Garrett pushed off from the wall.
The prophet perched on an examination table, his gaze raking Garrett and then finding Janie. “Fine. I thought we could talk.”
Janie turned and leaned against a table, her arms crossed. “I’m not sure we have much to talk about. You kidnapped my friend after trying to manipulate her into killing me.”
The prophet sighed. “Sometimes people get lost. Regardless, fate has made me a prophet, and there has to be some respect given.”
Garrett stepped closer to his sister. “The fact that you’re still breathing shows respect.”
Janie nodded. It was a damn miracle her father or one of her uncles hadn’t cut off the prophet’s head for his betrayal, but even big bad vampires balked at messing with fate. And only fate could permanently tattoo the prophesy brand on one of the chosen three.
Well, probably. Prophet Caleb had other ideas, notably that the marking was transferred like a virus when its host died. But Caleb disliked being a prophet, and he hated fate.
So who the heck knew.
Prophet Guiles crossed muscled arms. “Help me and I’ll help you.”
“No,” Garrett said.
Janie lifted an eyebrow, her instincts flaring to life. “How so?”
Prophet Guiles’s brown eyes glimmered. “You’re not the only physic here, Miss Kayrs.”
She lifted her chin. Could she still be considered a “miss” since she’d been mated? Not married but mated? Somehow, she didn’t think so. “What are you offering?”
He glanced around and then leaned toward her, his voice low. “I know why Fate wants you.”
“Bullshit,” Garrett muttered.
Heat rushed down Janie’s torso. “Why does Fate want me?”
Triumph curled the prophet’s lips. “Help me get free, and I’ll tell you everything. The big reason you’re prophesied, and more important, why so many species want you dead.”
Well. “Don’t sugarcoat it, Guiles.” The man didn’t deserve the title of prophet. “As far as I remember, you wanted me dead because I’m going to end up wearing your prophesy mark, which means you die.”
He shook his head. “No, no, no. That was just a manipulation on Fate’s part. You don’t end up with my marking . . . but you do end up changing the world.”
“For the better?”
He lifted a lean shoulder. “There are two paths, as usual, and it depends which one you choose. I can offer guidance as well as a road map.”
She couldn’t trust him, but he might be telling the truth. “What do you want from me?”
“Freedom,” he said simply. “Help me get away from the king and out from under his thumb. I just want to be left alone.”
Janie eyed the guards at the door. “Not sure we can take them, Guiles.” She had absolutely no intention of helping the betrayer, even if he did have useful information.
“Fair enough.” He coughed. “Now.”
The first guard turned and shot Garrett in the chest. He fell back, blood arcing.
Janie cried out and reached for her brother. In a surprisingly smooth movement, Guiles dodged forward and slid a needle into her neck but did not depress the plunger.
Janie stilled. What the hell? She hadn’t even seen him move, and she was trained. What was in the syringe? Fear buzzed through her brain, and she had to shove the sensation aside to concentrate. “This is a good way to get yourself killed.”
The guards at the doorway slipped inside and shut the door.
Janie blinked. Why weren’t they reaching for weapons?
The prophet chuckled against her hair. “You’re not the only one with allies.”
Janie gulped and glanced down as Garrett shoved himself to his feet. Blood flowed from his chest, and his eyes had turned a furious aqua.
“Shoot him again,” Guiles said.
“No. Wait.” Janie kept still so he wouldn’t inject her. “Don’t shoot him. Let’s talk.”
Prophet Guiles tightened his hold. “Now you want to talk?”
“Sure.” She kept her gaze on Garrett so she’d be ready when he made a move.
Garrett planted a hand on his wound. “What’s in the syringe?”
“Cyanide,” Prophet Guiles said. “Your sister hasn’t been mated long enough to become immortal. If I release the liquid, she’ll die. Painfully and in front of your eyes.”
Garrett eyed the two guards. “When I’m done with this Fucktard, I’m ripping your heads off.” His tone remained nearly conversational.
