Genevieve Harman drew her knees into her chest, curling into a fetal position under the down comforter. A bead of sweat ran across her forehead and dripped onto the pillow under her head, but she couldn’t stop shivering. Her mind raced, memories stabbing behind her eyes. Too often, her hands found their way to her neck, caressing where he had last touched her, testing the soreness of the bruises that still marred her skin. The Daybreakers had offered to heal them, but she wouldn’t let them.
Sometimes she imagined that her hands were his and she squeezed her throat desperately until her fingers cramped and the ceiling above her spun. She was trying to recreate that last moment with him, to understand why he had done it and why he had pulled away, but it never helped. For her to comprehend his actions, she needed to understand him, and it was excruciatingly clear to her now that she had never known him at all.
She wanted to hate him because then she could gather up the pain that was eating away at her, set it on fire, and watch him burn alive. But even after what he’d done to her, Gen still loved him, for whatever it was worth, and she was rotting from the inside out.
The Daybreakers made her tea and patted her on the head. Powerful witches and telepathic vampires populated this compound and only one seemed to notice the grimace in her smile and the shadows of pain in her violet eyes. The rest heard the smoothness of her soft reply, “I’m fine,” and they felt comforted. No Daybreaker wanted to believe that their precious Wild Power was shaken, useless, or anything less than the divine illusion of her that they had created even before they’d found her.
Blood oozed from her forearm relentlessly and with each drop that soaked the bandage wrapped around the wound, Gen felt her Power slip away. She wished she could descend into oblivion, simply let the blood run and let the current take her where it would. But the moment she began to slide into the void, the wound would close and she was wrenched back into reality, wide-eyed and gasping for breath. And then she would have to cut herself again; she didn’t even feel it any more.
Genevieve started at the knock at her door and pulled the down comforter off of her, shivering at the cool air. She readjusted the bloodstained bandage on her forearm before turning the doorknob slowly. Opening the door a crack, Gen saw the profile of Reece Cahill. “May I come in?” he asked softly.
Thierry had told her about that—Reece’s perpetual politesse—and Genevieve knew that that was one of the reasons Thierry had chosen him. He had wanted her to be protected by someone who hadn’t been hardened by the battles, who would sympathize with her for what she’d been through, who wouldn’t push her over the edge with the clinical coldness of leading the mission.
“Sure,” she replied, backing up casually.
“How are you holding up?” he asked as he closed the door behind him and leaned against it. Oh, he had power, this witch. It hummed around him, even though the strain of the past few days had taken its toll. Gen could feel it in the subtle, though futile, wash of calming energy he tried to channel to her, and she understood the charisma that made him a strong leader.
“I’m fine.” She turned and walked over to the mini-fridge that was on the floor next to her desk. “Can I get you something? Do you want some water?”
“No, thanks. I know—”
Gen kept staring into the fridge. “How about some fruit? I’ve got tons in here. They go to a stand especially for me every week. They have the best peaches I’ve ever had. I guess it’s just a perk for saving the world.” She knew she was speaking fast, too fast, but she couldn’t stop. “Well, maybe it’s just an investment in me because I really haven’t done anything yet, but I guess I’ll get my chance—”
Reece came up next to her and put his hand on hers, but she pulled away abruptly. She couldn’t stand to be touched, not since that night. “Gen,” he said, “I know you’re not fine. You don’t have to do this.”
She looked up at him. “Yes, I do. I have to hold it together. It’s bad enough that they all know about Aiden. I don’t want them to know that I’m losing my grip.”
“You’ve got every right,” he replied gently. “He’s your soulmate.”
“I don’t have the right,” she argued tiredly. “I’m a Wild Power. My life isn’t my own. I can’t afford this—any of this. The Night World will tear me apart and that will mean the end of the world. And I’ve been foolish enough as it is. I can’t let Daybreak down again.”
The witch at her side looked at her keenly. “You blame yourself?”
“If not me, who else?” Gen replied with a bitter bite to the words.
“Does it really matter?”
She didn’t answer him. He stood close to her, so that she could feel his warmth, and she realized that he cared about her, even though he barely knew her. Of course, all of the Daybreakers did, but only because she was a Wild Power. To them, she was their savior, and now she even had the damn stigmata to prove it. But Reece seemed different; he cared about her because he cared about everyone.
