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Claimed in shadows, p.1
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       Claimed in Shadows, p.1

         Part #15 of Midnight Breed series by Lara Adrian
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Claimed in Shadows

  Table of Contents

  Title Page































  Subscribe to Lara Adrian’s mailing list

  About the Author



  A Midnight Breed Novel

  Book 15



  © 2018 Lara Adrian, LLC


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  A Midnight Breed Novel

  In this pulse-pounding new Midnight Breed vampire romance novel from New York Times and #1 international bestselling author Lara Adrian, passion explodes between a daywalking member of the Order and a fiery female warrior whose shadowy past will test the bonds of both duty and desire.

  As the son of a formidable Breed warrior, Aric Chase has been devoted to the Order all his life. With his training completed, all he needs is one successful mission before he can join the fight to destroy the Order’s chief nemesis, Opus Nostrum. His rare ability to daywalk lands Aric an assignment in Montreal, where he learns he’s to be teamed with another new recruit, a beautiful, but tough-as-nails Breedmate named Kaya Laurent.

  Independent and driven, Kaya wants nothing more than to become a full-fledged member of the Order. Having grown up in squalor and neglect on the streets of Montreal, she longs for the close-knit family she’s found during her training to be a warrior. Eager to prove herself, she is thrilled to be given the chance at a key operation—even if she must share the mission with an arrogant, far-too-seductive Breed male who’s practically Order royalty.

  Their unwanted partnership soon erupts into a desire neither of them can resist. But when Kaya’s past reaches out from the shadows to call her back, she must decide between protecting a dark alliance that could shatter her dreams of joining the team and a truth that could not only forfeit Aric’s faith in her, but bring the enemy right to the Order’s door.

  “A well-written, action-packed series that is just getting better with age.”

  —Fiction Vixen


  Impatience prickled in Aric Chase’s veins as the bullet-proof black SUV sped through London’s early evening traffic. Mathias Rowan was behind the wheel, the Order’s team commander for this city looking as grim and on edge as Aric had ever seen the Breed warrior.

  Rowan’s comm unit buzzed with the third incoming call since they’d left the command center heading for Heathrow airport. “Give me the status,” he demanded over the wireless receiver.

  “Two dead humans, another close to it,” advised one of the Breed warriors of his patrol squad, his deep voice grave on the speaker. “It’s a damned bloodbath down here, Commander. We ashed the Rogue who did it, but you know as well as I do that the bastards tend to run in packs.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Rowan muttered. “Keep me posted, Thane. Tell Deacon and the rest of the team to do whatever it takes to contain this situation. If we need to enforce a curfew on the human civilian population to keep them safe and out of our way, don’t think Lucan Thorne won’t call for it.”

  The seasoned team leader had a right to be concerned. In the States and abroad, the Order had been fighting one disaster after another during the past twenty years since mankind learned about the Breed’s existence, but nothing like the relentless hits they’d been taking in recent weeks--the worst of them courtesy of a shadowy terror group calling themselves Opus Nostrum.

  Their members hid behind layers of anonymity, but their work was making headlines all over the world, starting with an attempt a couple of weeks ago to detonate an ultraviolet explosion at a peace summit between Breed and human dignitaries from the Global Nations Council. That plot had been thwarted by the Order, but Opus’s failure to take out the Breed members of the GNC, including Lucan Thorne, its chairman and the Order’s founder, had made the group even bolder, their attacks more brazen.

  It had only been a few nights ago that they had delivered a staggering blow in this very city. Because of Opus Nostrum, London’s JUSTIS building, headquarters of the powerful branch of law enforcement comprised of both Breed and human officials, was now a pile of smoldering rubble. More recently, in Washington, D.C., Opus loyalists embedded as security detail inside the GNC office had opened fire during a daytime meeting, killing every human member of the council before turning their weapons on themselves.

  Now, Opus had apparently added Rogues to the mix. The Order had good cause to suspect the recent uptick in Bloodlust among Breed civilians was narcotic-induced. It wasn’t the first time someone had decided to make blood-addicted monsters out of Aric’s kind, but by God it would be the last.

  Opus Nostrum had to be stopped. There was nothing Aric wanted more than to be part of the team that made that happen. He only needed to earn the chance.

  And that meant getting back to headquarters in D.C. where the real action was.

  As if he could guess the direction of Aric’s thoughts, Mathias Rowan glanced at him. “You sure this is the life you want?”

  “Are you kidding? It’s the life I was born for.” He grinned. “Surprised you’d ask, considering how long you’ve known my father.”

  Rowan grunted. “True. Don’t take this the wrong way, but there are times I worry you’ve got too much of my old friend Sterling Chase in you. I’ve never seen a new warrior so eager to get his hands dirty in the field.”

