Hunted dp-3 Page 2

  Conn nearly grinned. “Yes. The vampires and shifters are prepared. But I multitasked.”

  “Multitasked?” Her voice wavered while dread ripped through her. The deadliest soldier ever born to the vampires multitasked? He was shagging kidding her. “Meaning what?” Only force of will kept her knees from buckling. Again.

  “You know exactly what I mean. Rumor has it you’ve been training—swords, guns, knives ... even hand to hand.” Two long strides had him a foot away from her. “Now darlin’, where do you suppose you gained those skills?” A dark flush whirled over his high cheekbones.

  She angled her head to meet his eyes square on. “I worked damn hard on them, Connlan.”

  His thumb and forefinger grasped her chin and his eyes darkened. “I’m sure you did. When we mated, Moira, my skills became yours.” Leaning down, he brushed his lips across hers before straightening back up. “And yours became mine.”

  Her breath hitched. Her heart swelled. Her thighs softened. All from one small kiss. She jerked out of his grasp. “Bollocks. You lead the soldiers of the Realm. You don’t study.”

  Genuine amusement lit his eyes. “You think I merely hit things?”

  Well, yeah. “I assume you play chess once in a while with the king, but other than that ...”

  He laughed—a true throw-your-head-back deep masculine chuckle. “While my brother and I do enjoy games of strategy, some studying is often involved.”

  Military strategy, maybe. “You’re telling me you’ve spent the last century studying quantum physics, string theory, and the other applications of magic?”

  “Of course.” His gaze dropped to her lips, making them throb in response. “I mated a witch. A basic understanding of all scientific principles, most notably quantum physics, is necessary to manipulate energy and matter.”

  To practice magic. True magic. Her mind spun. On all that was holy. “So you can manipulate my energy. Since we’ve mated.” Son of a bitch. How the hell was she going to keep him out of her life now?

  He cocked his head. “Now’s the time to tell me what has you so frightened.”

  “I can handle my own problems, Conn.”

  Irritation curled his lip, hinting at a temper she really didn’t want to see. “Did you truly think I’d leave you alone, Moira? With Virus-27 on the loose? With witchcraft being used to harm people?”

  She closed her eyes briefly. The virus created by the Kurjans to attack vampire mates—to take them genetically down to human form and maybe beyond—by using genetic science combined with quantum physics and true magic. “Yes.”

  Her gaze focused on him. Virus-27 was the absolute least of her worries right now. Her mind scrambled for something, anything to get him to leave.

  He exhaled, taking a step forward into her space again. Sage and power swirled around her in the scent of male. “I’m done waiting, Moira.” One large hand smoothed through her curls, clenching to tangle at the nape of her neck and tugging back.

  Her neck stretched and her hands reached out for balance, grabbing the shirt covering his broad chest. She opened her mouth to protest.

  His descended.

  Firm lips slid against hers. Heat seared her, shooting down from her mouth to her core. She swayed toward him, opening her mouth to allow entrance. Like the soldier he was, he dove in, all purpose, all blazing fire, his lips capturing hers as his tongue took control. The brand on her hip began to burn with desperate need.

  He growled low, grasping her waist and tugging her flat against him. His mouth devoured hers, his tongue claiming every inch, the hand on her hip clenching with restrained power. The erection against her belly jumped with demand.

  Her knees weakened. Her heart pounded. Desire for him lit her on fire. Need spiraled deep into her womb. She craved.

  Releasing her, he lifted his head, his fingers spreading out to cup her scalp. Desire shot silver through the green of his eyes. A muscle ticced in his jaw. “Let’s go to your cottage, Moira.”

  She sucked in a breath, her eyes widening on him. Was there anything more intriguing to a woman than a strong man who wanted her? Memories of what this man could do with his hands, with his mouth, flushed through her mind until her body ached. She ran her hands down his flat stomach to curl around his leather belt. They’d had one night. It wasn’t like she’d practiced sex this last century. “Not a good idea, Conn.”

  “Why not?”

  Because she didn’t know what to do. “I don’t want you.” She lowered her chin.

