Hunted dp-3 Read online

  After bowling that first night, they’d slid easily into friendship. He’d made a mistake revealing his real age. Should’ve said he was older. Although she thought him too young to date, something about him intrigued her. Women were like moths ... the flame attracted them. He was different from boys at her school—homeschooled, yet dangerous.

  Soon, very soon he’d make his move. Kiss her, take her to a hotel for the night. The night they’d held hands, running through the rain had almost killed him. His jeans had been so tight he thought he’d explode. The girl was sexy as hell. He’d gotten plenty of experience the last couple years. Sure, those women weren’t willing, but he’d still learned. He’d please Peggy.

  The center picture was his favorite. He had taken it at the bowling alley with his cell phone. She smiled at him and actually posed. Her sparkling blue eyes filled with life, and her shiny brown hair billowed around her shoulders.

  Interesting. Kalin had never put it together before, but Peggy looked like Janie. Same coloring. Same delicate bone structure.

  He threw on sweats and thick socks, yawning and wandering through his quarters to Franco’s private office. No need to knock. He’d one day rule their nation ... and he didn’t knock. The leader stood dressed in his soldier’s black and red uniform by the wall of windows showcasing deep-sea life. It was dark, merciless, and absent of fish.

  “Franco.” Kalin dropped into a leather chair that chilled his skin further. His father had owned fish in a pretty tank. Nobody owned the fish outside the windows—those that were nowhere to be seen at the moment. What would his father have thought about Peggy? Too bad Talen had murdered him. Now Kalin would never know.

  Franco turned, his purple eyes swirling. At seven feet tall, the man held grace in spades. “You look ridiculous.”

  Kalin shrugged. “The black paint makes it easier for me to walk among humans.” So he could spend more time with Peggy. Show her that fifteen was old enough for her.

  “I wish you’d get your head back in the game.” Franco scowled. “You haven’t even read my brother’s newest report about the chances of turning Virus-27 airborne.”

  “Won’t that endanger Kurjan mates?” Kalin yawned again, scratching his belly. Man, he needed more sleep. Sadness filtered through him that he couldn’t mate Peggy. The idea made his groin harden. He dreamt about her ruling with him—once he cured her of that independent streak. He couldn’t mate her, and not just because she wasn’t an enhanced female. Fate held other plans for him. Peggy would make a nice companion on the side.

  “Possibly.” Franco shrugged. “Hopefully Erik will come up with an antidote. If not, well, you understand the final plan.”

  “Yep. Though I plan on killing Talen Kayrs long before that.” Kalin stretched his neck. “The bastard killed my father. . . and his head is mine.” His father had taken Cara Kayrs, and Talen had retaliated. He wondered if he should hide the fact that he intended to kill Talen from Janie?

  “Of course.” Franco turned back toward the silent sea.

  “If my father had lived, he’d have passed the reins to me.” Would Kalin need to kill Franco to take his rightful place? Intriguing thought.

  “Your father was as ambitious as he was foolhardy. He would not have easily given up ruling.” Franco swirled around, power filling his eyes. “Why is this in your mind? Apparently you just want to screw around with humans and have stopped dedicating yourself to training.”

  The smile sliding across Kalin’s lips failed to keep his fangs from dropping. “I’m dedicated, and you know it.” He cocked his head to the side. “You’re correct that ambition ruled my father. To be honest, I’m not sure he’d ever have turned over control.” At some point in time, leadership would’ve come down to a fight to the death.

  Franco shrugged. “True. We have many years to plan each other’s deaths, Kalin. At some point, I may want to step down. My immediate plans are a bit more narrow in focus.”

  Interesting. “What plans?” Something tickled the base of Kalin’s neck. What motivated Franco if not power?

  “Irrelevant.”

  No. Knowledge equaled power, a lesson Kalin learned early on. He clicked through facts. “Oh yeah. The Prophet Lily?”

  “Don’t you worry about Lily. I’m making plans as we speak.” Franco licked his lips.

