Read Online Crave the Night: A Midnight Breed Novel by Lara Adrián - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Lara Adrián
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Nathan’s company.He had the uncanny ability to strip her bare, to pare her down to her bones with just a glance. He had the unnerving power to unravel the tentative constructs of her life with just one uninvited touch.
“He scares me, Carys. When Nathan looks at me, I feel as if he’s seeing all my flaws, every crack in who I am. When I’m near him, it’s as though I’m standing naked in the middle of a raging storm. He makes me feel as if I’m on the steepest cliff, about to lose my footing. That if I step too close to him, I might never get back on solid ground.”
Carys stared at her. “And this is a bad thing, the way you see it?”
“Yes, it’s bad. It’s the worst thing,” Jordana said, uncertain who she needed to convince more: her friend or herself. “I’ll be better off—safer—if I stay far away from Nathan.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Carys replied after a long moment. “It would be safer for you if you steer clear of him.”
“Yes,” Jordana said, pushing out the breath she’d been holding. Having her best friend’s agreement was just the confirmation she needed. “I’m glad you understand.”
“Oh, believe me, I do,” Carys said. Her lips curved into a wry smile. “Because what you just described? That’s how Rune made me feel from the moment we first met. I stepped off that cliff with him, and so far, I haven’t missed solid ground beneath me for so much as a second.”
CASSIAN GRAY STEPPED OUT OF A TAXI AND INTO THE LATE-AFTERNOON sunlight on Commonwealth Avenue in Boston’s Back Bay. He ambled up the street at a casual pace, even though daytime was ending in less than two hours and he had every reason to hustle his ass to where he was going.
This close to dusk, it was a risk for him to be out and about. Although he hadn’t been in touch with anyone at La Notte in a couple of days, he had no doubt the Order was on his trail. He’d suspected his cover had been blown from the instant one of their warriors—an errant comrade-turned-rebel-leader named Kellan Archer—had body-blocked him during a minor confrontation in the club.
Cassian didn’t know what the Breed male’s unique psychic talent might be, but something told him the warrior’s touch had outed Cass as being other than human.
That bit of shitty luck had nearly been enough to make Cass cut and run from the life he’d made for himself in Boston, but it was the more recent bout of bad news—the death of Reginald Crowe—that had Cass skulking around the city and constantly looking over his shoulder like the fugitive he truly was.
Crowe’s attempt to disrupt the Global Nations Council summit several nights ago had made headlines all over the world. So had his slaying at the hands of the Order. As much as Cass dreaded the possibility of being captured for interrogation by Lucan and his warriors, there was another, equally lethal army of soldiers that he hoped to elude.
His Atlantean kinsmen.
Cass had been on the run from them for far longer than he had from the Order. Hiding in plain sight had worked well enough all these years, and it was that same method of concealment he employed now, as he made his way to an important appointment in the city.
As he strolled nonchalantly by a coffee shop window on the avenue, he caught his reflection and smiled to himself at how different he looked. His short crown of hair was dyed a nondescript brown and combed into an obedient side part. Dark sunglasses masked his eyes.
He’d traded his usual public camouflage of leather and metal for thrift store denim and a faded Red Sox logo T-shirt that had probably started showing its wear a decade ago. Scuffed loafers covered his feet, their soles so thin he could feel every pit and bump in the concrete of the sidewalk as he made his way toward the designated meeting spot.
He looked more than passably pedestrian, hardly distinguishable from any other civilian man in his thirties. To anyone seeing him on the street today,
“He scares me, Carys. When Nathan looks at me, I feel as if he’s seeing all my flaws, every crack in who I am. When I’m near him, it’s as though I’m standing naked in the middle of a raging storm. He makes me feel as if I’m on the steepest cliff, about to lose my footing. That if I step too close to him, I might never get back on solid ground.”
Carys stared at her. “And this is a bad thing, the way you see it?”
“Yes, it’s bad. It’s the worst thing,” Jordana said, uncertain who she needed to convince more: her friend or herself. “I’ll be better off—safer—if I stay far away from Nathan.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Carys replied after a long moment. “It would be safer for you if you steer clear of him.”
“Yes,” Jordana said, pushing out the breath she’d been holding. Having her best friend’s agreement was just the confirmation she needed. “I’m glad you understand.”
“Oh, believe me, I do,” Carys said. Her lips curved into a wry smile. “Because what you just described? That’s how Rune made me feel from the moment we first met. I stepped off that cliff with him, and so far, I haven’t missed solid ground beneath me for so much as a second.”
CASSIAN GRAY STEPPED OUT OF A TAXI AND INTO THE LATE-AFTERNOON sunlight on Commonwealth Avenue in Boston’s Back Bay. He ambled up the street at a casual pace, even though daytime was ending in less than two hours and he had every reason to hustle his ass to where he was going.
This close to dusk, it was a risk for him to be out and about. Although he hadn’t been in touch with anyone at La Notte in a couple of days, he had no doubt the Order was on his trail. He’d suspected his cover had been blown from the instant one of their warriors—an errant comrade-turned-rebel-leader named Kellan Archer—had body-blocked him during a minor confrontation in the club.
Cassian didn’t know what the Breed male’s unique psychic talent might be, but something told him the warrior’s touch had outed Cass as being other than human.
That bit of shitty luck had nearly been enough to make Cass cut and run from the life he’d made for himself in Boston, but it was the more recent bout of bad news—the death of Reginald Crowe—that had Cass skulking around the city and constantly looking over his shoulder like the fugitive he truly was.
Crowe’s attempt to disrupt the Global Nations Council summit several nights ago had made headlines all over the world. So had his slaying at the hands of the Order. As much as Cass dreaded the possibility of being captured for interrogation by Lucan and his warriors, there was another, equally lethal army of soldiers that he hoped to elude.
His Atlantean kinsmen.
Cass had been on the run from them for far longer than he had from the Order. Hiding in plain sight had worked well enough all these years, and it was that same method of concealment he employed now, as he made his way to an important appointment in the city.
As he strolled nonchalantly by a coffee shop window on the avenue, he caught his reflection and smiled to himself at how different he looked. His short crown of hair was dyed a nondescript brown and combed into an obedient side part. Dark sunglasses masked his eyes.
He’d traded his usual public camouflage of leather and metal for thrift store denim and a faded Red Sox logo T-shirt that had probably started showing its wear a decade ago. Scuffed loafers covered his feet, their soles so thin he could feel every pit and bump in the concrete of the sidewalk as he made his way toward the designated meeting spot.
He looked more than passably pedestrian, hardly distinguishable from any other civilian man in his thirties. To anyone seeing him on the street today,
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