Provoked

by Rebecca Zanetti

  Kane’s eyes widened. He grabbed her head and shoved her face toward her knees. “Get down.”

  With a shattering crack, the windows exploded. Cold wind whipped inside. The world stopped moving for two seconds. Amber lifted her head, her heart pounding. “What the heck?”

  “That’s some power you have.” Kane released her seatbelt, gently wiping snow off her cheek.

  “No.” She hadn’t broken all the windows. “That’s never happened before. We don’t break glass with the chant.”

  “Well”—Kane rubbed his chin—“maybe since you haven’t shielded yourself in a week, the power came out stronger. Or maybe it’s because your grandma isn’t here to help temper the power. Either way, that’s all you, sunshine.”

  Amber blinked against the freezing wind, taking in the damaged window. Glass had flown far enough to hit the few snow-covered vehicles in the silent parking lot. “Butch is going to kill me.” The bartender loved his refurbished Suburban.

  “Windows can be fixed.” Kane jumped from the vehicle and quickly crossed to open her door. “You’re shielding now. I can’t get a sense that you’re enhanced.” Intrigue and calculation filtered across his amazing face. “We’ll have to figure out how that works. For now, let’s get your granny before the demons find her.”

  Amber jumped down, her boots spraying snow as she landed. Panic had her shoving away from Kane and all but running toward the door. She tripped in the snow. Strong arms caught her seconds from falling.

  He held on until she regained her balance, his heat reaching through the back of her coat. “Slow down, Amber. I’m sure your grandmother has continued to shield herself.”

  Maybe. But the woman was in a weakened condition, so maybe not. Amber nodded and stepped gingerly around clumps of snow to reach the door of the small, two-story building. Cedar lined the sides, creating an atmosphere of safety and coziness rather than a sterile hospital feeling.

  She slid on the sparkling tiles toward the front desk, which was empty. Grabbing Kane’s sleeve, she tugged him to the left and down a long hallway, passing several empty rooms. “She’s at the end.”

  Amber quickened her pace, her heart thrumming. Everything was going to be okay. They’d grab Grandma Hilde and head straight for the sheriff ’s office. It was time to involve the police. Even if Kane was telling the truth and wasn’t crazy, even if Amber wasn’t crazy, Grandma Hilde would need police protection from the demons. Or the cult that thought they were demons.

  She shoved Hilde’s door open.

  The bed lay empty.

  The world stopped cold. The room tilted. A swirling began in Amber’s head. She stumbled toward the wrinkled covers on the bed, reaching out a hand. The blankets were still warm.

  Kane rushed across the room to the slightly opened window.

  Amber followed, crashing into his back. She stared out the fogged glass. A black truck careened out of the parking lot, a HANSON Farms logo on the side. “That bastard.” Pivoting, she bunched to sprint.

  A strong hand held her in place. “Wait.”

  “No.” Amber turned and shoved Kane in the gut. “We have to get to the police.” Who knew what Hanson would do to Hilde. It wasn’t like Hilde would remain quiet. She’d try to escape no matter how weak she felt.

  “No police.” Kane’s grip firmed around Amber’s bicep.

  “Tell me everything about Hanson and these northern rocks.”

  “Let go of me.” Amber tried to break free with little success. “I’ll scream.”

  “You scream, and I’ll gag you.” Calm and reasonable, Kane’s voice remained pleasant as he issued the threat. “No police.”

  Ass-hat. Amber opened her mouth to shriek.

  Kane’s palm instantly fit over her lips, stifling the sound. His free arm banded around her waist, lifting her almost two feet so they were eye-to-eye. Then he waited, no expression on his angled face.

  Fury shook her shoulders. She kicked out, aiming for his knees. Kane turned them, smashing her between the wall and his body.

  His body was harder than the cedar.

  Amber struggled, mostly immobilized, the heat from Kane sending her senses reeling. Anger melded with something hotter in her blood. She tried to bite his palm.

  He pressed harder so her teeth couldn’t find purchase. “I bite back, sweetheart.” His fangs dropped low with the warning.

