Where he still wanted to take things with her.

Yeah, straight to hell, with him leading the way.

He gripped the leather arms of the club chair, digging his fingers into the supple hide to keep from vaulting to his feet and going out after her. Which was the very thing he ached to do.

The part of him that was more savage than human railed at being forced to heel. He was a predator at heart, and he never felt it more than he did in that moment, with his vampire eyes reflecting back at him from the glass of the boathouse window, his fangs stretched long and sharp as razors.

Every dark instinct in him was tuned on one thing: Elise.

Barely a taste of her and he was on fire with the need for more. How lost would he be if he ever got the chance to fill his mouth with that lush nectar running through her tender veins? Ah, fuck. He was in seriously bad shape.

And he needed to feed.

Not for sustenance so much as distraction. Because if he didn't slake at least one of the hungers sticking its talons into him, he was going to have the luscious Elise flat on her back beneath him before the night was through.

Elise didn't stop running until she had circled the mansion and found the front entrance. She knew she should go inside. It was late and she was cold. Her bare feet were wet and freezing, her body trembling from the wintry night air. She knew how close she'd come to disaster with Tegan; she should be grateful that he gave her the opportunity to escape what could only prove to be a heartbreaking mistake in the end.

And yet...

She stood on the wide marble steps that led up to safety, and her hand refused to reach for the door. The fear she'd felt moments ago in the boathouse had muted into something else-- something that still unsettled her in many ways, but the sharp edge of it was gone.

She'd felt anxious, apprehensive in those passionate few minutes with Tegan. All too aware of his hunger for her, and stunned to realize how his hunger enflamed her. Now, having fled him like a coward, she felt...empty.

Elise backed away from the elegant manor house.

This wasn't what she wanted.

As soon as her soles hit the cold grass, she lifted her damp skirt and dashed back around the corner of the mansion. She cut across the long yard and gardens, breathless as she reached the dark brick-and-timber building near the water. She threw open the door and ran up the stairs to the loft, ready to let Tegan take whatever he wanted from her.

But the boathouse was empty.

He was already gone.

Tegan hoofed it back into the city, moving with the preternatural speed that made the Breed all but invisible to human eyes. He was glad for the long run from Reichen's lakeshore Darkhaven. He was glad for the chill snap in the air that helped clear his head after the near catastrophe with Elise.

But he was glad most of all for the thick clot of humanity that was prowling the darkened streets of Lichtenberg in Berlin's depressed Eastern District. Row upon row of twenty-story concrete high-rise eyesores towered over this former East Berlin sector, which only added to the general malaise of the place. There were few tourists here at this hour of night. Only grim-faced locals hurrying from late-shift jobs or the grimy brewhauses that catered to the working-class poor--folks who weren't leaving the GDR in this lifetime, wall or no wall.

Tegan scanned his surroundings with a hunter's eye. He was hardwired to look for Rogues, but he could tell at a glance there were no suckheads in the vicinity. While Boston had been practically overrun with the Bloodlusting bastards courtesy of Marek's recent reappearance, Berlin and most other major cities had been reporting only minimal Rogue activity for years.

And damn if that didn't suck ass.

Because right now, Tegan would have welcomed a good hard fight with his enemies-- several, if he had his choice about it.

He had to force his aggression to heel as he stalked down one of the desolate streets that would lead him deeper into the district. He watched for his night's prey, ignoring a pair of human women who gave him the once-over as they stumbled out of a bar and into his path. He walked around them with an annoyed snarl.

He wouldn't feed from a female.

He hadn't in all this time...not since Sorcha's death.

It was his choice, something he'd adopted as self-imposed punishment for failing the innocent girl who had been so wrong in trusting him to keep her safe from his enemies. But somewhere along the way, Tegan's aversion to drinking from females, let alone binding himself to another Breedmate, had become an act of desperation.

It had become an act of plain survival.

His hungers ran too deep. And he knew from experience how easy it was to lose control. He'd tasted Bloodlust once before, and he could never allow himself to get close to it again.

