Lucan gave a careless shrug, refusing to let the human goad him. "Apparently he wasn't the only one involved in conspiracy. Benson's murder by JUSTIS officers today obviously means the director had secret enemies of his own."
Crowe frowned as if to express regret, but the emotion didn't quite make it to his eyes. "We live in dangerous times, I'm sure you'd agree. And I have to say, I'm surprised at the lack of security response after the violence at today's hearing. I would've guessed the Order to come in tonight like a battalion on the march."
Lucan grunted, cool and unfazed. "This is a peace summit event, not a combat zone. Your men must've missed the memo."
Crowe chuckled, looking around at his uniformed guards who patrolled the party like a SWAT team.
"Makes me wonder whose interests you're protecting more," Lucan added. "The summit, the attendees . . . or your own."
Now the magnate's humor vanished, and his smile was anything but pleasant. "I happen to view those things in equal importance. Especially after the Order allowed someone like Jeremy Ackmeyer to be abducted under their watch - by one of their own fallen members, no less. I'm of the opinion we can't be too careful when it comes to protecting the interests of our future, Chairman Thorne."
"On that we are agreed," Lucan replied stiffly.
Crowe lifted his glass and drained it in one long swallow. He glanced to Gabrielle, gave her a gallant nod. "If you'll excuse me, I have guests to greet."
He didn't wait for a response. Spotting a Breed ambassador from South America arriving with his attractive blond mate, Crowe glided smoothly away, vanishing into the throng of tuxedos and evening gowns.
Gabrielle stared after him, then scoffed under her breath. "What an ass**le."
Lucan grunted and drew her close to his side. "He is that, all right. And he's up to something. I can smell it on the son of a bitch."
He sent a glance to Tegan and Dante across the room, then a meaningful nod in Crowe's direction. They would be watching the human closely tonight.
And if any of the Order got so much as a whiff of cause to be concerned, the bastard was going to be taken down - whether the whole world was watching or not.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
KELLAN WAS DREAMING OF LILIES.
Their sweet fragrance wreathed his senses like a silken ribbon. Pulled him gently to the surface, out of a dark, heavy slumber.
He was alive.
He opened his eyes. Blinked slowly as he focused on his surroundings. He was in a bed. A hospital - no, the Order's D.C. headquarters infirmary. He knew this place, had landed there after combat more than once in his distant past. But never like this.
And never with Mira nestled against him.
A rush of emotion swamped him.
He was alive.
And yet he knew he'd been dead. He remembered the moment when the blackness closed in and he lost his grip on the corporeal world. He'd tried so hard to hold on. He hadn't wanted to go. Hadn't wanted to leave her. He could still feel the sense of panic, of marrow-deep loss, as his connection to Mira thinned and stretched . . . then snapped, sending him drifting away from her, unmoored, lost in a sea of darkness.
He had died.
He understood that.
Yet here he was, given another chance to live. Tess and Rafe, he realized now. It was their hands that healed him. Their voices that told him to hang on, to reach for the line they were throwing to him.
And then there was Mira.
She'd saved him too. He could still taste her lily-sweet blood on his tongue. It had found him, healed him, just when he needed it most. Her strength, her power, her love.
Their bond had defied death, and he had never felt so humbled by anything before in all his days. He loved this woman - his woman, his eternal mate. He needed her more than air, more than anything else this life could give him. His heart swelled with love for her, reborn and renewed, beating as hard and strong as a drum.
Mira stirred beside him, coming awake on a soft sigh. She wore the same black fatigues she'd had on when he last saw her, but they were bed-rumpled now, stained in places with his blood. Her blond braid was a wreck, more loose than not, pale hair framing her face in wispy tendrils. He'd never seen a more welcome sight.
She lifted her head, sucked in a shallow gasp as she looked at him and saw his eyes open, gazing back at her. "Kellan . . . Oh, God. You're awake. You came back to me." He smiled but had no chance to speak before Mira crushed his mouth in a fierce kiss. She drew back and stared at him, her eyes dancing behind the purple veil of her lenses. "You're really here with me."
He managed a nod before she kissed him again, more tenderly this time, her hands cupping his face. She kept looking at him, searching his eyes, drinking him in with open joy and affection. Then she scowled, hissing a dark curse. "Don't you ever leave me again, Kellan Archer."
"Never," he vowed, his voice thick and rusty.
Her scowl deepened. "If you do, I promise you, right here and now, I will hunt you down and kill you myself. Do you understand?"
He smiled and pulled her closer. "Yes, ma'am."
His body was already back online, blood pumping robustly through his veins. Under the sheet that covered his na**d body, his muscles flexed, rejuvenated and ready to be put to use. Something else was ready too, and it took Mira only a second to notice that every bit of him was awake and alive.
"You're unbelievable," she murmured, but there was humor - and no small amount of interest - in her eyes. "You have at least two dozen bullet holes in you, in case you didn't realize that."
He didn't, and, in fact, he hardly felt the bandaged wounds now. All he felt was his Breedmate, his precious Mira, warm and sweet in his arms. He ran his hand down her back, to the firm curve of her behind. He groaned, rejoicing in the feel of her under his hands, and pressed up against the length of him. "One of us has too many clothes on."