God, he reminded Janie of their father so much lately. She cleared her throat and struggled to keep calm. The guards would shoot her brother again, and if they ganged up on him, they could probably kill him. Sure, he was trained, but so were they, and they seemed a lot more seasoned. “Let’s all get out of here alive, shall we?”
Guiles breathed into her neck. “I like you being accommodating, Miss Kayrs. Too bad you mated that demon. I always thought we’d make a nice pair.”
She swallowed as bile rose in her throat. Gross. The man was like centuries and centuries old. “What’s your plan here?”
“My plan is for my two friends to stow us away and drive right out of here. Then we’ll get to safety and my allies.” He pulled her away from Garrett and toward the door.
Janie held back a wince. “Are you still working with the Kurjans?” If he traded her to Kalin, she might have a chance at surviving. She’d go along with the plan if she could keep Garrett alive.
“No.” Prophet Guiles tugged her toward the doorway. “The demons have a much better offer for me. In fact, I just informed Suri that three of the Kayrs brothers are in his local. Let’s hope he gets my message in time.”
God. They’d walked into a trap. “If you’ve hurt any of them, I’ll kill you myself, Prophet,” Janie ground out between clenched teeth.
Garrett angled around to the right. “What’s your plan with Janie?”
Prophet Guiles shrugged. “Alas, I do believe Suri wants her head cut off.” Guiles wrapped an arm around her waist from behind to push her along. “Although she’s quite charming. Maybe she can get Suri to change his mind and let her live. How are you on your knees, sweetheart?” His breath smelled like old coffee and stale bread.
Garrett hissed out air and stalked closer. “One chance, Prophet. Let her go, and I won’t cut off your head.”
Janie blinked. She’d never heard that tone from her younger brother.
Guiles paused at the doorway, his gaze on his guards. “Kill him.”
“No.” Janie struggled and grimaced as the needle dug into her neck.
“Hold still,” Garrett ordered. Then he smiled at the two guards. “Let’s go, assholes.” He dropped into a fighting stance, anticipation lighting his lips. Blood matted the front of his shirt, but the wound appeared to have closed.
The first guard shoved his gun in his waistband and drew out a knife. “I’ve wanted to cut off your head for decades.”
Garrett snarled. “I’ve only lived two decades, asshat. What’s your problem?”
The second guard’s blade shone bright in the fluorescent lights. “Let’s just say the bounty on your head will guarantee we live long and well.”
Garrett removed a wicked double-edged knife from his back pocket. “You’re not collecting that bounty.”
“Drop the knife, or I kill your sister,” the prophet said calmly. “Suri will no doubt grant me asylum for killing her, even though I believe he wants to do the deed himself.”
“No,” Janie whispered. “Keep the knife, G.”
Garrett’s face hardened. His shoulders went back, and his knife clattered onto the floor.
Terror shrieked through Janie.
Then a voice. “What’s going on?”
She blinked. A voice in her head. “Zane?” she thought back.
“Yes.” He sounded out of breath . . . and in pain? “Where are you?”
God. It was true. She’d mated, and she could hear his thoughts. So damn quick
ly. “Help. We’re in the infirmary, and they’re trying to kill Garrett.”
Quiet reigned for the briefest of moments.
Then all hell broke loose.
Zane and Dage dropped into the infirmary, taking in the scene quickly.
Dage went for the two guards, while Zane grabbed Guiles’s arm and yanked. Two hard, quick punches to the prophet’s face, and he went down.
Zane turned back toward Janie, his face pale, his eyes furious. “Hold still.” Reaching out, he grasped the syringe and yanked.
Pain pricked her skin, and she winced, her hand going to the injury. “Holy ow.” Then she turned to help her uncle, but Dage already had one guard on the ground, while Garrett repeatedly punched the other in the face.
Zane crossed muscled arms. “I thought we agreed you’d go underground while I took out Suri.”
