Hunted dp-3

by Rebecca Zanetti

  He was wrong.

  Men hustled around, collecting the wounded. “What should I do?” the medic asked, wiping rain off his forehead.

  Jordan dropped into a crouch. The rain mingled with the spattered blood, turning his blond hair a matted red. “Inject him.”

  At Dage’s nod, the medic plunged a syringe into the cat’s chest. Wright gasped, his entire body clenching, and then relaxing. “What—” He opened blood-filled eyes, blinking to focus. Vibrations from his pain shimmered in the air.

  Jordan lowered his face. “Where did they take Connlan Kayrs?” He placed one hand against Wright’s ribs.

  The medic opened his mouth to object, and Dage jerked his head toward the burning building. “We have injured over by the tree line. Go help.” The vampire took one last hard look at Wright, grabbed his kit, and hurried off. Dage settled his stance, letting Jordan handle his man, who was obviously too weak to shift.

  Wright’s eyes widened. He coughed, the rattle spitting clotted blood out his mouth. He blinked against the rain.

  Jordan pressed down. “Tell me or I swear to God, I’m going to yank each rib out of you one at a time.” His voice lowered to a guttural rumble sounding more animal than man.

  Wright bellowed in pain, his shoulders spasming and scattering pine needles. “I ... fuck you,” he gasped, his legs kicking out.

  Jordan dug his fingers in, and Wright shrieked, the sound like death a day late. Grabbing the panther’s hair and yanking back, Jordan lowered his face to an inch away. “That was nothing. My knife comes out next. Where is Kayrs?”

  Wright’s eyes fluttered, his shoulders relaxed. “Dunno,” he slurred, smiling blood covered canines. “Wouldn’t tell us. Just get you, get on helicopter.”

  Smart. Dage crossed his arms. “Whoever planned this figured you wouldn’t make it, Robert. Not a lot of faith in you.”

  Jordan leaned back. “You planned this to trap me? Why?”

  Wright coughed, sending blood flying. “We know”—he gasped out—“you’re mating a werewolf. And ... Caleb.”

  “Caleb?” Dage dropped to his haunches to better hear. “Your clan isn’t one that has fought with Caleb over the years for supporting his brother.”

  Jordan snarled. “Katie’s not a werewolf, you prick. She has a virus.”

  Wright closed his eyes. “Realm’s weak. Time to take over.” His head trembling, his eyes slowly opened to focus on Jordan. “You’re weak. Marcus is strong.” His lids fluttered shut. One rattling exhale whooshed out of his lungs, and his body relaxed in death.

  Jordan stood, turning his back on the panther. “Marcus Paltrow, the head of the clan.” He waved an arm at his enforcers. “I’ll get the word out ... we’ll find Conn.” Pivoting, he jogged over to confer with his men.

  Dage tapped his ear communicator.

  “Did you save the shifters?” Kane said by way of answer, the typing of computer keys ticking across the line.

  “It was a trap. They wanted Jordan and took Conn.”

  The typing stopped. Kane exhaled slowly, giving Dage his full attention.

  “Marcus Paltrow engineered the trap. Find him.”

  “On it.” Kane clicked off.

  Neither of them said what couldn’t be said. If the shifters had wanted Jordan, Conn would be more of a liability than asset. Dage surveyed the medics patching up his men.

  Jase cleared his throat. “They could’ve killed him in the tunnels.”

  An explosion of energy ripped through Dage’s system, so he kept his face bland. “The group was supposed to get Jordan, failed, so they took who they could. I’m assuming their leader will create a plan.”

  Jase cocked an eyebrow in direct contrast to the hand clenching and unclenching at his side. “A plan? Dage, we’re talking about Conn, the greatest soldier ever born. He won’t break.”

  Dread slid down Dage’s trachea to settle in his gut. “No. Breaking Conn won’t be the point.” Dage waited until Jase’s eyes widened with realization, then raw fury. “Exactly.”

  “They wouldn’t.”

  “Sure they would. Publicly decapitating the most powerful soldier ever born to the Realm? How weak would we look?”

  If Conn died, the ensuring war would coat the earth in blood. Not to mention what it’d do to Dage personally—as well as to his brothers. “Thinking as a king, the move would be bold and send a message.”

