"I'm not crazy, if that's what you're thinking."

Lucan gave a slow shake of his head. "I am not thinking that at all."

"I despise pity."

"So do I," he said, detecting the warning in her words. "You don't need pity, Gabrielle. And you don't need medicine or doctors, either."

She had been retreating into herself from the moment he had first discovered her scars, but now he felt her hesitation, her tentative trust in him slowly returning.

"You don't belong to this world," he told her, not sentiment but fact. He reached out, cupping her face in his palm. "You are far too extraordinary for the life you've been living, Gabrielle. I think you've known it all along. One day, it will all make sense to you, I promise. Then you'll understand, and you will find your true destiny. Maybe I can help you find it."

He meant to resume bathing her, but the awareness that she was watching him made his hands still. The profound warmth in her answering smile put an ache in his chest. Snared in her tender regard, he felt his throat constrict strangely. "What is it?"

She gave a small shake of her head. "I'm surprised, that's all. I didn't expect a big tough cop like you to speak so romantically about life and destiny."

The reminder that he had, and was still, coming to her under false pretenses jolted some of his wits back into his brain. He plunged the washcloth back into the soapy water and let it float among the suds. "Maybe I'm just full of s.h.i.t."

"I don't think so."

"Don't give me so much credit," he said, forcing a casualness into his tone. "You don't know me, Gabrielle. Not really."

"I'd like to know you. Really." She sat up in the water, the tepid little waves lapping around her nude body the way Lucan wanted to do with his tongue. The tops of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s rode just above the surface, pink nipples hard as buds, surrounded in frothy white foam. "Tell me, Lucan. Where do you belong?"

"Nowhere." The answer slipped out of his mouth in a growl, a confession closer to the truth than he cared to admit. Like her, he despised pity and was relieved that she was looking at him more in curiosity than sympathy. He ran his finger along the pert, freckle-spattered bridge of her nose. "I am the original misfit. I've never really belonged anywhere."

"That's not true."

Gabrielle's arms circled around his shoulders. Her soft brown eyes held his gaze tenderly, with the same care he'd given her as he'd brought her out of the locked darkroom and into the warm bath. She kissed him and, as her tongue swept his lips, Lucan 's senses were swamped with the heady perfume of desire and sweet, feminine affection.

"You've taken such good care of me tonight. Let me take care of you now, Lucan." She kissed him again, a deep plundering with her slick little tongue that forced a groan of pure male pleasure from deep within him. When she finally broke contact, she was breathing hard, her eyes afire with carnal need. "You're wearing too many clothes. Take them off. I want you naked with me in here."

Lucan obeyed, shucking his boots, socks, pants, and shirt to the floor. He wore nothing else, standing before Gabrielle fully nude.

Fully engorged and eager for her.

He was careful to keep his eyes tilted away from hers now that his pupils had narrowed with hunger, and he was mindful of the throbbing press of his fangs, which had stretched long behind his lips. If not for the bare trace of light from the night lamp near the sink, she would have surely seen him in all his ravenous glory.

And that would be quite a buzzkill for an otherwise promising moment.

He wasn't about to take that chance.

With a sharp mental command, he shattered the small bulb behind the night light 's plastic cover. Gabrielle startled at the sudden pop, but then she sighed as blissful darkness surrounded them. Her body was making lovely, slippery noises in the tub.

"Turn on another light, if you want."

"I'll find you without it," he promised, speech a tricky thing now that l.u.s.t had a firm hold on him.

"Then come," bid his siren from the warm pool of her bath.

He stepped into the water, sinking down to face her in the dark. He wanted nothing more than to haul her close-drag her into the cradle of his thighs and sheath himself to the hilt in one long stroke. But he would let her set their pace for now. Last night he had come there hungry and taking; tonight he would give.

Even if the restraint killed him.

Gabrielle glided toward him through the thinning clouds of foam. Her feet went around his hips and linked loosely over his a.s.s.

She bent forward at the waist, her fingers finding his thighs beneath the surface of the bath. She squeezed the taut muscles, kneaded them, then firmly rode their length in slow, delicious torment.

"You should know, I'm not usually like this."

His groan of interest sounded strained in his ears. "You mean, hot enough to reduce any male to cinder at your feet?"

She exhaled a soft laugh. "Is that what I do to you?"

He brought her teasing hands up to the jutting thickness of his c.o.c.k. "What do you think?"

"I think you're amazing." She didn't withdraw her touch after his hands left hers. She traced his shaft and b.a.l.l.s, then lazily brought her fingers up around the bulbous head that more than breached the surface of the bathwater. "You're not like anyone I've ever known. And what I meant was, I'm not usually so... well, aggressive. I don't date a lot."

"You don't take a lot of men to your bed?"

