The sound of Gabrielle talking with Gideon pulled Lucan toward consciousness. The sedation doses he’d been demanding were becoming harder to shake off as the hours and days dragged on and his Bloodlust continued to own him.
He had been vaguely aware of recent commotion in the command center. A lot of boots thumping in the corridor outside. The jangle of weapons and tactical gear as teams of warriors rolled out on yet another patrol.
He hated like hell that he was grounded inside the UV bars of the Order’s holding tank while his brethren went out to the streets to fight.
Give or take a few more days, this cell would be his tomb.
What he hated even more was the note of distress in his Breedmate’s voice as she spoke with Gideon in hushed tones in the opened-door room adjacent to the cell.
He could feel the edges of her concern through his waning sedation.
She glanced over her shoulder at him, instantly aware that he was watching, listening.
“All right, Gideon. Thank you for letting me know.”
She came back in and sat on the edge of the narrow cot. Even though Lucan didn’t say anything--could only wait while the tranqs were slowly wearing off--Gabrielle studied him through the glowing bars.
“I know you can hear me,” she said quietly. “I know you can still feel me, Lucan.”
He wanted to tell her he would always feel her, even long after he was dust. His mouth was a fucking desert, his tongue too sluggish to form all the tender words he yearned to say to her.
He stared at her through his bleary, amber-hot eyes from his seated position in the corner of the holding tank.
She moved to the floor in front of the cell. “Gideon had some news about Darion.”
Lucan frowned, memories bombarding him. He recalled looking into the horrified face of his son when Darion had discovered him inside Oliver Keener’s car that awful first night.
Disconnected visual images flashed through his broken mind: Darion on the ground beneath him as Lucan attacked in blind madness. Darion and several other Order members trying to subdue him outside the headquarters mansion in the rain.
Shame swamped him as he recalled bits and pieces of his Bloodlust-induced rage.
“I hurt him?” The question scraped out of his parched throat.
“No, Lucan.” Gabrielle shook her head. “You didn’t harm him. Our son is a strong man. He’s a born leader, just like his father. I always knew he would be, and now Gideon just confirmed it for me.”
Lucan lifted his head, confused. Gabrielle smiled at him, even though worry lingered in her beautiful face. Then she proceeded to tell him how their son had stepped in for him in his absence, how Darion had cleared the way for the Order to take out Opus Nostrum’s inner circle. She told him about Jordana’s abduction and how Darion had gone alone to the Atlantean realm on a risky mission that had ultimately secured her release, but had also landed their son in Selene’s prison until just tonight.
“Lucan, there is more . . .” Not even Gabrielle’s distressed gaze could prepare him for what he heard next. “The Ancient attacked the Atlantean colony. He has their crystal. He also has an army of Rogues he created using Red Dragon he stole from Opus Nostrum. Gideon and Darion believe he will be heading to attack Selene and her people very soon.”
“No.” Lucan pushed the words off his thick tongue. “The crystal. Can’t let him get it.”
He wasn’t so far gone that he didn’t comprehend the peril for the entire world if the Ancient were allowed to amass the power of so many crystals. He had to be stopped.
Gabrielle nodded, understanding his alarm. “The Order has gone to lend their support to Selene and the Atlanteans as we speak. Darion will be joining them. Lucan, there’s something else you need to know. Darion and Selene . . . it sounds like our son has fallen in love.”
He wasn’t sure how the Queen of Atlantis had gone from one of the Order’s most volatile adversaries to someone Darion was willing to risk his life for, but the how and why of it didn’t matter.
All that did matter was that Darion and the warriors were going to need all the help they could get.
Lucan groaned as he pushed himself to his feet.
Gabrielle stared at him. “What are you doing?”
“I need . . . to be there.” It took more strength than he had just to remain standing. He kept himself upright by sheer, bloody-minded will. “I have to go.”
“You can’t be serious.” Gabrielle stood up, wrapping her hands around the glowing bars. “Lucan, you haven’t fed for a week. You’ve only been awake between rounds of sedation, and when you are awake you’re in agony.”
He didn’t need to ask her how she knew. He had been putting her through hell with him the whole time. He wanted that pain to end for her, but he needed to do this last thing for their son. For his Order brethren.
