Shadowed dp-6

by Rebecca Zanetti

  Sliding her hand along his arm, she moved from the elevator and tried to ignore the voice in her head laughing hysterically. Of course Jase Kayrs was a man to be feared. But showing that fear? No bloomin’ way.

  The stairwell door opened, and Conn rushed out with an irritated Moira right behind him. “What the hell’s wrong with the elevator?” he asked.

  Jase shrugged and headed for the car. “How the hell should I know?”

  The McMannis Hotel ballroom glowed with Christmas lights, sparkling trees, and shimmering dresses. Jase tugged on his collar and willed his heart to stop beating so hard. He’d nearly had a panic attack in the damn elevator once the doors had closed. Only messing around with Brenna had kept him from going berserk.

  Damn claustrophobia.

  But he’d hidden it well. Once again.

  He leaned against a pillar by the bar and out of the way of the festivities. Conn and Moira were completing perimeter checks, and Brenna had launched into dignitary mode in a meet-and-greet frenzy that had instantly set his fangs alive. So he’d headed for the bar.

  Once again.

  His metabolism was such that the five shots of tequila he’d downed would be absorbed and gone within an hour. But for now, he allowed the alcohol to calm him. The room held seven exits, not including the long row of windows showing the river. He could easily jump through the double-paned glass if necessary. Ever since being freed, he sought exits to any habitat.

  Though his gaze kept returning to the elegant woman working the room. Her dress hugged her figure and highlighted creamy breasts. In fact, her skin was perfect. Pale and smooth, it tempted his mouth more than he’d like. When she’d turned to reveal a bare back, he’d almost groaned out loud. His hand itched with the need to trace her spine.

  The woman was calm in a tumultuous storm. A sense of peace surrounded her, and he found himself oddly put out with the group of Scottish businessmen she was currently conversing with. Damn lucky Scots. Her friend Deb chatted, as well, every once in a while sending him a hard glance. Apparently the witch didn’t like him much. Couldn’t blame her.

  Though he also couldn’t help watching pretty Brenna.

  As if sensing his perusal, she glanced up.

  Her smile hit him hard in the gut. Sweet and genuine, the woman’s expression warmed him in places he’d thought would always remain frozen. So he frowned.

  Her smile widened. Saying something to the men, she turned and glided his way. Reaching his side, she slid her hand along his forearm. “You remind me of an arctic wolf that got caught in our barn one year. Caged and ready to rumble.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. Her gentle touch settled him. “Is that an invitation?”

  She leaned in, and the scent of jasmine washed over him. “You wanna rumble?”

  Oh yeah. He wanted to rumble. The orchestra changed to a slow tune, so he held out a hand. “How about we dance?”

  She blinked. Hadn’t expected an invite, now had she? Almost warily, she slipped her hand in his. “Didn’t think you were a dancer.”

  He swept her onto the floor and flattened his palm against her lower back. Her bare, lower back. “I’m three centuries old, baby. I can spin you around a bit.” Then he pulled her close.

  Her breath hitched.

  His blood heated.

  Brenna Dunne was an honest, beautiful, delicate woman in a completely shitty world. He shouldn’t be touching her, and he sure shouldn’t be having thoughts of stripping her naked and making her scream his name. He stiffened.

  She stepped even closer and ran her hand down his arm again. Offering comfort. “Relax, Jase. I won’t step on your feet.”

  His instant smile shocked the hell out of him. So he closed his eyes and lowered his head until his jaw rested on her forehead. The music wound around them as he led her gently around the floor. Although small, she fit nicely against him. His hand spanned her entire lower back. A protective urge rippled through him with a force that would’ve staggered him if he hadn’t been moving. Nobody would hurt this woman. Ever.

  He’d die for any one of his brothers. Hell, he’d killed for them often enough. Yet for the first time, a possessive edge sharpened his every protective need to keep the limited people in his life safe. An edge just for Brenna.

  He didn’t like it. Yet he couldn’t help but brush a soft kiss across her forehead.

  The hair on the back of his neck prickled. Turning them, he opened his eyes to see Conn watching him from the far side of the ballroom. Thoughtful calculation narrowed Conn’s gaze, but for once, no concern lived in the metallic depths.