  “And thinking as a brother?” Jase asked, no longer wiping the shredding rain off his face.

  Power coiled inside Dage, careening to shoot out. Force of will, tenuous and fading, shoved it down. “As a brother, I’d unleash hell.” He believed in mercy. And right or wrong, he believed in vengeance. The two rarely existed during the same span of time. If the shifters beheaded his brother, mercy would cease to exist.

  “Have faith in Conn, Dage.”

  “I do.” If he didn’t, he’d be ripping through the shifting clans for answers, not caring who he hurt. He eyed Jordan talking to his enforcers. “Sounds like the shifting clans are as unsettled as the Realm right now.” The world was exploding.

  Talen raced up, smashing wet pine needles into the snow.

  Dage centered himself. “Report.”

  Talen tucked a knife into his pocket. “We’ve cleared the entire facility. Five demons down, the rest made it out the back as the first charge blew.” He glanced down at the dead shifter. “Counting this guy, two dead shifters, neither Jordan’s. We have three wounded, not seriously.” Emerald overtook the gold in Talen’s dangerous eyes. “And my brother is gone.”

  Chapter 20

  Moira settled Emma on the smooth rock floor of the underground lab. “Is there any water?”

  Katie rushed over and grabbed a bottle from the refrigerator, unscrewing the cap and handing it to the trembling queen.

  Emma took a deep swallow, pressing her hand to her head. “Damn migraines.” She opened her eyes, squinting into the light.

  “What did you see?” Moira dropped to her haunches. Two of her sisters were psychic, but they didn’t react in pain. Maybe vampire mates had a tougher time of it—though current science hinted enhanced humans were distant cousins to the witches. Fear swirled in her abdomen. “How is Conn hurt?”

  Emma shuddered out a sigh. “I don’t know. He went down ... and pain cut into my leg. Then everything went black.”

  A roaring filled Moira’s ears. Panic stopped her breath. Oh God. Not Conn.

  The door swept open. Moira leaped up, pivoting to protect the queen. Kane Kayrs stood in the doorway, dressed in all black, his thick dark hair ruffled and his eyes an angry dark violet. His gaze dropped to Emma. “Vision?”

  “Yes.” Emma pushed to her feet, her hands trembling as she gripped the counter. “I saw Conn go down, but not much afterwards. He seemed, well, fuzzy.”

  “The shifters drugged him.” Kane tilted his head toward the desk. “Migraine medicine is stashed in the top drawer for you. Just in case.” He surveyed the room, his gaze landing on Moira. “Conn’s your mate. I need you to reach out and find his location.”

  Moira swallowed hard. Fear threatened to overwhelm her senses. Light blue energy flickered on her arms. “We’ve spent the last century shielding ourselves from each other, Kane. I don’t have a sense of Conn.”

  Fury at herself ripped along her spine at the time she’d wasted. Why had she waited for Conn to show up in Ireland? She could’ve sought him out—made it work between them. Then she could’ve been a link between the witches and the Realm ... so there wouldn’t be a movement to withdraw. Oh God. She loved the vampire.

  Kane nodded. “I understand. Come with me, I have an idea.” He pivoted on his heel, heavy footsteps echoing down the hall.

  She’d do anything. Moira raised both eyebrows at the empty doorway. “Please tell me he isn’t going to suck my brain out or something.” The combined scents of bleach and lemon cleanser from the lab rolled a large pit in her stomach. Or maybe that was from fear and helplessness.

 
Emma snorted. “If Kane thought that would get him results, he’d take your whole head.” She placed a hand on Moira’s arm. “I’m sure Conn’s all right. He’s a fighter, Moira.”

  “I know.” He’d been hurt, according to Emma. Who could get close enough to injure Conn? Moira sighed. “No matter how calm and logical Kane is, he can’t get into my head.” Even if she agreed to let him, her shields had strength of their own. And as an enforcer, she could kick serious ass. She’d figure out a way to get Conn back.

