Alpha's Promise

by Rebecca Zanetti

  She couldn’t have stopped him if she wanted to. That idea, simple and primal, cascaded a fiery brand through her, quaking her into a second orgasm. This one rolled over her, took her, and left her panting for more. She’d die before she tried to stop him. She’d kill him if he stopped.

  He struck, his fangs going deep, slashing through muscle to bone. Maybe deeper.

  She cried out again, arching her spine, her head thrown back. His hand snaked along her rib cage, over her breasts, to her opposite shoulder, tugging her face up, holding her immobile. Her body was his to command as he hammered into her. Heat uncoiled inside her again, this time with a raw edge that embraced pain.

  His fangs retracted, their imprint forever embedded in her. He licked her neck, sliding his mouth to her ear. “Tell me you’re mine,” he rasped in that damaged voice.

  It wasn’t a request. There was no plea, no cajoling. It was an order, clear and dark, conveying more than words ever truly could.

  She was his. Everything in her knew it. A part of her rebelled against it. The terminology and the reality of it. She was a human born in this time, a successful woman in her own right. But here and now, with him inside her, with his power, his strength, everything he’d become demanding what he wanted, denying the truth was wrong. “I’m yours,” she whispered, understanding it to the soul.

  His thrusts turned wild, searing her with galvanizing heat, illustrating his might and his control. His next violent thrust propelled her into an orgasm so strong she could only shut her eyes and jerk violently through it.

  His fangs slashed home again, increasing her tremors until she wound down just as he ground against her and came, his breath harsh and his groan dark.

  She gasped several times, aftershocks taking her. Vulnerability was next. The world had changed once again on her.

  * * * *

  It was intriguing that his heart still beat so wildly in a chest fused by fire, blood, and bone. Oh, it couldn’t be split in two, but even so, what power. Ivar pulled out of his woman and turned her on her side, wrapping an arm around her waist and drawing her against his body. Fine tremors still shook her, so he reached down and hauled the bedcovers up and over them both.

  She yawned, stretching and then settling into place with the sigh of a satisfied kitten. “Bunny.” She snorted.

  He smiled against her hair, his tension ratcheting down a couple of notches. He’d been rough with her—even more so than when they’d mated. But his point had been made, and while it probably proved him to be a bastard, he was content with that fact.

  She didn’t seem to be complaining either.

  He played with the soft skin over her wrist. Delicate bones—still so breakable. How could he keep her safe while he was out of this universe? Hopefully the math problems would keep her entertained at demon headquarters until he could return. She was Enhanced and mated to a member of the Seven. That put her in danger on a level he wasn’t sure she truly understood.

  “What you said about the math—I’m not sure,” she said quietly into the darkness.

  He tilted his head on the pillow. “Explain.”

  She was quiet for a moment, and he could almost hear her mind working. “My initial goal is always to protect this earth and its people. You know that.”

  “Yes.” It was one of the things he truly liked about her—when it wasn’t a pain in his ass. “Go on.”

  She kind of ducked her head. “I may have begun in a conservative place with my theory, which is a good place to begin.” The last was said rather defensively. “And we’re talking theoretical physics.”

  Exactly. “Find a different hypothesis,” he said.

  She exhaled, her shoulder blades rubbing against his chest. “You don’t understand. The only way to move from hypothesis to conclusion is with experiments, and in this case, one experiment could destroy the world as we know it. Many worlds. How can we take such a risk with other people? It’s irresponsible.”

  “Have you no faith?” he asked softly, truly curious.

  She stiffened. “Faith?”

  “Yeah.” He caressed her arm up to her shoulder and back down. The tension in her waned slightly. “Faith. A sense that there’s something bigger. That we’re part of a whole and that there are reasons for everything. Reasons beyond the math and your theory and the reality of right now.”

  She swallowed audibly. “Faith is for children.”

  Something in her tone caught him. “I bet it wasn’t for you. Not as a child.”