“You ordered and I didn’t follow,” Janie snapped. Enough was enough. She had a job to do, and her mate would damn well figure that out. Putting her hands on her hips, she took a deep breath.
Guiles jumped up from the floor and grabbed her from behind. Pivoting, she elbowed him in the gut. He doubled over and yanked a knife from his boot.
Silver flashed.
Zane pummeled Guiles to the floor and plunged a blade into his neck. Cartilage crunched. Blood sprayed. The atmosphere morphed.
“Zane—” Janie cried out.
He was beyond listening. Zane straddled the prophet, dug in, and twisted both ways. Guiles’s head rolled away from his body.
“Oh, shit.” Garrett leaped off the downed guard, blood covering his chest and hands.
Janie backed away from the dead man, gazing wildly around.
A blue light lifted from the prophet, sliding around almost gracefully. Dage ducked as it wove around him.
Garrett backed toward the door. The light slid through the air toward him. “No,” he whispered.
The light zagged to the left and then right, finally circling around on itself and wisping out.
Janie let out a sigh of relief. Thank God.
Electricity cracked. She cried out, ducking as sparks flew. The light returned, swelling to such a true blue it hurt to see. She covered her eyes with her forearms.
Heat seared into her.
Then a cooling balm. She slowly opened her eyes and straightened. “What happened?”
Zane glanced at her and leaned forward to tug her shirt away from her neck. He was pale and sweating, probably from the numerous jumps. “No prophesy marking.” He turned toward the group. “Anybody?”
A quick chorus of “no” echoed as the collected group double-checked their necks for the mark.
Janie reached out with shaking hands to view Zane’s neck. Nothing. She bit her lip. “Who was marked?”
Zane shook his head. “No clue.”
Dage wiped his blade clean on his cargo pants. “Fascinating. Well, I imagine we’ll hear soon enough.”
Janie clenched her hands together. “When a prophet is killed, I thought somebody in the immediate vicinity gets marked?”
“Not always.” Dage kicked one of the downed guards, who didn’t move. “Sometimes it’s just a person close to the prophet. We’ll find our third prophet soon enough.”
Janie tried to mellow her racing heart by concentrating on Zane. Her eyes swelled. He was alive. But dark circles marred his gorgeous eyes, and fatigue cut into the sides of his mouth. Pain curled his lip.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
Dage eyed Zane. “You’ve transported too many times this last week. It’s a miracle your insides haven’t exploded.”
Zane nodded. “Yeah. I’m done for a while.” His eyebrows drew down in the middle, and his lips tightened. “Although I’m strong enough to have a little talk with my mate.”
Janie stilled. Oh no, he had not used that big bad bossy vampire voice with her. “We can talk later.”
“Now.” Zane took her arm and helped her over the unconscious guards.
Garrett moved to intercept them, but Dage stopped him with one broad hand.
Zane nodded to Dage, some manly look passing between them.
Now her uncle was on her shit list, too. Janie went along with Zane, biting her tongue, more than willing to give him hell in private.
The entire Realm didn’t need to hear their dispute.
Chapter 20
They walked in silence through the quiet subdivision, reaching Janie’s home much too quickly.
Zane held the door open for her, and she swept inside, head held high. They truly needed to set some ground rules, although her mind was still spinning from Guiles’s death. The death of a prophet. The fact that the prophesy marking hadn’t branded her neck shocked her.
Deep down, she’d always assumed she’d be a prophet. Especially after the visions Guiles had had last year of her wearing such a marking.
Zane closed the door quietly. Too quietly.
Janie whirled. “I take it you’re mad about something.”
He lifted one eyebrow. “Try a different approach.”
She tapped her foot, trying to dispel her nervousness. “Get over it.”
“Bad try.” He leaned back against the door, clearly blocking her exit. “You’re still human and won’t have immortal chromosomal pairs for weeks. Thus you can die. I told you to go underground because I thought something might happen while I was away. I was right.”
Yeah, he’d been right. “I can handle myself, Zane.”
