As the jet began to taxi toward the runway, Lazaro couldn’t dismiss the feeling that he was walking away from the best thing that had happened to him in a very long time.
And why?
Because of exactly what Melena said. He was afraid. Afraid to his marrow that he might let himself fall in love with her and risk cutting his heart open again should anything happen to her.
The truth was, he was already falling. Letting her go cut him open, and as he rubbed at the empty ache in his chest, he realized only then what a f**king idiot he was.
Pushing Melena away had been the most cowardly act of his long life.
He’d lived more than a thousand years. He had loved a woman deeply, fearlessly, for several centuries before he lost her. He knew what real love felt like. He knew himself well enough to understand that time, for him, was immaterial. Time could last forever, or it could be gone in the blink of an eye.
He loved Melena. And whether it had happened in a matter of days, or over the span of a hundred years, it was all the same to him. He wanted her beside him. Starting right now, if she would have it in her heart to forgive him.
On a snarl, he punched the call button next to his seat.
“Yes, sir?”
“Turn it around.”
The pilot went silent for a moment. “Sir, we’re next on the runway to taxi and—”
“Turn this goddamned plane around. Now.” On second thought, he couldn’t wait that long. He unbuckled his seat belt and stood up. “Never mind. I’m getting off right here.”
“But, sir—”
He unlocked the hatch and leapt down from the fuselage onto the dark tarmac. Then he was running. Heading for the Order fleet vehicle he’d parked in the private hangar when he’d arrived.
It was just as he neared the black sedan that his senses suddenly seized up, gripped by something powerful and horrifying. His veins lit up with a piercing dread.
Not his emotions.
Melena’s.
He could feel her terror rising in his blood through his bond to her.
Holy hell.
She was in danger.
She was in fear for her very life.
CHAPTER 12
Melena tried to run.
She wasn’t even halfway into the hall before Derek yanked her off her feet. His hand wound tight in her hair. Pain raked her scalp as he hauled her face backward to meet his furious sneer.
“You’re supposed to be dead, sister dear,” he hissed against her cheek. “You and Father both in one fell swoop. I’ve been planning it since he confided in me about his meeting with Turati.”
“You killed him, you bastard!” Melena could hardly contain her contempt or her fear. “You killed more than a dozen innocent people that night, Derek. My God, did you hate us that much or are you simply out of your mind?”
“Arranging for that rocket strike was the sanest thing I’ve ever done. Killing Father and Turati? Doing it while they were secreted away for a covert meeting to broker their precious f**king peace? Let’s just say it won me all the respect I deserve with the people who really matter.”
Melena’s heart sank even further. “Opus Nostrum.”
He chuckled. “I was a mere lieutenant for this past year. They barely knew my name. Now I’ve got a direct line to the inner circle. I’ll be a part of that circle soon. This was my proof of allegiance, my demonstration of worth.” Derek’s eyes flashed with vicious intent as she fought against his ruthless, unyielding hold. “As for you, Melena, I couldn’t very well let you see me after I joined the organization. Your irritating gift would’ve sniffed me out right away.”
“You plotted to kill me all this time?” she asked, hating that his duplicity hurt her so deeply.