  Aric shrugged. “I’ll take that as a compliment, sir.”

  A wry male chuckle sounded from the backseat. “You take everything as a compliment, daywalker.”

  Smirking, Aric pivoted to offer a one-fingered salute to his best friend and fellow warrior, Rafe Malebranche. “Credit where credit is due, man, that’s all.”

  Ordinarily, he might have egged Rafe on with reminders of their various exploits and conquests, the usual dick-measuring and ball-busting that their fathers, Chase and Dante, had also built their friendship on back in the day. But tonight Aric checked the impulse.

  He and Rafe weren’t alone in the vehicle with Mathias Rowan. The two comrades had an unplanned companion en route with them to D.C., a meek female who’d been huddled close to Rafe since they departed for Heathrow.

  “How are you holding up?” Aric asked her.

  She gave him a weak nod, but glanced up at Rafe as she spoke. “I’m all right. So long as I don’t think too much about what happened, I suppose I’m all right.”

  Her name was Siobhan O’Shea, and she had been the reason they were there in the first place--or, rather, her murdered flat mate, Iona Lynch, was the reason.

  The dead woman had been a potential key witness for the Order in its pursuit of Opus Nostrum’s members. Unfortunately for her, before Aric and Rafe could intercept Iona Lynch and bring her in for questioning, someone else had made certain she could never tell her secrets. Now that promising lead on Opus was severed and the Order had an unwanted ward to look after.

  Not that Rafe seemed displeased with the idea.

  Siobhan leaned against him as the vehicle rounded a corner, contact he didn’t appear to mind at all. The soft-spoken, pretty Breedmate had been brutally assaulted along with her friend, but thanks to Rafe’s ability to heal with his hands, she didn’t carry so much as a scratch on her. In the time since she’d been in the Order’s keeping, Rafe had somehow slid into the role of her personal protector.

  “You’re safe now,” he assured her. “I gave you my word, remember?”

  Her answering smile was soft, but uncertain. “I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done for me. I only wish you could’ve saved Iona too.”

  So did everyone else in the Order, considering all of the information they might have been able to squeeze from her. But the woman had been too far gone even for Rafe’s incredible gift.

  The weight of that fact seemed to settle heavily on Siobhan now. As she struggled to hold back tears, Rafe stroked her pale hair and murmured quiet words of comfort.

  Aric wondered what other comforts his friend had been tempted to provide her.

  Not my problem, he thought as he turned around in his seat. And better him than me.

  As much as Aric enjoyed female company, he didn’t have the time for romantic entanglements, nor the interest. He had his eye on another prize--a warrior team of his own to command one day--and nothing was going to stand in his way of earning it.

  Not even the lethal brotherhood of Opus Nostrum.

  Least of all, them.

  Commander Rowan’s comm unit buzzed with yet another call as they arrived at the airport and made their way to a private hangar where one of the Order’s fleet jets waited, fueled and readied for the eight-and-a-half hour flight back to headquarters.

  “Lucan Thorne’s calling,” Mathias said as he put the SUV in park. Instead of talking on speaker, he disengaged it and brought his comm unit to his ear. “Rowan here.”

  He glanced at Aric while the Order’s leader spoke on the other end of the line. “We’re at the hangar now. They were just about to board for D.C.” Mathias listened for another moment before holding the phone out to Aric. “He wants to talk to you.”

  Aric took the device from him with a mix of unease and curiosity. “Yes, sir?”

  “Change of plans,” Lucan said. “I need you to make a stop in Montreal before continuing on to headquarters. I’ve already informed the pilot.”

  “Montreal,” Aric considered aloud. “That’s Nikolai and Renata’s turf.”

  The Russian-born warrior was one of the Order’s elder members. Niko and his Breedmate had met in that city years ago and since settled there to head up the command center in Montreal. The formidable couple was expecting the birth of their first child any day now, although based on the all-business tone from Lucan, Aric doubted this abrupt redirect had anything to do with a social call.

  “Niko knows you’re coming,” Lucan said. “You’ll be briefed on the details of your mission once you arrive. Say nothing to anyone else until then.”

  His mission.

  Holy shit. How long had he been waiting for this moment?

  Finally, the chance to prove himself the warrior he knew down to his marrow he already was.

  Would Lucan test him with a seasoned Order member like Niko? Or would they send him on patrol with one of the Montreal warrior teams first, make him work his way up from the bottom?

  He could hardly wait to find out.

  “Yes, sir.” A smile tugged at the corners of Aric’s mouth as he answered Lucan’s command. “Hell yes, sir.”


  The vampire lurked behind her in the darkness, concealed by the dense forest parkland. With the moon obscured by heavy clouds, the only light was the distant twinkle of Montreal, which sprawled in the valley far below Summit Woods.