  Cara glided closer, her hand over her belly. “Kane isn’t anything near calm. He’s furious.” She pursed her lips. “Fighting serious guilt. Probably thinks he could’ve helped had he gone on the raid, instead of continuing to work on the virus.” She paled and bent at the waist. “Ow. The kid’s a kicker.” Straightening, she rubbed her side. “Do you want me to come with you? An empath might help.”

  Warmth flowed through Moira. She had friends. Well, almost family. “No. I can do this.” She strode toward the door. “Thanks, though.” Sconces lit the rock walls of the hallway as she took the direction Kane had taken, not surprised to find him waiting for her outside an open doorway. “What’s in there?”

  “My humble abode.” Kane gestured her inside.

  She swept by him, realizing her head barely reached the top of his chest. For some reason she’d never noticed his size ... always concentrating on his big brain. The Kayrs size. She’d always appreciated Conn’s hulking size. What if he was hurt? The tinkling of water over rocks stopped her tormented thoughts, and she surveyed the peaceful room. “This place is all Zen.”

  Kane shut the door, stalking around a wide leather couch to survey his space. “Yeah. When I’m down here, I like to relax.”

  A deep screen showed a tranquil lake on a spring day. Dark furnishings and soft lighting lent coziness to the living room, much like her father’s study. Maleness permeated the space with a heavy sense of safety, like that she felt at Daire’s hunting lodge on the southern coast of Ireland. Rich oil paintings of fantasy scenes adorned the walls. “I figured you’d go more for the modern glass and steel look.”

  Kane patted the back of an overstuffed chair. “I spend enough time around glass and chrome in the lab. Now stop being nervous and come sit down.”

  Just because her hands were sweating and butterflies on crack winged through her stomach didn’t mean she was nervous. Taking a deep breath, because the room smelled like cinnamon and vanilla and not because her lungs ached, she skirted the sofa and dropped into the chair.

  Kane grabbed the matching chair and shifted it to the side so they could sit face-to-face. He sat and held out both hands. “Put your palms on mine.”

  Bugger. Moira wiped her hands on her jeans, reaching out to place them over Kane’s much bigger ones. Her hands shook. “What now?”

  Slap! Kane flipped his hands over and smacked hers in a game as old as time. “I win.”

  Moira jerked away. Surprised humor rippled through her and she coughed a laugh. “Very funny.”

  Kane sat back, amusement flitting across his angled face. He had the same stubborn jaw as Conn, but his cheekbones seemed higher, even sharper. “You need to relax.”

  He was right. She took several deep breaths, forcing her shoulders to lower and her hands to steady. Mates should be able to communicate telepathically, but she sucked as a mate. “Okay. What now?” Conn couldn’t be really hurt.

  “How about we try some deep relaxation techniques?”

  She’d rather hit something. “I’m not sure I can be hypnotized, Kane.”

  “No worries. Let’s work on relaxing. Open your mind up a little to seek out Conn. A trial experiment to attempt a connection.”

  Well, she’d heard of worse ideas. “If I do this, will you help me get back aboveground?” She needed to be on the front lines, yet truly didn’t want to raid the armory and have to shoot her way out of the king’s headquarters. But she would.

  “No.”

  He could’ve at least considered the option. Moira sighed. “What should I do?”

  “I want you to close your eyes and concentrate on your breathing. Good air in, bad air out.” Kane’s voice softened. “Start with your toes, relaxing and letting all tension ebb away. Move up to your calves, working on your legs, hips, ribs, heart and so on until you get to your head.”

  She’d meditated before. Kane was rushing this, probably in a hurry to find his brother. So was she. “Conn knows how to manipulate matter with energy,” she murmured, concentrating on her breath and allowing stress to flow away from her skin.

  “I know.”

  Her eyelids flipped open. “Did you teach him?”

  A smile threatened. “Ah, no. He tried to teach me. Burned the crap out of my eyebrows.” Kane settled into the leather. “Something about the process escaped me.”

  Yeah, a high intelligence wasn’t enough. “Altering matter with energy takes more than studying quantum physics, Kane. You need to feel the change as much as think it.” She glanced around. Even in the comfortable room, the heaviness of the rock above pressed down.