He glowered. “You lied to me.”
“No I didn’t.” She eyed the distance to the bedroom door, which had a lock. “I didn’t promise to go underground, and you know it.”
Arrogance marked his every move. “No, but I trusted you’d obey me in a time of war—at least until you’re not so vulnerable.”
Damn but the o word just pissed her off. “I’m glad we got this situation out of the way, because I don’t just obey. Period.”
A dimple winked in his left cheek. “Oh, you’ll learn.”
She stiffened. Who the hell did he think he was? Yet finally, he was talking about a future. What had happened with Suri? “Get over yourself.”
He cleared his throat, obviously choosing his words carefully. “We mated, and that means something to me.”
“Me too.” She frowned.
He overwhelmed the small entryway. “You’re my responsibility now. Hell. I think you’ve always been mine.”
Vampires. They thought they could control the world. “You’re mine, too,” Janie said softly.
Zane nodded. “Maybe. But for now, you’re human, which means you could die. I’m a soldier, I’m a fighter, and I give orders so people don’t die. It’s all I know, and it’s all I can control during this damn war. So for now, you follow orders.”
The poor guy had been raised in different militaries since day one, and he’d kept his brothers safe by giving orders. He probably didn’t understand another way. Janie shook her head. “No.”
That quickly, his expression moved from earnest to soldier hard. “You have everyone fooled, don’t you, baby?” he drawled.
She shook her head and backed up. Her every nerve shot into overdrive, making her achingly aware of her body. Of the need suddenly coursing through her. Why did she react like this to him and to that tone of voice? “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do.” He pushed off from the door and headed toward her. “You’re the sweet Janie Kayrs, the fragile human everybody protects and love. The woman who nearly gets killed and yet doesn’t express fear. Nobody has ever drawn lines for you, have they?”
She caught her breath and fought the urge to flee. “I’m not some scared, spoiled kid, Zane.”
His eyes darkened. “No, you’re an interesting mix of competent doctor, loving family member, and reckless brat. While the first two characteristics intrigue me, the final one will get you killed, and it’s time that ended. Charm and sweetness have gotten you out of any amount of trouble around
here, thus putting you in danger.”
Irritation blew up into anger as she backed into the living room. “You’re an arrogant idiot.”
He shook his head, continuing his advance. “Only brats call names.”
“Oh yeah? The doctor in me thinks you’re a complete dumbass.” She held up a hand to ward him off. “Stop there.”
“No.” Amusement glittered along with a dark determination in his emerald eyes. “Unlike your relatives, I don’t find your defiance cute. Not for one second will I allow the brattiness to continue—especially since it nearly got you pumped full of cyanide earlier.”
Allow? Did he say allow? The last thing she needed to think about was the poison that had almost killed her. So much heat roared through Janie, she feared she’d detonate right then and there in a riotous flame of female outrage. “Who the hell do you think you are?” She jumped as her rear pressed against the cool window.
One of his dark eyebrows lifted. “Don’t ask stupid questions, Belle. You know exactly who I am.”
But did she? The force cornering her in her own living room held far more power and male determination than she’d ever encountered. And she’d mated him! The man was correct. Charm would not get her out of this one, and her own body was betraying her. Her nipples couldn’t possibly get any harder than they were right now.
She dropped into a fighting stance.
Two hands slipped under her armpits and yanked her upright. Zane leaned in close, his eyes sparking. “Don’t you ever try to fight me.”
“Why? Afraid you’ll lose?” She turned to aim a good kick to make her point. For years she’d trained, and she could defend herself.
He propelled her forward, plastering her against the glass. “Last chance, Janie. Lose the brat or you’ll regret it.”
How dare he. She struggled against him, her fury increasing at her failure to get free. “Fuck you, asshole.”
Then things happened too quickly to follow. Wind rustled, he lifted her through the air, and oxygen whooshed from her lungs as her chest met his thighs.
She had one second to figure out he’d sat and thrown her over his lap before the first slap hit.