  Kalin leaned forward in his chair. Wait a minute. “The virus. Please don’t tell me you came up with this whole virus plan to free Lily from her dead mate.” The virus took a vampire mate down to human again ... hopefully ... so she could be remated. Kurjans only got one mate. One living mate, that was.

  Franco snorted. “Don’t be silly. Freeing Lily to mate again is a fortunate by-product of the virus. Of course, I made sure the waiter infected her last year.”

  The dark flush crossing Franco’s face made Kalin bite back a grin. “Well now. Good luck with her.” She’d lost her mate centuries ago, but had only contracted the virus recently. “How odd the virus actually allows women the chance to leave a mating match. We’re following the humans.” What was next? No-fault divorce laws?

  Franco growled. “Mind your own business. I do wish you’d hurry up and desert your current phase. Take off the black lipstick ... and return to killing people.”

  Kalin stretched to his feet and sauntered toward the door. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Chapter 18

  April in Alaska was like the dead of winter anywhere else in the States. Conn adjusted his earpiece, tugging the bulletproof vest down farther. Bruised clouds hung low, sending spirals of mist to the ground. Even so, majestic pine trees dotted through, providing more cover for the men preparing to strike.

  “The plan is solid”—he stomped snow off his boots—“for this unexpected situation.” Jordan Pride, the head of the feline nation, stood next to Conn. Jordan had been staying at headquarters to plan strategy against a couple rogue clans still after the Prophet Caleb because he’d supported his brother when the man married a shifter who’d been betrothed to a demon. Just one of the lame reasons Caleb had been exiled until last year.

  Jordan tied thick blond hair back at the nape. “Yes. The demon attack against one of my clans is a surprise move.” His tawny eyes flared hot. “They’re trying to splinter support for the Realm.”

  If so, the demons didn’t know Jordan very well. The situation just pissed him off.

  Conn eyed Jase. What a fine time to make sure his brother was ready to fight the demons. Fortune was smiling. Well, not for the captured shifters. He turned his attention toward Dage, biting back a growl. “I just finished lecturing my mate and holding you up as an example of a leader who understood staying behind and sacrificing for the greater good.”

  Dage loosened the securing straps of several knives along his vest, anticipation flashing bright in his eyes. “That probably backfired.”

  “Yes. The woman is on edge, even more than usual.” Instinct whispered across his mind that all hell was about to break loose.

  Dage nodded. “The Nine took a preliminary vote last night to withdraw from the Realm. If they do so, their first action will be to put Moira to work.”

  Everything in Conn stilled. He’d learned long ago not to question Dage’s inside sources. “She won’t betray us, Dage.”

  “So she’ll betray her family?” Dage smacked a clip into a glowing green gun.

  “No.” If Conn knew his mate, she’d figure out a way to please them all, possibly getting herself killed in the process. “How preliminary?”

  “Probably very, considering another member of the Nine was taken.” Dage rolled his neck. “Keep your head in this game right now, Conn. We’ll deal with the rest later.”

  A rumble rolled across the earpiece lines and Talen’s irritated voice belted through. “If you ladies are finished with chat time, do you think we could blow this place to hell?” The demon compound stood set against the Shelton Mountains, more than likely extending deep into the earth.

  “The taking of hostages is
a new tactic for the demons.” Conn released the safety on his gun. “We can only hope they’re unaware they kidnapped the mate of a pride member away from home.” Upon learning of the raid, the man had immediately zeroed in on his mate’s location. Feline mates could track each other anywhere in the world, as could vampire mates. A fact that had saved Cara and Emma when Talen had tracked Cara after a Kurjan kidnapping.

  Dage gave a short nod. “Jase, take the lead.”

  Jase had developed a daring and intricate plan on the helicopter ride. He clicked on. “Conn, set the charges. Talen, head to the west side behind him.” Grabbing his gun, he nodded to his team of three, which included the king. “The front door is ours.”

  Conn hefted the bag of C-4 and ran through the night, dodging branches and creating a new path. He’d wanted to flank Jase, but maybe it was time to let the youngest brother stand on his own.