  “No,” she said softly. “I brought up the subject of God once, and my dad made me study Darwin for an entire week before I could do anything else.”

  Ivar wished he could go back and punch Promise’s dad in the head. “Aren’t theoreticists, scientists, supposed to be open to all eventualities? All possibilities?”

  “Well, yes.”

  “Before last week, did you think vampires existed? Or were they like God or Santa Claus?” he asked.

  “Oh, Santa Claus exists.” She waited and then gave a slight chuckle. “Fair enough. But I have to ask, as somebody who has lived centuries, do you really believe in God?” She seemed to hold her breath.

  He lifted a shoulder. “Yeah. I mean, I know Fate exists, so why not God? Maybe we don’t truly understand the concept of God, but we also don’t understand much beyond three dimensions, and even you cynical physicists believe there must be more than three. Otherwise, nothing else makes sense. I don’t believe you can create this world or any other out of nothing. Something had to be there first, and that something has to be omnipotent.”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “My sense of reality, of what I know to be true, has been shaken. I might be open to other possibilities.”

  It was all he could ask of her at the moment. “It’s like sex and your vibrator,” he murmured.

  “What?”

  He grinned. “You didn’t know the kind of pleasure that existed, and now you do. You’ve admitted it.” He kept his voice gentle as he tried to explain. “The same might be said for how you’re working the math for me. Maybe you’re including assumptions and limitations you don’t even realize you have.”

  She was quiet for a moment. “That might be brilliant. I’ve never seen the connection between the physical or emotional status and the cerebral one.”

  In other words, she was realizing that emotions held power and could help with math. All right. He’d let her mull that over. “Go to sleep, chipmunk.”

  She laughed, and the husky sound soothed his soul. “I think you should stick with ‘Missy’ as your term of endearment.”

  “I think you might be right.” He smiled and kissed the top of her head. “I’m glad we’ve reached an understanding.”

  “I’m not agreeing with you about experimentation,” she said. “I’m willing to examine my hypotheses and investigate alternatives, but that’s all.” Her voice lowered. “My parents did their best, but I’m learning that emotion can have a place with intelligence, and it’s okay to be angry with them and still love them.”

  Did that mean she could love him and still be aware of the beast deep inside him? Maybe. Hope burned deep inside him. “Sleep now,” he murmured.

  She scooted closer and was asleep within seconds. Was her tiredness caused by the change in her chromosomes? Or just exhaustion?

  Lightning flashed through the window, and the skies opened up with a fall storm that held a new chill. Soon it would snow. He held her close, his eyelids shut, trying to remember how he’d gotten from this world to the hell loop. And it was a loop. The more he’d studied her math, the more he’d recognized a pattern. He could trace that pattern again if he had the right skills, skills beyond the power of a normal demon.

  He’d get them somehow. His last brain scan had shown engagement in areas of his brain more connected to fairies than demons. Was he changing, evolving,
from mating Promise? Her ability to instinctively identify those who could teleport might translate into a whole new skill for him.

  He was hoping. In fact, he was starting to get interested in fractal math, and he’d spent a half an hour actually enjoying playing Sudoku the other day. How weird was that?

  He drifted in between dreams and reality, memories and hopes for hours.

  A knock on the door had him stiffening. “What?” he called out, knowing his voice would carry through the suite.

  “We think we’ve found the Fae-demon hybrid,” Logan yelled back. “Be in the conference room in ten minutes.”

  Ivar awoke fully immediately. He kissed the back of Promise’s neck. “Get up, Missy. It’s time to work.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Promise sucked down the cup of coffee Ivar had handed her as if it was an elixir of life itself. Even though she’d slept well, her body ached in all sorts of delicious places, and she could use a long bath. But it was not to be. Ivar led her into the conference room at demon headquarters, where Logan and Garrett awaited.

  A screen took up the entire west wall, and a small picture in the bottom left showed Faith, Emma, Mercy, and Grace in a room at the medical facility.

