“Really?” Peggy waved at the group of girls in the corner. A vein fluttered in her neck, proving she wasn’t quite reassured. Prey did have some basic instinct for survival. “What’s her name?”
“Janie. She lives in the States.” Enough of this. He relaxed, the weight of destiny no longer pressing. “So. You leave for your trip late tonight, right?”
“Yes.” Peggy gave a happy hop in the seat, her smile relaxing as she turned to face him. She’d reassured herself of her safety.
Silly human girl.
“I’m going to visit my aunt and uncle in Omaha ... I’m taking the red-eye. It’ll be a fun two weeks of relaxing and helping on the farm. I love the farm.” She frowned, creating cute lines on the sides of her eyes. “I’ll miss you, though.”
Not as much as she’d miss Joe, apparently. “I’ll miss you too.” Kalin’s brain began calculating plans.
She glanced at her watch. “Oh. I’m supposed to meet Joe for yogurt.” Her frown wasn’t as cute. “Do you, ah, want to come?”
“No.” Kalin stood, stretching a hand to help her up. Her skin felt smooth in his palm. Was she smooth all over? “I need to get home. But you have a great time.”
He walked her out, turning to head in the opposite direction to jump in his truck. Anger tasted like acid in his throat. Something under his rib cage echoed with a pain he’d never felt ... dull and devastating. His cell phone rang, nearly freezing his ear off when he lifted it, and he growled.
“Kalin. Where are you?” Franco asked over the sound of papers being shuffled.
“On my way home. I want the plane ready now ... we’re going to Omaha.” He clicked off, a smile on his face, heat filling his pores. Yeah. Janie was right. Peggy needed to meet the real Kalin.
Moira’s feet danced on the thick grappling mats covering the floor of an entire room, the padding made just to kick butt. The adjoining room held weights, exercise machines, and punching bags. The scent of pine cleanser and sweat seemed embedded in the mats. She focused on the king. “I feel kind of funny kicking the crap out of you.”
His smile held too much anticipation for her peace of mind. “I appreciate the sentiment. I’ve never sparred with a witch before.” A dark T-shirt failed to conceal the tight muscles of his chest, and his loose sweats showed toned thighs. “It’d be an honor if you didn’t hold back. Give me what you’ve got.”
Good plan. She needed to hit him hard and fast. Leaping for him, her knees landed on either side of his head, clapping tight, as she swung her torso down between his legs and clasped the back of his knees. Gravity assisted her in dropping the king face-first toward the mat. She whipped through and landed on his shoulder blades, one knee to the nape of his neck.
He chuckled, the side of his mouth smashed, his palms against the floor. “That was awesome.” Powerful muscles bunched. Dage lifted into a handstand, sending her winging across the room like ice cream on a spoon during a food fight.
She tucked and landed, rolling to her feet. “Nice move.”
“Thanks.” He eyed her knees, maneuvering closer. “So, when Conn and I spar, we talk about stuff. Like why we’re pissed at life.”
“I’m not pissed at life.” She slid, swinging her legs out to knock him flat.
He jumped, knocking her down and landing with feet on either side of her hips. Then he dropped to his knees, both hands pinning her shoulders. “Who are you pissed at?”
Swiveling at the waist, she swung her legs to scissor around the king, yanking him to the side. His head hit the floor with a dull thump. “Fate and destiny. I’m so tired of fighting them.” Releasing him, she somersaulted backwards to her feet.
Dage back flipped to stand. “Perhaps you should stop fighting against everything and start fighting for something.”
“Showoff. You think I should fight for Conn.”
“Of course for Conn. Go for the life you want with him.” Dage’s metallic eyes filled with understanding. “The war is getting worse. We have enemies on every front ... some who used to be our friends. Pick a path, Moira.”
A path? “How easy you make it seem.” Irritation formed a crackling ball of energy before her, and she cupped it with her right hand.
He lifted an eyebrow. “Actually, duty totally sucks. I hate being here, putting on a calm face when I’d rather be smashing someone’s head in.” His tennis shoes left deep indents in the mat as he opened his stance, arms spread out at the side. “Besides, I understand what a pain Conn is. Bossy, so sure he needs to jump in front of us all.”
