Darkness Awakened (Primal Heat Trilogy #1) (Order of the Blade) by Stephanie Rowe

they’d blood bonded five hundred years ago. Elijah. He sent the call with renewed force. Where the hell are you? He swore in frustration when there was nothing and looked back down at the photo, a dark dread settling over him. Was it really possible that he was dead? “Son of a bitch.”
    Sympathy softened Grace’s face as she touched his arm. He froze at the unexpected intimacy.
    “I’m sorry he’s dead,” she said, empathy so full in her voice that he was actually confused. No one spoke to him like that, like they thought he was some emotion-laded beast. “I know what it feels like to lose someone you love. It sucks beyond belief.”
    The deep pain in her voice tugged at him. Instead of brushing her hand away, he turned his head enough to look at her, surprised to see the sadness in her eyes. She smiled at him, and he wanted to open his arms to her and offer her comfort from her suffering. “Who died in your life?” he asked quietly.
    “My parents.”
    “Sucks.” He set his hand over hers and squeezed lightly. He knew that kind of pain. It did suck, no matter how many times you had to face it.
    She nodded. “Yes.” Her grip tightened on his arm, her fingers so delicate, yet surprisingly powerful. “That’s why I can’t lose Ana. I can’t let her die, too. She’s all I have left.”
    He felt the truth in her words, and they felt far too similar to the plea that had been issued to him five hundred years ago by his uncle, the one he’d ignored just before he’d ruined the lives of everyone he cared about. Was Grace his chance for redemption?
    No. She couldn’t be. It was Elijah. That was his mission. He had to stay focused. He forced himself to peel her hand off his arm and set it back gently by her side. “I’m sorry about your sister.”
    “I’m not. It’s not over yet.” She tucked her hands into the front pockets of her jeans,
    as if she couldn’t quite resist touching him without locking her hands down. “I need your help.”
    “You want me to save your sister? The woman who supposedly killed Elijah?” He raised his brows. “How’s that going to work, then?”
    “She’s being forced,” Grace said hurriedly. “She would never hurt anyone on her own. She’s not capable of it.”
    “Yeah, well, neither is Elijah. How sure are you that you’re right?” Quinn’s neck was still throbbing, his body starting to shut down after being pushed so hard when it hadn’t yet recovered. He needed to rebuild his stores of energy now, take every chance he could get.
    Grace’s eyes glowed with passion and commitment. “I don’t have a single shred of doubt about Ana,” she said firmly. “There’s no chance she has hurt anyone, at least not willingly.”
    “Then why do they think she’s doing it?” He eased down on the bed, saw Grace’s furrowed brow, and realized he was grimacing in pain. He shut that down fast, and opened the paper to read it more carefully.
    Grace cleared her throat. “People have seen her at the murders. She has the same eyes I do. They stand out.”
    Oh, yeah, he’d noticed her eyes. Damn near drowned in them more than once already.
    “Have they seen her kill anyone?” Below the picture of Elijah were several photos of the crime scene. Police tape, trees, the back of a ramshackle building. There was a blurred outline of a man’s body, as if the newspaper reporter hadn’t been permitted to get close enough for a quality photo.
    “No,” Grace said. “That’s not how it would work with her.”
    “Then what’s her deal?” He scanned the story quickly. Elijah had been killed less than three hours away from Quinn’s cabin at a bar called The Gun Rack, and he was thought to have been dead for less than an hour before he’d been found.
    He’d been murdered two days after he’d harvested the weapons and left Quinn for dead. Elijah, murdered? Who the hell could take him down? He glanced at Grace, who still hadn’t answered his question. “What’s your