Ronan’s lips pressed together as he shut the door and turned to sit. “Do it. We’ll deal with the fallout later. She’s all that matters.”
Quade settled back, not liking how limp she was in his arms. “Fallout?”
Ronan wiped soot from his eyes. “Yeah. The Realm doesn’t know you’re here on Earth. They haven’t exactly decided to support the Seven and might take a stance against us at some point. This may force their hand faster than we’d like.”
Quade’s entire body thumped with pain and burns. “Because of the ritual?” The entire purpose of the Seven was to participate in a ritual to destroy Ulric, if he ever reached home again. The problem was that the ritual might also end the entire world.
Ronan nodded, his gaze weary and filled with pain. “One thing at a time, brother.”
Quade looked down at his wounded and barely breathing mate. The Realm had better not fuck with him right now.
Chapter Twenty-One
Haven came to with a scream, trying to roll away from the pain.
“Stop.” The command came harsh and fast from above her. Quade. She knew that voice.
“You came for me.” The words burned her throat, but she didn’t care. Sucking in air, wincing as her lungs shrieked, she forced her eyelids open to find herself cradled in his arms. In a helicopter?
He looked down, burns covering his neck and jaw, soot all over his face. “Yes.” Gently shifting his weight, he drew a burned and scabby wrist to his lips and dug his fangs in. Then he pressed the cut to her lips.
She shook her head and then winced as the world dropped away. Take blood? She’d never tasted anybody’s blood. The liquid burned her already burned lips, and she cried out. He pressed harder, not giving her a choice. Tears filled her eyes, feeling like acid. She wanted to fight him, but her limbs weren’t working. The pain was too intense. Without any choice, she opened her mouth, and his pressure decreased.
The liquid scalded her damaged tongue, and she whimpered, shutting her eyes again.
His hold tightened a fraction around her and then loosened. “Take the blood, Haven. When the liquid warms your belly, imagine healing cells going everywhere your body hurts. This will help you. I promise.” His voice was pained and hoarse.
She didn’t have a choice. As soon as the liquid heated her stomach, she tried to imagine a little army of cells marching along her skin and inside her lungs to take away the pain.
Darkness came again, and she willingly let herself go unconscious.
She came to again, being carried by Quade through a wooden archway with dawn breaking outside. Snow fell lightly across her face. “Where?” she croaked, her lungs feeling marginally better.
“I’ve got you. You’re protected. Now concentrate on those healing cells,” he ordered, his voice firm.
Now who was bossy? She wanted to make the joke, but her eyes hurt and she had to shut them again. Her mouth still felt as if she’d been branded with an iron, and her throat was raw, so speaking seemed stupid. Instead, she imagined those little cell soldiers and tried to direct them to her throat and mouth. “My mother?”
“Safe. Not here.”
The second she felt tingling along her lips, she passed out again.
When she awoke for a third time, she lay in a hospital bed with soft sheets covering her. A soft hum and a low beeping sound came from behind her. Slowly, carefully, she opened one eye.
Quade sat slumped in an oversized chair, his eyes closed, odd tingles popping the air around him. Raw burns covered his lower face and neck, and his T-shirt was charred. Soot and dirt were matted in his hair and covered both hands, while most of his jeans had been burned away to leave his legs visible.
He hadn’t left her. Not for a second. She could trust him. At that thought, her heart just turned over.
She allowed her other eye to open. Slight pain stabbed into her skull from the light, but she rode it out, breathing more easily than she had earlier.
“Well. Good morning. Or rather, evening. It’s almost midnight.” Sparkling blue eyes set in a classically beautiful face came into view. The woman wore a white lab coat and had her black hair secured messily at the top of her head. Her eyes were full of intelligence and kindness. “I wondered if you were going to join us.”
Haven looked around the plush hospital room. “How long have I been out, Doctor?”
“About twelve hours,” the doctor said, leaning over and staring into her eyes. “Call me Emma. How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been burned alive,” Haven said, swallowing over a dry throat.
