Jesus Christ.
He could hardly bear to think what he might have done if the blood bond hadn't alerted him to her terror. It was his greatest fear, causing her any kind of harm.
To realize how close he'd been just now was more than he could take.
All the worse when what he craved more than anything was to take her beneath him once more and lose himself in the pleasure of her body while he drowned in the sweet intoxication of her blood.
"I can't be near you like this," he heard himself tell her, although his voice was hardly recognizable, even to his own ears. The words sawed out of him in a feral tangle, harsh and sharp-edged. "I can't do this ever again. I won't."
"Chase," she said, reaching out to him with her wounded arm.
The scent of her blood slammed into him like a bullet. He flinched away, averting his gaze as he backed toward the far wall. As far from her as he could get. He glanced to the window and the predawn morning outside. A mental command flung the glass open, bringing with it a rush of bracing winter air.
Tavia got up from the bed and started toward him. "Chase, please. Don't shut me out ... let me help you."
He allowed himself one last look at her. Then he pivoted out the window and vanished into the darkness.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
TAVIA TOOK HER TIME showering and getting dressed, listening for Chase's return.
But it had been more than two hours. Daybreak would be coming soon, and he was still gone. Possibly gone from her life for good.
She staggered under the weight of that thought.
It was impossible to think of her life as it was now - her new life, the one based finally in truth - and not imagine Chase as part of it. She was bonded to him, not only by blood. She cared about him deeply. She loved him, and would have done so even without the unbreakable connection that linked her to him on a visceral, preternatural level.
And because she loved him, she couldn't stay there now.
He was right; what happened between them earlier could never happen again. She'd felt the power of his hunger, the depth of his mounting addiction. She'd felt how intensely he had reacted to her blood. How easy it would have been for him to lose control completely and slide over the edge of an abyss from which he might never return.
She couldn't bear to contribute to his struggle.
As she stepped out into the corridor from the bedroom, she heard some of the Order's women talking where they'd apparently gathered in the kitchen. The aromas of freshly brewed coffee and breakfast drifted toward her, along with the Breedmates' quiet conversation.
"Think about it for a minute now. Haven't you ever wondered what it is that makes us different from other women?" The velvety voice belonged to Savannah. "What if Jenna's dream can explain some of that?"
"Atlanteans? You can't be serious." This from Rio's mate, Dylan.
Gabrielle answered her. "It wasn't that long ago that most of us were saying the same thing about the Breed. Not that I'm finding it any easier to wrap my head around the idea that the birthmarks we all share have some kind of link to an immortal race of warriors."
Tavia took a few steps up the corridor and saw Hunter's ebony-haired Breedmate come out of the kitchen with plates for the dining room table. Corinne spoke as she set the places. "I was orphaned as an infant and taken in by a Darkhaven family. Never knew either of my birth parents. Neither did my adopted sister, Charlotte."
"That's true of you and Elise and Renata and Mira," Dylan replied. "But how do you explain the rest of us?"
"You can add Eva and Danika to that list too," Savannah said. "Both of them were foundlings, raised in the Darkhavens."
Tavia really didn't want to be noticed, particularly creeping out from the bedroom like a wraith, but there was no clear shot to the front door without someone seeing her. She paused as Elise came out of the kitchen with a tray full of stacked cups and saucers.
"Actually, most of the Breedmates I've known were either orphaned or abandoned as babies or young children. That's how so many of us end up in foster care or runaway shelters."
Dylan came out carrying a steaming mug of coffee. "Well, I knew my dad, and he was nothing special. Just a garden-variety huckster, con man, and drunk who caused my family a lot of heartbreak before he split for good. Tess's father died in a car crash when she was a teenager. And didn't Alex's dad pass from Alzheimer's?"
"He did," Kade's Breedmate from Alaska replied as she handed off silverware to Corinne. "Hank Maguire was the only dad I ever had, but he wasn't my birth father. My mom never told me who my real father was. She took that secret with her when she died."
"I never knew my parents either," Gabrielle put in. "My mother was institutionalized as a teenage Jane Doe soon after I was born. All my records are sitting in DCF files somewhere in Boston."
"We can't forget Claire's father," Dylan added, obviously un-swayed. "He and her mother were both killed in Africa by rebel warfare. So that rules him out as an immortal."
"Look," Jenna said, coming out of the kitchen now too. "I'm not trying to say I know all of this for sure, but I know what I saw. The Ancients were at war with a race of beings that were something other than human. They hunted these warriors over centuries, across continents. And the only way to kill them was by taking their heads."
"Hi, Tavia." Mira had come out of a room off the hallway and strode right past her with a little wave of greeting. "Are you going to have breakfast with us?"
"Oh. I ..." She glanced up to find several pairs of eyes on her now. Elise, Dylan, and Gabrielle had come into the corridor to look at her questioningly. "I was just ... taking a little walk, that's all."