Finish your breakfast, he told her with aggravating civility. You should rest while you can. As soon as the sun sets, I'm out of here, and you'll be back to your own defenses. Such as they are.
He walked over to the long black trench coat that was draped neatly over the treadmill and coolly fished out his cell phone. As he began to dial, Elise had the sudden absurd urge to pick up the plate in front of her and hurl it at him, just to get some kind of reaction out of the stony warrior.
But while she listened to him call in to the Order's compound, that deep voice of his so matter-of-fact and unreadable, Elise realized that she didn't so much dislike him as she envied him. How did he manage to keep himself so cold and disengaged? His psychic gift was not so different from her own. Last night, he had experienced her torment through his touch but it hadn't laid him low like it did to her. How was it he could withstand the pain?
Perhaps it was his Gen One strength that made him so impenetrable, so totally aloof. But perhaps it was training. If it was something he'd learned, then it could be taught.
Show me how you do it, Elise said as he ended his call and flipped the phone shut.
Show you what?
You say I need to learn some control over my mind's powers, so show me what I need to do. Teach me. I want to be like you.
No, you don't.
She walked around the edge of the counter to where he stood. Tegan, show me. I can be an asset to you and to the Order. I want to help. I need to help, do you understand? Forget it. He started to stalk away from her.
Why, because I'm female?
In a move so fast it stole her breath, Tegan wheeled around on her and pinned her with his fierce predator's eyes. Because you're motivated by pain, and that's a fatal weakness right out of the gate. You're too raw. You're too swamped in your own self-pity to be of use to anyone.
Fire flashed in his gaze, then banked as quickly as it had risen. Elise swallowed hard as she registered his cutting words. The assessment stung, but it was true. She blinked slowly, then gave an admitting nod of her head.
The best place for you is in the Darkhavens, Elise. Out here, like you are, you're a liability--to yourself especially. I'm not saying it to be cruel.
No, of course you aren't, she agreed softly. Because even cruelty would imply some kind of feeling, wouldn't it?
She didn't say another word. Didn't so much as look at him as she retrieved her plate from the counter and walked it to the sink.
What do you mean, it's gone? The leader of the Rogues sat forward in his leather chair, planting his elbows on the surface of a large mahogany desk and steepling his fingers as the voice of a nervous Minion cracked over the speaker phone.
The call came in to the firehouse late last night, sire. There was an explosion. Whole friggin' warehouse went up like a Roman candle. No saving it, according to the guys who responded to the call. Initial reports say there appears to have been a gas leak-- With a snarl, Marek jabbed the End button, cutting off his human servant's useless report.
There was no way in hell the Crimson lab was destroyed by chance or faulty utilities. This bit of infuriating news had the Order written all over it. The only thing that surprised him was that it had taken this long for his brother Lucan and the warriors who fought alongside him to make their move on the place. But then, Marek had been keeping them busy fighting Rogues in the streets since last summer.
Which was exactly where he wanted the Order's focus to remain.
Hold them off with one hand so the other could do the real work unnoticed and undisturbed.
It was the reason he'd come to Boston in the first place. The reason this particular city was experiencing an increased Rogue problem. All just part of his plan to create havoc while he pursued a bigger prize. If he could take out the warriors in the process, so much the better, but keeping them distracted would serve him just as well. Once his true goal was achieved, even the Order would be powerless against him.
And as much as the loss of the Crimson lab infuriated him, the even greater irritation was the fact that one of his other Minions had failed to report in as instructed. Marek was waiting on information--vital information--and his patience was thin even in the best of situations.
It didn't bode well that his Minion was late. The human he'd recruited for this particular job was volatile and arrogant, but he was also reliable. All Minions were. Drained to within a bare inch of life, the human mind slaves were under the complete control of the vampire who made them. Only the most powerful among the vampire race could create Minions, and Breed law had long prohibited the practice as barbaric.
Marek scoffed with contempt at the self- imposed, bureaucratic castration of his kind.
Just one more example of why the vampire realm was overdue for change. They needed strong new leadership to usher in a new age.
The new age that would belong to him.
Chapter Seven
He had pissed her off, probably hurt her, and even though an apology perched at the tip of his tongue most of the day, Tegan held it back. He had nothing to be sorry about, after all. He didn't owe the female anything, least of all explanations or excuses for why he came off like the callous bastard everyone knew him to be.
And he wasn't about to give so much as a second's consideration to her request that he help her bring her psychic gift to heel. She'd surprised him with the suggestion. The idea that any female, particularly a sheltered Darkhaven widow like her, would think to put herself in his care for any reason was beyond his comprehension. As if he could be trusted for something like that.
Yeah. Not f**king likely.
Elise made it easy for him to avoid the issue. In the hours since he'd shut her down, she hadn't uttered another word to him. She busied herself around the apartment, making up the futon, washing the breakfast dishes, dusting the bookshelves, going thirty minutes on the treadmill, and generally keeping as far away from him as seemed possible in the cramped quarters. He'd heard her in the shower a while ago and had allowed himself a few minutes' sleep where he sat on the floor, but the water was off now and he was awake, listening to Elise getting dressed behind the closed door. She came out in blue jeans and a hooded Harvard sweatshirt that fell halfway down her thighs. Her short blond hair was towel-dried and as shiny as gold, setting off the pale lavender of her eyes.