Claimed

  “The virus binds itself to the chromosomes like it has glue all over it.” Emma’s shoulders slumped. “We can’t get to it. At least we can’t without using magic.”

  “Magic?” A small grin lit Cara’s face. “So. Tell me about Moira.”

  Dage wiped blood off his face with his ripped shirt, his back against the cool wall. “I can’t see out of my left eye.” He blinked several times to make sure. Nope. Pure darkness. Closing his lid, he concentrated on sending healing cells to the tissue.

  Conn grunted next to him. “I think you broke my jaw.”

  An attempt at a grin had Dage wincing when his lip split further in two. “Sorry.” He’d had to throw more than one serious punch to impact Conn’s stubborn jaw.

  “No worries,” his brother said cheerfully. “This was fun.”

  Dage shook his head and could actually hear his brain rattle against his skull. “You have an odd idea about fun.” He closed both eyes and began to heal the concussions. Lights flashed behind his lids while pain ripped through his system. Healing hurt almost as much as sustaining the original injury. Conn hit hard.

  Conn shrugged and then groaned when three loud pops pierced the silence. “Broken ribs.” He exhaled loudly. “All better.”

  Dage had felt those shatter against his knuckles. “Good.” He opened his one good eye, pleased it didn’t fall out of his head. “Should we talk now?”

  “Sure. You go first.” Conn sucked in air with a whistling sound, no doubt repairing a fallen lung.

  The shredded knuckles on Dage’s right hand began to mend together. “Emma rushed into a destroyed lab to save a human scientist as well as her damn research without observing any safety measures. She was injured.” And possibly infected with the damn virus. Fear clawed through Dage’s gut.

  Conn grabbed his nose and twisted the cartilage back into shape with a loud crack. “That sucks. Though she is trying to save her sister.” Another pop reformed his eye socket.

  “We could both save her sister.”

  “Yeah. I assume that’s a learned behavior.”

  “Meaning?”

  “From what Cara has said about their childhood, I’m thinking Emma’s first instinct isn’t to run for help. To trust anyone else to help.” Conn straightened his legs and crossed them at the ankles. Blood soaked through the denim in several places. “She needs to learn to do so—to change brain patterns.”

  “Humph. I hadn’t thought of her situation that way.” Dage’s shoulder popped back into the socket with a jar that had him clenching his jaw.

  “Sure.” Conn’s collarbone snapped back into place. “We had mother, father, and each other. Someone always had our backs. Emma had a younger sister to protect—that’s all. She’s doing what she did to survive her childhood.”

  Conn understood Emma better than Dage did. “I am such an asshole.”

  “True. But you love the woman. It’s okay not to think straight.”

  Dage set his other shoulder back in alignment. “Your turn. Why don’t you get your ass to Ireland and bring back your witch?”

  Conn grinned. “We’re at war with two nations—I’ve been trying to avoid a third.”

  Ah, damn it. He should’ve known Conn would put the Realm before his own happiness. “When you’re ready to go, we go.” He still had his brother’s back.

  “I know. She just finished her final training last year. I thought perhaps she’d come to me at that time.” Genuine surprise flashed across Conn’s battered face.

  Dage chuckled. “I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works. You’ll need to make the effort to bring her back—that much I know.” Women were complicated and mates were that—times a hundred. There should be a guidebook.

  Conn nodded. “Yeah. I had hoped to ease her into the thought, but now that she’s in danger, well ...”

  Dage stood and tugged his brother up. They swayed for a moment. “We go when you’re ready.”

  Talen loped inside the door and stopped cold with Kane right behind him. “Jesus. Who won?”

  “Was a draw,” they answered at once, then broke into chuckles of laughter.

  Kane shook his head. “You’re both concussed.”

  Jase darted through the door, his shoes squishing the thick mat. “Damn. I missed the fight.” He handed Dage a grape energy drink.

  “Thanks.” Dage clapped an arm around Jase’s shoulders. “No worries. We’ll do it again. By the way, you’re now appointed as liaison to the Realm.”

  Jase stepped back. “What?”

