the hitching sobs and wails that poured out of her throat.

Chase took the abuse in silence. What could he do? What was there to say?

He let her vent all of her hatred on him, and only when she finally stopped, pivoting around to collapse on the ground near the body of her son as the titanium quickly reduced his remains to ash, did Chase find the will to move. He stared at her hunched form trembling on the gravel driveway, his ears ringing with the mournful sounds of her grief. Then, in weary silence, he let the gun slip from his loose grasp.

He turned away from her, and from the Darkhaven sanctuary that had long been his home, and walked off into the darkness alone.

Dante jolted awake, his eyelids flying open, breath sawing out of him. He’d been trapped by a wall of fire, blinded by the flames and ash. Unable to reach Tess. He sat up, panting, the vision still raw in his mind, scraping at his heart.

Oh, God, if he’d failed…

If he’d lost her…

“Dante?”

A profound relief swamped him at the sound of her voice, at the glorious realization that Tess was right there with him, seated at his bedside. He’d woken her from a drowsy sleep; she lifted her head from her arms, her hair in disarray, her gentle eyes shadowed with fatigue.