I rubbed my eyes and struggled into a sitting position. "What time is it?"
He glanced down at his watch. "Just after seven."
No wonder I felt like shit. I'd only had five hours' sleep, and after the last few fun-filled days, that just wasn't enough. "Why did you wake me?"
"I didn't. I was merely watching you."
Something had woken me, but I let the matter slip and raised an eyebrow. "I'm not that interesting when I sleep."
"Perhaps not, but you were at least quiet. A rare thing, I'm discovering."
I picked up a twig and flicked it at him. He smiled, and it rose to his eyes, briefly warming the night dark depths. Something deep inside sighed in pleasure. "Did you uncover anything interesting last night while following Moss?"
"Nothing other than the fact that he and Merle do not see eye to eye. You?"
I shrugged and told him about Nerida's mad quest.
"So you've warned her off?"
"Yes." I hesitated, then added, "But there's still a problem."
"What?"
"The dead want revenge." I paused again, mainly because I didn't want to sound like an idiot. But if there was one person who could help me understand what was going on, then surely it was Quinn. He was an empath and one of the dead. "I could feel them all around me last night, feel their anger and their need to get back at her."
He raised an eyebrow. "Empathy with the truly dead? An interesting path for a developing talent to take."
"It's not interesting, it's freaky." I drew my knees up and wrapped my arms around them. "How is something like that even possible?"
"Many clairvoyants are able to see, and converse, with shades or spirits."
"But I didn't converse with them or see them. I could just feel them—or rather, their emotions."
"Maybe the rest is yet to come. But you have always had empathy with the dead—how else would you have been able to sense my emotions so often?"
I wanted to argue that that was different, because he had flesh and a heartbeat—however slow it might be—so, technically, he wasn't dead dead. But what was the point? I had always been able to sense his emotions. And sometimes even Jack's. How else would that have been possible if it wasn't some twisted form of empathy with the dead? And surely it wasn't a huge step from reading the undead to reading the dead.
I rubbed my arms lightly against a sudden chill. Trust me to develop a talent that held no earthly value and was as scary as hell. "Thing is, this empathy is extending. I'm beginning to sense the emotions of some flesh and blood people."
"If that's the case, and this is the first sign that the ARC 1-23 is having an effect, then you should not be here. You should be back at the Directorate, being tested and watched."
My gaze met his. "I'm not walking away from this mission. I want to be a part of Starr's downfall."
"Why? What is so important about it that you risk your life, or at the very least, your future?"
"Starr kidnapped me, abused me, and most importantly, he murdered a friend. And for all that, he will pay."
"So this Nerida is not the only one on a quest for revenge?"
I smiled grimly. "This question coming from a man who has spent how many years and wasted how many lives seeking his own revenge?"
He smiled his sexy smile, and desire prickled across my skin. The moon heat might be a few weeks off yet, but being in the presence of this vampire always made me feel like the moon was full and ripe. I wanted him, always wanted him, no matter how angry or just plain pissed off with him I might be. And in a totally different way to how I wanted Kellen or even Kade. This was deeper. Way deeper.
How much deeper was something I might never find out, given his problems with the werewolf lifestyle, and my own determination to find my werewolf soul mate.
"I guess I should not throw stones," he agreed.
"No, you should not." I stretched out my legs. "So why are you here? Really?"
"I want you to show me the section of the forest where Moss disappeared. I'll try and find the tunnel entrance, if there is one."
I frowned. "Your infrared can't sec past soil, can it?"
"No, but if there is an entrance, there will be other indicators, even if it is something as simple as an area of grass trampled down."
I nodded. "Jack knows you're here. He isn't happy." Which was the understatement of the century. After he'd spent ten minutes telling me off for continuing to ignore direct orders, I'd innocently mentioned Quinn and had learned the hard way my dear brother hadn't gotten around to telling Jack about his presence here. Meaning I'd been on the receiving end of yet another tirade. Was it any wonder I still had a headache?
What I needed was coffee. Buckets of it. And a big, hearty breakfast. Both of which might be difficult to get considering Nerida blew the kitchen apart last night.
"I'm here to help, not hinder, your mission," Quinn said. "I will not take out Starr until you have all the information you require about his organization and the labs."
"Well, actions speak louder than words, so I'm not believing until I actually start seeing evidence of your restraint." I pushed to my feet. "I'll take you to the place Moss disappeared. They want us to do some fight training this morning, then I have a brunch meeting with Starr."
He fell in step beside me. "Why do have you a meeting with Starr?"
"Because he's fascinated with my unusual beauty." Just saying those words had me grinning. Anyone who knew me would certainly class me as unusual—or, more likely, just plain weird. But men usually only considered me a beauty after the intake of several glasses of booze. Not that I was ugly by any stretch—just an ordinary girl with a good figure and big tits.
Which I supposed was the only thing some guys worried about.
"Well, it was your hair I noticed first." His fingers briefly touched my hair—a feather light caress that shimmered right down to my toes. "It was so long, and such a glorious color. It's a shame you cut it so short, even if it suits you."
I raised an eyebrow. "I cut it to shoulder length only a few months ago. You said you liked it. Or was that another lie?"
"No lie. But this is even shorter. It's a shame."
Hard to disagree when he was basically echoing my own comments to Liander. "So that comment you made about me not being as flat as most werewolves did not come from observation?"
He smiled. "Okay, so maybe there was just a little observation. But I'm hetero and Starr is not." Despite the amusement touching his lips, concern gleamed in the dark depths of his eyes—which shouldn't have surprised me as much as it did. I knew he cared, but it was often hard to remember when he was continually stabbing away at my heritage. "We are talking about a man who has made a concerted effort to get you into his labs. Is it wise to get so close? I thought that was Rhoan's job?"
"It is, but saying no wasn't an option."
He glanced at me again, and the worry was deeper. My daft hormones did an excited little shuffle. Nothing like a man worrying about my safety to get them zooming along excitedly.
"I have noticed this place is run like a dictatorship."
"You should have seen last night's dinner entertainment. If that didn't turn people off thoughts of rebellion, I don't know what would." I hesitated. "What do you plan to do if you find the tunnel?"
"Explore it, of course."
"It might have infrared sensors."
"It might, it might not." He shrugged.
Meaning, of course, he was well able to take care of any resulting guard dispatch. Given the little I'd seen of his skills, he was probably right. "And if you can't find the tunnel?"
"Then I shall dig myself a nice little ditch, cover myself in soil, and wait out the noon hours."