Dage leaned back in his chair. “Am I the only one not seeing a coincidence between Brent’s resurfacing and David’s challenge?”
“No.” Jordan grabbed a band from his jeans pocket and tied back his hair. “It can’t be a coincidence. You’re right. They’ve been working together. It’s the only conclusion that makes sense.” A werewolf working with a shifter ... what had the world come to?
“We need to alter our view of werewolves.” Dage nodded. “If they’ve evolved, you need to figure Bomant out. What do you remember about him?”
“He was a bad guy. Hated women, loved to fight.” Jordan fought to keep his hands loose and relaxed. “Three hundred years ago the Kurjans took out his parents when they killed yours as well as mine, and I truly thought Brent would destroy the feline nation and maybe the Realm. Then he disappeared.”
“What really happened?” Dage asked softly.
Jordan’s hackles rose. “I just told you. So now we have the Bane’s Council, intelligent, full-functioning werewolves, and a challenge to my leadership to deal with.”
“That’s not all.” Kane Kayrs strode into the room, a handful of computer printouts in his hands. “I finished analyzing the blood I took from you earlier this morning.”
Hope flared hot and bright in Jordan’s chest. “And?”
A frown centered between Kane’s brows. “The cure didn’t work. In fact, as far as I can tell, the concoction had no impact on the virus in your blood. With the magic involved, we should have concrete results at this time. I’m sorry, Jordan.”
His chest deflated, along with his future. “Me, too.” He rubbed his chin, glancing at Conn. “Well, let’s get to training today because tonight, we hunt.”
Katie ground a palm into her exhausted eye, wondering how long the headache would last. She had given up sleep after tossing and turning for an hour. Being underground again sucked.
Dawn had yet to break, yet she refused to return to bed. Her sweats hung loose around her hips—looser than last week. But her bunny slippers still fit perfectly. Flipping on the light of the smallest underground lab, she skirted the one examination table and started opening wide cabinets.
“Kate?” Kane Kayrs strode inside and tossed papers on the small table by the door. Even at the early hour, he lounged in creased black pants and silk shirt.
She pressed harder, trying to force the pain away. “Don’t you ever dress down?”
He smiled, transforming his angular face into something that should be selling vodka on billboards. “Well, I don’t have bunny slippers.” Stalking toward the far wall, he yanked open a drawer and tugged out a small vial. “Aspirin.” He poured two into her hand and grabbed a water bottle from a fridge hidden under one counter. “You okay?”
She swallowed the drugs and took a drink of the water. The guy moved more like a panther than a vampire—all fluid grace. Rumors had it he hunted werewolves for sport and by himself. “No, I’m not okay.” Hopefully the painkiller would kick in soon. “Are those the latest test results?”
“Yes. No change in Jordan’s blood. Or yours. I just came from telling Jordan.” Kane jerked his head to the side. “Sorry.”
The scientist wasn’t a sugarcoating type of guy. Disappointment heated down her esophagus. But she did appreciate him working around the clock to find a cure. She tilted her head in curiosity. “I’ve known you almost my entire life.”
He nodded. “Yes. And so far, it has been a great pleasure.”
Smart aleck. Not once, in all the get-togethers, had he ever brought a date. “Are you gay?” Not that she’d care, she only wanted Jordan. But she did know a truly awesome fox shifter who was single—great guy. Really fun loving.
“No.” Matter of fact, Kane didn’t appear insulted or even interested in the topic. “I like women. Always have.”
“So you do date?” What kind of woman did Kane like? Probably someone really, really smart. Rocket scientist smart.
“Sure.” He tapped a manila file against his hand. “But I usually screw up. I miss hints, miss clues, don’t say the emotional thing at the right time. My last girlfriend was probably the most logical woman I’ve ever met, and even she got angry when I failed to remember our first month anniversary.” Bewilderment quirked his lip. “Relationships always come second to my work, and most women don’t understand that. Casual, very casual relationships are a must for me, I think. Especially now since the virus takes all my time.”
