Kil ing the cal , he rounded the corner of the building and came to an abrupt stop. Raze leaned against the metal siding of the building’s exterior, his arms crossed and massive biceps bulging. His gaze was riveted to the slender female silhouette just a few yards away. She was pacing, as if agitated, and speaking on a phone. To Adrian.
Syre waved the Fal en captain away and shoved his hands in his pockets, taking up the watchful position he’d dismissed Raze from. Syre’s emotions were a morass of pain, guilt, sorrow, grief, and anger. As he watched the woman who’d supplanted his beloved daughter in every way— the woman who was the greatest vulnerability of his oldest adversary—he realized he had no idea what to say to her…or do with her. If anything.
“I can tough it out,” she was saying. “I’l be home soon, neshama. Please don’t worry…Yes, I know that’s impossible. That’s why I’m here, isn’t it?
Because I’m worried about you…I wil …I love you, too.”
Ending the cal , she stared down at the phone in her hand and sighed. There was something in the sound, a note of regret and weariness that struck a chord in Syre.
Pivoting, she faced him and saw him standing there. She froze, her eyes blinking in the waning light. She was a fledging, stil growing into her new senses.
“How are you feeling, Lindsay?”
She shoved her hand through her curls, a habit he remembered she fel into when discomfited. Her mouth opened, then closed. She shrugged.
“Not so hot.”
He stepped closer, slowly, approaching her in a nonthreatening manner. As he neared, he saw the fever brightness of her eyes and her rapid, shal ow breathing. “How much blood did you give the Alpha?”
“A pint. Maybe a little more.”
“It’s too soon after the Change,” he murmured, lifting his hand cautiously toward her face. “Can I?”
She nodded.
He found her skin burning hot. “How often is Adrian feeding you?”
“Every few hours.”
“How long has it been?” He caught her chin when she looked away. “How long, Lindsay?”
“Six. Maybe seven.”
“You need to eat.”
She shook her head.
Syre remembered how the act of drinking blood had so horrified her. She’d almost died by refusing to feed. He was surprised to find that he was relieved she’d survived after al .
He blew out his breath. “Come inside.”
Reaching into her back pocket, she pul ed out a bandana and began to tie it around her head, covering her eyes.
“That’s not necessary,” he said.
“It’s safer for me. And for you. If something happens to me, Adrian wil go bal istic. The less risk I pose, the better for everyone.”
“Al right.” Gripping her elbow, he steered her back into the building and toward the office he’d commandeered as his own.
As they crossed the vast space, lycans who’d been sitting at various points around the open warehouse pushed slowly to their feet, eyeing him with hostile suspicion. Old habits die hard, he thought. Going head-to-head with Adrian and the Sentinels wasn’t something they were wil ing to risk yet. They weren’t going to let him incite a war with Adrian over Lindsay.
Syre shut them out by closing his office door, then tugged the bandana off her face. Although his night vision was excel ent, he was struck by the sight of her in the harsh glare of the fluorescent overhead lights. She was nothing like Shadoe, but stil …he felt oddly soothed in her presence.
Something that had been vibrating with disquiet inside him settled down. She sank into one of the two chairs positioned in front of the utilitarian metal desk and he took the one beside it.
She studied him boldly.
His brows rose in silent inquiry.