look at him as she retrieved her plate from the counter and walked it to the sink.
What do you mean, it's gone? The leader of the Rogues sat forward in his leather chair, planting his elbows on the surface of a large mahogany desk and steepling his fingers as the voice of a nervous Minion cracked over the speaker phone.
The call came in to the firehouse late last night, sire. There was an explosion. Whole friggin' warehouse went up like a Roman candle. No saving it, according to the guys who responded to the call. Initial reports say there appears to have been a gas leak-- With a snarl, Marek jabbed the End button, cutting off his human servant's useless report.
There was no way in hell the Crimson lab was destroyed by chance or faulty utilities. This bit of infuriating news had the Order written all over it. The only thing that surprised him was that it had taken this long for his brother Lucan and the warriors who fought alongside him to make their move on the place. But then, Marek had been keeping them busy fighting Rogues in the streets since last summer.
Which was exactly where he wanted the Order's focus to remain.
Hold them off with one hand so the other could do the real work unnoticed and undisturbed.
It was the reason he'd come to Boston in the first place. The reason this particular city was experiencing an increased Rogue problem. All just part of his plan to create havoc while he pursued a bigger prize. If he could take out the warriors in the process, so much the better, but keeping them distracted would serve him just as well. Once his true goal was achieved, even the Order would be powerless against him.
And as much as the loss of the Crimson lab infuriated him, the even greater irritation was the fact that one of his other Minions had failed to report in as instructed. Marek was waiting on information--vital information--and his patience was thin even in the best of situations.
It didn't bode well that his Minion was late. The human he'd recruited for this particular job was volatile and arrogant, but he was also reliable. All Minions were. Drained to within a bare inch of life, the human mind slaves were under the complete control of the vampire who made them. Only the most powerful among the vampire race could create Minions, and Breed law had long prohibited the practice as barbaric.
Marek scoffed with contempt at the self- imposed, bureaucratic castration of his kind.
Just one more example of why the vampire realm was overdue for change. They needed strong new leadership to usher in a new age.
The new age that would belong to him.
Chapter Seven
He had pissed her off, probably hurt her, and even though an apology perched at the tip of his tongue most of the day, Tegan held it back. He had nothing to be sorry about, after all. He didn't owe the female anything, least of all explanations or excuses for why he came off like the callous bastard everyone knew him to be.
And he wasn't about to give so much as a second's consideration to her request that he help her bring her psychic gift to heel. She'd surprised him with the suggestion. The idea that any female, particularly a sheltered Darkhaven widow like her, would think to put herself in his care for any reason was beyond his comprehension. As if he could be trusted for something like that.
Yeah. Not fucking likely.
Elise made it easy for him to avoid the issue. In the hours since he'd shut her down, she hadn't uttered another word to him. She busied herself around the apartment, making up the futon, washing the breakfast dishes, dusting the bookshelves, going thirty minutes on the treadmill, and generally keeping as far away from him as seemed possible in the cramped quarters. He'd heard her in the shower a while ago and had allowed himself a few minutes' sleep where he sat on the floor, but the water was off now and he was awake, listening to Elise getting dressed behind the closed door. She came out in blue jeans and a hooded Harvard sweatshirt that fell halfway down her thighs. Her short blond hair was towel-dried and as shiny as gold, setting off the pale lavender of her eyes.
Eyes that slid to him in a chilly glare as she went to the closet in the hallway and pulled a