Tempted by Midnight
Page 27
He didn’t deny it. He didn’t try to defend or justify anything she said. He let out a slow exhalation. His jaw was set and rigid, his aura uncompromising. “Whenever you’re ready, I’ll take you home to your family’s Darkhaven.”
“No, don’t bother. You’re not responsible for me, remember? I’ll find my own way home.” She tried to walk past him and he grabbed her arm, misery smoldering beneath the resolve in his dark blue eyes. “Let me go. That’s what you want, so I’m giving it to you.”
“Melena...”
She wrenched out of his loose grasp. “Good-bye, Lazaro.”
This time, he didn’t stop her. He stood unmoving, unspeaking, as she stepped around him and walked out the door.
CHAPTER 11
An hour later, Melena sat woodenly in the passenger seat of the Order’s SUV as it rolled up to her family’s Darkhaven in Baltimore. The big brownstone should have been a welcome sight in so many ways, yet all she felt was sorrow when she looked at it through the tinted glass of the vehicle’s window.
Sorrow that she’d never hear her father’s voice inside the house again. Sorrow for the pain her brother must be feeling as he walked into the empty home, believing he’d lost not only his father but Melena as well. She didn’t want to imagine Derek’s anguish, being the sole blood kin of Byron and Frances Walsh, both gone now.
And yes, Melena felt sorrow for herself too. Because instead of facing all of these heartaches with Lazaro’s strong arms around her and his love to hold her up if she crumbled, she would be doing it alone.
“I’m ready,” she murmured, more to herself than the Breed male behind the wheel.
Lucan and Gabrielle’s son, Darion, put the vehicle in park and turned a sympathetic look on her. “I’ll walk you inside, Miss Walsh.”
“No.” She shook her head, warmed by the kind offer. Darion was as gentlemanly as he was attractive. “Thank you, but that’s not necessary. My brother won’t be expecting me, and I don’t imagine it will be easy for him when I walk in the door and he sees that I’m alive. I’d rather do this on my own.”
“Okay.” Darion frowned, but gave her a nod. The dark-haired Breed male’s aura was golden and kind, steadfast with the strength of a born leader. “But I’m gonna wait here until you’ve gone inside.”
She reached over to touch his large hand. “Thank you.”
Melena climbed out of the vehicle and headed up the walkway toward the front door. It was unlocked, the soft light in the vestibule a warm, welcoming beacon. She stepped inside and pivoted to wave good-bye to Darion. As the black SUV rolled away, she took a steeling breath and closed the door behind her.
She was home.
She was back on safe, familiar ground. And yet, as she walked quietly through the house, she felt like a stranger to the place. Like a ghost drifting through a life that no longer quite fit anymore.
She drifted past the front rooms and grand central staircase, unsure if she should call to Derek or wait and let him adjust to seeing her once she found him.
She didn’t have long to wonder. She heard her brother talking farther down the hallway. In her father’s study. Derek was on a call with someone, the low rumble of his voice drawing Melena with a relief and a comfort she definitely needed right now.
“Yes, sir, the shipment is en route and everything is in order. That’s right, I saw to it personally.”
Melena paused at the open doorway. Derek stood with his back to her, dressed in loose sweatpants, his brown hair still wet from a recent shower. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and although the sight of her Breed brother’s glyphs were no surprise to her, something did make her breath catch abruptly in her throat.
Derek now sported a number of tattoos on his broad back and shoulders. Unusual-looking stars, crossed swords, some kind of black beetle—a scarab, she realized, confused by the body art that hadn’t been there the last time she saw her brother. He must have gotten the tattoos after he’d moved overseas a year ago.
“It should be in your hands tomorrow, Mr. Rior—” Derek’s voice dried up.
He realized he wasn’t alone now. Disconnecting the call without a word of excuse, he smoothly slipped the phone into his pants pocket.
When he pivoted around, his face was slack with shock...with stark disbelief.
“Melena. My God.” He frowned, gave a vague shake of his head. But he didn’t rush over to embrace her. He didn’t react the way she would have expected at all from a sibling who loved her, worried for her. “I don’t understand. The news reports said there were no survivors. I thought you were...”
“Dead,” she replied, only understanding in that instant why her brother seemed less than relieved to see her.
He hadn’t expected to see her again at all.
His sickening aura told the truth. It hovered around him, oily with corruption. Foul with deceit.
“It was you, Derek.” She could hardly form the words, could hardly reconcile what her senses were telling her. “You were the faceless, hidden betrayer he feared. Oh, my God...it was you who arranged for our father’s death.”
* * * *
Lazaro boarded the Order’s private jet in a hellish mood.