  “I don’t comprehend ‘feeling.’ Logic and thought ... that’s what matters.” Kane studied her, reaching and pressing the button on a remote. The screen shifted from the lake to a full moon, the light leaping from the wall. A deep forest spread out beneath the sky, the trees so thick they blurred into one long, free form.

  Moira’s eyes misted. “How did you know?”

  “You’re a witch.” He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it ruffled. “I don’t understand the power you get from the moon, but so long as you believe it’s there, we’ll use it.”

  The glimmering body seemed to draw Moira in, offering a comfort of sorts. Her arms grew weightless, as if she floated an inch under a lake’s surface. “Some argue the moon has feminine energy, which explains most female witches being stronger than males. Some, not all. Lunar power does exist—just look at the influence of the moon on the tides.” Speaking of influence, her head rolled back against the cushion. “What did you do?”

  “Nothing. You relaxed yourself. Nicely done.” A rustle sounded and the scent of male and smoldering amber wafted around her. “Now close your eyes and picture Conn.”

  Conn filled her head. Green eyes, powerful shoulders, smart-assed grin. Connlan Kayrs shoved every other thought to hell. The look in his eye as he’d taken her on the plane shot through her memories, speeding up her heart rate. She pulled in air to fill her chest, forcing her body to stay calm. “I found him.”

  “Okay. Now reach out to him.”

  She tried. As if calling someone on a cell phone, she sent a question through time, through space to find him—a cosmic hello. Magic swirled around her brain along with science. Yet she couldn’t accept the thought of speaking into someone else’s mind. How was it possible? Well ... waves carried light, they carried sound ... cell phones worked with radio waves. Thought waves, especially those coming from power, certainly made sense. Maybe she could do this.

  “Stop thinking. Try and find Conn.” Kane failed to mask the bite in his words. “While I can’t figure out how, there’s no denying the fact my mated brothers can speak telepathically with their mates. So do so.”

  Moira dug her nails into the leather. “I am trying.” Accepting the possibility of telepathing her thoughts into Conn’s stubborn head equaled a huge leap of faith for her. “Now stop interrupting me.” Damn Kayrs brothers. Bossy, each and every one of them. Something she’d complain to Conn about when he arrived home.

  She allowed the earth to warm her feet. Conn? His name echoed around her head, but nothing came back. No images, no feelings, not even a vague sense. Irritated, she opened her eyes and caught Kane without his mask on. He quickly yanked down a veil to shield the anger and urgency filling his eyes. Calm interest remained.

  She tugged her neck to the side, popping out the tension. “You’re concerned.”

  “Yes.” He rubbed his chin. “If whoever took Conn is smart, an
d we have to assume they are, considering they succeeded, they’ll know to kill him.”

  “Why?” Her voice cracked. A fear she’d kept at bay clenched her stomach.

  “If they don’t, they’ll die. Conn will make sure of it.” A matter-of-fact tone rode Kane’s words, but the air around him tensed.

  What if they kept Conn drugged? He had to be alive. As his mate, wouldn’t she at least be able to sense if he stopped living? Her gaze landed on a crystal figurine of a frog glinting in the muted light, perched haphazardly on the side table. She grabbed it, the coolness comforting her palms. “Are you attached to this?”

  “No.” Kane leaned back in the thick chair, his arms on the rests. Tension radiated from him, scattering waves and disrupting the peace of the room. “Some woman I dated in the seventies threw that at my head when she dumped me.” The vampire shrugged. “Apparently I was a toad who couldn’t commit.”

  Moira frowned. “Why keep it?”

  “Why not?”

  Indeed. Well, if he wasn’t attached to the little bugger, maybe she could center herself better. Perching the frog on her palm, Moira tilted her head to probe into the shine. Particles swam before her eyes, morphing out and in, assuming the form of the amphibian, then free forming into a ball. The glow dimmed as she dug deeper, going for the subatomic particles, seeing them, feeling them. Focusing a gentle wave, she cascaded energy throughout, scattering them to vibrate in a different configuration.

  Light shimmered, expressed in particles and waves. A glow centered around the ball, crackling with her energy. She tossed the circle to her other hand, allowing the light to shift from white to blue and back to white. Joy in the creating, in the altering of matter to energy warmed her.