He stepped toward her. “I thought you’d want to explain to them yourself. When you’re ready.”

“No. I’m never going to tell them. They’ll never look at me the same way again.”

The idea of allowing anyone else to know what she truly was sent a shudder through her. She had protected this secret all her life, keeping herself isolated, devoting herself to her work because it was the only thing she could hold on to. The only thing she had.

But now there was Zael.

She hated that he’d seen her as she had been in that alley.

As kind as he was treating her, she couldn’t delude herself into thinking he would ever forget what she was. For his own safety and her peace of mind, she hoped he would finally stay away for good.

Yet he only drew nearer.

When she pushed some of the blood-stiffened strands of hair from her face, he gently caught her hand. Shook his head slowly as he threaded his fingers through hers.

“Come with me, Brynne.”

He led her into the en suite bathroom, leaving her only long enough to turn on the water in the large shower.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said, reaching around her to unfasten her bra.

She wanted to protest his careful treatment of her, but her need for comforting overrode all of her old defenses. She was miserable and distressed, and so very tired. Tired of the hiding. Tired of the loneliness.

Her bra fell away. Zael reached for her panties and slid them over her hips, down her thighs, then bent to help her step out of them completely. This wasn’t about sex, and yet she could not keep her body from responding to every light touch of his fingers, from the clean, enticing scent of him as he stood close enough that she could feel the heat of his skin.

Her dermaglyphs began to darken with color as her desire awakened. She had never been ashamed of the part of her that was Breed. But she was Ancient, too, and because of that she brought her hands up to cover herself as her markings deepened, their colors flickering over her skin.

“No,” he murmured. “You don’t hide from me anymore. Not after tonight.”

She swallowed as he drew her hands away and placed them at her sides. “Zael…”

Without another word, he walked her toward the open door of the shower. She stepped in, grateful for the wet heat of the spray. At her back, she heard Zael moving, taking off his clothes too. He walked into the shower behind her, his presence making a new heat travel down her spine.

She sighed with bone-weary pleasure as he silently gathered her tangled hair behind her, then turned her to face him under the water. Red rivulets spiraled around their feet as the blood rinsed away and ran down the drain. Wordlessly, Zael reached for a bottle of shampoo and squirted some into his palm. He washed the rest of the foulness from her hair, his fingers combing through the tangles, then guided her forehead against his shoulder as he massaged the fragrant suds into her scalp and worked the knotted tension from her nape.

No one—not in all her life—had ever taken such care with her.

That Zael would do so now, after everything he saw in her tonight, humbled her in ways she could never express.

As if he understood the depth of her weariness and her gratitude, he lifted her chin and tenderly stroked her cheek. “Tilt your head back, love.”

The endearment made the tender spot in her chest tighten even more. She did as he instructed, tipping her head under the spray to wash the shampoo from her hair. It was impossible not to notice how her naked breasts brushed the smooth muscles of his chest. Her nipples hardened as he ran his fingers through her wet hair, rinsing away the suds with one hand and holding her steady with the other palm splayed at the small of her back.

When her hair was clean, he soaped her body with equal care, taking his time, massaging every inch of her with slick, strong fingers and careful hands. Brynne wanted to weep for the gift he was giving her. Not only the physical comfort of his touch and attention, but the far bigger gift of his trust.

His unquestioning confidence.

She closed her eyes under the blissful sensation of his hands moving wetly on her body, stroking away all of her fatigue.

“I was twenty before I realized what I was.”

Her voice sounded rusty, her words muffled under the hiss of the spray. When her lids lifted, she found Zael’s bright blue gaze locked on her. He had set the soap back on its shelf and now sluiced warm water over her arms and down the wet planes of her torso.

“I never knew my parents.” She laughed brittly at the term, frowning as she recalled the circumstances of her birth. “Does a lab experiment even have parents?”

Zael stilled now, studying her. Waiting for her to find the words.

“I was one of many…offspring that came out of a laboratory run by a madman named Dragos. He was trying to create an army, one bred to his exact specifications and needs.” She shook her head. “He had the last living Ancient under his control in his lab. And he had Breedmates. Dozens of them, all held captive like animals in his breeding program’s cages.”

Zael’s expelled curse was low, and utterly profane. “I know enough about the name Dragos to be thankful the bastard has been dead these past twenty years. But I didn’t know this, Brynne.”

She managed a faint shrug, even though her senses cringed at the recollection of all that Dragos had done. “His lab had been operating for decades before the Order killed him. He used the Ancient and the Breedmates to produce scores of homegrown assassins called Hunters. And because that program was so successful, Dragos began another one. But instead of breeding offspring through conventional means, he decided to start playing with DNA.”

Zael said nothing, and for a long while the only sound was the quiet hiss of the shower.

“He tinkered and he refined, and eventually he produced the first Breed females. Many of the subjects didn’t take. But a few—like Tavia and me and a small number of others—made it to adulthood.”

Zael frowned. “So, then, are you saying that Tavia… That besides being a daywalker, she’s…like you?”

“More monster than Breed? No.” Brynne chuckled humorlessly, having heard the hope in his careful voice. “She doesn’t know anything about what I am. As far as I know, I’m the only one whose DNA recipe got fucked up. Too much Ancient in my Petri dish and not enough humanity. I should’ve never made it out of the lab. I was a mistake. Dragos should’ve put me down. He seemed to enjoy trying, once he realized what he’d created. But it’s not easy to kill a monster, even one that’s only a child. Pain subsides. Wounds heal. He made a game out of it, trying to test my limits, seeing what I could withstand while he kept me drugged and restrained. The things he did to me…” She let the thought trail off, unwilling to revisit the worst of her imprisonment and abuse in the lab. “When I grew too old and too strong for his games, he put me in confinement and left me there.”