What was this? A bad B movie? She moved to the side, partially out of Ivar’s shadow. “Why do you want me?”
The guy didn’t even look her way, keeping his focus on Ivar as he patted the hilt of a knife at his waist. “Well?”
Ivar rolled his neck, and it lightly cracked. “Come and get her,” he rasped. But he didn’t wait, instead leaping over the coffee table, his gun already out and firing rapid green lasers toward the first intruder. Blood spurted from the guy’s neck, but he somehow still jumped forward, colliding with Ivar in a clash louder than metal impacting metal.
Heat rushed up Promise’s throat. She screamed and scrambled around for some sort of weapon, her hands grasping a candlestick off the sofa table. She swung as hard as she could as the second attacker reached her. He swiped the unsatisfactory weapon out of her hand, and the metal clanged off the wood floor, rolling beneath the sofa. His prodigious gloved hand clamped over her entire shoulder, and he hauled her toward him. Pain rippled up her neck from his fingers.
The sound of fighting came from Ivar at the window and from an altercation in the hallway outside, but she kept her focus on the guy bruising her clavicle with just his hold.
Her breath panted out, and her lungs seized. The room narrowed in focus, and all sound dissipated while adrenaline flooded her entire system. She grabbed the nearest sofa cushion and pivoted, hitting him in the face with the decorating tassels, aiming for his eyes.
He growled and twisted his head, his hold tightening so painfully her stomach cramped.
Then he was jerked away from her as Ivar threw him toward the broken window.
She stumbled back, dropping the pillow, hyperventilating.
Ivar punched the guy in the neck, and he turned, already swinging. His fist impacted with Ivar’s cheek, and the bone crunched loudly.
Promise gasped and looked for the other soldier, who was down on his stomach near the window, surrounded by broken glass, not moving. His head was under the drape, and blood flowed from his neck area.
Tears filled her eyes, and she blinked them away, struggling to breathe. She spotted the edge of Ivar’s green gun over by the door to the kitchen. While the two men traded nauseating-sounding blows, she ran for the gun and picked it up, stumbling back over the rain-soaked floors to point it at the men. Then she paused, her mind scrambling to catch up.
They hit and kicked so rapidly, their movements were mere blurs of movement and sound. How was that possible? Shock took her, and even the sounds tunneled into a faint buzz. She wavered, her legs shaking so hard her left knee hurt.
The other soldier punched Ivar in the stomach and then howled, pain etching his face as he drew back his hand, which showed several broken fingers.
Promise hesitated, her mind reeling. Was Ivar wearing some sort of protective gear? She couldn’t see it beneath his tight T-shirt. She pointed the gun again, moving around the sofa, her hands shaking so much her finger slipped off the trigger. She lifted her other hand, steadying her aim, but her shoulders trembled, and the barrel of the gun jumped from point to point.
The soldier kicked Ivar beneath the chin, and his head went back. With a furious growl, he ducked and punched the other man in the jaw, following up with a series of hits so quick they had landed and bounced off before the sound was even audible. Then he kicked the soldier in the knee, knocking him to the ground.
Promise edged to the side, trying to aim the gun at the white-faced attacker.
Ivar grabbed the guy’s long braid and jerked his hair back, quickly striking his mouth at the guy’s neck and pulling. Blood, tissue, and cartilage flew around as Ivar lifted his head, having torn out the soldier’s neck.
With. His. Teeth.
Ivar turned toward her as he let the corpse drop to the glass on the ground. Fangs hung out of his mouth, their sharp points glistening with blood. His eyes had turned a shade of intense green beyond normal emerald. Nearly translucent, heavily metallic, they glowed with a deep blue border around the iris.
Her mouth opened and closed. The smell of rain, blood, and death filled her nostrils, and she hitched away from him, swinging the gun barrel toward his head.
This was not happening. It was a nightmare. She could not be awake.
He straightened to his full height, and his fangs retracted. Blood still bracketed his full mouth and discolored his already multicolored hair. He studied her, no human recognition in his feral eyes. “Gun, down.” His voice was a brutal rasp.