Katie nodded. “That’s cool. Of course, maybe you haven’t met the right woman. The one you’d put first, before your work.”
“No. My work always comes first. It’s life or death.”
She sincerely hoped she was around when the methodical Kane Kayrs fell hard for a woman. “If you say so.”
“Have we spent enough time distracting you from the coming moon by talking about my love life?”
From anybody else, the question would’ve been either sarcastic or humorous. Not Kane. He was genuinely serious.
Katie shook her head. For a non-emotional guy, the scientist read people really well. “Yes. I’ve been wondering, should we try to capture Brent alive? I mean, since he has evolved?”
“No.” Kane reached into a different drawer to toss her a candy bar. “He has evolved only because there has been time to do so. In all the werewolves I’ve tested, the virus hasn’t changed. If you get the chance to take him out, do it.”
“Okay.” Back to Plan A—kill the bastard. Taking Brent alive would’ve been a huge risk, anyway.
Kane frowned. “Your neck is hurting you. Want a bandage?”
She barely kept from rubbing the ache. “How did you know?”
He reached for the bandages. “I’m observant.”
Maybe so, but she hadn’t given one clue her neck hurt. “I’m fine. No need for bandages.” She wanted to keep the bite from Jordan as long as she could. How freakin’ embarrassing was that?
Kane cleared his throat. “Okay.”
Curiosity reared up. “What’s it like? I mean, being the smartest guy on the planet?”
An elegant shoulder lifted. “It’s pretty convenient.”
Amusement had her smiling. She’d expected him to be nonchalant or humble, maybe even deny he was so brilliant. “No, really, don’t argue with me. You’re super smart. Honest.”
He rubbed his chin with long, tapered fingers, good humor lighting his eyes. “Well, there are issues. Genius and madness skirt a fine line. Most geniuses go stark raving mad at some point.”
“You don’t seem worried.”
“I’m not. If the voices take over, they take over.” He grabbed a bandage from the counter to hand her. “If you change your mind, this has numbing medicine on the pad.”
She took the small object. To keep Jordan’s bite, even for a short time, she’d live with the pain.
Chapter 11
Alone in the underground bedroom, Janie stretched sleepily in her bed, waiting for daylight to arrive. She loved being inside the earth, which often whispered secrets to her. So many secrets existed right now, and every time Janie tried to see the future, it morphed into different paths. The future distorted daily.
She tugged on the horseshoe necklace around her neck. Zane had given the token to her in a dream when she’d turned five years old. Nobody could explain how she’d carried the gift from her dream into reality. They only met in dreams—and somehow the big world seemed smaller, the monsters less scary when she knew Zane waited to meet her someday.
Hurt slithered down her torso to pool in her abdomen. Sure, there was a six-year age difference between them, but they’d been friends. In fact, for too many years, Zane had been her only friend. How could he abandon her? God, she hoped he wasn’t dead. It’d been so long since she’d had a vision concerning him.
Her thoughts in turmoil, her stomach rolling, she drifted back into sleep.
The dream came quickly and she dropped right into it.
Dank and wet, the cave made her shiver. Janie rubb
ed her hands along chilled arms and stopped moving. Taking in each dark wall, the blistering wind whistling outside, and the smooth damp floor, she surveyed her surroundings, just as her father had taught her.
Realization came with a flash.
Dreaming. She walked in a dream ... one she hadn’t engineered. It had been so long, she’d almost missed the signs.
A low groan echoed from the darkness ahead.
She could leave, or go forth and find out what was going on. In a dream, she was safe. Probably. But regardless, Janie Kayrs had never been a coward.
Three steps forward and a dark wall stood in her way. Shuffling to the side, she discovered the passageway and slid her feet slowly, making sure the ground continued to exist. The smell of damp moss permeated her senses. A sharp turn to the right and she found a room.
One lit by a huge hole in the rock roof.