  One demon guard stood in Conn’s way. With a strong arm around the neck, he snapped hard and tossed the body to the ground. A broken neck wouldn’t kill the guy, but it would take some time to mend. Three more bodies littered the forest floor by the time Conn reached the side of the metal building. The final one managed to give a strangled cry into his communicator before losing his head. That soldier wouldn’t recover.

  The air shimmered around Conn. Blackness coated his brain like spilled oil. He stopped, put his back against the rough bark of a pine and sucked in air. The bite centered him. “The demons know we’re here.”

  Images slammed through his mind—fire, death, pain. Shards of imaginary glass ripped across his skull and behind his eyes.

  Cold air filled his lungs, and he forced the images into a box. Then he flicked the box to hell. Ramming shields around his mind, he allowed the soldier fate had created to rise to the surface. All intent, all strategy, he jogged forward, no longer feeling the press of energy into his brain. Single-mindedness protected him in his quest to destroy.

  He reached the building. Spacing the charges in metal grooves, he hustled behind a stand of trees and yanked out the detonator. “Charges set on the east side.”

  “At your mark,” Jase said.

  “We’re in place,” Talen said, his voice low with purpose.

  Conn pressed the red button. A loud boom echoed. Oxygen swooshed through the forest, drawn to the blaze of fire lighting up the remote area. Metal ripped into pieces, spiraling up into the air to land against trees and the slight snow with the hiss of heat on ice. Grabbing his other gun, he ran full bore into the melee.

  Scalding heat blistered his face. He fired from a low crouch, sending three demons down. He needed to take their heads to kill them, but for now, down would do. Jase crashed through the front, bullets spraying in a sweeping motion. Fire blazed bright and hot, smoke filled the room. Bodies dropped until only the vampire teams remained.

  Conn cut his eyes to Talen. “Too easy.”

  An alarm blared with a high shriek, swirling red lights springing to life. Jase nodded to one of his men, who knelt and aimed a modified rocket launcher toward the rear of the holding. “Get down.”

  The missile exploded from the end of the weapon, tearing into the quartz and sending pieces flying. Conn ducked his head, shards cutting into his vest before dropping to the floor. His ears rang. “Talen, any heat signatures?” He lifted up. A massive hole penetrated the rock, revealing an elevator shaft and a set of emergency stairs leading down. Excellent shot.

  Talen yanked the heat reader out of his pocket. “Yes. Underground ... three meters. Several signatures, but they flow together shielded by rock. I can’t tell how many.”

  Jase shot forward. “Talen and Conn, scale down. Use the cables.” He paused at the stairs. “Dage, Jordan, you’re with me.”

  Conn ripped his flashlight out of a pocket, secured it to his gun, and pointed it down into the tunnel. Rough cable scraped against his leather gloves when he grabbed on. He looked at Talen. “Count to five, then follow.”

  When Talen nodded, Conn scaled down the tunnel. His boots soon clomped against a closed door. “Team two, take the first level.”

  Hand over hand he scaled down until reaching a second landing. “Talen, take level two.”

  A longer distance kept the darkness pressing around him until his boots landed on the top of the elevator. Last floor. Reporting his position, he yanked a knife loose to cut into the escape hatch on top.

  Static crackled over the line. “We’re in a myriad of tunnels, lots of dark images slamming through our brains. The demons must be close,” Jase muttered. “The tunnels head away from your locations. Everyone check in—three-minute intervals.”

  Conn ripped open the hatch and dropped into the elevator, wincing as the carriage rocked. Sliding his knife through the door, he wrenched the sides open. Gun in hand, he leaned out and swept the area, aiming bullets into the necks of two guards. One got off a shot that ripped into Conn’s vest. His ribs bellowed in pain.

  Demons. The two lay on the ground, silver haired, dressed all in black, sparkling medallions on their lapels signaling their low rank. Crouching, Conn decapitated both, his mind quickly shutting out the smell of blood and death. He rose to his feet, his gaze on the heavy metal door they’d guarded from this small vestibule. “Two demons down. I’m heading into another area.”

  Firefights exploded across the communication lines. “We’ve been engaged,” Jase yelled, the sound of his rushing breath causing Conn to still. The line went dead.