  The ever-present guilt inside Jase flared to life. Because of his weaknesses, the Realm’s ultimate soldier had been reduced to a matchmaking babysitter. Conn should be out fighting enemies, not trying to hold Jase’s hand. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t be who they needed him to be. But no, now Conn watched him with hope in his eyes, hope that Brenna Dunne would save him.

  She couldn’t.

  He had to save himself.

  For the first time in five years, he wondered if maybe he could. If maybe he should.

  Brenna sighed and snuggled closer to him. The bittersweet moment cut through him with the sharpness of a blade.

  Even so, he closed his eyes again and held her tight. He’d figure out the rest later. For now, in this moment, he just wanted to feel this woman against him.

  Brenna maneuvered through tables and bodies, acutely aware of the vampire’s gaze on her backside. Her butt actually heated. She hadn’t expected him to ask her to dance, and she sure as heck hadn’t expected to be a puddle of hormonal randiness afterward. So she’d excused herself and headed to the restroom. Although tight, her dress brushed her aching nipples in a way that made her want to whimper as she moved.

  The idea of mating Jase Kayrs was exciting and intriguing. The reality was frightening and overwhelming. Vampires exuded dominance, maleness, and strength as a species. And after what he’d gone through, Jase was in a class all his own.

  She closed the restroom door with a sigh of relief.

  A plush lounge area held a long sofa across from a makeup table. She took a moment to straighten her hair and apply lipstick. Her eyes were flushed, her cheeks rosy. Signs of the fire roaring through her blood. All from one dance with Jase.

  The door swished open, and two men stepped inside. The lock engaged with a loud click.

  Sighing, she turned around. “This is the ladies’ room.”

  Henry’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he nodded. “I know, but the solstice is in three days, and we need to get moving.” He motioned for his hulking friend to sit on the sofa. “This is Albert McGillicutty, and he’s one of Brenna’s Warriors.”

  Albert sprawled, overwhelming the feminine divine. At least six feet tall, the guy was all muscle. Even his neck. He was definitely an Irish farm boy. “Hi.” Dull blue eyes took her measure.

  What in the world? “Hello? You’re in the ladies’ room.” Brenna inched toward the door.

  Henry blocked her way with his skinny body. “Albert is here to mate you.”

  Brenna snorted a laugh and then covered her nose. “Excuse me?” Henry cleared his throat. “You apparently like them brawny, so I’m willing to sacrifice my love in order to save you. To save our people.” He nodded toward a window in the far wall. “We have a vehicle waiting to take you to Albert’s place.”

  “So we can mate.” Albert was missing one of his front teeth.

  She shook her head, the bizarreness of the situation fuzzing her brain as she turned to Albert. “Forgetting for a moment that there’s no way I’m mating you, you’re a witch. Even if I wanted to mate you, my illness would kill us both.”

  Albert straightened. “Henry? You said mating would cure her.”

  “It would,” Henry assured him. “Don’t worry. Brenna’s a sweet girl, but she’s not scientific. She doesn’t understand the illness.”

  “Oh. Okay.” Genius Albert sat back again.

  Brenna
dug deep for patience. She had to get the men out of there before Jase found them. He couldn’t discover how ridiculous her life sometimes became. “If you blokes leave right now, I won’t press charges or let the enforcers know you harassed me.” God, she longed for the days when she could just burn people with plasma balls.

  Henry sighed and dug out a glowing green gun. “You’re not thinking clearly, and that’s okay. But you’re coming with us.”

  Heat filled Brenna’s lungs. “Henry? If you shoot me, then you can’t save me. Got it?”

  His eyes drooped. “I’ll just shoot you in the leg. Then, after you mate Albert, you’ll get your healing abilities back.”

  The first tendril of panic stilled Brenna’s movements. Maybe the dumbass would shoot her. “Let’s talk about this.”

  “Nope. Done talking.” Albert stood, hulking and strong.

  Brenna settled her stance. A groin shot would take him down, but then she’d have to worry about Henry’s gun.