“There are a lot of powerful people in Daybreak, Gen” he told her. “You know that. None of them realized what he was doing.”
“But you said it yourself,” she countered with sudden passion. Frustration burned through her. Anger. Helplessness. The endless litany of “what ifs” tore at her mind. “He’s my soulmate! I was closer to him than anyone. I should have seen it. Goddess, even the day I met him there was signs.”
“What do you mean?”
She sighed. The anger was gone as quickly as it had come, leaving a hollow emptiness in its wake. “When I realized what I was, I left my circle to be protected by Daybreak. I flew here. It was supposed to be safe…not many in the Night World knew about this compound, or so I was told. I got off the plane in Dulles and looked around for the Daybreak contact who was supposed to meet me…” Her voice trailed off as she remembered the moment she had first seen him.
He’d stood in the aisle of the terminal, dressed in a white button-down shirt and black pants, and he was a good head taller than anyone else there. She remembered thinking that he was beautiful, with a fine-boned face and a somber mouth that wasn’t made for smiling; she remembered wishing that she could be the one to make him smile. But then she became distracted as his long, dark lashes swept down, and when they lifted again, she looked into his pale gray eyes.
She didn’t have the words to describe it, even now. She’d been told that it took physical contact to recognize one’s soulmate, but Genevieve had known hers the moment her eyes locked onto his. The sun, the moon, and the stars were encompassed in them—her entire universe was suddenly compressed into those silvery depths.
He had recognized her as well, and though it didn’t register with her at the time, he paled.
Letting her carry-on bag slide off her shoulder, Gen had run across the aisle to throw her arms around him. Her fingers brushed the bare skin at the nape of his neck, just under the collar of his shirt, sending a jolt of sweet electricity through them both. She had pressed her head against his chest, breathing in his scent, and she hadn’t even noticed that he’d been as cold and rigid as a statue in her arms.
Knowing what she knew now, she wondered what he’d felt at that moment. Disappointment, maybe. Disgust. Tiny seeds of hate that over the course of two years had blossomed into the vivid, crimson rage that she had witnessed in him five days ago. She could never be sure.
Whatever it was, it had taken him no more than a minute to get control of it. Then he’d let his lips rest against her forehead and whispered, “We’ve got to get out of here.”
Genevieve had pulled away and her soulmate had pressed a button on the sleek, black cell phone in his hand and brought it to his ear. “I need backup. Now.” Then he’d grabbed her bag from the floor and grasped her arm tightly, rushing her through the terminal.
“What’s going on?” she had asked, trying to keep up with his long, quick strides.
“Night World,” was all he’d said.
Glancing over her shoulder and back to the gate, Gen had seen them: two predatory vampires with luminescent eyes were staring after her. In a panic she’d broken her arm free from her soulmate and ran down the escalator towards the baggage claim. She hadn’t known where she was going; she’d only known that she must stay alive. Her soulmate had been right behind her, calling her name.
Before she could reach the exit, she’d been surrounded by a group of vampires and shapeshifters. Breathing hard, she bit her lip, trying to draw blood so that she could call on the blue fire. But then her soulmate finally reached her, put his hands on her shoulders, and said crisply, “They’re Daybreak, Genevieve. They’ll take you to the compound.”
Then she’d been whisked out of the automatic doors and into the thick summer heat. But it was only after she’d been pushed into the soft leather seats in the back of a BMW that she realized her soulmate was not with them.
“Where is he?” she had cried, trying to turn to look out the back windshield.
The shapeshifter at the wheel had stepped on the gas and the tires screeched as they’d torn away from the airport. “Don’t worry about Aiden. He’s going to head off the Night World so they can’t follow us.”
“By himself?” she asked, her voice breaking.
“Trust me, witch, he can handle himself. Now be quiet so I can drive.” He had jerked the wheel and the car had sped onto the highway, reaching over one hundred miles per hour as they drove toward D.C.
“I know what happened,” Reece said to her now, bringing Genevieve back to the moment. “I read the report.”
“I was so stupid,” she said to him, shaking her head. “I was just glad to be alive and to have found my soulmate. I never realized that the Night World vampires in the airport hadn’t even tried to chase after me. They were Aiden’s. They were waiting for his signal and he didn’t give it.” She shrugged. “I guess he decided that since he could get to me at any time, he would use me for information before killing me.”