  Dage wiped blood off his cheek. “Kane made it clear not too long ago that I’m not using your talents. One of those talents is pure charm.” Dage chuckled at Jase’s frown. “We’re at war with the Kurjans, possibly with the demons, we’re going to be at war with the Irish coven soon, and the Bane’s Council is going to be beyond pissed if they find out about Maggie.” He limped toward the door, glancing over his shoulder at his youngest brother. “Our allies and our enemies need a face and a contact with the Realm. Congratulations brother. You’re it.”

  “Damn,” Jase breathed, even as first Conn, then Talen clapped him on the back with chuckled congratulations.

  Kane remained off to the side. “Ah, well, I meant my comment in a good way. I didn’t think—” The rest of his sentence was cut short when Jase body checked him and both men went sprawling across the mats.

  “Hey. I’m supposed to kick Kane’s ass,” Talen grumbled.

  “Me first,” Jase said, punching Kane in the jaw.

  Dage would like to stay and watch the brawl, but he had work to do.

  Then he’d deal with his mate.

  Chapter 20

  A breath after midnight, Dage nudged the door to his suite open with one knuckle, fully expecting something to be thrown at his head. Nothing. He stepped inside the quiet room, his gaze dropping to the set of tea cups remaining on the sofa table. Good. Cara had visited.

  He strode to the bedroom door and twisted, not surprised to find the lock engaged. The cocking of a pistol on the other side brought a wry grin to his face.

  “Open the door and I shoot.” While Emma’s voice remained deadly calm, an underlying tremor lifted the consonants. His mate knew this was a bad idea.

  No question he’d been an ass earlier. But he couldn’t let the woman threaten him with a gun without some sort of repercussion. Would she really shoot? “Where’d you get the weapon, love?” He placed a palm against the door.

  “In the armory earlier.” A rustling sounded—the woman was readying her stance. “The gun’s old-fashioned and not likely to kill a vampire, but I believe a bullet would sting.”

  “The gun had better not be in your hand when I enter the room, Emma.” Enough of this. They needed to talk.

  “Not only will the gun be in my hand, you’ll be facing lead poisoning,” she returned just as evenly.

  He stepped back and put his boot to the door. The heavy oak slammed open and he faced the barrel of a pistol, his mate’s angry blue eyes shooting sparks.

  She was perched on her knees in the middle of the big bed, wearing sweats and a faded shirt sporting Isaac Newton getting beamed by an apple. “I’ve always wanted to see somebody do that.”

  Leaning against the door jam, he crossed his arms. “The key is to plant your foot next to the doorknob.” He could have those clothes off her in a matter of seconds.

  “Good to know.”

  She looked healthy. Flushed skin, clear eyes. “Is the gun loaded?” A lead bullet would smart like a rubber band snap and not even pierce his skin.

  “Yes.” She raised an eyebrow. “Though I want to get myself one of those green laser shooting kinds.”

  “You may choose your own tomorrow.” He wondered if she knew how to shoot. If not, they’d need to start practicing.

  “I believe I told you not to come inside this room.”

  He smiled. She’d pulled her thick hair back into a ponytail and appeared as dangerous as a newborn kitten. “I didn’t
listen.” His gaze focused on the gun and he heated the metal just enough ...

  “Damn.” She dropped the gun to the bedspread and shook her hand. “That hurt.”

  “I barely warmed it.” He flicked his glance to the weapon and the gun shot across the room to land near his feet. “Would you really have shot me?”

  She crossed her arms. “You’ll never know.”

  Two strides had him at the bed. “Lesson one with guns, love. If you’re going to point it, shoot it.” He reached out and tugged the band from her hair, appreciating when curls smelling like spiced peaches cascaded around her fragile shoulders.

  She frowned. “Give me the gun back and I will.”

  He smiled. “You are such a pain in the ass.” Damn but he loved her.

  “Look who’s talking. You overreacted earlier, King.” She scooted back on the bed to rest against the headboard. A disgruntled frown settled between her pretty eyes, but she seemed more irritated than angry.