Emma handed her a glass of water with a straw. “You’re healing nicely, truth be told. Quade gave you blood, and then he gave me some to test, and it’s potent stuff.” Her eyes gleamed. “Different from other members of the Seven who have let me study them.”
Haven looked down at her bandaged arm. “I must look horrible.”
Emma nodded. “Blistered and burned, definitely.” She looked toward the monitors. “But your heart rate has stabilized, and your breathing is much better than it was even an hour ago. Your body will heal vital organs first, from within, and then your skin. Judging by the rate you’re going, I’d say you should feel much better in a few hours.”
She felt better already. Much. “Is Quade’s blood stronger for me because of the, well, I mean…” A flush worked its way beneath her damaged skin and hurt. A lot.
Emma smiled. “Because of the mating mark? His blood might be more potent for you because of that, but his blood is different regardless. Probably from living and dying in a different atmosphere for so long. Or maybe from fighting and surviving for eternities. Who knows? I haven’t had a lot of time to study immortals.”
Haven took another sip of water, relaxing when the liquid cooled her throat and didn’t burn. “You are human?”
“I was. I mated a vampire, my chromosomal pairs increased, and now I’m immortal. Pretty much, unless I’m beheaded or burned to death.” Emma reached for a tablet on a metal counter and typed, reading off the monitors as she did so. “My mate is part demon as well, but I think he still denies that fact sometimes.” She hummed, her smile softening. “He’s fun that way.”
Mate. The term sounded so natural coming from Emma. “It’s true, then. Humans can’t be turned into vampires or demons?” Haven asked.
“Nope.” Emma set the tablet back down. “There are enhanced humans who have psychic, empathic, telekinetic, or other gifts who can mate with immortals. Current theory is that we’re a different species from human but close enough.”
Haven tried to stretch out her injured hand, but the pain stopped her. “You checked my blood?”
“Yep.”
Haven focused on the doctor, her breath catching in her throat. Tingles wandered down her arms. “And?”
“Fae with a mutation of demon.” Emma leaned closer, her eyes lighting up. “It’s fascinating. One species usually takes over, the other is a mere mutation. Kind of like having green eyes, which are just mutations of blue.”
Quade stirred and opened his eyes, flashing a deep aqua. “Please stop calling my mate a mutant, Queen. I’d really appreciate it.”
* * * *
Quade sat up as the healing cells finished on his neck and worked their way down his arms and up his face. He’d been sleeping for hours, healing, but had known the second Haven had awakened. Listening to her talk with the queen had entertained him briefly.
Haven’s eyebrow rose. “Queen?”
Emma shrugged and felt for her pulse. “I mated the king.”
Haven’s mouth opened and then closed.
Quade smiled, sharing her surprise. “It’s a new world to me too, little one.” In his time, queens acted like queens instead of doctors. Emma wore jeans and tennis shoes beneath her white lab coat, and she had been working nonstop to heal Haven and study their blood sin
ce Quade had arrived. “Emma? Shouldn’t you get some sleep?” He’d called her Queen Kayrs once, and she’d nearly snapped his head off. So, Emma it was.
“Agreed.” Dage Kayrs strode into the room, power and tension coming with him. The King of the Realm moved like a deadly predator, and the light in his eyes did nothing to dispel that impression. He moved closer to the bed, and his hard face softened. “Well, hello there. How are you feeling?”
Haven stared at the king, her eyes wide.
“She’s better,” Emma said, releasing Haven’s wrist. “The healing powers of the Fae are impressive, and there’s probably something in her blood that will help me cure human diseases. At least one.”
The king slid an arm over Emma’s shoulders and kneaded her neck. He towered over her by at least a foot, yet his touch looked gentle.
Haven turned from them to Quade. “Kayrs. So that means…” Confusion clouded her eyes, more visible in the green one.
