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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!”
Warm hands came to rest on her shoulders. Calm permeated her panic, and she realized it was Zael’s touch on her now, his deep voice at her ear as he came to sit beside her on the bed. “Shh, it’s okay. You’re safe, Brynne.”
“No.” She was shaking, her heart banging inside her rib cage. “It’s not okay.”
Breaking out of his light hold, she scrambled to the edge of the mattress. Her stomach roiled with disgust for what she’d done.
For what Zael must have seen.
She felt naked, exposed. Sick with herself for countless reasons, including the fact that he was looking at her with a sympathy and understanding that she didn’t deserve.
“My clothes…”
“They were ruined,” he said. “I took them off you so you’d be more comfortable.”
Frowning, she glanced at the closed door that sealed her inside the room with him. She didn’t remember returning. She didn’t remember anything after the blinding explosion of light that had filled her head. “How did I…?”
“I brought you back from Georgetown with me,” he answered as he rose to his feet beside her. “As for the rest, I told Tavia and everyone else that I found you in the alley unconscious. I told them I guessed you must’ve fainted after your struggle with a Rogue.”
“Fainted.” She scoffed quietly, gesturing to his hands. “I saw your palms glowing. You zapped me with them. You knocked me out.”
He stared at her, a flicker of remorse in his eyes. There was still a combativeness inside her that flared at the thought of being overpowered by anyone—even if her behavior invited it. But it was difficult to hold on to her anger toward Zael, knowing she had left him little choice but to defend himself.
He could have done anything to her in that alley tonight after he’d subdued her with his light, even kill her. Instead he brought her back to the shelter of the command center. He’d sat with her while she slept. Now he stood here offering comfort when she wouldn’t blame him if he wanted nothing to do with her ever again.
Instead of turning away from her in fear or abhorrence, he had looked after her. Protected her. And he still was.
“You lied to my sister and the Order for me.”
ugh he could teleport using the crystal amulet at his wrist, he couldn’t take her with him that way. Only Atlanteans could connect to the energy and use it to leap from one location to another.
Scooping her up, he rose to his feet and carried her out of the alley. The city was ghostly quiet, no sign of the warriors on this dark, empty stretch of asphalt.
