“Yes, you do need to feed. But you’re not going anywhere. For one thing, it’s morning beyond that door. For another, the only place you’re going is back to D.C. with me.”
“My team—”
“We’ve got a search unit going in tonight to find them. We’ll comb every godforsaken corner of Siberia until we locate—”
“They’re dead,” Micah growled. “They’re all fucking dead. I should be too.”
He lifted his head then, and from over Tegan’s shoulder, his gaze pierced through everyone and landed on Phaedra. He blinked once, dark lashes falling over the stormy lavender eyes that had haunted her for over a week.
Eyes she was certain would’ve haunted her forever if she wasn’t staring into them right now.
She inhaled a stunned breath. “It’s him.”
At her almost soundless murmur, Tamisia glanced over. “Him, who?”
“Him,” she whispered, backing away from the group and tugging Sia with her. “The Breed warrior in the forest wasteland.”
“You mean, the one you dreamt about?”
Phaedra nodded, swallowing in disbelief. “I thought he was just part of the nightmare. I thought he was killed with the others in the dream, but Sia, it’s him. He’s real.”
Faith, how could it be possible that he was standing in front of her now? How was any of this possible?
“You.”
All the fine hairs at the back of Phaedra’s neck rose at the guttural scrape of his voice. When she looked his way, she drew in a sharp breath at the fury she saw in his narrowed eyes. The lavender burned away in an instant, changing to a fiery amber that seared her from across the room.
All the hard angles and shadowed hollows of his face sharpened as he glowered at her. Behind the harsh line of his sneer, the points of his fangs erupted to fill his mouth.
He let out a dark, animal roar and surged forward, knocking Tegan out of the way as he charged for Phaedra. As he lunged, she leaped back, raising her hands in reflex. But she didn’t need to summon her light to protect herself.
Snarling and gnashing his teeth, Micah was stopped only inches from her, halted by no less than three large Breed males and one former Atlantean soldier.
Even in his weakened state, it took all four of them to hold him back as he fumed and fought to get at her, his molten eyes trained on Phaedra in murderous rage.
“You,” he seethed. “You were there.”
Heart slamming against her rib cage, she shook her head. “No. That’s impossible. It . . . you . . . none of this can be real.”
“I saw you.” The accusation boiled through his teeth and fangs as he bucked against the hands that restrained him from killing her where she stood. “I saw your glowing hands right before the explosion lit up the sky.”
Tegan’s green gaze sliced her way. “What’s he talking about?”
“It . . . it was a dream.” Phaedra shook her head again, feeling the weight of every pair of eyes locked on her now. “About a week ago, I had an awful nightmare—”
“She was there,” Micah snarled, fire filling his irises. “The night my team was incinerated. I saw her. I spoke to her. Fucking Atlanteans. I should’ve taken you out when I had the chance.”
He made another grab for her, practically dragging the other males with him. The burst of energy cost him, though.
His breath rolled heavily through his parted lips, sweat beading on his face and powerful chest. His chin sagged, all of his powerful muscles trembling with strain. One of his knees started to give out, but several pairs of arms kept him upright.
When Micah’s body slumped into semiconsciousness, Tegan cursed. “Let’s get him back down to the infirmary and get him fed while he can still drink on his own.”
Lazaro Archer nodded. “I’ll have a blood Host brought in at once.”
“As for you,” Tegan said, swiveling at hard look at Phaedra, “it sounds like you have some explaining to do.”
“It was only a dream.” She inclined her head. “I promise you, I have nothing to hide.”
“You’d better hope not.”
“She’s telling the truth,” Sia said, stepping forward with all the authority of her former status as an Atlantean council elder. “I was with Phaedra when she woke from her dream. I’ve never seen my friend so upset or distressed. In fact, she still hasn’t fully recovered. That’s why she’s going away to the colony to rest for a little while.”
“Not anymore, she’s not.” Tegan’s clipped reply was an unmistakable command. With his arms under Micah to help keep the big warrior on his feet, he sent a glower at Phaedra. “You don’t leave this property unless and until I say so.”
CHAPTER 5
Micah took one last, long pull from the blood Host’s wrist before sweeping his tongue over the punctures to close and heal the human’s skin.
Shuddering as the thin red cells coursed down his throat, he sagged back onto his infirmary bed and waited for the blood to start doing its work on his depleted body. His father and Lazaro Archer had caught him up to speed on how Tegan had found him in a nomad’s tent on the Kazakhstan wilderness after nights of searching, and the coma that had slowed his metabolism just enough for him to cling to life until Lazaro had arranged for his medevac to Rome.
His outburst in the mansion’s foyer a short while ago had cost him precious strength, but already the blood he’d taken from his Host was knitting him back together.
He could have drunk more. Christ, he needed the nourishment and then some. But if he’d been allowed to take his fill right now, he might’ve drained the pleasant, yet forgettable, woman Lazaro had brought in from the city to feed him.
Eyes closed, he listened over the drum of his strengthening heart and bloodstream as the human accepted her payment, then slipped back into her coat and was escorted out of the room. Her footsteps faded up the corridor outside, accompanied by the heavier tread of the warrior who’d been tasked with returning her to the city.
“You scared the poor female half to death.”
Micah lifted his eyelids and slid his gaze toward his father, who stood frowning at him beside the narrow cot. Groaning, he let out a slow breath, still waiting for his body to fully recalibrate. “I was as gentle with her wrist as I could manage.”
Tegan shook his head. “Not the blood Host. Phaedra.”
“The Atlantean?” Micah scoffed, recalling her startlement in the foyer. Unfortunately, he also recalled how soft and feminine she looked in her simple summer dress and delicate flats. “She ought to be scared. She’s got to answer for the blood of five good men on her hands.”
“We don’t know that yet.”
“Like hell we don’t. She was there that night. It’s not like I’d forget that face.” Fuck, not even if he wanted to. Even before he saw her today, those wide, long-lashed golden eyes had been branded into his memory for good.
Not even the coma that had claimed him for the past week had been dark enough or deep enough to erase the vision of her delicate oval face, thick waves of glorious chestnut-brown hair, and ethereal, almost regal, beauty.
Sure, she was pretty, but that only made her more dangerous.