  Mercy grinned. “We’ve been working for a couple of hours. Where have you been, Promise?”

  Heat slid into Promise’s face. “I was sleeping. Sorry about that.”

  The rain slashed hard against the windows, and she wrapped her cardigan tighter around her body. “What did you find?” She’d been surprised to discover that Garrett and Logan both were excellent with computers as well as being superb fighters. They’d been on the search to find the Fae-demon hybrid for the entire week.

  Garrett kicked back in his leather chair. He had a couple of bruises down his cheekbone that he hadn’t bothered to heal yet. Were those from Ivar? They must’ve really gone at it. “Have a seat.”

  Ivar pulled out a chair at the conference table for her, and she sat, careful not to spill her coffee. He sat next to her, while Logan was situated closer to the screen, his green eyes serious and his long form in a torn T-shirt and gray jeans. The mood in the room felt heavy, as if gravity was pulling everyone down. How did the immortals affect the atmosphere in such a manner?

  Garrett reached for a remote control on the mahogany table and clicked it toward the screen. “Meet Haven Daly, formerly known as Mary Agnes Lockship.”

  A California driver’s license came up on the screen showing a twenty-something woman with white-blond hair, one black eye, and one green eye. Her skin was smooth and pale, and her expression somber.

  “Whoa,” Ivar said, leaning forward. “White hair of a demon, multicolored eyes of a Fae. That had to cause some questions through the years.” He whistled. “Just five feet tall and what my mama would’ve called ‘willowy.’ The females of both species are petite, and she definitely fits that bill.”

  Garrett nodded, his head cocked. “She hasn’t had an easy time of it.” He clicked the button again. “As a newborn, she was found outside of a church in Minnesota, taken into child protection services, and adopted at the age of three months by a minister and his wife.” Records flashed one after another on the screen. “An investigation conducted years later showed a multitude of attempted exorcisms by the good pastor and his flock.”

  Bile rose in Promise’s throat. “I take it those weren’t pleasant.”

  “No,” Garrett said, his jaw firming and his eyes blazing. “Not even close. She then spent time in different psychiatric hospitals, some good, and some terrible. Three of them have been shut down for abuse.” He growled low and then coughed to cover it.

  Logan stared at the screen. “We managed to secure some of the records from those places. She thought demons were real. Thought her dreams were real, as well as the creatures that peopled them. They used drugs and therapy to convince her otherwise.” His voice was pained. “No offense, Mercy, but the Fae leaders are going to be held accountable.”

  The screen image of Mercy was pale. “That’s fine, but most of the leaders who experimented are dead, mate. Do what you need to do.”

  Promise reached under the table for Ivar’s hand. He’d gone stone cold and silent. Hadn’t he mentioned feeling protective of abused women because of his sister? He was probably planning murder right then of any Fae responsible. She wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to stop him.

  He held her hand, his grip firm.

  Garrett clicked again, and a picture of a skinny twelve-year-old Haven came up. “She was still Mary Agnes at this time—when she left the last psychiatric hospital and returned home.” His voice darkened and turned almost as hoarse as Ivar’s. “Two years passed, and child services were called in by a concerned neighbor after another exorcism. She was taken from the home and put into foster care for another two years.”

  Promise held her stomach. It was terrible. “Tell me that time was all right for her.”

  “I don’t know, but I doubt it,” Logan said. “She ran away at sixteen and didn’t show up again for five years. There are no records of her, and she might’ve lived on the streets, but she sends money every month to a commune called Mark’s Mountain off the grid in Northern California. She may have found a safe place there.”

  Garrett clicked again to show a small house on a street with other small houses, all neat and tidy. “She reappeared at twenty-one and changed her name to Haven Daly. Attended community college for a semester and a half and then dropped out.”