“He was third in line to run the compound, Gen. He could have gotten to you at any time even if you weren’t his soulmate.”
His words pierced her heart. “Don’t say that,” she whispered. “Don’t try to give me any hope that I might have meant something to him, okay? It’s cruel.”
“You’re right,” Reece agreed. “I’m sorry.”
She took a deep breath and tucked her long hair behind her ear. “Do you have a soulmate?”
“No.” He smiled. “Not unless you count my work and my team.”
“That’s nice. Are you happy?”
“Yes.”
“That’s nice,” she said again. Goddess, she used to be so happy. It was lonely, being a Wild Power, even though she was never actually alone. There were always guards surrounding her, people watching her every move. The other Daybreakers fawned over her as if she was the Hollywood “It” girl of the D.C. compound, but very few of them really knew her. Still, it hadn’t occurred to her to mind—she was well cared for, protected, comfortable, and more than anything, she was in love with Aiden St. Helen.
She had thought that he loved her, too. He didn’t say it very often, but it wasn’t in his nature to be so expressive; work seemed to be the outlet for all of his passion. When he wasn’t out in the field, he was quiet and serious and, she realized now, cold.
“Do you have any questions about today?” Reece asked. “About how this is—”
There was a sound in the hallway, someone coughing loudly as they walked by her door, and Genevieve nearly jumped out of her skin. She knew that Reece was still talking, but his words were lost as her mind catapulted her back in time. Back to that night.
Aiden had been out on assignment, or so she had thought. As usual, she tried to wait up for him, but by two o’clock, sleep had claimed her. Some time later, she had woken to the sound of a muffled cry outside her door. It had worried her at first, but then her door had opened and her soulmate came in.
Gen had yawned as she sat up to look at the clock. “Hey, how was your patrol?”
He hadn’t said a word. Silently, he came up to the side of her bed and she remembered the way that his eyes had flashed like cold steel as he wrapped his hands around her throat.
Startled and confused, she’d tried to speak, to ask him what was going on, but his thumbs held her airway completely shut. While she lay there, astounded, her body began to instinctively fight him. She clawed at his arms, kicked at him, tried to scramble away, but he was too strong.
Black spots had danced before her eyes and Genevieve finally understood that this wasn’t some horrible mistake or a sick joke. Her soulmate was going to kill her and he was going to enjoy it. And he had planned this; he knew that he had to do it without drawing blood.
Her hands had fallen limp on top of his and through the link between them, she felt his desperation. There was a voice inside of his mind that hissed, Die, die, die…just one more minute, just die, please die...
And being the fool that she was, Gen pitied him even as she started to lose consciousness. She had wanted to die just so that he would stop hurting. She loved him that much.
He had felt it. As she hovered on the brink of death, Aiden had stared down into her eyes and then he suddenly let go of her, rushing back from her as if she had shocked him. Gasping for breath almost as hard as she, he left her on the bed and bolted from her room. And she’d known in that moment that she would never see him again.
Warm hands shook her gently. “Gen? Are you okay?”
Drawing away from Reece Cahill, she tried to force away the tears that stung her eyes. “I’m fine,” she murmured. “I’m just tired.”
“That’s understandable. You haven’t slept in—”
“No,” she interrupted him with an urgent sigh. “I’m tired. I’m tired of thinking and I’m tired of being.”
Reece gave her a soft smile. “You’re strong, Genevieve. You may not believe it, but anyone else here would be stark-raving mad if they’d been through what you have.”
“Who says I’m not?”
Carefully, he touched her arm again. “I can’t pretend to know what you’re feeling. All I can tell you is that we’re going to get you out of here, to someplace safe. You can try to heal there…we’ll do what we can.”
“There is nothing that can heal me,” she whispered. Then she turned to face Reece directly. “I want to die. I’ve dreamed about it, about him holding on for a few more seconds. Just holding on so that I could let go. I wish that he had so that I wouldn’t have to feel this.”
The witch tried to speak, but Gen cut him off again. “I know how selfish it is, but I wish I would die.”
Reece’s green eyes darkened and he remained silent for a long moment. In the end, he seemed to realize that there was nothing he could say to that. “Can I help change your bandage?” he asked hoarsely, with a glance to her left forearm.
“No…I can do it,” she murmured.
He cleared his throat. “We’re up in an hour. Will you be ready?”
Genevieve only nodded.
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