Right, she thought. It was the stuff of horror novels and science fiction movies, but she might as well start owning it. "Chase has told me a few things. It's a lot to absorb. He's been trying to help me make sense of it all."
Tegan's quiet scoff had a skeptical tone to it. "And here I thought he might've been too busy getting famous with the humans to have time for tutoring. I guess I don't need to ask what else you might have taught her, eh, Harvard?"
The mild jab sent a flare of white-hot anger shooting through her veins - not her anger, but Chase's. She felt his whole body go rigid beside her as Tegan turned a measuring look on him. The warrior watched, expressionless but assessing just the same. For one tensely uncertain moment, Tavia wondered if Chase was going to lash out at the other male for what had clearly been intended as provocation.
Everyone must have wondered that same thing, because they all kept utterly silent. Tentative. On notice for what Chase might do in that next instant.
But he didn't explode like the grenade they seemed to think he was.
Tavia felt him fighting to rein himself in. Even though it seemed dangerous - about as ill advised as petting a grizzly - she reached over to him in the dark cabin of the SUV. His big hand was splayed on his denim-clad thigh, fingers gripped there like a vise. Tavia stroked the tip of her index finger along the back of his hand, a silent reassurance. A signal of her trust in him, her faith.
That she knew he struggled with something powerful and dark, and that she cared.
He didn't look at her, but his fingertips relaxed. He let his hand move down toward hers - the barest skate of contact. It warmed her from deep within, this unspoken connection that had formed between them. It seemed less about blood bonds or the insane circumstances that had brought them together than it did about something deep and meaningful - something profound and precious - that was taking shape within both of them.
She cared about this man - this complicated and haunted, dangerous Breed male. And whether he would ever admit it, she could feel that he cared about her too.
On the other side of Chase, Tegan's face relaxed into nonchalance. He sat back with a slowly exhaled sigh. "We're almost there."
The vehicle had exited the turnpike some time ago and now began a bumping, twisting trek down a rural two-lane that cut between what appeared to be thick, virgin forest. They drove miles into the moonlit darkness before Nikolai eased onto a snow-packed trail that hardly seemed fit for anything more sophisticated than a horse and sleigh. When it seemed the desolate path might never end, the SUV's headlights knifed through the dense woods and swept across the front of a sprawling stone-and-timber fortress. It was rugged but beautiful. Like something out of a Gothic fairy tale.
Beside her, Chase sat up a bit straighter, peering out into the tree-choked parcel. "The Order's new headquarters?" he asked, his voice sounding as dry as ash.
"This is it." Nikolai slowed to a stop and killed the engine. "Home sweet home."
"ARE YOU READY to begin, Jenna?"
She nodded to Gideon and squeezed Brock's hand a little tighter. His handsome face was drawn with concern, his fathomless brown eyes fixed on her. "You don't have to do this if you're not sure. You've already been through enough - "
"I'm sure," she replied, reaching up from where she lay on their bed to caress his strong jaw. "It's just a dream, after all. You don't have to worry about me."
His chuckle was a soft rasp, wry but not relaxed. "Telling me not to worry about you is like telling me to stop breathing. No can do, babe. You knew that when you signed on with me."
"Yeah, I did." Jenna smiled at her mate, wondering how it was possible that her love for him deepened every day. "And you know well enough that I'm as hardheaded as you are - " "More," he cut in, arching a black brow.
She wouldn't argue that. Nor would she let her fear or his concern keep her from seizing this mission with both hands. Because that's what this quest for answers had become to her: a mission. Like any of the dozens of patrols she'd been on as a Statie in Alaska. She was going to give this one her all.
Even if she had to do it shaking in her boots.
"It's only a dream," she told Brock again, and maybe she needed the reassurance just as much as he did. Her nerves were still raw and jangling from the last time the nightmare had dragged her under. The massive wall of water, crashing in from all sides. The screams of the dying rising up on the night wind. So much terror and destruction, hundreds of lives being swept away in an instant. It had felt so real. Horrifically, vividly real. Even now it made her heart hammer in panic, made her palms go damp with anxiety. "It's not real, just a nightmare. I'll be fine, Brock. I can do this."
He frowned skeptically, and for the first time since she'd known her mate, Jenna was glad for the absence of a blood bond with him. She'd been born human, not a Breedmate, and the lack of that tiny red teardrop-and-crescent-moon birthmark had been an obstacle between them in the beginning. But only briefly. Love had been the glue that bonded them as one. Brock might not be able to read her deepest feelings through her blood, but their emotional connection was no weaker for it.
Which is why his frown only furrowed more as he stroked her hand and watched Gideon prepare the light sedative that would help her sleep now and, hopefully, submerge her even deeper into the dream. "I don't like this one damn bit. I don't care if it's only a dream or some kind of psychic echo of the Ancient's memories replaying in your subconscious. I don't want to let you go - "
"Then don't," she said, wrapping her fingers a little tighter around his. "Keep holding my hand. I can face anything if I know you're with me. And I'll have Claire inside to guide me this time too."
They had contacted Andreas Reichen's mate in Rhode Island several hours ago, after Jenna's last bout with the terrifying dream. Claire had agreed on the spot to help in whatever way she could and was currently standing by at her Darkhaven, awaiting Gideon's call. Once Jenna was sleeping, Claire would join her in the dreamscape. Together they hoped to come back with a clearer picture of what the nightmare - and its apocalyptic events - might possibly mean. Jenna pressed a kiss to Brock's knuckles, then glanced over at Gideon. "Let's do this." With an apologetic look at his fellow warrior, the Order's resident genius and part-time medic leaned in with the syringe of sedative. Jenna winced as the needle pricked her, then slowly exhaled the breath she hadn't been aware she was holding. After a moment, a pleasant warmth spread over her slowly, like a fluffy blanket being raised up from her feet to her chin. "Feel okay so far, Jen?" Gideon's voice came at her in exaggerated slow motion, each syllable stretched out and warped.
It took great effort for her to manage even a faint nod. Her eyelids were beginning to droop, feeling as heavy as lead. "I think it's wor - "
She didn't get a chance to finish the thought.
A thick gray fog engulfed her, carried her away from her bed and the conscious weight of her body. She let it take her, too listless to resist. The dark cloud held her aloft as it drifted away from the Order's headquarters ... away from everything she knew.
After a long time, eternity, it seemed, the fog began to thin and her feet touched ground. Her eyelids lifted, showing her nothing but darkness. She was alone. No sign of anyone. Only her, standing under a cloud-choked night sky, her bare feet perched on a steep ledge of rock. "Claire?" she called, but the cold wind blew her words into nothingness as soon as they left her tongue.
She tried not to be afraid, but she knew what was coming.