Hunted dp-3

by Rebecca Zanetti

  She counted sheep. She counted vampires. Then she counted the challenges to her relationship. That took the longest.

  A soft knock on the door had her lifting up. “Come in,” she whispered. Her mate didn’t move.

  The door slid open on a whisper of sound, the hall light outlining Brenna. She tiptoed inside, sliding the door closed with a soft click. Light steps had her around the bed and snuggling next to her sister. “Is he healing?”

  “Yes.” Moira scooted over to make more room on the pillow. Her body was already pressed against the hard rock of her mate. “You should be sleeping.” She kept her voice to the same soft whisper used by her sister.

  “Can’t sleep.” Brenna tugged her hair free. “My throat hurts. I feel weak.” She clasped her hands on her stomach, extending her legs with a sigh. “I think ... well, I don’t know ...”

  “Think what?”

  “Trevan forced something down my throat—a liquid. I think maybe ...”

  Dread slammed hard into Moira’s gut. “Liquid phanakite?”

  “I don’t know.” Brenna sighed. “Was probably just a tranquilizer. We’ll worry about that later. Right now, something more timely is bothering me.”

  “What might that be?” Moira had her own suspicions, but Brenna could solve a puzzle faster than anyone she’d ever met.

  “A couple things. First, well, the king isn’t stupid.”

  “I know.” Moira turned on her side toward Brenna. She reached out, winding her fingers through her sister’s, reassuring them both. “We can’t do anything about his knowledge.”

  “He’ll discover what phanakite does. The secret is out.” Brenna cuddled closer.

  “Yes. But Dage won’t hurt our people.” Probably.

  Brenna tightened her hold. “I have two labs working on a countermeasure to the mineral.”

  Moira started. “You do?”

  “Of course. Secrets may last a long time, but never forever. We’ve been arrogant to think so.”

  Pride filled Moira. “You’re a smart woman, Bren. Any luck?”

  “Nope. So far, nothing. But I will find a defense against that crap.” Brenna’s voice crackled, her throat probably as sore as Moira’s. “I have another concern.”

  “Grace.” Moira tried to swallow and ease some of the pain.

  “Yes. She’s dressed in a gorgeous designer skirt and top. Not exactly prisoner garb.”

  “True.” Moira catalogued her last image of the councilwoman. “Trevan was a freak. He may have dressed her like that on purpose the last few days.”

  “I know.” Brenna sighed. “And her face is seriously bruised.”

  “New bruises.” Moira tucked her hand under her cheek. “Very fresh. Almost like she received them the last hour. When the vampires attacked.”

  “She could’ve smashed her face into a wall a few times before putting the collar on her own neck.” Brenna’s voice turned thoughtful. “But I can’t imagine forcing that mineral on your own skin. No way.”

  “I heard a woman’s voice when I first arrived.” Accusing a member of the Coven Nine of betraying them held certain threat. “My guess is Grace was working with Trevan.” How had she missed this?

  “We have no proof.” Brenna sighed. “None at all.”

  “I know.” That left Moira with only one option. “I’ll take care of it.”

  Seconds ticked by. Brenna stiffened next to her. “You can’t. Even normally I’d talk you out of it. But now, feeling so weak. You don’t have the strength.”

  Moira shrugged. “Sometimes fate doesn’t give us a choice, Bren.” It appeared she was about to meet hers. Or lose herself trying.

  Chapter 32

  Rather than the mystical mist of the Coven Nine’s underground headquarters intriguing him, this time the damn place just pissed him off. Conn fought to control his scowl, standing before the remaining members of the Nine. His mate stood next to him and only Kell’s presence on her other side kept him from positioning her behind him. Brenna stood next to Kell.

  The veil had been easier to cross. Conn had gone through it alone, and he’d kept his weapons this time.

  Moira, Brenna, and Conn stood before the Nine somewhat presentable, having stopped at the penthouses for showers and clean clothing before arriving at headquarters and crossing the veil.

  The Coven leaders sat in their places behind the massive stone platform in various displays of disarray. Purpling bruises marred Grace and Simone’s faces. Dark circles cut into the cheeks of Moira’s mother, and her aunt didn’t look much better. Even the newest member, Gallagher, frowned so hard his head had to hurt. The empty four seats along the side screamed trouble and war.