Her eyes widened, letting in more light. “Exactly. I’m seriously trained. I don’t need anyone leaping to catch a bullet for me.”
“He loves you, Moira.” Deep and sure, the king struck the ultimate blow.
She faltered. The energy webbed in her hand. “No. The marking surprised us both. I’m a duty.”
Dage threw back his head and laughed. “No, sweetheart. You’re a pain in the ass. Conn can handle any duty. You now ... you’re another story. He wants you happy. He wants you safe. I strongly suggest you figure out a way to help him achieve both ... while still following your own path in life.”
The energy pulsed a bright blue, sending shards of adrenaline through her blood. Why did everyone think she had the gift of compromise? Because she was the Seventh? “I have neither the patience nor desire to do so.”
“Then you’ll lose”—Dage shrugged—“which seems absolutely foolhardy ... considering you love him with everything you are.” His legs bunched, shoes dancing on the mat. “You’re both stubborn, smart, and damn good at your jobs. You’ll either make a great team or you’ll kill each other.”
The king didn’t miss a thing.
“You’re such an asshole.” She gulped back air. Probably not something one should call the King of the Realm.
He nodded, his smile broadening. “Not the first time I’ve been called that, Moira.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I, ah, don’t think you see him. Not really.”
What the hell did that mean? “I see him.” Awake or asleep, she’d always seen Conn.
“No.” Dage sighed, his gaze transfixed on the energy. “I don’t think you understand the meaning of this last century. How difficult it was for him to remain here, to stay away from the one woman created just for him. To stay away ... from you.”
“He signed a treaty.” Even as she said the words, she knew the absurdity in them. Connlan Kayrs cared little for treaties—if at all. “I needed the time.” She’d had to train in the land of her people by the experts.
“I know,” Dage said softly. “But Conn needed you. He’s the ultimate soldier ... and he couldn’t protect or defend the woman he loves—for a hundred years. He rarely sleeps, and I’ve seen him smile more in the last week than the last five decades. Even though he’s been tortured to a point that his organs need to rebuild.”
Her heart thudded. Hard. The glow shifted to a darker blue in her hand. Deep and true. “I know.”
Dage cracked his knuckles. “I, ah, I couldn’t have done it. Couldn’t have stayed away this long. But Conn ... he sacrificed for what you needed.” The king sauntered over and grabbed a towel off the floor to wipe his forehead.
Yeah. But, what now?
She tried not to be insulted the king turned his back on her and the energy weapon. Must mean he trusted her to play fair. She struggled to focus on the discussion. “If Conn had learned I trained as an enforcer, he wouldn’t have waited so long.” The soldier would’ve rushed to Ireland to drag her to safety. Of course, there she was, safely ensconced underground.
“No, nothing would’ve kept my brother from Ireland had he discovered your new vocation.” A gleam shone from the king’s eyes. He threw the towel down, sauntering back into place, centering his stance. “Though you impressed the heck out of him in New York.”
Moira grinned. “That’s nice to hear.” Maybe since Conn had seen her in action, he’d better understand her need to continue with the enforcers. “So your s
uggestion is to, what? I mean, you have advice, right?” The guy seemed wise. He should have something helpful to say.
“You owe Conn.”
Her head jerked up. “Excuse me?”
“You owe him. He sacrificed for a century, now you need to find out a way to let him be true to his idea of a mate ... while still following your own fate.” Dage widened his stance. “You’re a smart woman, Moira. Figure it out.”
She thought she’d found an enlightened Kayrs man. Instinct whispered the king wasn’t above manipulation to keep the turbulent waters from messing with his family. In which, of course, he now included her.
“You’re all stuck in the Stone Age.”
“You sound like Emma.”
“Your mate is a smart woman.” Moira drew air in, allowing the energy to strengthen. “I figured you’d want to discuss, ah, the Nine’s plans to withdraw from the Realm.” Try to talk her over to his side.
“Hell no.” A smile threatened on Dage’s full lips. “If the Nine withdraws, you’re in a horrible position, darlin’. Nothing you can do about it.”
“But I’ll be a threat to you.” To his entire world.
