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Zael felt a jab of guilt for concealing Brynne and himself in the alley when Chase swept through earlier, searching for them. The Order was his ally, but if the warriors had a right to know about the secret Brynne was keeping, it would be on her terms and no one else’s.
On the main street, the Order’s SUV still sat vacant at the curb. Zael brought Brynne to the vehicle and carefully set her in the passenger seat. He couldn’t resist reaching out to stroke her cheek. She stirred slightly under his touch, but her eyelids remained closed. Her face was slack and peaceful in her sleep, as sweet and innocent as a kitten.
Zael gazed at the dark-haired beauty who had come into his life so unexpectedly and turned it upside down. He couldn’t deny the surge of possessiveness—the fierce protectiveness—that ran through him as he looked at her.
Brynne Kirkland was no helpless kitten in need of saving. She’d be the first to tell him that, more than likely with her fangs bared and claws unsheathed the instant she awoke from the drowse he’d put her under.
And given what he’d seen here tonight, he would do well to keep his distance.
Damn it, if he were smart, he’d leave Brynne and her problems to the Order right here and now, and vanish back to the colony and his people where he belonged.
Except he couldn’t stay away from this woman. Not since that first morning on the Order’s terrace patio. And sure as hell not after seeing the anguish in her eyes as she faced off against him, looking like something out of an old nightmare.
She could fight him all she wanted. She could hate him for refusing to do what she begged of him and leave her alone.
It wouldn’t change what he felt when he looked at her now.
She was his.
Zael closed the passenger door, then went around to hop into the driver’s seat of the SUV. As soon as he hit the ignition, the dashboard comm unit illuminated with Gideon’s face on the display.
“Zael,” the warrior said, surprise in his expression. “Jesus, where’ve you been, man? I’ve got two patrol teams scouring the city looking for you. Any sign of Brynne?”
He nodded. “She’s here with me.”
“Glad to hear it. Is she hurt?”
“No.” Zael glanced at her resting in the seat beside him. There was no trace of trouble in her features. Nothing left of the Ancient that lurked under her skin. “She’s fine,” Zael said. “I’m bringing her in now.”
CHAPTER 22
Brynne startled awake from a nightmare more disturbing than any she’d had in a long time. Her breath raced, sawing raggedly past her parted lips. Her head throbbed. Worst of all, the back of her throat was raw and bitter with the coppery taste of blood.
She moaned, her eyelids peeling open a fractional crack in the tranquil semidarkness. Soft mattress under her. Tall ceiling framed by elegant crown molding above her.
Thank God.
She was resting in her guest suite at Order headquarters¸ not crouching in some dank alley in Georgetown with a dead Rogue at her feet and her fangs sunk deep into the wrist of a dying human.
Nor was she standing in front of Zael, blood-soaked and seething, exposed to him as the monster she truly was.
Please…not that.
And yet the images flew at her too vividly to be a dream. Not even one of the hellish night terrors that had haunted her so frequently since her time in Dragos’s labs could top the sensory torment that clung to her now.
She turned her head on the pillow and was sickened to catch the sharp metallic stench of dried blood in her hair. The ends of the long tresses were stiff and matted, reeking of death.
The blood was real, not imagined.
Not a dream.
“No!” She shot upright on the mattress in her bra and panties, pawing at her hair in abject horror and revulsion. “Oh, no… No!”