Her hands convulsed around the butt of the gun. She slid her finger closer to the trigger. “You’re not human,” she whispered, her throat feeling like it was on fire.
“Not even close.” He reached down and secured a firearm and two knives from the corpse, sliding them into the back of his jeans.
The door burst open behind Promise, and she yelped, accidentally pulling the trigger. A dark green laser shot out of the gun, hitting Ivar square in the chest and turning instantly into round, bullet-shaped pieces of metal. They dropped harmlessly to the floor, bouncing around the dead soldier’s head.
She gaped and partially turned to keep both Ivar and the door in sight. Her body went numb with what had to be shock.
Ronan ran inside, bare to the waist, blood pouring from a wound in his right shoulder. Faith was behind him. She wore pajamas decorated with bright pink stethoscopes, her eyes wide and a gun in her hands.
Ivar stepped over the corpse, his face a hard mask of anger. “Status?”
“Two down in the hallway, more breaching the roof, I think.” Ronan partially turned. “We take the stairs down. It’s the only way.”
Ivar grabbed the gun right out of Promise’s hold and took her hand with his free one. “We have to run. Now.”
Chapter Fourteen
Ivar finished covering the black SUV beneath a thatch of branches. He’d parked the vehicle in between two massive pine trees with canopies of branches and needles, so there was no way anybody could see it from the sky. A river rushed by beyond the weeds, and he’d already jumped in and washed off the blood before changing into clothing he’d borrowed from Benny, who had been staying in a secure cabin since the night before.
Ivar turned to survey the smattering of other cabins along the full banks. He had hoped to find somewhere more comfortable for Promise. The summer camp had been deserted for winter, and the starkness of the dead foliage and rapidly browning trees cut through him more intensely than the chilly wind off the water.
They’d driven an hour away from the city, and now the sun illuminated the area from behind clouds. It was light enough that the Kurjans and their white-haired, creepy Cyst soldiers wouldn’t be able to survive outside.
Even so, he couldn’t relax the taut muscles down his back. The ride to safety had been tense and silent, out of necessity. He shook out his arms and strode inside Adare’s cabin, kicking pine needles off his boots first.
“Hey.” Adare finished putting more wood on the roaring fire in the fireplace before standing up and dusting off his hands. There was a small kitchenette in the corner, a big bed in the other corner, and no other furniture. “You okay?”
“Yes.” Ivar glanced toward the silent brunette who was putting the finishing touches on the bed. “I’m glad you’re here, Grace.”
Grace Cooper turned around, her pretty face set in hard lines. “That’s nice, Ivar, but I’m not staying.”
Adare didn’t look at her. “You are staying, and that’s the end of that.” The Highlander’s brogue deepened in a way that conveyed both warning and annoyance.
Grace and her sister Faith shared similar bone structure and stubbornness. “Ivar? Now that your physicist is safe for the time being, you promised to fly me to Realm headquarters so I can get the virus that will negate our stupid mating and get rid of this asshole.” Grace’s smile was both smart-ass and kind of cute. “No offense, Adare. I do appreciate your saving my
life.”
Adare still didn’t look at his small mate. “You’re welcome. Now stop being ridiculous. There is no way you’re going to be infected with a virus after being mated only four months, especially since you’re recently out of a coma. I will not discuss it any further.”
“Whatever. I didn’t ask for your opinion.” Grace crossed to the door and brushed by Ivar. “We’ll talk later.”
“Where are you going?” Adare growled.
Ivar looked longingly at the door. Why had he dropped by there?
“To see my sister, although it’s none of your business,” Grace returned, all but stomping outside and slamming the worn wooden door.
Adare glared at the closed door.
Ivar shuffled his feet. His friend had mated the young human to save her life. Usually mating took love, sex, and a good bite, but Grace was special and the bite alone had done it. “No peace on the domestic front, huh?” That seemed a bit of an understatement.
Adare snorted. “No. She doesn’t seem to understand that mating is forever. You’d think she’d at least be appreciative of immortality. But no. Not that woman.”