  She stopped struggling. Her eyes widened to let in more light, and heat slammed down to her abdomen. His obvious control over himself even while trying to frighten her gave her an odd sense of security along with a bizarre desire to challenge his control. What was the vampire like when he actually let loose?

  When had she truly begun to think of him as a vampire? His fangs remained low, leaving her no mental way out. Vampires truly existed.

  One of his dark eyebrows rose. “Have we reached an understanding?”

  Slowly, she nodded.

  “Good.” He removed his hand, and his fangs retracted. “Now I’m going to put you down, and we’re going to walk nicely through the hospital to the parking lot. Understand?” Waiting for her second nod, he set her down.

  She bit her lip as she calculated the odds of getting away from him. But did she even want to? A vampire, one as strong as Kane, would come in handy with Hanson and his men. “Will you help save my grandma?”

  “If you promise to help save my brother.”

  She breathed in through her nose, mind reeling. “By fighting demons.”

  Kane jerked his head and grabbed her hand in a firm hold. “No. You’re not going to fight demons.” He frowned, heading for the door. “You’ll shield with your mind but from a safe place. I won’t let you get harmed.” His jaw set hard at the end. “Trust me.”

  Famous last words. “What if I can’t figure out how to help you?” What if he was wrong, and she wasn’t gifted? One tiny headache didn’t mean she had a gift. Wouldn’t she know if she had some weird mental ability?

  “Let’s get your granny back, and then we’ll figure out how your gift works. One thing at a time.” His voice stayed low, but a tenor of urgency ran through the dark tone.

  Maybe the vamp wasn’t as in control as she’d thought. She followed him into the still-quiet hall and out the front door. The wind whipped into her face as she glared at the Suburban. “We don’t have windows.”

  Kane exhaled a puff of breath in the cold as he eyed the parking lot. “Any idea who owns the brown truck?” He pointed to an older Chevy half-hidden under snow.

  “No. That truck has been there since Grandma was brought in. Maybe a patient owns it.”

  “Good.” Long strides helped Kane draw her across the lot. “Let’s wipe off the snow.” Using his bare hands, he shoved several inches of snow off the windows. “What does Hanson want with the northern rocks?”

  Amber shuffled snow off her boots. “My community owns fifty acres, and the northern rocks make up three acres. This is all about water rights. Well-testing around the rocks show plenty of water, and Hanson wants to put in several high-end subdivisions centered around a golf course. We won’t let him.”

  Kane smoothed snow off the hood of the battered truck. “Your community? What kind of community? Like a commune?”

  Amber laughed. “Well, kind of. We don’t go around naked or anything. But we have banded together in an eco-village to live as much as we can off the land. Even my VW Bug is frowned upon. Most people only use vehicles in emergencies.”

  “Yet you work in a bar.” His expression remained neutral, yet there was a hint of—what was that in his tone?

  She bristled. “Don’t judge me, rich boy.”

  One dark eyebrow rose. “Rich boy?”

  “Yeah. That coat costs more than most people make in a month. Heck, in three months.” Snobby people should have to live off their wits and the land for an entire year. They’d probably only last a week.

  He frowned down at his coat. “Oh. My apologies, I didn’t mean to sound judgmental.”

&
nbsp; “Accepted.” Amber couldn’t help a small smile. Kane had no problem apologizing when he was wrong, now did he? Confidence and fairness in such a sexy package—were all vampires so cool?

  Kane dropped to his haunches, inspecting the front tire. “As a race, we’re rather protective of females. Sometimes too much so. My sisters-in-law would never be allowed to work alone in a bar—just for safety reasons.” He stiffened, catching his breath. Then he stood and whirled to face her. “Don’t ever tell them I used the word allow. God. Ever. Please.”

  Amber laughed. “No promises.” What were these sisters-in-law like? “Are they vampires, too?”

  Kane frowned. “Ah, no. Vampires are male only. We have to mate a female from a different species, and even then we only produce male vampires. Two of my sisters-in-law were enhanced humans, the other is a witch.”

  There was that mate word again. One simple four-letter word shouldn’t send tingles down her spine. “A witch? A real witch?”

