Rio could still see her standing in the chapel at his side, clinging to him and weeping, yet all the while hiding her deceit. Waiting until the next chance she got to collude with the Order's enemies as part of some misguided attempt to see Rio pulled from the Order - even by seeing him maimed - so he could finally belong to her alone.
The irony of it was, he never would have left the Order.
He didn't want to now, and wouldn't, if he felt the least bit useful to the warriors who'd been like kin to him for nearly a century. If he hadn't been robbed of his sanity and his self-control by the blast that might have - should have - killed him.
"Shit," he muttered, pivoting around to get the hell out of the chapel.
He didn't need to linger there any longer with his old ghosts or the misery they brought him. All it took to revive Eva in his mind was a glance in a mirror or a reflection in a window. He tried damn hard not to do that, not only because of the shock of seeing what stared back at him, but also because he wanted Eva severed from his life completely. Just hearing her name was enough to send him into a fit of uncontrollable rage.
As Dylan could unfortunately attest.
He wondered if she was okay. Tess would have taken excellent care of her, even if her healing touch was absent now that she was pregnant.
But still, Rio wondered. He hated himself for the way he'd reacted. Dylan was probably feeling likewise. If she wasn't too busy pitying him for the mental train wreck he'd proven himself to be.
Feeling as alone and detached as a ghost himself, Rio wandered away from the compound's chapel and down the labyrinth of corridors until he reached the empty infirmary. He took a quick shower in the medical recovery room that had been his home during the months following the explosion, letting the hot water wash away the aches in his muscles and the rising pound in his temples.
And as he cut the spray and toweled off, his thoughts returned to Dylan. It wasn't doing her any good at all to be kept here against her will. And getting her gone meant he had to get that story of hers derailed ASAP.
It was morning now, which may mean lights out for the Breed, but not for the humans living topside. They'd be going about their usual weekday habits, which meant one more day for Dylan's boss at the paper to think about running her story. One more day for the women Dylan had been traveling with to talk about the cave she'd found and speculate on what it might have contained. One more day for Rio's f**kup to put the Order and all of the vampire nation in jeopardy of discovery by humankind.
He threw on a pair of loose navy warm-ups and a tank that were still folded in the closet with a few other things leftover from his extended stay in the infirmary wing. When he stepped into the corridor and navigated his way back to his quarters, it was with new purpose. His head was clearer now, and he was good and ready to get Dylan working on the kibosh to that cave story before another minute passed.
Except when he opened the door to his private apartments, the place was dark. Only a small table lamp glowed in the corner of the living room, like a night light left on for him in case he came back. He glared at the welcome little glow as he slipped inside and quietly shut the door.
Dylan was sleeping. He could see her in his bed in the other room, curled up on top of the duvet. No doubt she was exhausted. The past three days had to have taken a toll on her. Hell, they'd taken a toll on him too.
He walked into the dark bedroom and promptly forgot all about his original purpose in coming into the apartment as he got an eyeful of Dylan's long, bare legs. She was wearing a babydoll tee-shirt and pastel plaid boxers, stuff evidently taken out of her travel bag, which lay open next to the bed.
The cotton combo was nothing overtly sexy as far as sleepwear went - certainly nothing close to the expensive scraps of lace and satin that Eva used to parade around in for him. But damn if Dylan didn't look good in next to nothing...and look good sleeping in his bed.
Cristo, far too good.
Rio pulled a silk throw from a chair in the corner of the room and carried it over to the bed to cover her up. He wasn't doing it merely to be courteous. As one of the Breed, his vision was even sharper in the dark. All of his senses were more acute, and at the moment, they were conspiring to kill him with input about the half-naked female lying so vulnerably within his reach.
He tried not to notice that her br**sts were bare beneath the little cap-sleeved shirt, her ni**les pressing deliciously against the thin cotton. The temptation to stare at her smooth white skin - especially the exposed wedge of her abdomen where the tee-shirt was twisted and riding up so nicely above her navel - was more than he could handle.
But as he neared the edge of the bed with the blanket, she stirred slightly, shifting her legs and rolling a little farther onto her back. Rio stood there, unmoving, praying she didn't wake up and find him looming over her like a phantom.
Looking at her put a hot ache in his chest. He had no claim on Dylan, but a surge of possession ran through his blood like several thousand volts of live electricity. She wasn't his - wouldn't be his, no matter what path she chose in the end. Whether she wanted a future living among the Breed in a Darkhaven or one lived topside without any recollection of Rio and his kind, she wasn't going to belong to him. She deserved better, that's for sure.
Another man - be he Breed or human - would be much better suited to care for a woman like Dylan. It would be another man's privilege to explore her soft curves and silky skin. Another man's pleasure to taste the delicate pulse that beat in the sweet hollow at the base of her throat. Only another Breed male should have the honor of piercing Dylan's veins with a tender, wholly reverent bite.
It would be the solemn vow of another - never him - to protect her from all harm and to sustain her faithfully and forever with the blood and strength of his immortal body.