Interesting. Usually nothing upset Adare. “Why don’t you court her?” Ivar asked.
Adare swung around, and his eyes widened. “Are you kidding me? I want nothing to do with humans, even one who has become my mate. We’ll go our separate ways once the Seven completes its destiny.”
Destiny? Was there truly such a thing? “It could take decades, even centuries, for us to kill Ulric. His world, dimension, whatever it is…might not fail for a long time.” It would make a hell of a lot more sense for Adare to get to know his mate. Perhaps Fate had had a hand in their meeting. Maybe not. Who knew? “Perhaps you should try and make it a genuine mating. A relationship, or whatever.”
Adare’s black eyes narrowed. “Why are you a romantic all of a sudden?”
Ivar frowned. “I’m not.”
“Are too.”
“Am not.” Centuries ago, he’d lost a sister who’d only been in her teens, and he had a soft spot for females who needed help. Since he had identified his trigger, it was okay. At least, that’s what his shrink had said. “I just want to keep Promise safe until we take out the Kurjans. And the Cyst. Everyone who wants to use or hurt her needs to die.” There. That made perfect sense.
Adare whistled, both of his eyebrows rising. “I hate to lower myself to the vernacular of the day, but what the hell. Dude, you have it bad for her.”
Hearing the Highlander say the word “dude” lightened Ivar’s spirits just enough that he no longer needed to kill somebody right this second. He’d been pissed off since the Cyst had attacked the apartment. The image of Promise trying to ward off a deadly soldier with a fucking sofa pillow kept running through his mind like a bad film. Now he had her ensconced in a crappy cabin with barely working electricity. “I just want to keep her safe. Don’t make things up in your crazy head,” Ivar returned. He wasn’t sane enough for a relationship, and since he was planning to go back to hell to take Quade’s place, he didn’t have anything to offer a female.
Except protection for now.
Adare finally smiled. “Well, I’m going to go fight with my mate some more. You’ve put off your interaction with the pretty Dr. Promise long enough. Stop being a wimp.”
Ivar wanted to get ticked and argue, but the guy was right. “Fine.” He turned and exited again, walking past two cabins and reaching the one he hoped to share with Promise. Sitting outside all day and night would suck. He opened the door and walked inside, his senses instantly tuning in to her.
She sat on a torn sofa, bundled in a homemade quilt provided by Benny, her gaze on the crackling fire in the old stone fireplace. The light danced across her smooth features, highlighting her glossy dark hair. She sat with her legs extended on a rickety coffee table, her lips pursed. Different expressions filtered through her beautiful eyes. She didn’t look his way. “What are you?” she asked quietly.
* * * *
Promise banished all feeling, ignoring the tingling around her lungs. The body dealt with stress in some odd ways.
Ivar shut the door, and the room instantly warmed. “I’m a hybrid.”
She turned then, surprised to see him in clean clothing with his hair wet. He’d jumped in the river? A plain dark T-shirt stretched across his strong chest, while faded jeans covered his long legs. “Part human and part what?” She’d seen fangs. Both he and the white-faced scary soldier had shown fangs. So vampires truly existed.
“Not human. I’m a vampire-demon hybrid.” His eyes had returned to the wild blue-green mix of the night before.
Vampires and demons. “Oh my,” she muttered, unable to help herself. She swallowed several times. “You’re from hell?” So much for being agnostic.
“No.” He strode forward, all grace and purpose. “I’m from here. Vampires and demons are just different species from humans.” He sat on the sofa, rocking her toward him. “Humans have twenty-three chromosomal pairs, right?”
She nodded.
He extended his legs, his boots making her stocking-covered feet look ridiculously small. “Demons have thirty-two, vampires thirty, Kurjans thirty, witches twenty-nine, shifters twenty-eight, and mates of any of us twenty-seven.”
She withdrew her legs and turned to face him on the sofa, tucking one foot beneath her. “What?”