  No way was Conn leaving Moira there ... where they couldn’t protect their own.

  A screen lit the far wall and Dage took shape.

  Vivienne’s eyes flashed a scarlet hue. “Trevan is dead?” Her hand swept the desk, nearly dislodging a Starbucks cup. The incongruity between the modern coffee and the ancient tomb failed to lighten Conn’s mood.

  Dage cleared his throat. “By my orders, your councilman is dead.”

  “I killed him.” Conn remained in place. The king was not taking the fall. “I ripped his head off his body with my hands. After he took my mate.”

  Dage stiffened.

  Too bad. If the Nine wanted to take someone down, it’d be Conn. Not that he’d go down easy. And he had a sneaky suspicion his too-quiet mate would jump in and fight on his behalf. Warmth filtered through him ... though his kidneys still ached.

  “Yes, well.” Vivienne cleared her throat. “While I appreciate the need to protect a mate, the Nine has a right to deal with our own members. Much as you hold the power to rule your people, King.”

  Dage nodded. “Yes. If there had been time, and if we weren’t in battle, we would’ve turned Demidov over to you.” He rubbed his chin. “Unfortunately, there wasn’t time.”

  Vivienne nodded. “I understand.” She glanced at the other members of the Nine. “If the vampires would excuse us, I believe we have some issues to discuss.”

  “Like the phanakite?” Dage asked very softly.

  Gasps filled the chamber. Vivienne sat up straighter, her dark hair swishing forward over her Chanel suit. “How long have you known?”

  “Three hours. Since my lab called with results on one of the collars.” The king cut his gaze to Moira’s neck and then back to the raised dais. “Your secret, of course, is safe with us.” Diplomatic words, yet they sealed the treaty between vampires and witches for all time. The witches couldn’t afford to withdraw from the Realm, now that Dage held such a weapon.

  “That’s kind of you, King.” Vivienne’s jaw tightened so hard her teeth must’ve ached. “Good thing we’re allies, now, isn’t it?”

  “The Realm will always consider the Coven Nine and its followers our friends, Councilwoman Northcutt.”

  Conn shuffled his feet. Dage spun the bullshit with the best of them.

  The relief flowing from his mate eased Conn’s shoulders. Moira’s sister peered around Kell’s broad chest, her gaze sending some kind of message. What the hell was going on?

  Moira stiffened up, as if gathering courage. Before she could speak, Vivienne narrowed in on her. “So. We have four vacancies on the Nine, Moira.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Moira took a step forward.

  Conn growled low, pleased when she stilled. She’d stay right by his side, damn it.

  Her head lifted even higher. “On that note, I’d like to challenge Grace Sadler to her seat on the Nine.”

  Viv half rose. Moira’s mother leaned forward, her hand going to her throat. Simone smiled, slow and somehow nearly sweet. Peter frowned.

  Grace paled, her eyes flashing almost black. “What is the meaning of this? We have four vacant seats. You don’t need mine.” Fury washed red across her battered face, quickly disappearing as the witch struggled for control. The bruises failed to mask the blonde’s stunning beauty.

  “Yet I
want yours.” Moira allowed her voice to lower in the way Conn’s always did when he issued a threat. Quite effective, that.

  Pride filled him. The woman learned fast and well. His heart thrummed as she widened her stance in the dark jeans, her combat boots finding purchase.

  He cocked his head to the side. “Moira.” His voice stayed low. Only the twitch of her hair indicated she heard him. “I’m not sure I like where this is going.”

  She glanced over her shoulder. “I guarantee you won’t.” Then she refocused on the Nine.

  He bit back a grin. Such an impressive spirit.

  Yet the woman had been injured, and held captive by a mineral that drained her resources. She further depleted herself by sending him as much power as she could muster, when he most needed it. She wasn’t prepared to do battle. . . and if the energy swirling around the room provided any indication, a fight was coming.

  Brigid cleared her throat, her gaze thoughtful on her seventh daughter. “Moira? Why Grace?”

