will in the other room? Even if she did prove to be something more than she seemed - even if she proved to be connected in some way to Dragos himself - who was he to be her judge and jury? He wasn't a part of the Order anymore. He hadn't been part of the Enforcement Agency in a long time either. From where he stood now, it wasn't that difficult to see himself through Tavia's frightened eyes. He was deranged, dangerous ... a monster.
For what wasn't the first time, his eyes strayed to the small silver vial that rested on the edge of the black granite countertop. He'd found it in the bedroom, lying on top of his old desk with a handful of printed snapshots from the time when he'd called this Darkhaven home. He'd been unable to resist picking up the slender container with its damnable contents sealed inside. Even now his hand moved toward it as though drawn by an invisible tether.
Chase palmed the vial, the metal cold against his skin. The red wax that sealed the cork stopper felt smooth under the pad of his thumb. Inside the silver capsule was all that remained of a manufactured substance that had destroyed many lives the autumn before last - including that of his nephew, Camden.
The lab and the human who'd created the drug were long gone, but Chase had saved this last dose as a reminder to himself of the evil he'd helped destroy. And looking at it now, he had to acknowledge that he'd saved the poisonous sample for another reason too. It was his final out. His guarantee that if his struggle to resist Bloodlust became too much for him to bear, he could end it in a single moment.
A taste of Crimson was enough to turn him into a mindless, blood-crazed Rogue in an instant. Just as it had Camden and too many of the Breed youth's innocent friends last year. But inside the innocuous, polished silver vial was a deadly dose of the drug. More than enough to kill. Chase rolled the slim cylinder in his palm, seeing it for what it truly was: his suicide pill. He was halfway gone, all on his own. How much worse would he have to get before Crimson looked like his best option?
A stirring in the other room pulled his thoughts back to more immediate problems. Tavia was waking. She'd finally fallen asleep just before sundown, exhausted, slumped in the chair where he'd left her. Now it was deep night, and Chase had already been out for supplies and back while she'd slept. He set the Crimson down on the bathroom counter and walked out to the study.
She was sitting up now, the hotel robe wrapped around her like a blanket, her hands still restrained behind her. Her head lifted slowly as he entered the room, her movements heavy and listless. She groaned with the effort. Her tongue came out to wet her dry lips. "What time is it?" Chase shrugged as he approached her. "Around ten, I guess."
She groaned again, gave a miserable shake of her head. "Too long. I've never gone this long without my medicines."
"You'll feel better after you eat." Chase gestured to the end table beside her, where a paper deli bag and bottle of water sat. "I brought you a sandwich."
She winced as if the mere idea repulsed her. "I'm not hungry. I feel light-headed. I need to get out of here. My body aches everywhere and my skin ... it feels too tight all over."
Chase grunted. She was practically describing how he felt right now, his body barely out of the racking wave of blood thirst that had ridden him most of the day and into the night. The suffering had been intense. The temptation to hunt and feed while he was out earlier tonight had nearly beaten him.
"Lean forward," he told Tavia as he hunkered down in front of her at the chair. Despite the look of mistrust in her eyes, she drooped against him as he reached around her to untie the drapery cord that bound her wrists at her back.
He didn't want to notice how good she smelled this close to his face, how her skin and hair still carried the faint fragrance of hotel soap and shampoo and the more intriguing scent that was hers alone. He tried to ignore the weight of her forehead on his bare shoulder and the fact that everywhere her