  He inhaled deeply. Spiced peaches filled his head and made his cock throb worse than his healing ribs. “Yes, I did. I apologize.”

  Her dark eyelashes fluttered for a moment against her pale skin as she focused on the bedspread. “I probably should’ve called for help before rushing into the lab.” She plucked a loose string. Her tone hinted that scientific discovery took some risks, but she lacked the energy to fight about it.

  The mattress gave when Dage placed one knee in the center, reaching out and tugging her flat to be covered by his body. “We’re still both finding our way here.” He had no doubt she’d forget safety again in a heartbeat if there was science involved. She reminded him of Kane.

  She smiled up at him. “True.” Her nipples pebbled against his chest.

  Forcing a smile, he brushed her hair away from her face. “We need to learn more about each other.”

  Sapphire eyes sparkled with laughter. “Really? Like what?”

  “Like”—he ran his hand down the side of her body, enjoying the little catch in her breath—“are you ticklish?” Digging his fingers into her ribs, he easily held her in place when she bucked.

  “No,” she protested, a bubble of laughter escaping. “Okay, maybe a little.” She yanked his head back with both hands. “Stop.”

  He paused as if considering. “For now.” Tugging, he removed her shirt and then his own, fighting a groan as her soft skin met his. This was so much better than arguing with her. If she’d just allow him to keep her safe, life would be so much more peaceful.

  “What else do you want to know?” She stretched against him like a satisfied cat.

  Was she wet? “Favorite ice cream?” When she moved like that, he didn’t give a shit about peace.

  Her gaze dropped to his mouth. “Mint chocolate chip.” She leaned up and nibbled on his bottom lip. “You?”

  The sweats were ripped easily off her body by one of his large hands. “Chunky Monkey.” Her scent filled his head, and he had to force himself not to pound into her, to slow down and enjoy this amazing creature.

  She stilled, biting her bottom lip while laughter lightened her eyes. “Seriously? Chunky Monkey?”

  He had to taste her neck. “What’s wrong with my choice?” Canines retracted, his lips nipped her skin, filling his senses with ripe peaches.

  Emma.

  His.

  “I don’t know,” she breathed, arching her silk covered mound against his ripped jeans. “You seem more of a French vanilla type to me.”

  Those panties snapped in two, and he flung them across the room. “Vanilla, huh?” Hmm. Not so sure he liked that.

  “Yeah. It’s more king-like.”

  Oh, he really didn’t like that. He rose to his knees, straddling her nude body, both hands going to his leather belt to draw through the hoops. Her eyes darkened and her gaze ran over his chest in almost a physical caress. He breathed deep. “Open your mind.”

  She opened her eyes wide and lowered those powerful shields.

  Ah. He let her seep into him, her incredible mind, her rioting emotions. She didn’t know how to trust. So he didn’t ask. He put pure male challenge in his eyes and sent her a mental whisper.

  Her eyes widened further, her gaze flicking to the belt still in his hands and back again.

  He waited, leaving the unspoken challenge hanging in the air between them.

  She straightened her shoulders against the mattress and held out one wrist, dark sparking eyes that reminded him of the clearest sky over the purest part of the ocean.

  The leather easily looped around her soft skin, and he jerked her to a seated position, grabbing her other wrist and securing her hands together behind her back. His strength so surpassed hers the belt was a silly prop—yet the representation of her extending her arm filled him with power. The blue-eyed minx trusted him, whether she’d admit it to herself or not.

  Her lips parted and interest darkened her devastating eyes even as those damn shields began to rise.

  “No.” He tugged on her arms, leaning back on his haunches to appreciate her pretty breasts. “No shields.”

  She mentally dropped them and twisted her wrists, raising an eyebrow when the binding held tight. “You’re kind of kinky for a king.” Her husky voice slid over his skin like silk.

  “You have no idea.”

  “Show me.”

  He smiled slowly, truly appreciating the hard nipples all but begging for his mouth. “With pleasure.” A fluffed pillow cradled her head when propped against the headboard, her arms bound behind her back arching her chest. “You are comfortable?”

  “I’m fine.” She settled against the intricate wood, her eyes an intriguing combination of wariness and want. “What now?”