  Conn stepped forward. Not by a hair did she acknowledge his support, turning her focus on Councilwoman Sadler. “She was working with Trevan.”

  Vivienne stood. “You’ve acquired proof of this accusation?” Her voice echoed throughout the chamber with anger and incredulousness.

  “No direct proof. But I’m right.” Moira straightened her shoulders further, her gaze never leaving Grace’s. “And Grace knows it.”

  Grace snarled a smile. “You’re crazy, Seventh. You don’t hold proof because there isn’t any. He kept me locked up with a collar, too. My skin is bruised, too. When the time came, the vampires rescued me just like you.” She smoothed her hair back into the tight bun she’d donned earlier. “I think you were more affected by the ordeal than you believe.”

  “Thanks for the concern.” Moira took another step closer to the dais. “Your bruises are too recent and your green strip not nearly as thick or deep as Brenna’s. Yet you were taken first.”

  All gazes turned toward the councilwoman flushing a mottled red. “Your accusations are unfounded, and as you admitted, you lack evidence.”

  Moira smiled. “I’m not asking for your resignation. Nor am I directing the matter to the enforcers.” She reached down and carefully rolled up one sleeve of her dark shirt. “What I am doing is challenging you for your seat. As such, I need neither proof nor foundation.” Finished, she quickly rolled the other. “Either step down, or prepare to get your ass kicked.”

  Her mother leaned forward. “Moira. Make very sure you know what you’re doing.”

  The concern from Brigid made the area on the back of Conn’s scalp itch. Grace stood, a shimmer of dark warning dancing on her skin. “I’ve been on the Nine for nearly a thousand years, you irritating chit. I have more power in my left hand than you do in your entire body.”

  “Well then.” Moira’s hands relaxed to rest by her sides. “I take it you accept the challenge.”

  Grace whirled to face Brigid. “Talk to your daughter. I’ll destroy her.”

  Brigid glanced at Moira and then back to Grace. The moments ticked by. Brigid’s shoulders lifted. “My daughter knows what she’s doing. I suggest you step down and give the enforcers time to investigate you. This path, you’ll lose everything.”

  Moira’s stance didn’t alter in the slightest. But Conn felt the wave of relief and strength that shot from her when Brigid backed her play. He was feeling anything but relief. The dents and scars littering the ancient rock walls now made sense—incredible damage from fighting with quantum physics. The thought that such a weapon would be turned on his mate rolled something dangerous to heat in his gut. In his soul.

  “King Kayrs, thank you for joining us today.” Vivienne exhaled loudly.

  Dage nodded. “Of course. I’ll be in touch regarding the training schedules for your soldiers.” The screen went dark.

  Viv paused, her gaze remaining on the blank wall. “I don’t recall agreeing to that.” She shook her head, turning to face Grace. “We’ll worry about training later. For now ... Grace Sadler, you have been challenged for your seat by Moira Dunne. Do you accept said challenge or do you wish to terminate your involvement with the Coven Nine?”

  Grace’s eyes flashed black, and her chin lifted with an anticipatory smile. “I accept said challenge.”

  Conn began to step forward, stopped by his mate’s hand on his arm. Concern flowed through him as he stared down at her. She kept her gaze straight ahead, her eyes clear, her shoulders calm.

  Vivienne nodded. “So be it.” She grabbed a thick scroll from under the desk, leaned down, and began scribbling. Finally, she lifted her head, gesturing toward the row of seats made out of rock. “Those here shall sit in witness of the proclamation as we set the rules.”

  Kell and Brenna immediately crossed the room and took their places in what Conn considered a jury box. Who knew the witches acted according to early Roman law?

  Moira half turned toward Conn.

  He shook his head. “No.”

  Amusement lit her eyes along with her small laugh. “No choice for you, Kayrs. Time to trust.”

  Trust, his ass. He didn’t like the idea of her agreeing to fight ... no matter that he’d be right next to her.

  “I need to formalize my challenge.” She ran both hands up his arms to clutch his biceps. “We value our traditions, too. Please go sit as witness as we set the time and date.”

  Conn frowned. “I’d prefer to stand right here.”

