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None of the Darkhaven males said a word as she finished her diatribe and waited for their reaction. They were looking past her now, Agent Waldemar the palest of them all.
Chapter Seventeen
Tegan had known it was a mistake to walk into the reception. He'd been half a mile away from the mansion on foot when the urge suddenly struck him to go back and make his presence known to all of the Darkhaven idiots who thought they were better than him.
Or maybe he just wanted to make his presence known to the woman who had been turning his head inside out since the moment he first met her. Some masochistic part of him wanted to stake a claim here, even though he fully expected her to be appalled by his presence--much like everyone else who saw him strolling into their pleasant little party dressed for war.
What he never expected was to hear Elise rising to his defense as if he needed to be protected from a bunch of blowhards in tuxedos and bow ties. He couldn't remember the last time he felt the sting of humiliation, but he felt it now, left standing alone with Elise as the rest of the crowd shrank back.
Excuse me, she said, ignoring his demand that she explain herself. Without waiting for him to speak, she simply walked away. Tegan stood there, following her with his eyes as she deposited her empty wineglass on a server's tray and headed for the wall of glass doors that looked out over the estate's lakefront back lawn and gardens. When she slipped outside alone, Tegan snarled a curse and went after her. She was halfway to the water by the time he reached her, the frozen grass crunching under the slender heels of her shoes.
Tegan grabbed her arm and pulled her to a stop. You want to explain to me what that was about back there?
She shrugged. I didn't like what I was hearing. Those self-righteous stuffed shirts' as you call them were wrong, and they needed to hear it.
Tegan exhaled sharply, his breath misting in the chill air. Look, I don't need anyone coming to my defense--especially not with a bunch of assholes like that. I fight my own battles. Next time, spare me the concern.
Her eyes narrowed in the dark as she stared up at him. No, you can't accept even the smallest kindness from anyone, can you, Tegan?
Last time I checked, I was doing just fine on my own.
She laughed at him. Threw her pretty head back and really laughed, right in his face. You're unbelievable! You can take on an army of Rogues all by yourself, but you're scared to death that someone might actually care for you. Or even worse, that you might be tempted to care for someone else.
You don't know the first thing about me.
Does anyone? She yanked her arm out of his light hold. Her face seemed stark in the moonlight, her soft features drawn tight. Go away, Tegan. I'm tired and I just...I really want to be left alone right now.
He watched her lift her long indigo skirt above her pale ankles as she began another trek farther out toward the dark lake glistening at the end of the lavish grounds. She paused in the shadows of an old stone boathouse at the shoreline, her arms wrapped around herself. Tegan considered doing as she asked, just turning around and letting her have her space. But now he was pissed off and he wasn't about to let Elise deliver him a verbal slap in the face and simply walk away.
He was fully prepared to lace into her for presuming to know anything of what he'd been through or for thinking she could possibly know how he felt, but as he came up behind her he saw that she was trembling. Not just shuddering from the cold, but really shaking.
Jesus Christ, was she crying?
Elise...
She shook her head and pivoted to move farther up the lawn, out of his reach. I said go away!
Tegan went right after her, moving faster than her human eyes would be able to track him. He stopped in front of her, blocking her path. Pale, tear-filled eyes lifted and widened before she pivoted to get around him. She didn't make it even a single step. He reached out, holding her still, his fingers wrapped over her trembling bare shoulders.
Her grief sliced through him the instant his hands made contact. He hadn't helped the situation any, but most of what she was feeling was something bleaker than the anger he stoked in her. Tegan felt her emotions seep in through his fingertips, registering the cold ache of loss. It was fresh again, like a wound ripped open before it had fully healed.
What happened in there?
Nothing, she lied, her voice thick with sorrow. It will pass, right?
The very words he'd said to her at her apartment when he'd callously dismissed her bereavement. She threw them back at him now, her flashing lavender eyes daring him to say something kind, or to so much as think he might offer her comfort.
He wanted to offer that to her. The realization hit him hard, squarely in the center of his chest. He didn't want to see her in pain.
He wanted...God, he didn't even know what to want when it came to this woman.
I know what you're going through, he admitted quietly. I understand loss, Elise. I've been there too.
Ah, hell.
What was he doing? Some ancient part of him roused in a defensive panic as soon as the words left his tongue. He hadn't aired out his bleak history in ages. He knew he was exposing the soft belly of a long-sleeping beast, but it was too late to call the admission back.
Elise's expression muted from distress to tender surprise. A sympathy he wasn't sure he was ready to accept. Who did you lose, Tegan?