  If anything, the tension in the room had increased. Promise sipped her coffee, trying to shield herself from the stress the same way she protected her brain. Nope. Her skin still pricked, and her focus narrowed. “What is she doing now?”

  “Working as a waitress,” Logan said. “And painting.”

  “Where?” Ivar asked, leaning forward.

  “She’s been selling online and has a showing set up for next week in Oregon. Her first showing.” Garrett pushed a button, and painting after painting flashed across the screen. Disturbing, angry, wild oils of hellish landscapes and dark places.

  Ivar gasped. “Stop. Go back two.”

  Garrett reversed the paintings to show a purple world with black mountains and a gray sky. The power of the painting made Promise catch her breath. It was starkly beautiful and yet terrifying.

  “I’ve been there,” Ivar said, the muscles in his arm clenching. “That place is real.”

  Garrett nodded. “We figured.” He looked down and punched in something on a keyboard. “Because we came across this one too.”

  A painting came into focus with a man standing in front of jagged rocks, fury on his face, his body scarred. His eyes were a deep aqua, just like Ronan’s. And his jawline was exactly the same.

  Ivar released her hand. “Holy fuck. It’s Quade.”

  * * * *

  Ivar shoved away from the table. “We have to get to her. Secure her. She’s definitely Enhanced.”

  “Wait.” Promise swiveled her chair toward him. “That woman is Enhanced and possibly has no idea what that means. She’s been through hell in her life already. Do we have a right to drag her into more?”

  Ivar tried to think through the logic. It looked like Haven had found a way to live despite the pain she’d known. How could they cause her new trouble?

  Ronan burst into the door, his phone in his hand. “We have to get her. Now.”

  “Agreed.” Ivar clapped his back. They’d protect the woman, but she needed to help them get to Quade. He’d find a secure place for her. “Let’s get a helicopter.”

  “Wait a minute.” Promise jumped to her feet. “Stop it. Both of you. Take a step back.”

  Ronan exploded before Ivar could. “Back? Not a chance. She’s seen my brother. Maybe she’s even visited him. At the very least, she knows something, and she’s going to tell me everything.”

 
“Exactly,” Ivar said grimly.

  Promise pressed both hands to her eyes in an obvious attempt to rein in her temper. “Listen. We have no idea how she’ll react to either of you. She’s dreamed of or met Quade, and she might’ve dreamed of one or both of you. This is a woman who has spent a significant amount of time in psych wards being drugged and possibly enduring electric shock therapy.”

  “Not to mention a series of forced exorcisms, and we have no clue what that entailed,” Faith added through the speaker. “If you two show up, it might just shut down her entire brain. She could be half-crazy already.”

  “Look at her paintings,” Garrett said, his voice thoughtful. “She’s definitely tortured.”

  Ivar swung on his youngest brother. “You’re on their side?”

  “No.” Garrett sat back in his chair, not fazed in the slightest by the fury. “We need to contact her, but it shouldn’t be any member of the Seven who does it. Nobody she might’ve dreamed about.” He scratched a barely healed cut along his forearm from the day before. “In fact, power recognizes power. We shouldn’t have an immortal approach her first.” His gaze went to Promise.

  She nodded vigorously. “Yes. Exactly. I’ll go. Just to meet with her.”

  “Me too,” Faith piped up. “I’m a neurologist. That could come in handy.”

  “I’m coming too,” Grace said, her voice slightly higher than her sister’s through the speaker. “I’m the only artist among you, and she’ll relate to me better.”

  “What is this? You ladies need a blasted field trip?” Ronan growled, his fingers already balled into fists.

  Promise reached for Ivar’s hand. “Yes. Obviously nobody has found this woman yet. We can’t bring attention to her either. This is the correct path, Ivar. Take a deep breath and start planning the approach.”

  Ivar looked down at her intelligent eyes. Then he took a deep breath. “Ronan?”

  The vampire’s nostrils flared, but his shoulders lowered. “Fine. But we secure the entire area before anybody goes in.”