A man sprawled on the stone floor, his back to a wall, his face turned away. He was as large as Uncle Dage, with a buzz cut and wide shoulders. He’d dressed in black combat gear from flak boots to the bulletproof vest lying by his side next to a bloodied shirt. His bare chest bled from several cuts. Deep ones. The wall cradled his head as he slowly turned toward her, eyes closed. Pain etched lines at the side of his mouth and he groaned again.
The world tilted, then focused with too much speed. Janie stumbled back a step. “Zane?”
His eyes flashed open. Dark and green, they zeroed in on her. “Janie Belle?”
She shook her head against reality. He’d given her the nickname years ago, declaring “Janet Isabella” to be too long. A man’s voice, low and deep, had rumbled from what was clearly a man’s body. A muscular, adult man’s body. Thank God he wasn’t dead. “You grew up.”
His smile tightened into a grimace. “You didn’t grow.”
She raised an eyebrow. “So I’ve heard.” Caution kept her at the entrance to the cavern. “How badly are you injured?”
“I’ll be fine—just need to catch my breath.”
“You’re bleeding.” So much blood.
He exhaled with a grimace. “What are you doing here?”
“I don’t know.” Hurt filled her voice, no matter how hard she wanted to hide it. “I fell asleep, and here I am. You must be asleep and for once not blocking me.” Unless he’d passed out. He had probably passed out.
He closed his eyes again. For a man, he had dark, thick lashes. She’d known he’d be handsome, but hadn’t realized how very much. High cheekbones created manly hollows in his face, rugged and strong. The chin that had once been stubborn had grown into a thick jaw, one with an intriguing cleft in the middle. Barely. But enough of one to pique her curiosity. A scar ran from his right temple to his jaw, making him look dangerous. Deadly even.
In all her visions, in all her dreams, she’d never seen the scar.
A deep exhale sent more blood cascading down his defined abs. Whoever he’d battled had done a good job of injuring him.
No way was she letting Zane die during her dream. Thank God he still breathed. Even though he’d hurt her, she needed him to be alive. “Why did you stop talking to me?”
He sighed. “I’m sorry we had to stop talking.”
Anger swirled in her chest. “That’s not an answer.”
Long, tapered fingers reached for his shirt, which he used to wipe blood off his torso. Inhaling, he stared at the opposite wall, and the wounds slowly began to close. “You need to leave, Janie.”
Enough with the orders. She strode into the center of the room. “You’ve blocked me for years. Apparently you’re too injured to block now.” Another step closer, and she halted. “Do you need blood?” Her heart sped up at the thought.
He started. “No.” Sweeping one hand out, he sat straighter, back against the wall. “Stay where you are.”
“Or what?” She lifted her chin.
He gave a strangled cough. “You haven’t changed a bit.”
That hurt. “Yes, I have. I’m almost seventeen.”
One dark eyebrow rose. “You turn sixteen next week.”
Warmth spread through her. He’d remembered her birthday. “I don’t suppose you planned to slip into my dreams and sing ‘Happy Birthday.’ ”
His gaze dropped to the horseshoe necklace. “Sorry.”
Desire to hide the necklace had her shoulders going back. They’d been friends and she cherished the token. “Who are you?”
“You know who I am.” He bent a knee and rose unsteadily.
“No, I don’t. All I know is your father belonged to a group of vampires, and when he died, you disappeared.” She fought the very strong urge to touch him and help him up. “We can’t find out who you are.” So many times she’d asked Uncle Dage to find Zane, and so many times he said he couldn’t. She took in the battle gear, the knife strapped to Zane’s leg. “You’re obviously fighting. Who and where?”
His smile flashed the twin dimples she used to love. “Here and now.” One hand on the wall flexed impressive muscles as he struggled to stand.
Janie took a step back. Huge. He’d gotten so big. Why couldn’t she have gotten taller, darn it? “Did you stop visiting me because of our age difference?” Only way to get the truth was to ask the question.
He leaned against the rock, head back, gaze on her under half-closed lids. “No.”
“Then why?” She’d needed him. No matter how old he was.
“Doesn’t matter. We can’t be friends who jump into each other’s dreams. It isn’t safe.”
