Thanks to his Breed genetics, the worst of his wounds were mending, but too slowly. If he didn’t feed soon, the burns would be the least of his concerns.
His vision still burned, even in the low light of the room. Fever from his thirst painted everything in shades of red. Glancing down at his hands where they rested atop his thighs, he watched the colors of his dermaglyphs churn and roil in all the shades of hunger.
The deep purples and dark reds edged dangerously close to black—the stage at which he would have little to no control over the ferocity of his need for blood.
By the look of his glyphs and the gnawing hollowness of his body, he couldn’t be more than a few hours away from that edge.
He had a choice to make.
Lie back down and wait to join his comrades in death, or get up and fight to live.
Live to avenge them, by doing whatever it would take to bring down Selene and all who serve her.
That was enough to live for.
Hell, it was more than enough reason.
Reaching up, he tore the monitoring wires away from his chest. The ones on his arms and hands came off next. He tossed the leads in a tangle on the narrow bed as he pushed himself up to his feet and tested the shaky strength of his legs.
His head swam, his senses whirling as he struggled to hold his balance.
Shit.
He hated feeling out of control. Despised the unfamiliar weakness of his body. His father was a Gen One Breed, which meant Micah’s blood was among the purest of his kind. Yet he rocked on his bare feet as if he were a human toddler just learning to stand.
Fury alone kept him upright.
Fury would carry him out of wherever he was now, and outside to hunt for a vein.
Once he’d fed, once his body had taken enough fresh red cells to heal itself, fury would keep him on the path toward justice for his fallen brethren.
He wasn’t going to rest until he had it.
And he would let no one stand in his way.
CHAPTER 4
“I’m still not sure this is a good idea.” Dressed in a casual, cotton summer dress and flats, Phaedra set her small travel bag down in the grand foyer of the Order’s Rome headquarters to greet her friend. “I’ve never been away from the shelter for as much as a day since I opened it.”
“That’s exactly the point.” Sia arched a platinum brow before pulling Phaedra into a brief embrace. “This little break is long overdue.”
Phaedra sighed, uncertain, as she met her fellow Atlantean’s gaze. “Maybe I should rethink the whole idea. After all, I haven’t been back to the colony in ages.”
It was no exaggeration. The enclave of immortals who had defected from the larger realm of Atlantis millennia ago would always be her people, but it had been nearly a century since Phaedra had left their mist-shrouded island to make a new life for herself among the mortals in Rome.
During those many decades away from her Atlantean people, she had lived fully, loved deeply, and had lost more profoundly than she believed possible. Now, her life was devoted to helping others. All that mattered to her was trying to bring a bit of light to a fragile world that seemed eternally cursed by violence and self-destruction.
For the scores of terrified and abused women and children who’d sheltered in her home over the years, the food and safe haven she provided had often meant the difference between life and death. Sometimes, Phaedra’s efforts weren’t enough to save them. It was those rare few that haunted her sleep. The failures. The circumstances she had been powerless to change.
Her dreams were haunted with another face now, too.
She didn’t even have to close her eyes to see the harsh handsomeness of the Breed warrior with the piercing lavender gaze.
He’d crowded her thoughts like a ghost for the past week. Despite that he wasn’t real—that none of her awful nightmare existed anywhere but in those fitful, disturbing moments of her sleep—Phaedra still recalled the cold accusation in his deep voice when he realized she was Atlantean. She still felt the stunning heat from the blast of otherworldly light that had ignited without warning, incinerating everything in its reach.
She could still hear the anguished screams that ripped through the wasteland in the instant before she woke up.
She shook her head, more in an effort to chase away the terrible memories than anything else.
Not that it worked. So far, nothing had.
She didn’t think a week at the colony would be much help, either. Idle days on a mystical Mediterranean island would only give her more time to think. More time to relax, and possibly fall back into the dream she never wanted to visit again. She didn’t need a vacation. What she really needed was to keep busy, like always.
Hesitating, she caught her lip between her teeth. “This is a mistake, Sia. I should go back to the shelter—”
“The shelter will be just fine without you until you return. Trygg and I will see to that personally.” Looping her arm around Phaedra’s, Tamisia started guiding her farther into the mansion. “Anyway, you can’t back out now. Zael and Brynne are already here, waiting to bring you to the colony with them.”
As she spoke, Sia walked Phaedra to one of the large rooms off the foyer. The quiet rumble of conversation faded to a pause as they reached the entrance. Seated inside on sumptuous sofas and chairs were several members of the Rome command center she’d met through Sia and Trygg, along with Ekizael and Brynne, the mated couple who in recent months had taken on a diplomatic role between the Breed warriors of the Order and the Atlanteans of the colony.
Another Breed male sat with the group as well, someone Phaedra had never seen before. Tawny-haired and grim, he glanced at her in unreadable silence from across the room, his broad shoulders hunched forward as if he carried a heavy burden on his back, his big hands clasped together between his spread knees.
As she entered the room with Sia, all of the males rose, including the stranger. Her fellow Atlantean was the first to greet her. Zael’s golden handsomeness and dazzling smile belied the fact that he had once served in the highest ranks of their queen’s legion of deadly guards.
“Phaedra. It’s been a long time. How good to see you again.”
“You as well, Ekizael.”
He reached out to the stunning brunette beside him and brought her closer. “This is my mate, Brynne.”
“Hello, Phaedra.” The tall beauty spoke with a refined British accent. “I’ve very much been looking forward to meeting you.”
“Likewise,” Phaedra said, returning Brynne’s warm smile and greeting. “The pleasure is mine, Brynne.”
Although this was their first face-to-face introduction, Phaedra was well aware of the daywalking Breed female who had captured Zael’s seemingly untamable heart. That she was gorgeous came as no surprise, but there was also a keen intelligence and courage in Brynne’s eyes.
As for Zael, he gazed at his mate with unmasked pride—and no wonder. Brynne had recently won the trust and respect of the entire colony when she helped defeat a traitor who had not only slain one of their council elders, but had also intended to steal an irreplaceable treasure—the colony’s sacred, powerful crystal.
Without it, the hidden enclave would have no protection from the outside world, including the whims of their mercurial queen, Selene, whose reign over the larger Atlantean realm appeared to be growing increasingly desperate . . . and volatile.