He hadn’t expected the conversation to go well with Melena, but damn if he anticipated the kind of pain that had lodged itself in his chest from the moment she stormed away from him. That ache was still there, cold and gnawing, creating a vacuum behind his sternum that he didn’t imagine would ever be filled.
“No, don’t bother. You’re not responsible for me, remember? I’ll find my own way home.” She tried to walk past him and he grabbed her arm, misery smoldering beneath the resolve in his dark blue eyes. “Let me go. That’s what you want, so I’m giving it to you.”
“Melena...”
She wrenched out of his loose grasp. “Good-bye, Lazaro.”
This time, he didn’t stop her. He stood unmoving, unspeaking, as she stepped around him and walked out the door.
CHAPTER 11
An hour later, Melena sat woodenly in the passenger seat of the Order’s SUV as it rolled up to her family’s Darkhaven in Baltimore. The big brownstone should have been a welcome sight in so many ways, yet all she felt was sorrow when she looked at it through the tinted glass of the vehicle’s window.
Sorrow that she’d never hear her father’s voice inside the house again. Sorrow for the pain her brother must be feeling as he walked into the empty home, believing he’d lost not only his father but Melena as well. She didn’t want to imagine Derek’s anguish, being the sole blood kin of Byron and Frances Walsh, both gone now.
And yes, Melena felt sorrow for herself too. Because instead of facing all of these heartaches with Lazaro’s strong arms around her and his love to hold her up if she crumbled, she would be doing it alone.
“I’m ready,” she murmured, more to herself than the Breed male behind the wheel.
Lucan and Gabrielle’s son, Darion, put the vehicle in park and turned a sympathetic look on her. “I’ll walk you inside, Miss Walsh.”
“No.” She shook her head, warmed by the kind offer. Darion was as gentlemanly as he was attractive. “Thank you, but that’s not necessary. My brother won’t be expecting me, and I don’t imagine it will be easy for him when I walk in the door and he sees that I’m alive. I’d rather do this on my own.”
“Okay.” Darion frowned, but gave her a nod. The dark-haired Breed male’s aura was golden and kind, steadfast with the strength of a born leader. “But I’m gonna wait here until you’ve gone inside.”
She reached over to touch his large hand. “Thank you.”
Melena climbed out of the vehicle and headed up the walkway toward the front door. It was unlocked, the soft light in the vestibule a warm, welcoming beacon. She stepped inside and pivoted to wave good-bye to Darion. As the black SUV rolled away, she took a steeling breath and closed the door behind her.
She was home.
She was back on safe, familiar ground. And yet, as she walked quietly through the house, she felt like a stranger to the place. Like a ghost drifting through a life that no longer quite fit anymore.
She drifted past the front rooms and grand central staircase, unsure if she should call to Derek or wait and let him adjust to seeing her once she found him.
She didn’t have long to wonder. She heard her brother talking farther down the hallway. In her father’s study. Derek was on a call with someone, the low rumble of his voice drawing Melena with a relief and a comfort she definitely needed right now.
“Yes, sir, the shipment is en route and everything is in order. That’s right, I saw to it personally.”
Melena paused at the open doorway. Derek stood with his back to her, dressed in loose sweatpants, his brown hair still wet from a recent shower. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and although the sight of her Breed brother’s glyphs were no surprise to her, something did make her breath catch abruptly in her throat.
Derek now sported a number of tattoos on his broad back and shoulders. Unusual-looking stars, crossed swords, some kind of black beetle—a scarab, she realized, confused by the body art that hadn’t been there the last time she saw her brother. He must have gotten the tattoos after he’d moved overseas a year ago.
“It should be in your hands tomorrow, Mr. Rior—” Derek’s voice dried up.
He realized he wasn’t alone now. Disconnecting the call without a word of excuse, he smoothly slipped the phone into his pants pocket.
When he pivoted around, his face was slack with shock...with stark disbelief.
“Melena. My God.” He frowned, gave a vague shake of his head. But he didn’t rush over to embrace her. He didn’t react the way she would have expected at all from a sibling who loved her, worried for her. “I don’t understand. The news reports said there were no survivors. I thought you were...”
“Dead,” she replied, only understanding in that instant why her brother seemed less than relieved to see her.
He hadn’t expected to see her again at all.
His sickening aura told the truth. It hovered around him, oily with corruption. Foul with deceit.
“It was you, Derek.” She could hardly form the words, could hardly reconcile what her senses were telling her. “You were the faceless, hidden betrayer he feared. Oh, my God...it was you who arranged for our father’s death.”
* * * *
Lazaro boarded the Order’s private jet in a hellish mood.
He hadn’t expected the conversation to go well with Melena, but damn if he anticipated the kind of pain that had lodged itself in his chest from the moment she stormed away from him. That ache was still there, cold and gnawing, creating a vacuum behind his sternum that he didn’t imagine would ever be filled.
