Defy the Dawn
Page 8
“Our indiscretion.” Dark amusement lit his eyes. “If I recall correctly, I wasn’t the one thrusting my tongue down someone’s throat on a crowded dance floor then drunkenly suggesting we needed to tear each other’s clothes off and get horizontal ASAP.”
If she could have wilted into the leather seat, she would have gladly done so. Thank God she didn’t go to bed with him. It was unbearable enough just to think she might have.
Cheeks flaming with outrage, she lifted her chin. “As you so accurately pointed out, I’d had too much whisky and it went to my head. I wasn’t myself. I had no idea what I was saying and I sure as hell didn’t mean any of it.”
Zael grinned. “Don’t get me wrong. I liked who you were on that dance floor, Brynne. I hope I’m going to see that woman again, but preferably when she’s sober.”
She scoffed. “None of that would’ve happened if I’d been sober. Nor will it ever again.”
“You sure about that?”
“Completely.”
Although it hadn’t been purely whisky doing the talking with Zael back in the bar. Or the kissing. Or…the rest of it.
She wanted to think so then. She desperately wanted to believe so now too.
She wanted to reassure herself that what happened with him had been an impulsive mistake. One that would not be repeated.
But she knew better. The one person she couldn’t fool was herself.
And possibly Zael.
She could see that by the way he looked at her as the jet began its descent into D.C. air space. He held her unsettled gaze with unflinching, arrogantly assured intensity, as if he was recalling every second of their encounter the same way she was. As if he still felt the hard drum of desire in his veins too.
Brynne wanted to deny what she saw in him, what she felt.
But the truth sizzled in the air around them, and in those fathomless bright blue eyes that told her in irrefutable terms that what happened between them on that dance floor back in Cheapside was only a beginning, not an end.
CHAPTER 6
Brynne still wasn’t speaking to him, even after they arrived at Order headquarters that morning. As soon as they’d touched down at the airport and were met by Tavia and her hulking warrior son, Aric—both of them daywalkers—Brynne had been swept into the military-grade black SUV amid tight hugs and anxious chatter with her sister.
As for Zael, he’d ridden shotgun up front with Aric, all too conscious of Brynne’s disgust with him and the tension that only seemed to expand for every minute she strived to act like he didn’t exist.
When they were brought into a private meeting room where Lucan Thorne and the rest of the Order’s senior command had already assembled, she stubbornly kept her distance, taking a position as far away from him as she could get. Zael might have been tempted to continue goading her just for the pleasure of it, but the gravity of the situation facing everyone now demanded all of his attention.
Live feed from London filled the monitors that lined the back wall. On another wall, three more Breed warriors looked in on the meeting via video screens—one reporting in from Berlin, another from Rome, the other from Montreal. Zael had been briefly introduced to both of them in this same manner his first time to Order headquarters a few days ago.
He nodded to Andreas Reichen and Lazaro Archer, the European-based commanders, then to Nikolai, the formidable Siberian-born Breed male in charge of operations in Canada.
The mood in the room was thick with solemnity as the gathered members reviewed the carnage of last night and discussed their next tactical move against Opus Nostrum.
“Tell all of your teams to increase patrols immediately,” Lucan growled from the head of the long conference table. “I want every recruit in combat gear tonight. We need an obvious Order presence in every major city starting at sundown.”
Zael didn’t miss the pause in conversation as he strode inside. He was still a stranger in their midst. The outsider they had no choice but to trust.
How it happened that he—a former warrior of the Atlantean queen’s legion—had recently found himself in the position of advisor and ally to blood-drinking killers spawned from his people’s greatest enemies, he had no idea.
Except the group of Breed males in the room with him were not killers. Not brutal animals like their race’s Ancient fathers had been.
Not cowardly murderers like the skulking, anonymous members of Opus Nostrum.
The men of the Order were warriors, like Zael once was—before he defected from Selene’s vengeful reign to walk a different path, far away from her Atlantean court.
As of a few days ago, the Order wanted him to return to the fray—fighting on their side this time. Against his own people, if that’s what it came down to. He’d gone away thinking they asked too much. He still hadn’t decided if he was ready to stand against his queen, but he couldn’t deny that tonight Opus Nostrum had earned another enemy in him.
“It’s a relief to see both of you are safe,” Lucan said, extending his hand to Zael in greeting. He nodded to Brynne, who vigilantly kept her position near Tavia across the large room. “We’re still collecting intel from our back channels and teams on the ground, but so far it looks like JUSTIS was the only target. They wanted to make a statement.”
“And they did,” Zael agreed. “But thugs like these thrive on making bold statements. That’s how they build their empires. That’s how they ensure the loyalty of their true believers.”
On the video feed from Montreal, Nikolai uttered a curse. “Not to mention ensuring there’s enough chaos and fear that a terrorized public will be ready to do anything to make it stop.”
Sterling Chase dropped his fist on the conference table. “Not on our watch. Goddamn it, this shit with Opus has gone too far already. Multiple assassinations. The attempt to blow up the GNC peace summit a few weeks ago. Manufacturing and distributing Breed-killing UV technology, and narcotics to turn any law-abiding Breed into a blood-craving monster. Their list of criminal acts is as long as my fucking arm.” The Boston commander’s fury only gentled as he glanced at Tavia. “And then, a couple of nights ago, the bastards took our daughter.”