  “Yes. Moira is incredibly powerful—you have a lot in common.”

  “What’s an enhanced human?”

  “A female with gifts—psychic, empathic, and so on.” Kane banged the windshield wipers back onto the glass. “So, why are you working in a bar?”

  “We make enough money to live off the farm by selling vegetables, fruits, and jams in the summer, and Christmas wreaths in the winter. But hospital bills are expensive, and we don’t have health insurance.” Amber shrugged.

  “So selling the land to Hanson would give you much-needed money.” Kane held out a hand.

  Amber took it, allowing him to lead her around the truck to the passenger door. “Yes. But we’d be sacrificing the land and our way of life for money. Not a good sacrifice.”

  He opened the door and lifted her into the truck. “Interesting. Okay, let’s go get your granny.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Jase Kayrs settled against the rough stone wall, his gaze on the myriad of earthy colors in the rock across the small cell. Slowly, methodically, he listed every shade of brown he could see. Tan, beige, mud . . . the list went on and on. For every new shade he noted, victory filled him that his brain still worked. Somewhat.

  Take that, demons.

  A crude window had been cut high above to let in light during the day. Once in a while the wind would blow hard enough he’d get a whiff of the sea, but usually the smell of dirt filled his small space. There was a time he could control the elements and heat the small area, but no longer. Cold permeated through his skin to his bones—no muscles. Idly, he wondered how much he weighed now. Not much.

  Water dripped down the grooves in the rock and splashed onto the hard ground. The tip-tap of it faded away into the familiar, no longer causing spikes of irritation to dig at his neck.

  That had taken about a year.

  Sometimes he saw faces in the rock. After particularly bad sessions with the demons, those faces would speak to him. And when he was at his lowest, he’d talk back. These days he seemed to be talking to the rock often.

  A massive metal door took up one wall of the four-by-six prison. He’d tried to break the locks for so long without success. Now the sound of the locks engaging sent peace through his body.

  Something told him that wasn’t a good sign.

  But for now, he was late for a golf game with his brother Kane. He and Kane played golf once a week, well, approximately. Time had ceased to be linear during Jase’s captivity, but he was fairly sure today was golf day. So he shut his eyes, resting his head against a smooth area and sending healing cells to the kidneys his captors had beaten with metal poles earlier.

  The image took longer than usual to fill his brain. Evening out his breathing, he dug deeper.

  Sun shone down through pretty pine trees to glint off the grass, which was a lovely turquoise. Or should the fairways be green? His memory failed him. The scent of freshly cut grass infused his senses, and he inhaled deeply.

  Kane strode out of the trees, two golf bags over his shoulders. He dropped one in front of Jase. “You’re still visualizing. Nice job.”

  Yeah. Their oldest brother had taught them necessary skills for dealing with captivity and torture. Every time Jase played an imaginary game of golf, he won a small victory over the demons. Those victories kept him from going completely mad. At least, they had for some time. “I’m trying. I kicked Dage’s ass in a boxing match yesterday.” Or had it been last week?

  “Now I know you’re imagining things,” Kane said with a smile on his angular face. “We’re getting closer to finding you.”

  “No, you’re not.” It seemed shitty his imagination was fucking with him. “The real Kane wouldn’t lie to me. I need the real Kane to show up.” Of course, Jase was arguing with his own brain.

  A tapping against metal jerked Jase from the daydream. Fury filled him. They’d interrupted his golf game. He shoved to his feet. “Bastards,” he muttered to the morphing face in the rock.

  Needles instantly ripped into his brain. The pain shot neurons into life and he gasped, dropping to one knee. The sharp stabs of pain cascaded down his spine to his tailbone. “Now that’s new,” he hissed.

  The rock face nodded.

  The door slid open.

  He lifted his head, and his breath caught in his throat. “Female.”

  “Yes.” The demon wrapped a chilled hand around his chin, turning his face. Her mental attack faded.

  Jase shrugged away, stumbling to stand tall, at least a foot taller than the woman. Female demons were notoriously tiny. Blanking his expression, he stared down.

