He noticed them now.
Goddamn, did he ever.
An old warehouse near the wharf. An abandoned paper mill just outside the city. Several other forbidding-looking structures that no human - let alone an unsuspecting woman like Gabrielle - ought to be getting anywhere near.
Rogue lairs.
Some of them were defunct now, forced into that status by Lucan and his warriors, but a few others were active cells. He spotted several that Gideon currently had under surveillance. Sifting through the others, he wondered how many other photos she had here of Rogue locations not yet on the Breed's radar.
"Jesus Christ," he whispered tightly, fingering through a couple more images.
She even had some exterior shots of local Darkhavens, obscure entryways and masking signage meant to conceal the vampire sanctuaries from easy detection, whether from nosy humans or the enemy Rogues.
Yet Gabrielle had found all of these places. How?
It sure as hell wasn't by chance. Her extraordinary visual sense must have led her to them. She had already proven to be all but immune to the regular tricks of vampire guile - mass hypnotic illusion, mind control... now this.
With a curse, Lucan shoved a few pictures into the pocket of his leather jacket, then tossed the rest back onto the table.
"Gabrielle?"
He moved into the kitchen, where something even more disturbing waited for him.
The scent of Gabrielle's blood grew stronger here, drawing him to the sink. He froze in front of it, something cold clamping down around his chest as he stared into the basin.
It looked like someone had tried to clean up a crime scene, and had done a piss-poor job of it. More than a dozen waterlogged, bloodstained paper towels were clumped in the sink along with a paring knife that had been removed from the wooden block on the counter.
He picked up the sharp blade and gave it a quick inspection. It hadn't been used, but all the blood in the sink and spattered on the floor from the foyer to the kitchen belonged solely to Gabrielle.
And the torn clothing that lay in a discarded heap near his foot carried her scent, too.
God, if anyone had touched her -
If anything had happened to her...
"Gabrielle!"
Lucan followed his senses down to the basement level of her apartment. He didn't bother with lights; his vision was most acute in the dark. Tearing down the stairs, he called her name into the quiet.
At the back corner of the space, Gabrielle's scent grew strongest. Lucan found himself standing before another closed door, this one framed in thick weatherstripping to block out all exterior light. He tried the latch, rattling the door on its meager lock.
"Gabrielle. Can you hear me? Baby, open the door."
He didn't wait for a reply. He didn't have the patience for that, or the focus to carefully release the hook and eye closure on the other side. With a growl of fury, Lucan smashed his shoulder into the door and burst inside.
His eyes instantly found her in the lightless space. Her body was curled up on the floor of the cramped darkroom, na**d except for a skimpy lace bra and bikini underwear. She jerked awake with the sudden crash of his arrival.
Her head came up fast. Her eyelids were heavy, puffed from recent crying. She'd been sobbing in here, and for some length of time by his guess. Exhaustion poured off her in waves. She looked so small, so vulnerable.
"Ah, God. Gabrielle," he whispered, dropping into a low crouch beside her. "What the hell are you doing in here? Did somebody hurt you?"
She shook her head, but didn't answer right away. With dragging hands, she pushed her hair out of her face, trying to find him in the dark. "Just... tired. I needed quiet... peace."
"So you locked yourself down here?" He blew out a sharp breath, relieved, except for the fact that her body did bear injuries that had only recently stopped bleeding. "You're sure you're all right?"
She nodded, listing toward him in the dark.
Scowling, Lucan reached for her, smoothed his palm over the top of her head. She seemed to take his touch as an invitation, crawling into his arms like a child in need of comforting and warmth. It wasn't good, how natural it felt to hold her, how strong the inclination was to reassure her that she was safe with him. That he would protect her as his own.
His own.
Impossible, he reminded himself. More than impossible; it was ludicrous.
He looked down, silently considering the soft bundle of warm, beautiful woman wrapped around him in a delicious state of near nakedness. She couldn't have any inkling of the dangerous world she was now involved in - not least of all, from the deadly vampire male who held her against him now.
He was the last one who should offer a Breedmate protection from harm. With Gabrielle, just the faintest scent of her brought his blood hunger raging into the danger zone. He stroked her neck and shoulder, trying to ignore the steady beat of her pulse beneath his fingertips. He had to fight like hell to ignore the memory of when he'd last been with her, or how badly he needed to have her again.
"Mmm, you feel good," she murmured dazedly into his chest, her voice a sleep-heavy purr that sent a jolt of heat down his spine. "This another dream?"
Lucan groaned, incapable of answering. It wasn't a dream, and personally he didn't feel good at all. He felt every bit the ancient, haggard beast as she nestled into him even more, all tender trust and innocence.
Searching for distraction, he found one all too quickly. A glance up over their heads made every muscle in his body go rigid with a new kind of tension.
His eyes locked onto more of Gabrielle's photographs clipped to a drying line in the darkroom. Hanging among various other insignificant shots were a handful more taken of vampire locations.