That wasn’t an explanation. Who the heck was he? “Are you part shifter?” What kind of animal lurked inside her old friend?
“Forget about me, Janie. I’m on the front line, and no way am I going to see my next birthday. You’re almost grown up—face reality.”
The condescension in the “almost grown up” statement had her gritting her teeth. “Didn’t figure you for such a quitter, Zane.” Instant satisfaction welled up in her as his eyes sparked fire. “Apparently you just got your butt kicked. Need some help from the vampires?”
His fangs flashed. “I am a vampire.”
Tingles rippled through her skin. “You’re not with the Realm.”
The deadly points retracted. “Not all vampires are with the Realm.”
A true statement, to be sure. But there was something more. “What else, Zane?”
He lowered his chin while his shoulders went back. “You made my childhood bearable, Janie, and I thank you. But this is the last time we’re ever going to talk.”
For just a moment, she saw the boy she’d loved. Her only friend for those scary years when she’d first learned of the Kurjans. “You need me more than I need you.” The statement surprised her, but instinct had her whispering the truth.
His smile brought back more good times. “Take care of yourself, Belle.”
With a sweep of his arm, the dream disappeared.
She awoke, sitting up in bed, her hand going to the necklace. Never talk again? That was what he thought. Throwing on sweats, she tied her hair in a band and ran through the underground fortress to Dage’s control room.
Knocking, she waited for the door to smoothly slide open. Memories assailed her—she’d always visited her uncle in underground rooms like this, and he’d always let her in. Not once had he denied her entrance to a room most of the world didn’t know existed.
Stepping lightly, she maneuvered around a counter of computers that often had several people typing away. Today, it was empty. She continued on to where her uncle sat in his leather chair, sketching in a notebook. His thick black hair was tied at his nape and he wore dark sparring clothes. Many people feared the king of the vampires, yet the massive vampire had always been her soft spot to land. A kindred spirit. “Uncle Dage?”
He turned his head, a forced smile on his face. She’d known him almost her entire life, and she knew his real smile. He’d often gifted her with it. “Have a vision, sweetheart?”
“No. The universe is too unsettled for vis
ions.” Such odd words to string together and ones she wouldn’t share with many people. But Dage understood. She peered at a partially sketched drawing of Aunt Emma working in the lab. “Pretty.”
“Yes. Very pretty.” Dage glanced at the paper and sighed. “I just came from a meeting aboveground and thought I’d get some perspective down here.”
“By drawing Emma’s face?” Janie grinned.
Dage exhaled. “Old habits die hard. I’ve spent three centuries drawing her face, and I found the exercise relaxes me. Even now.”
Sweet, and it made sense. Janie cleared her throat. “I’ve been trying real hard to see what happens with Jordan, but nothing is clear.”
“I’m with you. I’ve got nothing.” Dage leaned to the side and lifted a thick leather chair as if furniture weighed nothing, setting it next to his. “What’s going on?”
She exhaled softly, putting on her most beguiling expression. Being the only human toddler around a bunch of dangerous vampires, she’d quickly learned how to charm them. “It’s time you started trusting me, Uncle Dage.”
His dimples flashed. Good. His real smile. “I do trust you. Stop manipulating me.”
She rolled her eyes and gave a small laugh. “Okay. For years you’ve kept the truth about Zane away from me, and I know you checked him out. Tell me the truth.”
The king turned his head to the side, pinning her with a shrewd gaze.
She held it, not turning away. Few people existed who could meet the king in a staring contest. Finally, Janie lifted an eyebrow in a show of boredom.
Dage threw back his head and laughed, deep and hard. “I give up.” Reaching for a keyboard, he punched in keys and a screen appeared in the quartz wall. Two seconds later, twelve-year-old Zane filled the space.
Janie gasped. Warmth and an odd hurt centered in her chest. “Zane.” He smiled into the shot, green eyes light, hair dark and long. Young and innocent, and seemingly happy. Before the sad and angry glint entered his eyes.
Consumed Page 11
