“It’s all right,” he said. “You’re safe now.”
The sound she made when he took a step forward and reached for her made the hair on the back of his neck rise in warning.
The growl that came out of her was anguished, pained…alien.
“Brynne, look at me. It’s Zael. I’m not here to hurt you.”
“Go. Away.”
If he wasn’t looking at her with his own eyes now, he never would have believed the twisted, gravely rasp belonged to her. She kept her head down, her arms wrapped around her updrawn knees. Her feet were bare, the skin on the tops of them covered with dermaglyphs. Deep colors surged and pulsed in furious, changeable hues on the backs of her hands too.
He looked closer, his gaze snagging on something peculiar about her fingers.
Her nails… They were black.
No, not fingernails, he realized now.
Talons.
Sharp as razors, the nails on the tips of her fingers gleamed as black as obsidian.
“Brynne,” he murmured. “Let me see you. Let me help you.”
“You can’t.” Anger lashed out at him with her reply. She gave a brief toss of her head, a moan leaking out of her. “Go away, Zael. Please.”
“No. Not this time. You’re not pushing me away when it’s obvious you’re in trouble and need help—”
“I said go away!”
Finally, her head came up. But it wasn’t Brynne glowering at him now. Zael gaped at the molten amber light that poured out of her eyes. Thin pupils locked on him in rage—in staggering deadly intent. Glyphs surged all over her face now, drawing attention to the sharpened angles of her cheekbones and brow, and the enormous lengths of her fangs.
Not Breed, because not even the eldest Gen One transformed like this in the throes of hunger.
Brynne was something else. Something other.
Something Zael and his people hadn’t seen up close for thousands of years.
The beautiful, tormented face staring back at him now in dangerous fury was the face of an Ancient.
CHAPTER 20
The Rogues were running through Georgetown like a pack of wild dogs.
Faces painted red with human blood, eyes blazing as bright as yellow coals in their feral faces, two more howling males bounded into the empty street where Lucan stood over the body of another he had just stopped a second ago with a titanium bullet to the head.
Like humans hopped up on heavy narcotics and adrenaline, Rogues didn’t go down easy. It took brute strength or a hell of a lot of lead—sometimes a combination of both. Titanium helped. The metal was highly corrosive poison to the diseased blood system of a Rogue, as evidenced by the sizzling mess that was growing near Lucan’s boots. The dead Rogue would be nothing but ash in a few minutes.
Lucan turned to deliver the same end to the pair of newcomers now closing in on him in the middle of the swanky Georgetown shopping district. He took the first one down with a single shot of titanium between the eyes—before realizing it was the last round left in his weapon.
Ah, fuck.
The second Rogue roared as his companion dropped into a puddle of melting flesh and bone. He charged at Lucan, head lowered and jaws snapping. Lucan drew his backup pistol and fired multiple times, but the lead rounds only pissed the Rogue off. The vampire vaulted at Lucan, leaving him no choice but to meet the threat up-close-and-personal.