Kiss of Midnight (Midnight Breed 1)

At first, Lucan thought the piercing trill was just part of the agony he'd been living for the past several hours. His entire body felt scorched, flayed, and lifeless. His head had, at some point, ceased pounding and now plagued him with a prolonged bell of pain.

He was in his private quarters at the compound, in his own bed; that much he knew. He recalled dragging himself there with his last ounce of strength, after he had stayed with Conlan's body topside for the full eight minutes required of him.

He had stayed even longer than that, another searing few seconds, until the dawn's rays had ignited the fallen warrior's shroud and erupted in an awesome shower of light and flames. Only then did he move for the cover of the compound's subterranean walls.

The extra time exposed had been his personal apology to Conlan. The pain he endured now was to let him never forget what truly mattered: his duty to the Breed and to the Order of honorable males sworn likewise into that same service. There was no room for anything else.

He'd let that oath slip last night, and now one of his best warriors was gone.

Another blast of shrill ringing from somewhere in the room assailed him. Somewhere too near where he rested; the splitting grate of it jackhammered into his already caving skull.

With a hissed curse that barely made it out of his parched throat, Lucan peeled his eyes open and glared into the dark of his private bedchamber. A small light blinked from within the pocket of his leather jacket as the cell phone rang again.

Stumbling, his legs lacking their usual athletic control and coordination, he dropped out of his bed and made a graceless lunge for the offending device. It only took him three tries to finally find the small key that would silence the ringer. Furious for the taxing that the brief series of movements had on him, Lucan held the glowing display up to his swimming vision and forced himself to read the caller's number.

It was a Boston exchange... Gabrielle's cell phone.

Beautiful.

Just what he fucking needed.

He'd resolved on the climb with Conlan's body up those several hundred stairs to the outside that whatever he was doing with Gabrielle Maxwell had to stop. He hadn't been entirely sure what he was doing with her anyway, short of exploiting every available opportunity he could find to get her on her back beneath him.

Yeah, he'd been brilliant at that tactic.

It was the rest of his objectives he was beginning to suck at, so long as Gabrielle was in the picture.

He had it all planned out in his head, the way he was going to deal with the situation. He would have Gideon go to her apartment that night, tell her in logical, understandable terms all about the Breed and about her destiny - her true belonging - within the vampire nation. Gideon had a lot of experience dealing with females, and he was a consummate diplomat. He would be gentle, and he sure as hell had a better way with words than Lucan himself. He could make sense of it all for her, including the very real need for her to seek sanctuary - and, eventually, a suitable mate - at one of the Darkhavens.

As for Lucan, he was going to do what was required for his body to heal. A few more hours of recovery, a much-needed feeding tonight - once he was able to stand up long enough to hunt - and he would come back stronger, a better warrior.

He was going to forget he'd ever met Gabrielle Maxwell. For his own sake, if not for the Breed as a whole.

Except...

Except, he had told her just last night that she could reach him on his cell phone whenever she needed him. He had promised he would always answer her call.

And if she was trying to get a hold of him now because the Rogues or their walking-dead Minions had come sniffing around her again, he figured he damned well needed to know.

Lying in a supine sprawl on the floor, he punched the Talk button.

"Hello."

Jesus, he sounded like shit. Like his lungs were made of cinder and his breath was ash. He coughed and felt his head split with pain.

Silence held for a second on the other end, then Gabrielle's voice, hesitant, anxious. "Lucan? Is that you?"

"Yeah." He worked to force sound from his arid throat. "What is it? You okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine. I hope it's all right that I called. I just... Well, after the way you left last night, I've been a little worried. I suppose I just needed to know that nothing had happened to you."

He didn't have the energy to speak, so he lay back, closed his eyes, and merely listened to the sound of her voice. The clear, rich tones washed over him like a balm. Her concern was an elixir, something he had never tasted before - hearing that someone was worried about him. The affection was unfamiliar, warm.

It soothed him, despite his fierce need to deny it.

"Time..." he croaked, then tried again. "What time is it?"

"Not quite noon. I wanted to call you as soon as I got up this morning, but since you generally work the evening shift, I waited as long as I could. You sound tired. Did I wake you up?"