  She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. “I love you, Connlan Kayrs. You’re going to have to learn to trust me. This is the time when we talk. Later, well, later I’ll fight her.” Moira’s lids flipped open, revealing a darker green than he’d ever seen. Deep, mysterious, powerful.

  His heart thrummed. The blood heated in his veins. Raw desire nearly crippled him. “Moira.” All sound faded away. The other people in the room disappeared. For one second, she was the only thing in his entire universe.

  A flush crept along her skin. Ancient power crackled through the air. She released him. “Let’s get this over with. We can argue about the actual fight later. For now, just the words need to be said.”

  Everything in him vibrated with the right to stand in front of her. With rough hands, he grabbed her and crushed his mouth to hers. So many feelings, so many plans. He took, his lips unrelenting on hers, his tongue sweeping her mouth. Mine. Only when she shuddered against him, her body submitting to his, did he release her. He steadied her until she could meet his gaze. “I’ll sit and witness the actual words, Dailtín. No promises when the time comes to fight.”

  Knowing the witches, they planned these things down to the last second ... and he had months, maybe years, to properly train her.

  She smiled. “Fair enough.”

  Conn pivoted on his heel, stalking over to drop into a chair next to Kell. It squeaked under his weight.

  Vivienne raised both hands in the air. “The Coven Nine acknowledges the challenge and acceptance. A fight for the coven seat shall commence.” Reaching for a burnished teakwood gavel, she lifted it, and crashed it down on the stone desk with a resounding crack!

  Without warning, a shimmering wall of power rose up between all spectators and the two witches vying for the seat. Conn jumped to his feet with a growl of outrage, fists smashing into the wall. A zap of electricity knocked him back into his chair. Fury ripped through him so fast his breath heated. The wall curved, extending to cover the council members as well.

  Brenna cleared her throat. “Coven law dictates when a challenge is accepted, the fight commences immediately.”

  He turned on her. “Moira knew this?”

  Brenna paled, the green around her neck nearly glowing against her skin. “Yes. The divider is absolute and ancient—put in place so we can’t jump in and help. There are often family members fighting for a seat on the Nine.”

  Conn turned to study the shield. The opaque surface shimmered and moved as if alive. His mate stood facing him, an apology in
her eyes. The woman had known and lied to him. “Moira.”

  Brenna sighed. “She can’t see or hear you, Conn. You need to sit down. There’s no way inside.”

  Conn growled, moving as close to the wall as he could get without risking electrocution. His eyes were on Moira as she turned to face a witch centuries more experienced. His mate filled his vision, yet the chamber hoarded all sound. She’d fooled him. Fury at her and fear for her sent adrenaline and fire shooting through his veins.

  She’d better survive this so he could kill her.

  Chapter 33

  A sens of finality echoed when the wall rose to the ceiling. The myriads of locks, physical and mystical, clinked as they slammed home. Moira shivered. Conn let off so much heat. With his retreat, cold slithered around. She glanced at where he sat, seeing only a large wall of rock. No light or sound came from behind the barrier.

  Grace threw back her head and laughed. “Conn seemed to help you out there by the casual way he went and sat down, Seventh. Your mate will most likely go looking for your cousin when this is over.” She smacked her lips together, the sound echoing through the silent room.

  “My cousin follows coven law.”

  “I plan on making your man my pet when we’re finished here.” Grace sauntered around the wide desk and down the stairs to lean against the opposite wall. “Seeing him beg might be the highlight of my year.”

  Moira raised an eyebrow. “That is a man who doesn’t beg.”

  Grace lifted a slender shoulder. “We’ll see. He should be quite grateful for the dutiful, boring, weak mate I send back to him.” Static electricity crackled along her arms, lifting tendrils of hair that had escaped the bun. “No more magic, no more enforcing for you, little Moira.”

  Moira planted her feet securely on the worn stone of the floor. “That would be a problem, considering most men dislike boring women, Grace. Take you and Trevan for example.” She centered herself, searching for the power inside. “I mean, there had to be a reason the man moved on to Simone.”

  Graced hissed out breath. “That was nothing ... just part of the plan. We wanted to use Simone to bring down Vivienne.”