“Yes, but you’re family. I won’t hurt you.” Dage’s gaze softened. “Besides, Conn handles most of my threats. He’ll make sure none of us get hurt, at least from the Nine’s withdrawal.”
“What the heck does that mean?” While Conn wouldn’t hurt her, he was the ultimate soldier. What would he do?
“I think it’d be better if we didn’t push him to that point, Moira. Just a thought.” The king’s eyes flicked blue through the silver. “Enough talking.” A muscle ticced along his neck, and he eyed the energy ball. “Throw.”
She didn’t need a second order. Yanking her arm back, she belted the energy toward Dage. The ball careened, whacking him square in the chest, shoving him back two feet. A delighted smile lit his face as he peered down, the energy crackling along his front. The smell of burning fabric choked out the air.
He sighed. “Extinguish.” The energy snuffed out like the oxygen had been killed. His shirt lay in burnt tatters, exposing an intricate tattoo wandering across the left side of his chest and over his shoulder. The Kayrs marking in big picture.
“That was very cool. But, I couldn’t let you burn me. That would piss Emma off to no end.” He scrubbed his ribs as if in sudden thought. “Very cool.”
The door shoved open and Katie stomped inside, shoving hair out of her eyes. She skidded to a stop. “Ah, sorry. I came to meditate.”
Jordan stalked in right behind her, a scowl on his face. His multicolored hair streamed around his angled face. The guy even looked like a lion in human form, anger dancing on his skin. “We need to talk. I mean now.”
Dage glanced from one to the other. “Well, then.” He stepped forward and took Moira’s arm. “You go ahead. My sister-in-law and I are going to have a contest to see who can kick a punching bag more times in five minutes.” His grip tightened, and she chose not to argue.
Katie huffed out air. “Thanks.” Had the king and Conn’s mate been sparring? She’d never seen a witch spar. Dage’s shirt had been burned right off his body. Maybe Moira would grapple with her later.
The door closed behind the king, and Katie pivoted to face Jordan.
His growl was entirely too realistic. “What the hell do you mean you’re not coming home with me tomorrow?”
The word home nearly made Katie’s knees buckle. Her home would never be with the leader of the lions. Not unless she could get her shifting abilities back. “I’m staying here. With Emma and Cara.” She needed to remain close to the scientists who would cure her—especially now.
“Why?” Jordan tugged on his denim shirt, his dark jeans showcasing strong legs. He hadn’t run in two days, and the energy rolled off him in waves. As did his scent of cinnamon and oak. Wild, like the man himself.
Although miles underground, she knew the moon was rising high and strong. Something inside her screamed. Her muscles vibrated down her flanks, making even her butt twitch. “I injected myself with the catalyst.”
Jordan paled. “You. Did. What?” He staggered back a step, pure shock filling his tawny eyes.
Oxygen filled her lungs when she inhaled deeply. Not much in life scared her. The head of the lion clans stood at least a foot taller than her, with muscles earned by running and working his ranch. Jordan in full temper would scare anyone. “You heard me.”
Color slid under his skin, enhancing the dark hollows below his cheekbones. His roar reached every corner in the room. “Why?” His hands clenched at his sides, as if he didn’t trust himself not to choke her.
She took a step back. Although she’d known him nearly her entire life, she’d never seen such a look on his face. “I need to shift, Jordan. I can’t live like this. The catalyst sped up the virus in Maggie’s blood—so she can shift.”
His multicolored hair flew as he shook his head. “She’s a wolf shifter. We don’t fucking know how you’ll react.” Two steps and his hands clamped around her forearms. “I said I’d mate you.”
She yanked back, anger shoving fear to hell. “Thanks for the pity offer. I’m not mating out of charity, you arrogant ass.” She’d loved him forever. But she wasn’t a charity case. “I’m not stupid. I know about the political problems you’re facing with the clans because of me and my ... condition.” Pain made the words taste like gristle on her tongue. “Besides, there’s no guarantee that would work. Then you’d be mated not only to someone you don’t love, but to someone who couldn’t shift. Maybe couldn’t give you little rulers to raise.”
