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Hunter drifted closer to the unidentified woman, hardly aware his feet were moving until he was standing directly before her. She looked up at him then, lifting the perfect oval of her face until her gaze had traveled past the blood-spattered length of him and their eyes were locked on each other.
She was a stranger to him, yet, somehow, strangely familiar too.
He cocked his head, trying to puzzle out the peculiar sense that he'd seen her somewhere before. He blurted the thought that was banging around in his brain. "Do I know you ...?"
Gabrielle cleared her throat and walked over as if she meant to protect the female from him. "Corinne, this is Hunter. He's a member of the Order. Say hello, Hunter."
He grunted the greeting, still staring at her.
"I saw you the night of the rescue," she said quietly. "You were one of the warriors who brought me and the others to Claire and Andreas's Darkhaven."
So, she'd been among the captives Dragos had been holding. He supposed that made sense. He gave a vague nod, his curiosity somewhat satisfied by her reminder. But he hadn't seen her in Rhode Island, he was almost certain of it. He felt sure he'd remember that face, those luminescent eyes.
"I'm afraid we still don't have an ETA on Brock and Jenna," Gideon told the dark-haired beauty. "The weather report out of Alaska doesn't look good for another three days, minimum."
"Three more days?" Corinne's smooth forehead creased with a small frown. "I really need to get home. I need my family now."
Lucan blew out a sigh. "Understood. Since Brock is a few thousand miles and a couple of blizzards away from Boston at the moment, someone else will have to - "
"I will take her." Hunter felt Lucan's stare land on him the instant the words left his mouth. He met the other Gen One's gaze and gave a decisive nod. "I will see that she gets home safely to her family."
It seemed a simple enough task to manage, yet everyone in the immediate vicinity had fallen into a sudden, lengthy silence. The most stricken of all seemed to be Corinne herself. She stared up at him mutely, and for a second he wondered if she was going to refuse his offer.
"It will take about fourteen hours by car," Gideon said. "That's a couple of days total, since we're talking about night travel only. If you left right now, you could put in about a hundred miles before the sun starts to rise. Or I could have one of our corporate planes fueled up and ready to go at sundown. A couple hours of flight time and you're there."
Lucan stared hard at him, then gave a nod. "The quicker, the better. I'm gonna need you back on patrol tomorrow night."
"Consider it done," Hunter replied.
Chapter Four
Chase sat in the dark alone, hunkered down on his haunches in a shadow-filled corner of the compound's small chapel.
He didn't know why his boots had carried him in here, to the quiet, candlelit sanctuary instead of his personal quarters farther down the corridor. He'd never been one to seek counsel or forgiveness from a higher power, and God knew he was likely too far gone for prayer anyway. He sure as hell wasn't holding out any hope of absolution. Not from above, and not from Lucan or his other brethren of the Order either. Not even from himself. Instead he nursed his fury. He welcomed the agony of his wounds, the fiery kiss of deep pain that made him feel alive. Just about the only thing that gave him any feeling at all. And, like a junkie, he pursued that feeling with reckless, desperate abandon. Better than the alternative.
Pain was the dark, wicked high that kept him from craving another, more dangerous mistress.
Without pain, all he would have was hunger.
He knew where that would end, of course.
His intellect wasn't as lost as his body or his soul; reason told him that one day this ugly itch of his would kill him. There were some nights - more and more, lately - that he simply no longer cared.
"Sterling, are you in here?"
The feminine voice made his head jerk up, commanding his full attention just as it had in the corridor outside the elevator a few minutes ago. He cocked his head and listened for her movements, even as the addict in him craved the isolation of the shadows that concealed him from her sight.
He drew upon those shadows, reaching deep into the well of his personal Breed talent to gather the gloom around him. It was a struggle to summon his gift; harder still to hold it in place. He let go not even a moment later, hissing a rough curse as even the shadows abandoned him.
"Sterling?" Elise called softly into chapel.
Her footsteps were careful as she entered, as though she didn't feel entirely safe with him. Smart woman. But still, she didn't pause to back away and leave as he would have liked.
"I've just been to your quarters, so I know you didn't go there." She exhaled, her sigh sounding confused and not a little sad. "You can hide from my sight, but I feel your presence in here. Why won't you answer?"
"Because I have nothing to say to you."
Harsh words. And wholly undeserved, particularly by the female who was Tegan's Breedmate of the past year, and, long before that, the mourning widow of Chase's own brother. Quentin Chase had been blessed immeasurably when Elise chose him for her mate - and he'd had no idea that his younger brother had harbored a secret, shameful lust for the happiness Quent and Elise had known.