  Black eyes, white hair, smoother than possible pale skin marked her as a demon. “I’m Willa.”

  “I don’t need your name.”

  Her smile revealed even white teeth. “Oh, you might change your mind about that.” She retreated, and two demon guards moved to grab his arms and haul him from the cell.

  He rolled his eyes. At least, he thought he rolled his eyes. Months ago he’d lost some muscle function in his face. “Field trip?”

  Long hair cascaded over her shoulders as she threw back her head and laughed. Throaty, hoarse, the chuckle confirmed her lineage as a purebred. Only pure demons had the odd configuration of vocal cords that created such hoarseness. Unfortunately, on the female, the tenor was almost sexy. She led the way through the underground labyrinth dressed in a tight blue sheath that showed off a toned butt.

  “I bet I could bounce a shilling off your ass,” Jase muttered.

  The guards tightened their hold on his arms. The woman laughed again.

  Shit. He’d said that out loud.

  They reached a fork in the tunnel, and Jase braced himself for the right turn toward the room he’d dubbed “the torture cell.” The demons had used both physical and mental torture in the rock-covered room, usually at the same time. In fact, the red stains on the walls were from his blood.

  Sometimes he spent hours counting the different colors of red in the old blood versus the new, just to keep his mind on anything but the pain. Oddly enough, the rock faces never ventured into the torture cell with him.

  They probably figured they’d never make it out.

  The woman turned the opposite direction.

  Eying the two huge guards dragging him along, Jase counted the closed doorways along the way. Then he cataloged each step for when he escaped. That probably wouldn’t be soon. While he stood to six-foot-five, the demon guards were several inches taller, and certainly broader. How much weight had he lost, anyway?

  Willa opened a door into a spacious room and swept inside, settling herself on a feminine divan. A plush Persian rug covered the rock floor, and priceless oil paintings adorned the walls.

  Jase eyed an oil of the Northern Sea. Dark thunderclouds mirrored the tumultuous ocean, the scene both mysterious and somehow threatening. “I doubt Brenna Dunne would appreciate demons having her painting.”

  Willa shrugged. “Her oils will be worth a fortune someday, and our people need money as much as
yours. Besides, Dunne seems to understand the demon mind-set with dark works like that.”

  Odd, but Jase hadn’t noticed that dimension to Brenna before. “If you say so.”

  Will nodded. “The value of that work will soon increase—considering she won’t have time for painting with Virus-27 affecting their kind.”

  Jase stumbled. The virus did affect witches?

  The demon smiled. “Oops. That’s news, huh?”

  “Yes.” His mind reeling, Jase allowed the brutes to shove him into a plush leather chair situated off the rug. Virus-27 had been created by his enemies to harm vampire mates—to take them with their twenty-seven chromosomal pairs from immortal down to human or maybe worse. Nobody had realized the virus would affect witches. But considering witches only had twenty-eight chromosomal pairs, apparently they were susceptible.

  Vampires with their thirty chromosomal pairs were safe.

  The tallest guy reached for a set of restraints hammered into the floor.

  “No. I want his hands unbound.” Willa crossed her legs, revealing silky skin.

  The closest guard stiffened, turning toward her. An apparent, silent battle of wills ensued. Finally, the guard dropped the restraints and grabbed another set, clasping them around Jase’s ankles. With a growl, he and the other guy stomped from the room, slamming the door.

  What kind of game was this? Jase tugged a little on the restraints—not very impressive . . . he could probably break free. Even in his state, he had to outweigh the small demon. He lifted an eyebrow. Maybe.

  She smiled, sliding to her feet and sauntering over to a bar set in the corner.

  The stunning painting of the Northern Sea caught his eye again. There was a time he’d spent hours running along the beach, feeling the salty spray on his face.

  Willa turned with a low hiss. “You like the painting.”

  “Yes.” Lying seemed to be a waste of time.

  “Or is it the artist who has captured your attention?” Willa asked softly.

  Jase settled into the chair, surprise jerking his head. “Brenna? Well, she is a sweetheart.” Or at least she was last time he’d seen her.