She sucked in air. Something demanded her attention. Immediately. Agony slashed into her abdomen. Clutching her stomach, she doubled over. Need. A hunger so harsh she couldn’t breathe. “Jordan.”
She felt a soothing balm, a necessary healing. The moon. But a shadow lurked—thick shadow—dark and compelling. It bellowed for her. “Outside. Please, take me outside.”
“Goddamn it.” Jordan shot a hand through his hair, pacing toward the wall. Catlike reflexes shot his fist into the padding. The protective covering split, sending white tufts flying.
A sparkling of colors danced in her vision, her tears morphing the shades like in a kaleidoscope. Her knees hit the floor. The rock ceiling pounded above her. The moon. She needed light. Pain reached the level of sound, a screaming filling her head. Her palm slid forward on the uneven mat, her head bowed. Agony made her gasp. “Please.”
Two paces had Jordan swinging her into his arms. Quick strides had them in the hallway and then running up the stairs to the top level. His boots pounded the concrete, the sound echoing throughout the stairwell. The air grew lighter the farther up they went. “How can you possibly think I don’t care for you?”
Her head swung around, need filling every pore. The calling got louder. Needles sprang up under her skin, slashing through, each filled with poison. She stiffened in Jordan’s grasp. “Hurry.”
His growl promised retribution. Yanking the stairwell door open, he ran toward two guards manning the outside elevator.
One held out a hand to stop him. “Wait—”
“Open the damn door,” Jordan bellowed.
The first guard jerked his head back, his gaze widening. Then he nodded, pushing the button. He tapped his earpiece. “Chalton, get Dage.”
Jordan jumped inside the cart, his breathing heavy against her cheek as Katie struggled to stay focused. She needed the moon. Was she going to change into a werewolf? Terror made her turn her face into Jordan’s strength as a soft sob escaped. Her limbs tingled with fire.
“You’ll be all right.” Jordan tucked his head around her, hurrying out of the elevator onto a rough cliff cut into the rock. The sea tumbled below, sending up the moist scent of salt. National forest protected the land around them. He laid her down on the smooth rock, allowing the moon to bathe her. Dropping to a crouch, he kept vigil.
Peace. Katie relaxed, her body going limp. She lifted her fac
e to the moon—soft light, creating healing energy. Particles of the light washed over her skin, balming. Soothing. Protecting.
She closed her eyes and searched for the lioness inside her. Time to come out. A sputtering filled her ears, much like a car engine refusing to ignite. She tried harder. Her shoulders tensed. Was there still a lioness inside her? She lifted her head and howled to the useless moon.
High above, hidden behind a shield of trees ... something howled back.
Jordan leaped to his feet. “What the hell was that?”
She felt it. A craving ... a need. Dark, hungry, it wanted to reach her. It wailed, the consonants almost rolling into her name. She sat up. “He wants me.” A shiver shook her entire body. Whatever sought her didn’t want to chat. Hunger all but rode the airwaves down. Blood. The howler thirsted for her blood.
The elevator opened and Dage ran outside. “Emma told me. The catalyst.”
Katie rose to her knees, her eyelids heavy but the moon surrounding her in safety. Her head tilted, instinctively searching. Fear scented the air. Not hers. Not Jordan’s. The creature above ... even while it hunted, it feared.
What? Her?
Jordan grabbed her shoulders, hauling her up. She sagged against him. Sadness encased her limbs in heaviness. “The shot didn’t work. No werewolf, no lioness. I’m the same.” She refused to let tears fall. Later, when she was alone in her bed ... then she’d cry. “Let’s go back downstairs.” Away from the monster trying to ram into her pores.
The howling increased, skittering unease down her spine. Pins pricked at her brain ... some type of message. Darkness, longing, and a demand. She shoved it out, sliding shields into place, protecting her mind. Wind whipped clouds across the sky, a whistle competing with the keening from above.
Dage looked up. His jaw tightened, his eyes shifting blue through the silver.
Katie leaned into Jordan’s strength as she watched the king. Sometimes she forgot he wasn’t human.
He wore diplomacy and kindness like a shield. Every once in a while the animal within reared up, more deadly because of its unwilling slumber. He ignored her perusal. “Suit up, Jordan. Sounds like we’re going hunting.”
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