Even in the dark, he sensed her sudden blush. "No. It's been a very long time."

In that moment, he didn't want her to take any other male-human or vampire-into her bed.

He didn't want her f.u.c.king anyone else ever again.

And G.o.d help him, he would hunt down and disembowel the Minion b.a.s.t.a.r.d who might have harmed her today.

The thought hit him with a savage rush of possessiveness as her fingers squeezed his s.e.x, wringing a drop of slick wetness from the tip. When she bent down over him and drew his c.o.c.k into her mouth, suckling him deeply, he arched up as tight as a bowstring.

Forget tearing out the Minion's entrails, he would settle for nothing less than flat-out, b.l.o.o.d.y murder.

Lucan lowered his hands onto Gabrielle's shoulders as she worked him into a mindless frenzy. Her fingers, her lips, her tongue, her breath rasping against his bare abdomen as she took him deeper and deeper into her hot mouth-all of it driving him to the brink of extraordinary madness. He couldn't get enough. When she drew off of him, he swore roundly at the loss of her sweet suction.

"I need you inside me," she told him, panting.

"Yes," he snarled. "G.o.d, yes."

"But... "

Her hesitation confused him. Angered that part of him that was more savage Rogue than considerate lover.

"What's wrong?" It came out more of a demand than he meant.

"Shouldn't we... ? Last night, things got out of hand before I could mention it... but shouldn't we, you know, use something this time?" Her discomfort sliced through his pa.s.sion-drenched mind like a blade. He grew still, and she pulled away from him as if to get out of the tub. "I have some condoms in the other room... ."

His hand clamped down around her wrist before she could move to rise. "I can't make you pregnant." Why did that sound so harsh to him now? It was plain truth. Only bonded pairs-Breedmate women and the vampire males who exchanged blood from each other 's veins-could successfully produce offspring. "As for anything else, you don't have to worry about protecting yourself. I'm healthy, and nothing we do together will hurt either one of us."

"Oh. Me, too. And I hope you don't think I'm prudish for asking-"

He drew her closer to him, silencing her awkwardness with a slow kiss. When their lips parted, he said, "I think, Gabrielle Maxwell, that you're an intelligent woman who respects her body and herself. I respect you for having the courage to be careful."

She smiled against his mouth. "I don't want to be careful when I'm near you. You make me wild. You make me want to scream."

With her hands splayed on his chest, she pushed him down, until he was leaning against the back of the tub. Then she rose up over the heavy spear of his s.e.x and moved her slick cleft along its length, sliding up and down, almost-but f.u.c.k, not quite!- sheathing him in her warmth.

"I want to make you scream," she whispered near his ear.

Lucan groaned with the pure agony of her sensual dance. He fisted his hands at his sides in the water to keep from grabbing her and impaling her on his nearly bursting erection. She kept up her wicked game, until he felt his climax knotting in his shaft. He was about to spill, and she was still teasing him mercilessly.

"f.u.c.k," he swore through gritted teeth and fangs, tipping his head back. "For chrissake, Gabrielle, you are killing me."

"I want to hear it," she coaxed.

And then her juicy s.e.x was inching down over the head of his c.o.c.k.

Slowly.

So d.a.m.ned slowly.

His seed boiled up, and he shuddered as a trickle of hot liquid spurted into her body. He moaned, never so close to losing it as he was just then. And Gabrielle's tightness enveloped him further. The tiny muscles inside her clenched at him as she sank lower on his shaft.

He could hardly bear any more.

Gabrielle's scent surrounded him, wafting on the steam of the bath and mingling with the intoxicating perfume of their joined bodies. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s bobbed near his mouth like fruit just ripe for his picking, but he didn't dare sample them when his control was so near to snapping. He wanted to pull her peachy mounds into his mouth, but his fangs were throbbing with the need to draw blood-a need only heightened in the midst of s.e.xual release.

He turned his head aside and let out a howl of anguish, torn in so many tempting directions, not the least of which was the pressure to come inside Gabrielle, filling her with every drop of his pa.s.sion. He shouted a curse, and then he truly was screaming, roaring a deep oath that only gained in strength as she sank down hard on his starving c.o.c.k and wrung him dry, her own o.r.g.a.s.m following quickly behind his.

Once his head stopped ringing and his legs regained strength enough to hold him, Lucan wrapped his arms around Gabrielle 's back and started to rise with her, holding her in place on his already rousing erection.

"Where are we going?"

"You've had your fun. Now I'm taking you to bed."

The shrill ring of his cell phone jolted Lucan out of a heavy sleep. He was in bed with Gabrielle, both of them spent. She was curled up beside him, her naked body gloriously draped over his legs and torso.

Jesus, how long had he been out? Had to be hours, which was amazing considering his usual itchy state of insomnia.