  “Liar.” His eyes softened in what had better not be understanding.

  Then he cut his gaze behind her, a frown settling between his masculine brows.

  “What?” She released his belt, an odd tingling running over her neck. The air changed. Her skin heated. Matter shifted and energy zapped. Oxygen swirled. A passage opened. “Conn—”

  Invisible claws dug into her flesh and ripped her away from him.

  Chapter 2

  What the hell? Conn leaped forward and grabbed Moira’s arms, settling his stance on the tavern’s wooden floor. Wind twirled behind Moira in a circular pattern with the force of gravity, fighting to draw her in. A swirling white mass of a tornado concealed the other side. She cried out, her green eyes wide with fright, her hands digging into his forearms until she drew blood. Her hair whipped behind her, yanking her head back.

  A high-pitched squall emerged from the abyss. Bar glasses shattered, sending shards spinning. One sliced into his neck. Electricity sizzled through the air, sparking against polished surfaces.

  The energy pulled Moira’s head back farther, the cords in her neck stretching. Her hold loosened on his arms. She half fell in the swirling mass, tugging him with her. Ice, fire, liquids, and gels, all commingled against his skin. Dimensions?

  Enough. With a growl, Conn stepped forward, manacling an arm around Moira’s waist. So many sensations ripped across his flesh he couldn’t discern between heat and cold. Yanking her to the side, he pulled his gun and fired. The green laser from the weapon exploded across the dimensions, sending sparks of pure, white light in return.

  A furious bellow echoed.

  A clash of thunder sounded.

  The abyss released them with a loud crash.

  The force sent them flying. Conn landed on his back, clutching Moira to his chest. Her forehead knocked into his chin. Paper napkins scattered to land on every surface. Then silence.

  The outside door burst open, and Kell ran inside. “I heard an explosion.” He surveyed the destroyed tavern. “What the holy hell?”

  Conn took a deep breath, dropping his head to the floor. His entire body ached as if put through a cement mixer. “Moira.” He needed to make sure she hadn’t bruised her head. She trembled against him, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Anger simmered beneath his skin. His mate was terrified.

  Then she lifted her head.

  He’d misjudged her.

  Pure, raw fury lit her expression. Shoving against his chest, she leaped to her feet. “Son of a bitch.” Shaking hands pushed back rioting curls as she rounded on her cousin. “Some sort of pull, out of nowhere. Out of the air.” She stalked over to the bar and back, her gaze on the glass littering the floor, thoughts scattering across her face. “Finally, an explanation. This is how, Kell.”

  Conn stretched to his feet. “How what, Moira?” Fury began to bubble anew through his veins. He was a soldier and more than adapt at quashing his emotions, but the heat ripping along his muscles hinted he might not be able to contain his temper.

  She whirled around. “Oh, ah ... nothing.”

  He saw red. Two strides had her biceps in his hands as he lifted her; two more had her ass slapping the bar. Surprise lit her face and she stilled. He leaned in, allowing every ounce of pissed-off power to show on his face. “How what?”

  The surprise waned and she flared to life. Temper flashed bright green in her eyes, sparks danced on her skin. “Manhandle me again, Kayrs, and you’ll end up on all fours baying at the moon
.” She tried to find leverage with her legs, but his hips kept them immobile on either side of his.

  Oh, he’d made a mistake. No way in hell should he have allowed her a century. “Let’s go pack your bags, Moira. We’re heading home.” The sooner he got her safely ensconced at headquarters, the sooner he could hunt for whoever was trying to take her.

  She took a deep breath, making an obvious effort to keep from screaming. Color washed her porcelain skin a blazing pink. Perfect teeth clenched as she pushed sound out. “I am home.”

  “No. Home just became an underground fortress guarded at every turn.”

  Kell cleared his throat. “Ah, as much as I’d like to leave you to vampire foreplay, we need to get going.”

  Conn pressed his hands into the rough wood on either side of Moira’s hips. She wasn’t going anywhere. Turning only his head, he pinned his friend with a look promising retribution. “Apparently you haven’t been forthcoming with news about my mate, Kell.”