  A knock sounded on the door. “Brenna? What’s taking so long?” Jase asked.

  Blast it. Figured he’d come looking for her. Vampires never knew when to stay the heck out of the way.

  Henry turned and aimed for the door.

  Brenna instantly kicked up as hard as she could into Albert’s groin. He shifted at the last moment, and she caught his thigh. Rage filled his eyes. He lunged for her.

  “Help,” she yelled.

  The door shattered with the force of a battering ram. The pieces plowed into Henry, and he went down.

  Jase stepped over him, his gaze on Albert. “Problem?”

  Albert nodded to Brenna. “Mine.”

  Jase’s eyebrows rose. “I don’t think so.”

  Albert’s smile widened to reveal another missing tooth. He clenched his hands into fists.

  Real panic ripped through Brenna. “No, no, no. We’re not doing this. Everyone out of the restroom.”

  Jase brushed her to the side, his gaze steady on Albert. Wood crumpled under his shoes. “Apparently, we are doing this. Anyone care to explain first?”

  She gulped in air and grabbed his jacket, not sure where to look. “Albert is a Brenna’s Warrior who wants to mate. To save me.”

  Jase pursed his lips in anticipation, his eyes lighting up. “I see. Why don’t you go find your sister? I’ll just be a moment here.”

  Albert swung one beefy arm, and Jase shoved her out of the way, taking the hit. He staggered back, shaking his head. “Guy hits like a brick building.” Twisting, he jabbed Albert in the nose before following with an uppercut. Albert smashed into the wall, and shot back, arms swinging.

  Brenna yelped and sidled out of the way. Conn had appeared to block spectators from the doorway.

  The fight was brutal.

  Albert had size and a bit of strength; Jase had speed, training, and pure fury. In the end, there was really no contest.

  Jase shoved Albert back into the wall, stepping into his space. Albert’s eyes glazed, and he tried to bring up his left arm for a weak hit. Jase trapped it with his, took a second, and nailed Albert with his elbow. Albert dropped to the ground, out cold.

  Jase turned toward her. Blood flowed from a cut in his forehead, danger etched in every line on his face.

  She swallowed at the devastation in the bathroom and shook her head. “You’re always fighting.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Every fight I’ve been in lately has been because of you.”

  Her spine steeled. Well, hmmm. That was true. “Whatever.”

  He stalked toward her and tilted her chin up with one knuckle. “There’s only one way to solve this. Tonight, we mate.”

  Chapter 7

  Brenna ditched her heels and padded from the kitchen, two tumblers in her hands. She gave one to Jase before sitting next to him on the sofa. “Kilbeggan whiskey.”

  Jase nodded and sniffed the glass. “One of many Irish treats.” He swallowed, his throat moving. “Fifteen years old?”

  “Yes.” Brenna sipped, allowing the smooth heat to slide down to her stomach. “I’m sorry I got you into another fight.”

  He lifted a shoulder. “I like fighting.” The vampire had built a crackling fire while she’d been in the kitchen. He’d also removed his coat and tie, leaving his white dress shirt unbuttoned at the top. Very nice muscles filled out the sleeves and chest. “Though I’ve never brawled in a women’s restroom.”

  “Me, either.”

  He kept his gaze on the fire. The soft sounds of Celtic music enhanced the night. “Did taking my blood earlier today give you any extra strength?”

  “No.” In fact, she’d already forgotten about taking his blood.

  “I see.” He reached in his pocket and handed her a small box. “Take the pills.”

  She flipped open the lid. Three pink pills sat on cotton. Flutters washed through her abdomen. “Three, huh? You must be a dynamo in bed.”

  He didn’t smile. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Then stop treating me like fragile glass.”

  “You’re more fragile than glass.”

  Irritation snapped her chin up. “Perhaps. But I won’t shatter.”

  He finally focused on her. “No. You’ll bruise and break.”

  She frowned. “Vampires have mated with humans for centuries, and the pills aren’t used all the time.”

  He rubbed his chin. “I know. But those matings are destined, and those vampires are in control. I’m not.”

  She sat back and crossed her legs, the sparkly fabric stretching. “You need to get over yourself.”