He grinned. “There are many different species. We’ve only recently learned the chromosomal differences. Score one for human geneticists.”
She shook her head. “Wait a minute. Witches? Shifters?” Reality was splitting in two in the worst application of fissure imaginable.
“Yes.” He turned his head, his gaze direct. “Witches use the elements to create fire. They do not turn people into frogs.” His voice was low and soothing. Well, as soothing as his rasp could be. “Shifters can change shape into canine, feline, or ursine. Oh, and dragons, but that’s a secret.”
That was the secret? Even her feet felt stunned. How was that possible? “Wait. Mates?”
“Yeah.” He rolled his neck, looking back toward the fire. “Enhanced humans, mostly female, can mate an immortal. When that happens, the female’s chromosomal pairs increase until she reaches a state of immortality.” He held up a hand before she could ask the question. “No, they can’t be turned into any other species. There’s no turning into vampires, demons, or any of the rest.”
Her mind scrambled for the first time in a decade to deal with a solution to a problem. A bizarre and almost incomprehensible solution. But she’d seen the fangs, and she’d seen him fight. “Urban legends have some truth to them,” she murmured.
“They usually do, although vampires are fine in the sun and would rather eat steak than drink blood. We only take blood in extreme situations like battle or sex.” He exhaled, moving his broad chest. “You’re Enhanced, sweetheart. Customary enhancements are psychic ability, empathic ability, telekinesis.”
She didn’t believe in any of those false sciences. “You have got to be jesting.”
“No.”
“I’m not psychic.” Not even close.
He shook his head. “Nope. That’s not your enhancement.”
She straightened. “Well?” If he continued to be coy, she was going to punch him. Oh, she’d never attacked another person in her entire life, but he wasn’t a person, now was he? The guy was immortal. “Tell me.”
He turned and snagged her hand, imprisoning it between his much larger palms. “We think you’re some sort of identifier for immortals who can teleport.” His hold was firm and warm. Very warm.
Teleport? In truth? “What?” She let him heat her hands. Just for a minute.
He nodded. “Adare, Benny, and Mercy can all teleport. Adare and Benny, like many demons, can go through space and time to end up somewhere here on earth. I used to be able to do it
too, until I was injured. I thought the ability was coming back, but now it’s gone again.”
Teleport. Actually move through dimensions, or possibly something else, and land where one wanted on earth? How was it possible? Could it be that her dreams as a child had actually been real, and somehow she’d learned to block them? Her mind started compiling scenarios. But it was all too much.
“And Mercy,” he added. “She’s a fairy, and they have the ability to teleport to other worlds. They’re the only ones who can do so, as far as we know. That makes her more powerful than the others, which is why I think the pain in your head is worse with her.”
She blinked. “How many chromosomal pairs do fairies have?”
He shrugged. “I’m not sure we’ve ever tested them. Until recently, most of them lived off-world. And by the way, when you talk to Mercy, call them Fae. For some reason, they think that sounds tougher than fairy.”
Thoughts zinged through her mind so quickly that her head jerked. The explanations, although she hadn’t had time to process them yet, at least added up to some semblance of logic. That is, if she discarded everything she believed about reality. “Why do you need me, Ivar? If people can already teleport, as you say, what do you want with a human physicist?”
He winced, wrinkling the skin at the corners of his eyes and making him look more approachable. Maybe more human, even though that appeared to be impossible. “Because we don’t exactly know how we teleport.” He crossed his ankles, and his boot clunked heavily on the table. “Science is actually a human study. We’ve always accepted our abilities as normal and not questioned them much, maybe because we’ve been at war so often.”
“You’re immortal and you go to war?” she asked, her brain reeling.
He grimaced. “A lot. We go to war a lot.”
Maybe immorality came with a strong dose of moronism. “That’s stupid.”
“Yeah, it probably is. But evil is evil, and it’s here.” He caressed the side of her hand with his thumb. “We’ve always treated teleportation like, I don’t know, breathing, making fire out of air, or using elements to our advantage. Or even just being able to shift into a bear. For shifters, I mean.”
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