  Fire flashed in Kell’s black eyes. “I told you thirty years ago to get your ass to Ireland, and you didn’t listen.”

  Conn ignored Moira’s gasp of outrage. “I spoke with my mate,” he pivoted to concentrate on the stubborn woman, “who informed me she needed more time to perfect her art and prepare to take her place on the Nine.” What in the hellfire had he missed?

  As the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter, Moira was pretty much guaranteed a place on the Council of the Coven Nine, the group that led the Wiccan world. He’d understood her need to prepare. Not only did the members rule their world, they did so using quantum physics, or elements that could blow up the universe. Harnessing those elements took training. As well as luck, as far as he was concerned.

  Kell huffed out a loud breath. “I’ll arrange transport.” His boots clomped across the floor until the sound of the door closing echoed like an omen through the silent bar. Conn slid his gaze to Moira.

  She shifted her weight. Cold metal instantly pressed against his jugular. “Back off, Kayrs.” Her gaze met his as she held a knife to his throat.

  He smiled. The hellion could move and fast. Deviant that he was, his cock flared to life again. So did his temper. He leaned further into the blade. “You think you can cut me, Dailtín?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You think I won’t?” The hoarse tenor of her voice belonged in a smoky bar, singing the blues. “I have things to do, Conn. If I need to put you out of commission to do them, prepare to bleed.”

  His fangs lengthened. That hadn’t happened unconsciously since puberty. Centuries ago. The woman would actually cut him. The strategist within him calculated the situation and how to reason with her.

  Moira’s eyes glowed a mystical hue; her wild red curls screamed passion. Defiance was stamped on every angle of her face, challenging him. But something else glittering in those eyes caused his blood to thrum. A knowledge, a confidence to be found in only the most elite warriors he’d ever trained; those whose confidence had been forged in fire and blood.

  She had it.

  The warrior in him roared to life, overtaking any rational thought. He shot his arm up to grab her wrist and force the blade from his throat. “Let go of the knife, Moira.” Soft skin covered toned muscle under his hand. He could tighten his hold and make her drop the weapon, but that’s not how this was going down.

  “No.” She took advantage of his movement and dug her heel into his thigh, clapping his ear with her free hand.

  Pain exploded in his skull. His temper howled. Clutching his fingers into her hair, he jerked her head back. The white column of her throat stretched. She yelped in protest. He lowered his head, his fangs elongating completely. His lips enclosed her skin.

  He struck.

  Her entire body went rigid. The knife clattered to the floor.

  He drank. Honey and spice exploded across his taste buds followed by a punch of raw power. His mind swirled. Arousal, lust, fire whipped through him until the need to get inside her pushed all other thoughts away. Quick swipes of his tongue sealed the wound and then his mouth was on hers, delving deep.

  She moaned low in her throat, pulling him toward her. Heat cascaded from her.

  He released her arm, encircling her waist and tugging her forward until his cock met her core. He wanted her naked. His tongue tangled with hers, the little whimpers gasping from her boiling his lust even higher.

  The boom of a gun jerked him away. He jumped around, using his body as a shield. Kell stood in the entryway, calmly placing a Beretta in his belt. Plaster dropped from the ceiling, which was marred by a large bullet hole.

  Conn snarled.

  Kell held both hands out. At six and a half feet with midnight dark eyes and hair, the witch took a placating stance that had to be unfamiliar. He wiped plaster off his shoulder. “I know it’s deadly to mess with a vamp and his mate, but we really have to go.”

  The whir of a helicopter startled Conn. He hadn’t heard it arrive. “Where?”

  “We’ve been summoned by the council,” Kell said. “Now.”

  Moira leaped off the counter to land next to Conn. She ran a trembling hand through her curls. “We’re already late.”

  He grabbed her arm. “I’m going with you or you don’t go.” He needed answers. If the stubborn witches in the room wouldn’t provide them, he’d go to the top.

  “While he can’t see the council,” Kell dropped his gaze to his cousin, “we could use his help. At least until Daire and Adam return.”

  Conn stilled. “Daire and Adam?”

