Halfway there, Mira had come down with a vicious headache. She had assured Kellan she was fine, but he'd felt the blast of pain in her skull through their bond. He could feel it still, while she slept in the large master suite of the Darkhaven. Her discomfort was less now that she was sleeping, but the fact that she'd been hurting at all - especially after tapping into her Sight for how long, he could only guess - disturbed him more than he wanted to admit.
At least she'd found some peace once they arrived in Maine. Her exhaustion had taken her down more than two hours ago, and when Kellan had gone in to check a few minutes ago, she hadn't even stirred when he sat down next to her on the bed.
As for his crew, they'd quickly adapted to the relocation. After getting Candice settled and tending to her wound, Doc and Nina had gone to work sweeping out the whole place, dusting off the old furniture and appliances that hadn't been used in years, and restocking the pantry and weapons cache with supplies brought with them from the New Bedford bunker.
The Darkhaven was a huge step up from the primitive amenities of their previous base, with a kitchen full of top-grade appliances, a fully functioning refrigerator and range, room after room of comfortable furnishings, and nearly ten thousand square feet of living space. But their stay could only be temporary. Just a safe haven to hold them for a short while, until Kellan had the chance to confront the storm closing in on him from all sides.
On that score, he only hoped his instinct was good.
He prayed it was, or he had likely risked all their lives doing what he had today.
Standing at the French doors that overlooked the thick woods outside the big house, Kellan didn't even hear Nina approach from behind him until she quietly cleared her throat. He turned, frowning at the small white bottle she held out to him.
"Migraine meds," she said, giving the container a little shake. "I've only got a few left, but you can have them if you think they might help . . . your friend."
He nodded, took them from her outstretched hand, and slipped the bottle into his pocket. "Thank you."
The three of them - Nina, Candice, and Doc - were all gathered in the great room with him. They'd been watching him pace for a while, and now he realized just how uncomfortable was the pall of silence that hung over the group. Part of that silence had to do with the events of the past twenty-four hours - the lab explosion that had made global headlines and the resulting public unrest that followed; the somber good-bye they'd given Chaz; now this, the sudden flight to a place they'd never even known existed.
And part of his crew's unease had to do with the female warrior from the Order, who was quite obviously something more to him than just a captive being held against her will.
He looked at their faces now and saw their confusion, their wary uncertainty about who he truly was and what Mira meant to him.
It bothered him, those uneasy stares.
They didn't know him, not even after eight years of living side by side. They'd protected the secret of his Breed origins, but he'd given them nothing in return. They had offered him their trust and friendship, but he'd kept them out.
No more, he decided.
These three people - these humans, for crissake - had become his friends. They'd become his family, and it killed him that he was only seeing that just now. Now, when he would soon be forced to leave them behind.>And Mira's sweet, welcoming body accepted all that he had to give.
He didn't know how long it took before the aftershocks finally began to recede. Could have been moments. Could have been hours.
All he knew was the warm cushion of her body beneath him on the bed, her limbs still tangled around his, her fingers playing in the hair at his nape while he rested his head next to her shoulder.
It was her quiet voice that brought him back to the here and now.
Back to the reality of what they still faced.
"I don't want you to go to the Order." He felt her worry in the dull throb of her pulse, in the tang of dread that filtered through their new bond, into him. "I've changed my mind, Kellan. About wanting you to plead your case, trying to convince the Order and the Council to pardon you. I don't want you to go anywhere near D.C. Neither one of us can ever go back there."
"Ah, Mouse." He kissed the bare curve of her shoulder, then came up on one elbow so he could meet her troubled gaze. "You don't mean that. You've never been one to run and hide. That was always more my territory, remember? And look where that's gotten us."
"I don't care," she murmured, a stubborn edge to her tone. "Let's just stay here, like this. For as long as we can, let's just be together and make this last. Whatever it takes."
He kissed her again, on the mouth this time, unrushed and tender. "I don't want this to end either. Not now or ever. But I don't want it if it means forcing you into a life of skulking in shadows and fearing what lies around every corner. I can't do that, Mira. And we can't stay here. It's not safe for any of us now. We all have to get out of here soon, go to another location. Somewhere out of the line of fire."
"Where?"
"Somewhere safe."
His dread about the Order closing in on him was still very real and disturbing. And the prospect of either a stealth death squad or, after last night's turn of events, a full-scale invasion was more than he was willing to risk. A sick guilt weighed down on him when he thought of Candice and Doc and Nina coming under heavy weapons fire amid the chaos of a raid. As for Mira, he knew his Breedmate well enough to realize that she would fight to her own death if she thought she could save him.
As he would for her.
And would, in a short time from now.
He hadn't been much of a leader to his crew of rebels, not that it had ever been his intent to lead them. He hadn't been anything close to a worthy mate to Mira either, and that he wanted more than anything.