Free Dark Secrets by Madeline Pryce Page A

would
freeze over before I let him back into my heart. He had to know that, right?
Whether he did or didn’t wasn’t an issue at this very moment because he was
here and Micah wasn’t.
    He shuffled forward and I gripped my sire’s button-down
white silk shirt, needing something concrete to hold on to. He wrapped his arms
around me and pulled me close. I didn’t have the strength to protest. I buried
my face against his chest. In his embrace, I broke down.
    He held me tighter. “I won’t let you go,” he whispered.
    “Get your fucking hands off her.” Micah’s voice was a deep,
rolling vibration of pure rage.
    I stiffened. Julian held me tighter, as if he feared I’d be
ripped from his arm. I pushed from his chest and lifted my head, meeting Micah’s
burning, furious gaze over my sire’s shoulder.
    At some point before he’d left the house, he’d changed into
a pair of jeans and a tight black tee. His leather jacket hung open and I
glimpsed the butt of his gun. Eli and Dante closed in around Micah, each man
taking an arm and keeping my mate from advancing farther.
    “Not here.” Dante’s voice was a rough order against Micah’s
ear.
    Micah shook one arm, then the other, struggling to break
free of their grip. “Fuck that.”
    Heat and fury bathed me and it took me a few seconds to
realize they weren’t my feelings. Micah. I sucked in a breath and tasted the
wrath dancing in the air. His emotions overrode my grief, shoving everything to
the side until the only thing that remained was a hard pit of loathing.
    I knew of Micah’s hatred toward Julian, but I’d never tasted
it, not until that moment.
    Micah curled his upper lip at Julian. “I didn’t stutter, asshole—remove
your hands from my woman.”
    Julian sneered and stepped in front of me. Possession
radiated through my sire-fledging bond. Between him and Micah, their fury of
warring disgust hammered me from all angles and tore me in half.
    “Or you’ll what, mongrel? Someone needed to be here for her.
That someone, yet again, wasn’t you.”
    Micah flinched as if he’d been slapped, Julian’s mark
hitting its target in more ways than one.
    “Julian,” I hissed, grabbing his arm and holding him back.
    Julian shook his head. “It’s true and we both know it.”
    In the process of staking Lizbeth, she’d managed to gut me.
Micah had tried to save me, had given me pint after pint of his blood, but it hadn’t
been enough. The only cure was my sire’s blood. Julian, the opportunistic bastard,
rubbed that fact in Micah’s face any chance he got.
    Hannah stepped up to Julian’s side and cupped his cheek. She
brought his burning gaze to hers. Four skinny security guards made their way
from a silver elevator to our group, hands on their two-way radios.
    “Not here, please,” Hannah pleaded. “This isn’t helping
Ella. If you care about her, you’ll leave and let them sort this out.”
    Julian looked at me, his electric-blue eyes fierce. Is
this what you want? he asked silently.
    Micah growled as if he knew Julian had spoken inside my
head, as if he could feel the power it took to converse telepathically.
    I shoved my hands into the front pocket of my hoodie and
nodded to Julian. “I’ll be fine, you go on. Thank you for being here and not
being a jerk about it. I’ll see you in a couple of days, for the party.”
    Julian bent as if to press his mouth to mine. Stupid.
Stupid. Stupid. I caught his face, pinching his cheeks together before his lips
met mine.
    “No,” I said and shoved him away.
    He inclined his head ever so slightly. His voice threaded
through my mind, a soft caressing whisper that had me gritting my teeth in an
attempt to push it away.
    One day, Ella, you will see the truth—see what is inside
you and you’ll come to me.
    The second he was out of sight, Eli and Dante released
Micah. Jaw tense, eyes burning, he crossed the distance between us and stopped
a few inches from touching me. The rich scents of liquor, smoke