  “Talen, report,” Conn ordered.

  Nothing. Only silence. The demons had found a way to jam the communications. Well, he had faith in his brothers and a job to do. Setting a charge at the door, he dodged into the elevator. The bomb exploded. Debris flew by and the earth rumbled a protest. His gun swung right and left as he sprang into the hall and through the doorway, shoulders relaxing at the series of cells on each side.

  Most were empty, but five panther shifters huddled bruised and bloody in the last one. Their hair was streaked a unique blond, black, and brown and was matted with blood. They’d fought hard. Two males and three females hurried forward.

  There was a time females were protected during war, regardless of the species. The thought of Moira being taken filled Conn with rage. He had to shove the fury down to clear his mind and help these people. The tallest male clasped his broken arm against his ribs, his catlike eyes narrowed in pain. “They want Pride. Is he here?”

  Conn jerked. “The demons want Jordan? Why?” That didn’t make any sense. Unless the demons had joined forces with the Kurjans and wanted to collect shifters to turn into werewolves. Weres became the ultimate, disposable soldiers who mindlessly obeyed a master. He didn’t see a demon-Kurjan alliance working, considering demons believed Kurjans to be lower than dogs on the evolutionary scale. Nice pets but not really necessary. “How many of you survived the raid?” He set two charges against the lock.

  “This is it.” The male growled, nodding to the others to step back and cover their heads. “The rest are dead.”

  Anger rolled through Conn. The demons should’ve stayed out of the war. “Fire in the hole.” He stood out of the way, until the small charge blew and the door flew open.

  The shifters hustled out, gazes sweeping the hallway. Conn gestured toward the doorway. “We’ll have to scale up the walls where reinforcements await.” Along with a medical team.

  The leader stopped, turning to face him. A weapon sat comfortably in his hand, which he levered at Conn’s neck. “I guess you’ll have to do this time, Prince.” Three darts shot out, piercing Conn’s jugular. A haze descended over his eyes. With a growl of pure rage, he leaped forward, his fingers digging into the panther’s neck.

  They went down hard onto stone. Nausea swirled in Conn’s gut. His ears rang. Blindness consumed him. With his last breath, he’d kill this fucker. Images of Moira, of Janie, and his family flashed through his mind as he ripped the panther’s head off.

  A woman cried out. “Robert!”

  Two more shar
p needles pierced Conn’s flesh. He dropped to the side, his shoulder denting the rock. Strong arms grabbed him under the armpits, dragging him into the cell. “You’d be smarter to cut off my head,” he slurred, his head rolling to the side. His arms weighed more than he’d thought possible. He chuckled like he was drunk.

  “He’s heavy,” the remaining male hissed. “I told Robert we shouldn’t break his arm just for show. Open the door in the back of the cell. We’re running out of time.”

  One of the shifters tore the earpiece out of Conn’s ear. The small device pinged against a metal bar in the far distance.

  “Good throw. Too bad I’m going to kill you,” he garbled out.

  “Why isn’t he out cold? We shot him full of enough tranq to take down a buffalo,” a female said, her nails digging into his ankles. “Throw him in the cart. We can roll the bastard to the helicopter.”

  “Don’t wanna fly.” Conn kicked out, but his leg moved like he sat under sand. A crack filled the silence, and he let a smile loose. Guess he hurt the bitch. Thoughts filtered across his brain, most tinged with a sparkly green. What the hell had they given him?

  “You asshole.” She dropped his feet, kicking him hard in the thigh.

  The scent of fresh blood made his stomach rumble. He forced out a laugh. “Not my type, lady.” Moira. Moira was his type. She’d kicked him, too. Why were people always kicking him? Maybe he should buy her a ring. Moira. Buy Moira a ring. Not the animal swearing at him.

  The female kicked him again, connecting with his ankle. He jerked back to the present, still unable to see. “Gonna kill you. Fillet like a fish.” Moira liked salmon, always had. He had a great baked salmon dish he wanted to cook for her. “Like to cook.”