Quade nodded. “I’m the king’s great-uncle.”
“You look the same age,” Haven said, her voice hushed.
The king barked out a laugh. “You’re not going to age much either, our new fairy friend.”
“Fae,” she said, the correction automatic.
Amusement tilted the king’s mouth. “So I’ve heard. Fae it is.”
Haven looked at Quade. “Now that you’re back, does that mean you’re, well, the…”
“Hell no,” Quade said.
Dage’s eyebrows rose. “It’s yours if you want it. Maybe you should think about it.”
“Not a chance,” Quade muttered. He was never made to be king. Plus, his duties to the Seven, hopefully far in the future, would probably end his life. Hopefully very far in the future.
Emma chuckled and patted Dage’s flat stomach. “You keep trying, but nobody wants to be the king.”
“Humph,” Dage muttered, his gaze cutting to Quade.
Quade gave a slight shake of his head. This was not the place to discuss the Seven or the Realm’s untenable position. It would greatly bother him if he became enemies with these relatives he’d just discovered, but his vow to the Seven and their duties was absolute. Even if the Realm declared war on them.
Dage’s eyes turned a deep silver, just as Jacer’s used to do. “Yet people keep forgetting that I am the king.”
Quade felt for the male. Now that the Seven had inducted Garrett, a nephew Dage had no doubt helped to raise and train, the king was in the middle of a mess. As king, he owed the other species and members of the Realm his allegiance, and he did not owe the Seven anything. Especially since they might be a threat to the world at large. “You wish to talk now?”
Dage shook his head. “Tomorrow will be soon enough. You might want to take a shower first.”
Quick footsteps came down the hall, and a tall boy of about six years old skidded into the room. “Dad? Can I stay the night with Uncle Garrett? We’re in the middle of a chess tournament, and we’re even.” The kid had black hair, blue eyes, and huge hands. It took only one look at him to see that he was definitely the king’s son.
Dage straightened. “What are you still doing up?”
The kid rolled his eyes. “Beating Uncle Garrett at chess.” He bounced back on dark tennis shoes. “Please?”
Emma moved forward and patted a cowlick above the boy’s ear. “Hunter? This is your Uncle Quade and Aunt Haven.”
Apparently, the queen thought the mating a foregone conclusion, although that couldn’t happen. Could it? Still, Ronan had mated, which was an immense shock. Amusement took Quade when the kid moved toward the bed, taking a good look at Haven for the first time. His small shoulders went back. “Who hurt you?”
Oh, definitely the king’s kid.
Haven blinked. “It’s a long story.”
The kid lowered his chin, and power emanated from him in waves. “Have you been avenged? I will help.”
Haven’s smile showed delight. “You’re sweet, but I’m a Fae-demon blend, my new friend. I can avenge myself.”
The kid tilted his head to the side, studied her, and then turned to shake Quade’s hand. “You took care of her?” Definitely a Kayrs male.
“Yes.” Quade solemnly shook his hand. “Hunter?” he asked.
“After my father, Hunter Garrett Kayrs,” Dage affirmed. “Garrett is named after him as well. One of my brothers is named Jase.”
The name slid to Quade’s gut and punched. These were Jacer’s descendants. His chest warmed with pleasure this time. “It’s a pleasure, Hunter.”
The kid had a good handshake. “Nobody is named after you because we didn’t know you existed.” The kid’s expression turned earnest, and he leaned in as if confiding a secret. “But don’t worry. Now that we know you’re around, I’m sure somebody will have a little Quade. It’d be a cool girl’s name.”
Quade smiled, taken with the guy. “Thanks. Once you’re king, you can make everybody use my name.”
The boy snorted. “Ha. I’m a scientist and a soldier, not a king. Uncle Garrett will be king someday, when Dad decides to take a break, and everybody knows it.”
Garrett was one of the Seven. How could he do both?
Hunter turned back to his parents. “So, can I hang with Garrett? Just for the night?”
