Tegan walked back into the city alone, the scream of sirens wailing in the distance behind him. He didn't have to turn around to know that a fiery glow lit the night down near the Chelsea. He smirked into the darkness. No matter how much water the Revere FD threw on the old warehouse, there would be no saving it. Tegan had made sure there would be nothing left once the smoke finally cleared. He'd wanted the place torched, with a ferocity he hadn't felt in years.
Shit, it had been more than years since he'd known the kind of savagery that ran through his veins tonight. Centuries was more like it.
And the kicker was, it had felt damned good.
Tegan flexed his hands in the wintry bite of the evening air. He was still able to feel the pain he'd delivered on the Rogues tonight--the delicious horror that swamped the hearts of each one he had killed in the Crimson lab. He'd indulged in their anguish as the titanium sped through their blood, cooking them from the inside out.
Where he'd long ago learned to disengage his own emotions, the psychic power he possessed was beyond his control. Like all of the Breed, he had, in addition to the vampiric traits of his father, certain unique extrasensory abilities passed down from the human female who bore him. For Tegan, he had only to brush against another inpidual--be it human or vampire--and he knew what they were feeling. Touch someone, and he absorbed the emotions into himself, feeding from the connection like a leech to an open wound.
The gift had been both weapon and curse to him throughout his life; now it was his private vice. He used it as infrequently as possible, but when he did, it was with deliberate, sadistic relish. Better that he siphon enjoyment out of others' pain and fear than let his own feelings rise up to rule him as they had before.
But tonight he'd felt the kindling of some inner satisfaction as he dealt death to the Rogues and the couple of Minions who'd evidently been recruited to continue the manufacture of Crimson. And after none of them were left breathing, the concrete floor of the old warehouse running red with blood and stinking with the cellular meltdown of the Rogues he'd offed with blades and bullets, Tegan had needed something more.
For reasons he had no interest in examining even now, he had stood in the center of the carnage he'd wrought, wanting nothing less than complete obliteration.
Fire and cinder, smoldering rubble. He had wanted the Crimson lab erased from existence, nothing but a scar of black ash on the empty lot where it stood.
And whether he wanted to acknowledge it or not, he knew that his want for destruction had more than a passing connection to Elise. It had been her face he'd seen in his mind as he lit the place up. It had been the thought of her grief that made him savor each of the Rogue deaths he delivered tonight.
Shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat, Tegan headed against the wind and cut down a South End side alley. He wasn't sure where he was going, although he supposed he should have known. He recognized Elise's shitty neighborhood even before he turned onto the street that would eventually dump him onto her block.
Tegan still couldn't fathom her living in such squalid conditions. As the widow of a high- ranking Breed government official, Elise had to be more than financially set. She could have lived in any of the Darkhavens, wanting for nothing, whether or not she chose to take a new mate. That she had chosen to leave her old life to exist topside among basic humankind was surprising. She'd seemed so sheltered and fragile when he met her some four months ago. He couldn't have been more shocked to find her earlier tonight, awash in Minion blood and armed like one of the Order.
But for all her defiance and resolve, Tegan had not missed Elise's weariness. She'd appeared bone-tired and exhausted, in a way that seemed to go deeper than just plain fatigue. He supposed that was why he found himself outside her apartment again now.
He wasn't about to go to the front door. It was late, she was probably asleep, and so long as it was dark outside, his priority one was the Order.
When he rightly should have kept on walking, Tegan instead slipped between Elise's building and the one next to it, heading around to the back. The interior of her first-floor unit appeared dark as pitch from outside, but the acoustic foam covering the windows would have blocked out nearly any light. Even with the soundproofing in place, Tegan could hear the heavy bass of her stereo and the competing chatter of the TV. He ran a hand through his snow-dampened hair, then pivoted around and paced three long strides into the strip of backyard behind the place.
Forget about her and just walk away. Yeah, that was damn well what he should do, all right. Put the heartbroken, beautiful female with the apparent death wish out of his head and walk the f**k away.
Except...
He crept closer to the building, scowling at the blocked glass of the windows. He didn't hear anything other than music and television noise, but that was the thing that pricked his warrior's senses onto alert.
That, and the faint tickle of a blood scent coming from within the apartment. Elise's blood. His nose registered a subtle heather-and-roses sweetness that could only be the Breedmate inside. She was bleeding--perhaps not a lot by the trace scent of it, but it was impossible to tell much with brick and glass and three-inch-thick foam in the way.
Tegan opened the sash lock on the window with his mind--the second time he'd perpetrated a B&E on her place in one night--and lifted the heavy pane from outside. There was no screen, and it took all of a second to push away the acoustic panel and peer inside.
There were no lights on, but his vision was even sharper in the dark. Elise was there, on the futon, curled up in a tight, fetal ball, and still wearing the white terry robe from her shower several hours ago. Her arms were wrapped around her head in a protective cage, the short crown of silky blond hair mashed and spiked in complete disarray from her sleep.