Free Dark Needs at Night's Edge by Kresley Cole Page B

direction with his brows drawn and teeth gritted, and she found that so much harder to see now.
    When did my curiosity turn to caring?
    His brothers had treated him like an animal—because that was how he’d acted mere days ago. She understood the need to keep him contained, because he was so incredibly powerful and could be dangerous if freed.
    But he’d been doing so much better. And they hadn’t even given him a chance….
    As Nikolai and Sebastian led him, docile and barefooted, into the oversize master bathroom, Conrad’s eyes were heavy-lidded, and he’d begun speaking in that low, unnerving voice. His wrists remained chained behind his back. They must be intent on washing him. Curious, she followed them in.
    Néomi’s second dirty secret? As a ghost, she’d become quite the voyeur.
    She’d watched men shower before, but she’d never been so intent to discover what a particular man’s body would look like as she was now.
    While Sebastian adjusted the water temperature and opened a bar of soap, Nikolai ripped away the remains of Conrad’s tattered shirt.
    From her spot halfway up the far wall, Néomi sighed, admiring Conrad’s powerful physique. She hadn’t appreciated exactly how tall he was because he’d been lying down for so long. He would tower over her if she stood near him.
    He had a narrow waist and hips and broad shoulders that looked tailor-made for a woman to hold on to during sex. With his hands behind his back, the corded muscles of those shoulders and his chest were stretched taut, displayed so attractively.
    He was all male hardness, with so many scars marring his flesh, like the narrow one slashing up his torso. But she’d begun to find the evidence of his formidable life attractive, had begun imagining a scenario for each battle wound.
    She’d seen Conrad fight with a ferocity that astonished her. She could all too easily see him brandishing a sword three hundred years ago, a massive warlord fearlessly storming a battlefield….
    A ragged bandage on his arm caught her attention. Sebastian too frowned at the gauze, tearing it off to reveal a peculiar, blackened injury. “What the hell is this?” It appeared as if he’d been attacked by a beast, and then the skin around the mark had died.
    Why would Conrad have healed from the gashes across his chest, but not from another wound?
    Nikolai narrowed his eyes. “With his strength, he should have mended that easily by now. Maybe if he cleans it, it will improve.”
    â€œChrist, look at all the scars, Nikolai.”
    â€œI had no idea he’d sustained this many hits during the war,” he answered, moving behind Conrad to inspect his back.
    â€œMaybe he had them before the war.” Sebastian yanked free Conrad’s belt. “Think about it—he never worked without his shirt, and he continually went off by himself. He could have been a highwayman for all we know….” He trailed off at Nikolai’s expression. “What?”
    â€œCome look at this,” Nikolai said, so Néomi followed Sebastian around. All three of them frowned at an elaborate black tattoo covering his entire right shoulder blade. It was unusual, with its slashing lines, but compelling in a way. “Isn’t that the mark of the Kapsliga Uur?”
    What’s the Kapsliga Uur? Why did their faces pale at the very idea?
    â€œThat can’t be right,” Sebastian said, an edge to his voice. “We’d have known. They recruit young. He couldn’t have hidden his involvement for two decades.”
    Seeming lost in his own world, Conrad continued his rasping mutter, unaware of their discovery.
    â€œHe always did his own thing, always brushed off questions about where he’d been or with whom,” Nikolai said. “My God. He’d been out hunting vampires with the Kapsliga. No wonder the turning maddened him.”
    Sebastian’s face