The phone rang again and he was on his feet, heading for the bathroom, where he'd left his jacket. He dug the cell out of one of the pockets and flipped it open.

"Yeah."

"Hey." It was Gideon, and there was something odd about his voice. "Lucan, how fast can you get to the compound?"

He looked over his shoulder to the adjacent bedroom loft. Gabrielle was sitting up now, drowsy from sleep, her bare hips wreathed in tangled sheets, her hair a wild mess around her face. He 'd never seen anything so b.l.o.o.d.y tempting. Maybe it was better that he did leave soon, while he still stood a chance of getting away before the sun came up.

Wrenching his gaze away from the arousing sight of her, Lucan growled an answer into the phone. "I'm not far. What's going on?"

A lengthy silence stretched on the other end.

"Something's happened, Lucan. It's bad." More quiet, then some of Gideon's natural calm cracked. "Ah, f.u.c.k, there's no easy way to say it. We lost one tonight, Lucan. One of the warriors is dead."

CHAPTER Twelve

The sounds of a female's mourning reached Lucan's ears as soon as he stepped out of the elevator that had delivered him to the subterranean depths of the compound. Heart-rending cries of deep anguish, the Breedmate's keening sorrow was raw, palpable, the only thing audible in the stillness of the long corridor.

It clawed at Lucan, the stunning weight of loss.

He didn't know yet which of the Breed warriors had perished that night. He wouldn't strive to guess. His footsteps were brisk, all but running toward the infirmary chambers from where Gideon had called him a few minutes ago. He rounded a bend in the corridor just in time to see Savannah leading a grief-stricken, wailing Danika from one of the rooms.

A fresh wave of shock hit him.

So, it was Conlan who was gone, then. The big Highlander with the easy laugh and deep, unfailing honor... dead now. Soon to be dust.

Jesus, he could hardly grasp the hard truth of it.

Lucan paused, respectfully bowing his head low to the warrior 's widow as she pa.s.sed him. Danika was clinging hard to Savannah, the latter's strong, mocha-skinned arms seeming to be all that prevented Conlan's tall blond Breedmate from collapsing in despair.

Savannah acknowledged Lucan where her weeping charge was unable. "They're awaiting you inside," she told him gently, her deep brown eyes glistening with tears. "They will need your strength and guidance."

Lucan gave Gideon's woman a sober nod, then took the few short strides that would bring him into the infirmary.

He entered in silence, unwilling to disturb the solemnity of the fleeting time that he and his brethren would have to spend with Conlan. The warrior had sustained staggeringly severe injuries; even from across the room, Lucan could smell terrible blood loss.

His nostrils filled with the foul, mingled odors of gunpowder, electrical heat, twisted metal shrapnel, and melted flesh.

There had been an explosion, with Conlan caught in the center of it.

Conlan's remains lay on a shroud-draped examination table, his body divested of clothing except for the wide strip of embroidered white silk that covered his groin. In the short while since he'd been returned to the compound, Conlan's skin had been cleaned and annointed with a fragrant oil, all in preparation for the funeral rites that would take place with the next rising of the sun, not a few hours from now.

Around the table that held the warrior, the others had gathered: Dante, rigid in his stoic observation of death; Rio, head bent down, fingers clutching a string of rosary beads as he moved his lips silently to the words of his mother 's human religion; Gideon, attending cloth in hand, dabbing carefully at one of the many savage lacerations that had torn open nearly every inch of Conlan 's skin; Nikolai, who had been on patrol that night with Conlan, his face paler than Lucan had ever seen it, his wintry eyes stark, his skin marred with soot and cinder and small, bleeding cuts.

Even Tegan was there, paying respects, although the vampire stood just outside the circle of the others, his eyes hooded, sullen in his solitude. Lucan strode up to the table to take his place among his brethren. He closed his eyes and prayed over Conlan in prolonged silence. Some longtime later, Nikolai broke the quiet of the room.

"He saved my life out there tonight. We'd just smoked a couple of suckheads outside the Green Line station and were heading back when I saw this dude get on the train. I don't know what made me look at him, but he shot us this big, s.h.i.t-eating grin, like he was daring us to come after him. He was packing some kind of gunpowder on him. He stank of that and some other s.h.i.t I didn 't have time to get a read on."

"TATP," Lucan said, scenting the acrid stuff on Niko's clothing even now.

"Turned out the b.a.s.t.a.r.d was carrying a belt of wired explosives on him. He jumped off the train just before we started rolling, and took off running down one of the old tracks. We chased him, Conlan cornered him. That 's when we saw the bombs. They were on a sixty-second clock, and it was counting down below ten. I heard Conlan roar at me to get back, and then he launched himself at the guy."