  Humor rode his exhale. “You’re not the first to say that.”

  She eyed the door. “I’m surprised Moira isn’t here trying to interfere.”

  “Conn won’t let her. We had a discussion earlier.” Jase downed the rest of his glass. “If this wasn’t necessary to save your life, I’m sure your family would stop it.”

  “They’d try to stop it.” She shook her head. “I make my own decisions. Don’t ever forget that.”

  “All right.” His voice lowered to a timbre that licked along her skin. “If you won’t take the pills, drink your whiskey, Brenna.”

  The way he said her name. As if she was the only person in existence, and as if he owned each letter. She took a deep breath to relax. There was no helping the thrumming through her veins or the softening of her thighs. Her mind was made up, and she wanted this to happen. So she tilted back her head and swallowed the potent malt.

  A blast of heat flared in her stomach as the drink landed. Her body melted.

  Jase’s powerful shoulders shifted, and he grasped her around the waist. Another smooth movement, and she sat on his lap, straddling him. Her dress rode up her legs, and an impressive erection rubbed against her.

  She swallowed.

  He reached up and removed the pins holding her hair. The mass fell down around her shoulders, and he brushed it away from her face.

  “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice a low rumble.

  Her lids dropped to half-mast. “I’m sure.”

  His eyes flared. Gently, he removed her glasses, folded them, and set them on an end table. With a finger, he drew down one side of her dress before doing the same with the other side. Her breasts sprang free. The material stopped at her elbows, effectively pinning her. Intrigue caught on her breath.

  He made a low noise in his gut and smoothed both hands over her breasts.

  Electricity ripped down to her clit. She bit her lip to keep from groaning.

  “You’re gorgeous, baby,” he whispered, brushing his thumbs across her nipples.

  She breathed out, her mind spinning. Shrugging her shoulders, she lifted her arms free of the material, and the dress dropped to her waist.

  Her hands trembled as she reached for his shirt buttons, and it took a minute to finish releasing the last one. She pushed the sides apart. Hard, defined muscle enhanced his broad chest—along with several scars. Deep, vicious, shattering, the knife and whip wounds s
howed his time of captivity.

  It was too easy to say the wrong thing about his pain, so she kept silent. Unable to help herself, she leaned forward and kissed a long gash above his heart.

  His breath hitched, and his hands tightened on her breasts. Then he tangled one hand in her hair and tugged. She lifted, her gaze meeting his.

  Strength, anger, and vulnerability commingled in the vampire’s eyes. A dangerous cauldron of emotion. One she wasn’t powerful enough to protect against. So she did the only thing she could—she opened herself completely to him.

  She ran her hand along the side of his face, her heart breaking when he turned into her palm. As if a gentle touch was too much for him to resist. Tears pricked the back of her eyes. “I won’t hurt you,” she whispered from somewhere deeper than the moment.

  “Don’t let me hurt you.” The gentle plea matched his devastated tone.

  Grasping his chin, she leaned in and wandered her lips over his. Memorizing the firmness. The strength. The very maleness of his mouth. She’d worry about her heart later. It was much too late now.

  His fingers spread through her hair, cupping her head, subtly taking over the kiss as if he couldn’t help it. Gentle and seeking, he explored her, conveying more than a kiss. The need for touch, the need for connection lived in every stroke of his tongue, every slant of his lips.

  She lost herself in the maelstrom, her mouth opening, accepting all he could give.

  Whether he liked it or not, he was giving. To her. The Dunnes’ youngest, freakiest, almost plain daughter. In this moment and in this vampire’s arms, she was invincible. Stronger even than he.

  The truth of that sparked shards of demanding need through every nerve. Sighing deep in her throat, she rubbed against his erection. Hard and full, he pulsed beneath his slacks. Through her flimsy thong, his heat all but demanded entrance.

  He broke the kiss, and they both breathed heavily.

  She yanked his shirt down his arms. More scars and more muscle. Her hands caressed him, and she marveled at his strength. Vampires were naturally cut and hard. This one had worked beyond a gifted biology to create a body of pure steel. Her sex quivered with the knowledge, while her heart ached. This was a body ready for battle.