It coursed through him like fuel racing to meet with flame. A low, possessive throb pounded in his pulse points as he stared at Phaedra, unable to hide the embers sparking in his eyes.
As much as he wanted to cling to his mistrust of who she was—ofwhatshe was—what he wanted even more was simply . . . her.
Fuck.
Not going to happen.
Mentally, he squeezed his fist around the desire that ignited inside him. With countless women in this city and all the others he’d stormed through during his missions with the Order, this was one he refused to crave.
Fate be damned.
Hell, maybe he was too.
He drew back, pushing out a rough scoff. “Violence is what I do, Phaedra. I’m good at it—some have said I’m the best.”
Her smile was sad with understanding. “I don’t doubt that for a moment.”
“Good,” he growled. “So don’t make the mistake of thinking I need anyone’s pity. And don’t look for me to make apologies for what I am.”
“No, of course I won’t do that. I don’t suppose there’s much you’d apologize for. Perhaps nothing at all.”
He ground his molars together, telling himself her anger was better than the gentleness that might undo him if he wasn’t careful. He had an unfinished mission to complete. A promise he’d made over the ashes of his brothers-in-arms.
That commitment began and ended with the bolt of unearthly fire unleashed on him and his comrades that awful night in the Deadlands.
“Lucan’s ready for you in the war room,” he said, delivering the statement as crisply as a command. “And Phaedra, be warned. The deaths of my teammates will not go unmet. Not by the Order. Not by me. I will do whatever it takes, cut down any obstacle that stands in the way of my vengeance.”
She swallowed, but instead of being cowed by his threat, her proud chin lifted. “If you’re expecting me to condone war on my people, there’s nothing more for us to say here.”
Micah leaned in close, fewer than a handful of inches between their faces. “Any obstacle, Phaedra.”
She stared into his eyes for a breathless moment, then stepped past him to walk out of the room with her head and shoulders held as regally as a queen’s.
CHAPTER 9
Phaedra wasn’t sure how she managed to sit across from Micah at the long conference table in the Order’s war room for more than an hour without letting her gaze stray to him even once.
During the length of her interrogation by Lucan Thorne, Tegan, Zael, and the other Order warriors assembled in the room, she recounted every detail of her recurring dream and the one that had ultimately landed her in the Deadlands with Micah. She answered the many questions that followed, not only from the Breed males scrutinizing her every word and expression, but also the inquiries from Jenna, Gabrielle, and Savannah.
Through it all, she held her head high and kept her eyes averted from the heat of Micah’s unflinching stare.
Call it sheer determination to ignore him. Her stubborn streak had been honed over literally centuries of living. Call it outrage. Certainly, she was full enough of that after the bold threat he’d issued in her guest room—a warning she had no reason to doubt whatsoever.
She was willing to call it anything, except the awkward feeling that had clung to her from the moment she’d given in to the embarrassing impulse to touch his cheek and speak her thoughts aloud.
She couldn’t take back that idiotic, clearly unwanted, compassion, no matter how much she wanted to. Nor could she pretend she didn’t still feel sympathy for the awful gift he described.
Phaedra had seen the inhumanity of man up close more times than she cared to recall. But to walk through life as an open receiver of every sick and depraved thought that poisoned the air around him? She couldn’t imagine how he didn’t go mad with the burden of all that ugliness.
Evidently, her concerns for him were misplaced.
Not to mention unwelcome.
A lull fell over the room as the Order elders and their mates quietly considered everything she’d just told them. Phaedra folded her hands in her lap, eager to be dismissed and away from the scrutiny—particularly that of Micah.
More than anything, she just wanted to be free to go home where she belonged.
“I hope I’ve been of some help,” she said, addressing the group as a whole. She glanced at Lucan. “Now that you’ve asked your questions, how soon might I be able to return to Rome?”