“We got Carys back,” Tavia said, holding his tormented gaze. “She and Rune are both safe and celebrating their blood bond. Thanks to everyone in this room. Especially Brynne.”
If she could have wilted into the leather seat, she would have gladly done so. Thank God she didn’t go to bed with him. It was unbearable enough just to think she might have.
Cheeks flaming with outrage, she lifted her chin. “As you so accurately pointed out, I’d had too much whisky and it went to my head. I wasn’t myself. I had no idea what I was saying and I sure as hell didn’t mean any of it.”
Zael grinned. “Don’t get me wrong. I liked who you were on that dance floor, Brynne. I hope I’m going to see that woman again, but preferably when she’s sober.”
She scoffed. “None of that would’ve happened if I’d been sober. Nor will it ever again.”
“You sure about that?”
“Completely.”
Although it hadn’t been purely whisky doing the talking with Zael back in the bar. Or the kissing. Or…the rest of it.
She wanted to think so then. She desperately wanted to believe so now too.
She wanted to reassure herself that what happened with him had been an impulsive mistake. One that would not be repeated.
But she knew better. The one person she couldn’t fool was herself.
And possibly Zael.
She could see that by the way he looked at her as the jet began its descent into D.C. air space. He held her unsettled gaze with unflinching, arrogantly assured intensity, as if he was recalling every second of their encounter the same way she was. As if he still felt the hard drum of desire in his veins too.
Brynne wanted to deny what she saw in him, what she felt.
But the truth sizzled in the air around them, and in those fathomless bright blue eyes that told her in irrefutable terms that what happened between them on that dance floor back in Cheapside was only a beginning, not an end.
CHAPTER 6
Brynne still wasn’t speaking to him, even after they arrived at Order headquarters that morning. As soon as they’d touched down at the airport and were met by Tavia and her hulking warrior son, Aric—both of them daywalkers—Brynne had been swept into the military-grade black SUV amid tight hugs and anxious chatter with her sister.
As for Zael, he’d ridden shotgun up front with Aric, all too conscious of Brynne’s disgust with him and the tension that only seemed to expand for every minute she strived to act like he didn’t exist.
When they were brought into a private meeting room where Lucan Thorne and the rest of the Order’s senior command had already assembled, she stubbornly kept her distance, taking a position as far away from him as she could get. Zael might have been tempted to continue goading her just for the pleasure of it, but the gravity of the situation facing everyone now demanded all of his attention.
Live feed from London filled the monitors that lined the back wall. On another wall, three more Breed warriors looked in on the meeting via video screens—one reporting in from Berlin, another from Rome, the other from Montreal. Zael had been briefly introduced to both of them in this same manner his first time to Order headquarters a few days ago.
He nodded to Andreas Reichen and Lazaro Archer, the European-based commanders, then to Nikolai, the formidable Siberian-born Breed male in charge of operations in Canada.
The mood in the room was thick with solemnity as the gathered members reviewed the carnage of last night and discussed their next tactical move against Opus Nostrum.
“Tell all of your teams to increase patrols immediately,” Lucan growled from the head of the long conference table. “I want every recruit in combat gear tonight. We need an obvious Order presence in every major city starting at sundown.”
Zael didn’t miss the pause in conversation as he strode inside. He was still a stranger in their midst. The outsider they had no choice but to trust.
How it happened that he—a former warrior of the Atlantean queen’s legion—had recently found himself in the position of advisor and ally to blood-drinking killers spawned from his people’s greatest enemies, he had no idea.
Except the group of Breed males in the room with him were not killers. Not brutal animals like their race’s Ancient fathers had been.
Not cowardly murderers like the skulking, anonymous members of Opus Nostrum.
The men of the Order were warriors, like Zael once was—before he defected from Selene’s vengeful reign to walk a different path, far away from her Atlantean court.
As of a few days ago, the Order wanted him to return to the fray—fighting on their side this time. Against his own people, if that’s what it came down to. He’d gone away thinking they asked too much. He still hadn’t decided if he was ready to stand against his queen, but he couldn’t deny that tonight Opus Nostrum had earned another enemy in him.
“It’s a relief to see both of you are safe,” Lucan said, extending his hand to Zael in greeting. He nodded to Brynne, who vigilantly kept her position near Tavia across the large room. “We’re still collecting intel from our back channels and teams on the ground, but so far it looks like JUSTIS was the only target. They wanted to make a statement.”
“And they did,” Zael agreed. “But thugs like these thrive on making bold statements. That’s how they build their empires. That’s how they ensure the loyalty of their true believers.”
On the video feed from Montreal, Nikolai uttered a curse. “Not to mention ensuring there’s enough chaos and fear that a terrorized public will be ready to do anything to make it stop.”
Sterling Chase dropped his fist on the conference table. “Not on our watch. Goddamn it, this shit with Opus has gone too far already. Multiple assassinations. The attempt to blow up the GNC peace summit a few weeks ago. Manufacturing and distributing Breed-killing UV technology, and narcotics to turn any law-abiding Breed into a blood-craving monster. Their list of criminal acts is as long as my fucking arm.” The Boston commander’s fury only gentled as he glanced at Tavia. “And then, a couple of nights ago, the bastards took our daughter.”
“We got Carys back,” Tavia said, holding his tormented gaze. “She and Rune are both safe and celebrating their blood bond. Thanks to everyone in this room. Especially Brynne.”