  “Now we talk about your pointing a gun at me.” He inhaled the intoxicating scent of her arousal. His mate.

  Awareness flashed in those eyes. “You deserved it.”

  “No.” He gave a low growl, nipping the underside of one breast. “Before we’re finished tonight, you’ll vow never to do it again.”

  She gave a half-hearted struggle. “I won’t.”

  His chuckle echoed back from her soft skin and he levered up to engulf one nipple. She gasped, throwing her head back with a soft groan. He tweaked her with his tongue, his emotions melding with hers until he couldn’t be certain which were his.

  The king’s emotions ripped into Emma with a force that left her breathless. The man really did love her, though a dark edge breathed inside him. For the first time she truly understood what a dangerous being she’d given herself to.

  “I won’t hurt you.” He shifted his attention to her other nipple and she fought to keep her brain functioning.

  “I know.” She let herself navigate inside him, his heart bare, his soul laid wide open. Without question she sat in the middle of everything he was, everything he’d ever become. Her breath caught in her throat and tears burned her eyes. He’d do what it took to protect her ... because she mattered.

  He lifted his head to meet her gaze. “Yes, I will. And yes, you do. You’re the one thing fate has given just to me. Without you”—balancing himself on his elbows, his wicked mouth wandered down her ribs to her navel—“nothing has meaning.” He swirled his tongue inside and she pushed toward him, trying to loosen her hands to touch him. She needed to touch him.

  He chuckled, going lower to bite her inner thigh. “I like you helpless.”

  She stilled, sparks of light shooting inside her eyelids as his heated breath brushed across her core. “Dage,” she breathed. Her hands splayed against the small of her back, fighting the belt. The leather held firm.

  “Now that’s a lovely sound.” He kissed her so softly, too softly right where she needed his mouth. He settled in with a low growl, his wide shoulders holding her open for him. “Say it again.”

  His fangs scraped her inner thigh and she stifled a scream. Oh God. Those dangerous canines were so close to her aching center. Heat flushed through her and a desire slammed home with a razor sharp e
dge of pain. “Dage.”

  The pleasure that filled him at her husky whisper of his name echoed throughout her own heart, along every inch of her skin.

  “What, love?”

  “Bite me.”

  She didn’t need to ask twice. He struck fast and hard, sinking into her artery and pulling with sharp tugs. Warmth and energy sizzled through his veins, swirling into pure, raw power. Emma gasped, feeling from within Dage’s skin. “Wow.”

  His fangs retracted, and he sealed the wound with his rough tongue. “You’re telling me.”

  “My blood gave you energy.” The scientist’s mind fought against the woman’s need. “Is it always so intense when you feed?

  “God no.” His tongue wandered north and found another place to play. Emma nearly slammed her thighs together, but his strong hands widened her further. “Only my mate packs a punch like that.” He spoke against her clit, his breath heated more than a human’s.

  The scientist fell silent as Emma’s thighs began to tremble. Dage slid both hands under her to cup her ass, tugging her further into his mouth. He moaned in appreciation and Emma cried out. He worked her for a while, his mouth relentless, his tongue wicked hot until she was a gasping, nearly pleading bundle of screaming nerves. If he moved just a little faster ...

  He chuckled again, the vibration nearly sending her over the edge. Nearly. “Dage,” she moaned.

  “Ah, love. Now we talk about the gun.”

  Irritation warred with need for a moment. “My hands hurt. Undo them.”

  He lifted up. A sharp eyebrow and shards of blue bisected the silver in his eyes. “I strongly suggest you never lie to me, love.” The hands on her buttocks tightened.

  She opened her mouth to protest, then fell silent.

  “Oh yeah. I can feel what you feel. Your hands are just fine.” He released her gaze and lowered his mouth to nip, sending her arching toward him. He rumbled against her core. “Now, promise you’ll never point a gun at me again.”

  She rotated her hips, seeking the release he kept just out of her reach, the muscles in her neck stretching. “I promise I won’t point a gun at you unless I intend to shoot,” she moaned.