He gave a slow shake of his dark head. "It's too late for that. There's no going back, Dylan. I'm sorry."
"You're sorry," she hissed. "I'll tell you what you are. You're insane! You're sick in your goddamn head - "
With a smooth flex of muscle, he came out of his lean near the wall and within one instant he was standing in front of her. Not even a bare inch separated them. He reached out as if he was going to touch her cheek, his fingers hovering so near, yet resisting.
Dylan's heart slammed in her chest but she didn't move away. She couldn't - not when he was holding her in that smoldering, almost hypnotic, topaz gaze.
Was she breathing? God help her, she wasn't sure. She waited to feel his touch light on her skin, astonished to realize just how badly she wanted it. But on a slow growl, he let his hand fall back down to his side.
He bent his head close to her ear. His deep voice was a whisper of heat across her throat. "Eat your meal, Dylan. It would be a shame to waste good food when you know you need the nourishment."
Well, that went down about as smoothly as a glass of razor blades.
Rio locked her door, then stormed into his adjacent guest room, hands clenched at his sides. There had been a time when he would have carried out a task like this with charm and diplomacy. Hard to imagine himself in that role now. He'd been blunt and ineffective, and he couldn't blame all of that on his lingering head trauma or the hunger that was gnawing at him like wolves on carrion.
He didn't know how to handle Dylan Alexander.
He didn't know what to make of her, or what to make of his own unwilling reaction to her.
Since Eva, there hadn't been another woman to pique his interest beyond the most basic physical need. Once he'd been strong enough to leave the compound - long weeks into his recovery - Rio had satisfied his carnal itch the same way he slaked his hunger for blood. With cold, impersonal efficiency. It seemed so strange to him, a male who had unrepentantly enjoyed life's many pleasures as a vital part of living itself.
But he hadn't always been that way. It had taken him many years to rise above the dark origins of his birth and do something meaningful, to make something good of his life. He thought he had. Hell, he'd really thought he'd had it all. It vanished in an instant - one blinding, white-hot instant a summer ago, when Eva sold the Order out to their enemy.
Rio had long thought his Breedmate's betrayal had ruined him for anyone else, and a part of him had been glad to be rid of emotional entanglements and the complications that came with them.
But now there was Dylan.
And she was in that next room thinking he was a lunatic. Not that far off the mark, he admitted grimly. What would she think once she realized that what he'd told her just now was the truth?
It didn't matter.
Before long, she would know everything. A decision would be placed before her, and she would have to choose her path: a life in the sheltering arms of the Darkhavens, or a return to her old life, back among humankind.
He didn't plan on sticking around to find out which door she picked. He had his own path to walk, and this was merely a frustrating detour.
A rap on the closed door of his guest suite snapped Rio out of his grim thoughts.
"Yeah," he barked, still glaring with self-directed anger as the panel swung wide and Reichen entered.
"Everything go all right?" the Darkhaven male asked.
"Just f**king great," Rio growled, as sharp as a blade.
"What's up?"
"I'm going into the city tonight and I thought you might like to join me." He glanced meaningfully at Rio's dermaglyphs, which were flushed with deep color. "The place is decadent, but very discreet. As are the women who work there. Give any of Helene's angels an hour of your time, and I guarantee you they'll make you forget all your troubles."
Rio grunted. "Where do I sign up?"
Chapter Eleven
The Berlin brothel that Reichen brought him to that evening was everything Rio had been told to expect - and then some. Prostitution had been legalized here a few years ago, and as far as beautiful, ready, willing, and able women went, the sex club Aphrodite was clearly home to the cream of the crop.
Three of the club's finest examples, wearing nothing but minuscule G-strings, danced together in a slow grind in front of the private table where Rio and his Darkhaven host were seated with the club's stunning female owner, Helene. With her long dark hair, flawless face, and sinuous curves, Helene herself would fit right in with the flock of gorgeous young females in her employ. But beneath her blatant sex appeal, it was obvious that the woman had a shrewd business mind and enjoyed being the one calling the shots.
Reichen certainly seemed content to let Helene have her head with him. Situated beside her on the crescent-shaped velvet seat across from the one Rio occupied by himself, Reichen lounged against the tufted squabs with one foot propped on the squat round cocktail table in front of him, his thighs spread wide in order to give Helene's roaming hands free access to whatever they might find intriguing.
At the moment, she seemed focused on teasing him, sliding her scarlet-polished nails up and down the inner seam of his tailored pants while she conducted a hushed, don't-bullshit-me conversation in German on her cell phone.
Reichen met Rio's gaze from across the short distance and nodded in the direction of the three females gyrating and stroking one another just an arm's length away.
"Help yourself, my friend - to one or all of them. Your choice. They're here for your personal amusement, compliments of Helene when I told her I'd be bringing you by tonight."
Helene sent a catlike smile at Rio as she continued to conduct her club business like the tigress she no doubt was. As she spoke curt instructions into her cell, Reichen smoothed her dark hair off her shoulder and traced his fingertips tenderly along the side of her neck.