Emma nodded. “Sure. Just don’t lose. He gloats when he wins too much.”
The boy made a happy hop toward the door. “I know. When Hope beat him last month, he pouted all day. Didn’t even want to train outside for a while, and it was snowing.” He shook his head and ran out the door.
“Hope?” Haven asked, tentatively.
All eyes in the room returned to her.
Dage stiffened, his face going blank. “Yes, Hope. Why?”
Haven swallowed and looked toward Quade, obviously seeking reassurance.
He stood, moving to her side. “Why do you ask?”
She eyed him and then looked back at the king. “Is Hope a cute little girl with blue eyes and pigtails?”
Emma’s smile disappeared and Dage looked more menacing than ever. “Yes. Why?” he asked.
Quade’s shoulders kicked back.
Haven’s chin lifted, and she faced the king squarely. “I think I’ve met her. She contacted me through an online chat.”
“Damn it,” Dage muttered. He looked over at Quade. “Well. I guess it begins, then.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Haven let the soothing beep, beep, beep of the machines calm her breathing. The queen had ordered everyone out of the room, saying it was past midnight and her patient needed sleep. It was nice to have a moment to herself. The window to the right of the bed was unshaded, giving a beautiful view of the snow and the frozen lake outside. Christmas lights twinkled from many of the trees, illuminating the armed guards who patrolled on a set schedule.
So she was back in the mountains somewhere. She hadn’t thought to ask earlier.
A dim light was still on in the corner, and one of the buttons near her would turn it off if she decided she wanted darkness. Instead, she lifted her hand to stare at her fingers. They were burned and blistered. Taking a deep breath, she imagined blue-filled healing cells flowing through her system. In her mind, healing should be a blue color. Then, in front of her eyes, her thumb slowly healed, the burn turning from red to pink to a healthy peach color.
Wow. Just wow.
Her eyelids fluttered shut, and exhaustion took her. Within seconds, she was flying through time and space, flowing through places she’d never seen. It was like when she used to visit Quade but her travel was faster somehow. She panicked, trying to control the flight as she’d learned to do.
Nothing.
She was thrown through portal after portal, through ice and heat and something wet. She shut her eyes and tried to concentrate.
There was nothing to grab o
nto.
Then there was light. She landed on a ball of wax, stuck, and then was sucked up through the yellow sky. She tried to grab on, tried to focus the way she’d done before, but Quade’s voice was missing. There was no anchor. She rolled out of another portal and smashed into a tree, a slim one, so she grabbed on with both arms.
Resting her head against bark that smelled like licorice, she sucked in air, trying to get her bearings. “I am not here,” she whispered, chanting the words several times. “Wake up, wake up, wake up.”
The wind strengthened and shrieked around her, throwing leaves with sharp edges. One cut into her cheek. Pain spread through her face, and she pressed closer to the tree, which had started swaying dangerously. She should be able to control this.
The wind lifted her legs, pulling so hard her shoulder popped. She cried out, her hands flailing, as she was dragged up and out. Over and over, spinning, she tumbled through darkness as if going the wrong way. The force continued to haul her around with no mercy.
Finally, she landed on her back on the rock where she’d been before—during the last dream. Hard.
Gasping like a landed trout, she turned to stare up at the reddish sky. The rock was warm and felt steady, so she took several precious moments to regain her breath, which had been knocked out of her lungs. The air smelled like sulfur and something else. An odd smell. Lemons? But not fresh ones. Moldy lemons.
The scent made her gag.
She forced herself to sit. The shadows between the red trees had darkened. Was it nighttime here? She flattened her hands to feel the warmth. The rock was ten or so feet across and round with jagged edges. She inched toward the end and looked down. Way down. She could only see mist and air. She gulped and crab walked back to the middle of the rock. What if she fell?
Could she die in this weird world while sleeping safely back in that hospital bed? If she could get cut or injured, as she’d been before, it made sense that she could die, too.
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