  Kell and his two brothers served as the chief enforcers for the Nine. Something huge must be going down if they all had been summoned at once. Suspicion tightened Conn’s shoulders.

  “Why are you with Moira, Kell?” Conn’s voice dropped to an octave that should’ve warned his friend. He’d assumed Kell was with Moira to perform his duty as liaison and enforcer and perhaps to provide protection. But if his mate needed protection, someone should’ve called him.

  Kell cut his gaze to Moira. “I believe that’s a conversation between you and the Seventh, Kayrs.”

  “Don’t call me that.” Moira stiffened. “You’ve no right to be pissed, Kell.”

  Kell stepped forward, his eyes blazing. “No right to be pissed? Are you kidding?” He swept his hand toward Conn. “There’s a good chance I’m going to end up in a fistfight with one of my best friends because you’ve refused to get your life in order. And now it might be too late to fix our world.”

  One step had Conn in front of Moira. “Don’t yell at her.” A brawl was guaranteed—though the first punch came from the brat behind him. Two-fisted and right to his kidneys.

  “That’s it.” Conn swirled around and ducked, tossing his witch over his shoulder. She bellowed in surprise. He pivoted, heading for the exit. “Since I’m under strict orders from my king not to piss off the council, we’ll go meet with them now. You can explain what the hell’s going on during the flight.” He strode through the door and into the sun, not caring whether or not Kell followed. Moira struggled, smashing her hands into his back. “Then, mate, we’re going home.”

  Rage burned in his gut. Moira’s family had power and knew how to wield it. The second he forced her from Ireland, they’d declare war.

  So be it.

  Chapter 3

  Moira settled back against the plush seat in the helicopter, for once not appreciating the luxury of the well-built machine. She longed for the sound of rushing wind to drown out the testosterone-filled silence of the two men currently ignoring her. Kell sat across the aisle with his legs extended, head back, eyes closed. Conn dominated the seat next to her, punching laptop keys until his computer flared to life. Maybe she should go visit with the pilots. She pushed up on the armrests, only to still when Conn swiveled his head.

  Green eyes pierced her. “Sit. Back. Down.”

  Warning filled his tone and should’ve pissed her off. The energy needed to get truly angry escaped her. Tired. She was so damn tired. Leathe
r hissed out air when she flopped back down.

  A rugged face took shape on the screen. Bugger. He’d called the king.

  “I’ve walked into a shitload of trouble,” Conn said as a greeting.

  Dage Kayrs lifted an eyebrow. “Good to see you, too, brother.” Tight and packed hard, the king filled the screen dressed in jeans and a black silk shirt. The background appeared to be a filmy screen ... not giving a hint as to his whereabouts. He cut his silver gaze to the side. “Hi, Moira.”

  “Hi.” Pride filled her at the steadiness of her voice. Calm. She’d stay calm.

  “Sorry.” Conn rubbed his chin. “How is your mate?”

  Dage frowned. “Emma’s working around the clock to find a cure for the virus.” He sighed. “Her sister is due in less than a month, and Talen’s driving me crazy.”

  Cara had been infected with Virus-27 while pregnant, and nobody knew what the chromosome-altering disease would do to the baby. But Moira had assisted with defeating the catalyst in Cara’s blood that would’ve sped up the process in changing her from a vampire mate with twenty-seven chromosomal pairs back down to a human with twenty-three. Of course, no one knew if the virus would stop there or keep deleting until death. For now, they’d slowed the damn bug down.

  Dread filled Moira. “Cara is strong, Dage. She’ll be all right.”

  The king nodded. “I hope so.” He shifted back to his brother. “So? How angry is the Council of the Coven Nine?”

  Conn shrugged. “I don’t know yet. My guess is pretty pissed.”

  Moira nodded. “Good guess.”

  Dage lifted an eyebrow. “I didn’t think my request was unreasonable.”

  The arrogance of the Kayrs men should be bottled and sold. “Not once in the history of the Realm has a king requested our soldiers train under his direction.” In fact, if you asked her, the coven’s soldiers could kick the vampires’ asses. She smiled.