That he'd been so tempted by Elise tonight had rattled him hard. He'd never wanted to take a female--to his mouth or to his bed--in a long span of time that had somehow become centuries. He'd been alone by his own will, bonded to nothing but his mission to wipe out the Rogues.

But now...?

Fuck, he ground out savagely from between clamped teeth and fangs.

Now he was about two seconds away from hauling ass back to the Darkhaven where Elise was probably cowering in terror from what he might have done to her--to them both--if he'd given in to the impulse to drink from her.

Instead, he plowed forward, his sights locking on to a trio of skinheads in black leather and chains. The white laces on their jackboots practically glowed in the scant light shed by the intermittent streetlamps overhead. They hooted at an elderly woman in a headscarf who was coming toward them up the sidewalk. Her dark eyes dropped to avoid facing the threat, and when she started to cross the street to get out of their way, the gang of neo-Nazis loped after her, taunting her with ugly racial slurs. They shoved her into the alcove of a nearby building, and one of them made a grab for her purse. The woman screamed and held on, and suddenly she was being dragged into the adjacent alley where the situation was sure to escalate.

Tegan moved in quickly, feeling battle rage transform him.

The first skinhead didn't know what hit him until he was thrown several yards into the street. Wisely, he got up, took one look at Tegan, and started running in the opposite direction. His companions took a bit more convincing. While one pulled the old woman farther into the alley by her purse strap, the other one drew a switchblade and made a jab at Tegan.

He missed.

But then it's damn hard to hit a target that's standing in front of you one second, then suddenly behind you the next, wrenching your arm out of its socket. The skinhead howled in agony, dropping the blade as he crumbled to his knees on the pavement.

Tegan's breath rolled out of his mouth in cloudy plumes, and his hands itched to finish the asshole, but the one who really needed killing was the one pounding his fists into a defenseless old woman a few yards away.

Get the fuck out of my sight, he snarled down at the whimpering human, peeling his lips back from his fangs to make sure the kid got a good eyeful of the hell he'd be dealing with if he decided to stick around. Ah, shit! the human gasped, reading Tegan loud and clear. He scrambled to his feet and took off running, his dislocated arm dangling uselessly at his side.

Tegan wheeled around and stalked into the alleyway where the last of the skinheads had finally wrestled the purse away from the old lady. He dug through the leather bag, dumping out the scant contents. He tore out the lining and let it fall to the ground.

Where's your cash, bitch? You've got to be hiding something in here to hold on as tight as you did!

The woman crawled forward to retrieve a small framed photo from the slushy pavement. My photograph, she wailed, her German tinged with an Arabic accent. It's all I have left of my husband. You've ruined it!

The skinhead laughed. Oh, my heart is breaking for you. Nasty foreign scum.

Tegan came up on the guy like a ghost. He clamped his hand around the back of the skinhead's neck and steered him away from the woman. In his periphery, he saw her collect her meager belongings and hurry out of the alley.

Hey, ubermensch, Tegan hissed about an inch away from the human's ear. You ever get tired of terrorizing old women? Maybe you wanna hit a hospital next, eh? Bet you could really do some damage on the children's ward. Or would the cancer wing be more your speed?

Fuck you, the thug seethed back at him in English. Maybe I show you the morgue, asshole.

Tegan smiled, flashing his fangs. Funny. That's exactly where you're headed.

The human hardly had a chance to scream before Tegan tore into his throat and began to feed.

Chapter Nineteen

Tegan managed to avoid her the entire next day. Elise didn't know where he'd gone the night before, or where he spent the hours before dusk, when the time of their appointment at the Enforcement Agency's containment facility drew near. He didn't speak to her--hardly did so much as look at her--the whole forty-five minutes in the car as Reichen's driver took the three of them south of the city to the location where the Odolf Rogue was housed.

The entrance was gated and manned by an automated security system. There was no sign to indicate what lay on the other side of the tall, solid iron gates, but it was clear from the high-voltage, fortresslike perimeter wall that whatever was held inside was meant to stay there. As the car approached, Elise saw a thin red stream of light sweep through the vehicle from one of the mounted electronic devices that flanked the entrance. A moment later, the wall of iron parted in front of them.