  Kaya Laurent couldn’t see the threat that stalked her as she made her trek through the trees, but she felt it with every urgent beat of her pulse. The Breed male had her in his sights, just waiting for the opportunity to attack.

  And he wasn’t alone.

  Two others were with him somewhere in the woods, closing in on her like a pack of wolves.

  Kaya hurried along the bramble-strewn path, adrenaline fueling every step. She had no hope of outrunning her pursuers, but she had to try. Behind her in the shadows, a twig snapped under a heavy foot. She ran faster, her heart climbing into her throat.


  Her goal was in right in front of her, less than a quarter-mile ahead. If she could reach the large oak at the perimeter of the woods, she’d be home free.

  If she pushed herself, she might actually make it before--


  Nearly three-hundred pounds of fast-moving Breed male hit her from behind like a freight train. Even though she was mentally braced for the attack, the sudden collision jolted a cry out of her and sent her to the ground in a punishing crash.

  Kaya grunted, forcing her body into action even as her head filled with an explosion of stars. Rolling away a mere instant before her attacker would have pinned her beneath him, she scrambled to her feet. At that same moment, the second vampire materialized out of the night woods. Then the third, moving in to block her path on the other side.

  Not that she actually intended to run.

  All she could do now was fight--and pray like hell she survived the next few minutes.

  Her pistol was already in her hand. Without warning, she opened fire, three rapid shots that would have been bullseye hits if her assailants had been anything but Breed. Two of the males dodged, but the third let out a roar as her bullet struck him dead-center on the chest.

  A burst of red blooming over his sternum, he dropped to the ground.


  One down, two to go.

  The largest of the trio grinned at her through the darkness. He was a monster of a male, massive shoulders and dark, menacing features that looked far too amused as he loomed closer.

  Kaya started to squeeze the trigger again, but in a blink of motion too fast for her to follow, the big male knocked her gun out of her fingers. It sailed off into the trees. “Now, what are you gonna do?”

  Her fingers went to one of the knives sheathed on her belt. He lunged. She threw the blade, but had no chance to see if she made her mark. While her attention was focused wholly on the big male in front of her, she’d lost track of the third one.

  “Too bad for you.” Large hands clamped around her neck from behind. “You’re dead, sweetheart.”

  “Fuck!” Kaya snarled in frustration, her body sagging as the certain death-grip loosened from her throat and her would-be killer chuckled. She pushed some of her long brown hair out of her face, her breath racing. “Let’s go another round. I can do better.”

  The Breed warrior she’d shot with a paint bullet got up from the ground, peeling out of his red-splattered shirt with a curse. He shook his head. “Count me out. You’d go at us like this all night if we let you.”

  Kaya arched a brow. “What’s the matter, Webb? Afraid I’ll drop you again?”

  He laughed, giving her one of his grins that made the tall male go from basic handsome to pure Adonis. “Lucky shot tonight, that’s all. But you’d better watch your back. I’ll get you when you least expect it.”

She’s getting better all the time,” his comrade added. One of the large hands that had been poised to twist her head off a moment ago now cuffed her shoulder in praise. “Good job, Kaya.”

  “Thanks, Torin.” She smiled at the exotic-looking warrior with the shoulder-length mane of burnished blond hair. Although he was as deadly as anyone in the Order, the laid-back warrior had been nothing less than welcoming the past couple of weeks she’d been training with their team.

  The biggest member of the squad, the olive-skinned, dark-haired behemoth named Balthazar, walked over and returned Kaya’s lost weapons. “Next time, keep your eyes open to your full surroundings.”

  “All right, Bal.” With a nod, she took the paint gun and blade from him, holstering both on her belt.

  Applause sounded from the sidelines as Kaya’s friend, Mira--the sole female of the Order team Kaya desperately wanted to be part of--strolled over to meet the group. Accompanied by her mate, Kellan Archer, Mira was garbed in all-black like the rest of the warriors, her combat boots crunching softly in the bramble as she approached from her observation post.

  “Dammit, I screwed up,” Kaya admitted. “I’ll keep practicing. I can do this.”

  “I have no doubt, or you wouldn’t have gotten this far.” Mira smiled. “You’re an excellent combat fighter, Kaya. No one expects you to be able to take out three of the best Breed warriors in the field to prove yourself to the Order.”

  Kellan gave Mira a proud look. “Besides, there are other skills that are just as valuable to a team.”

  The couple spoke from experience. As capable as Mira was with her daggers and physical agility, she wasn’t Breed. She didn’t have the sheer brute strength and power of their kind. That hadn’t stopped the ambitious female from getting promoted through the Order’s ranks, however. Mira had made it all the way to captain, a feat Kaya couldn’t help but admire, even envy.

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