Page 18 of Crimson Mate

That's not what broke my heart.

Not that he'd bothered to ask.

“Talia,” Saint says my name with a dip of his head, and I finally blink out of my stare and return the gesture.

“This is where we last picked up on the scent from the nest you found,” Ajax says, glancing between me and Zachariah.

“We don't smell Samuel,” Saint says, an edge to his voice, his red-ringed eyes locked on to Zachariah.

Those eyes, tinted with a hint of bloodmadness, are enough to make my powers perk up beneath my skin, sharpening like I might have to throw them around Saint at any moment.

But I know better. Not one of these hunters would let him out into the real world, let him come out of stasis, if they didn't think he was fit to be in society.

And that just brings up a whole other well of hurt that I'm not ready to address.

I inhale deeply, focusing my senses on the mission at hand, and stand up a bit straighter.

“I can smell Conrad,” I say to the group. “But it's faint.” My shoulders drop and I shake my head. “It's likely newborns. He's been creating more and more in every city that he steals an artifact from.”

“Well, whether Conrad is here or not,” Zachariah says. “We still have to dispatch of the nest.”

“Understood,” Ajax says, giving some unrecognizable signal as all of the hunters spread out, tracking down different traces of the scent as we all head in the same general direction across lycan territory.

There's a chill to the night air, October’s autumn in full force, the winds dropping a few more degrees from the river that winds to our left only a few yards away. Its sound covers any noise we make, the fallen leaves from the wooded area around the river enough to make any of us a little more loud in our steps than usual. Especially when Zachariah seems hell-bent on matching every step I make.

I can't help but sneak glances at Saint, who’s to our right, looking completely in control and healthy as he follows the trail.

“I need you to understand something,” Zachariah says after the third time I've checked Saint’s location, some inner instinct in me needing to know where he is at all times. “We truly believed Saint was on the verge of destroying the world, and that included you in it.”

I falter only a step before continuing on the trail, doing my best not to look at Zachariah lest all my emotions be out in the open for him to read.

“How's that going for you?” I finally manage to ask, my tone indifferent. “Because it looks like he's fine.”

“Nothing is working out for me,” he answers. “Except for the fact that you're alive and within an arm’s reach of me.” He sighs. “Samuel betrayed us in unimaginable ways, as you well know. I'm not saying Saint is perfect, but he's not the one we should’ve been worried about. Either way, I had to make a decision quickly. And with your life at stake, along with so many others, it was my burden to bear.”

Anger rips through me like a tidal wave of fire. “You should’ve talked to me about it,” I say. “You should’ve explained itthen, not in some letter. I would have?—”

Zachariah takes me to the ground, and it's a full two seconds before I realize a newborn vampire has attacked us from behind.

The first bloodmad reveals itself, and five more following dart out from the cover of the trees.

I shove Zachariah off, moving us both as one of the bloodmad newborns lunges for us again.

We're on our feet in seconds, and I grip my power, stopping a blade before it reaches Zachariah’s chest, spinning it around and sending it soaring into the chest of the newborn that had thrown it.

“Thanks,” Zachariah says before sending a bolt of lightning at a newborn heading straight for Ajax.

The thing goes down right in front of Ajax, who finishes the job.

I have my daggers at the ready, but with the amount of hunters in our little crew, the nest is dispatched within seconds.

I blow out of breath, shaking my head. “So much for easy and consenting transitions,” I say, guilt gnawing at me. “If I would’ve captured Conrad earlier, none of this would have happened.”

“Don't take this blame,” Zachariah says, pointing to the bodies that his brothers are gathering to put in a pile to burn. “Keep it on the person who created them.”

“Newborns don't have to turn out like this,” I say. “If transitioned properly, and given blood right away…if they’re taught how to feed...” I swallow hard, hating that tears are sneaking up on me way more than usual lately.

“I know,” Zachariah says. “What they're doing is senseless and cruel.”

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