Reichen's driver eased the car inside, only to pause before another set of tall gates. A quartet of armed Breed guards approached from either side of the vehicle and opened the doors. Elise didn't miss Tegan's deep-throated growl as they all climbed out, practically held at gunpoint.

Another Breed male came forward now, having come out of a windowless door built into the interior gate of the complex. He looked serious and distinguished in his dark gray suit and black turtleneck, his reddish brown beard trimmed into a precise goatee. Madam Chase, he said, greeting her with a curt nod. Welcome. I am Heinrich Kuhn, director of this facility. If you are ready, we will escort you inside now. He looked to the two males with her, barely affording Tegan a glance. Your, er...companions may await you here, if you please.

Absolutely not. Tegan's deep voice, the first he'd spoken since leaving Reichen's estate, sliced through the air like a sword. Ignoring the sudden clack of shifting metal as the guards raised their weapons on him, he stepped toward Elise, placing himself between the facility head and her in an unmistakably protective stance. She's not going in there alone.

It will be perfectly safe, the director said, pointedly addressing Elise rather than Tegan, as if the warrior did not warrant a direct explanation. The patient will be restrained, of course, and he has also been sedated for his feeding, which should be finished any moment now. There will be no danger from him, I can assure--

I don't care if you have that suckhead bricked up behind ten feet of solid stone, Tegan snarled, his green eyes flashing. She doesn't go inside that Rogue holding tank without me.

Two of the guards flicked nervous glances at the director, as if they waited for his order to move in yet dreaded the idea of tangling with the Gen One warrior with a widely accepted lethal reputation.

And well they should hesitate. Elise had no doubt that if things escalated here, it was going to take a lot more than a Darkhaven-trained security detail to handle Tegan. Andreas Reichen seemed to understand that too, and the German evidently found the idea mildly amusing, smiling as he stood back and watched the suited civilian squirm. Madam, if you please, said the director in a patently false diplomatic tone. Facility visitations are rarely granted to anyone due to the stress it tends to cause the residents in treatment. At the pleasure of the Enforcement Agency's Chief Director, we have made an exception for you with this interview, but I am loath to think what the mere sight of a warrior inside the clinic could do to my patient's progress. You must be aware that his kind revels in agitating the afflicted among our race. We practice mercy here, not malice.

Tegan scoffed. I'm going in with her. It wasn't a question.

Even though he kept his narrowed gaze trained on the containment facility director, Elise knew that Tegan had already sized up the four guards and dismissed them as any kind of true threat. Underneath the long coat he wore, the warrior was also armed with a nasty-looking handgun and several deadly blades sheathed across his torso and at his hip. He made no move to reach for any of his weapons, but Elise knew from seeing him in action that it would take less than a second for him to turn the contained stretch of pavement into a blood-soaked graveyard.

I would like Tegan to accompany me inside, she said, taking control of the situation. She saw Tegan's eyes slide her way for an instant, before he turned his icy stare back on the director.

Madam, I really don't think--

Tegan comes with me. Elise removed her jacket and draped it over her arm. She smiled politely, but her gaze was as unwavering as her tone. I'm afraid I must insist, Director Kuhn.

Elise's handling of the self-important facility director was impressive. She knew Darkhaven and Enforcement Agency protocol and understood just how far she could bend both. Her station as Quentin Chase's widow brought her a lot of pull, which she didn't hesitate to put to use.

The fact that she'd sided with Tegan when she could have just as well left him to fight his way inside to interrogate the Odolf Rogue--and would have been within her rights to do just that, after how things ended between them last night-- impressed him even more. Elise was cool under pressure, a consummate lady and a levelheaded tactician.

She was, he had to admit if only to himself, a damn valuable asset.

The fact that he could hardly take his eyes off her in the sexy, all-business navy trousers and crisp white blouse she wore only amplified his appreciation of her. The evidence of that rousing appreciation was a hard, heavy presence behind the zipper of his black fatigues as he left Reichen to wait behind with the driver and followed the graceful sway of Elise's hips through the second set of gates, toward the containment facility ahead.