“Both,” Paxton said, putting the rest of his sandwich on the plate. “I’m fine, Zane.”
Her dad rubbed his jaw, which had a shadow. “If anybody hurts you, I want to know. Your dad has been…sad since your mom died, right?”
“We all are,” Paxton said, looking at his plate.
Her dad looked at her mom and then back. “Is your dad maybe having a rough time of it? Maybe taking it out on you, accidentally?”
“No,” Paxton said, even his ears turning red. “I’m just clumsy and not good at training.” His phone buzzed from his pocket, and he almost jumped out of his chair. “I hafta go. My dad is back.” He jumped off the stool and all but ran to the door. “Thanks for lunch.” He was out into the snow in a second.
Hope watched him go. Wow. That was fast.
“Hope?” her mama asked. “Has Paxton said anything to you about his dad?”
“No,” Hope said, her stomach starting to hurt. A daddy wouldn’t hit his own kid, would he? That didn’t make sense.
Her dad took a phone from his back pocket and pressed a speed dial number before putting it against his ear. “Max? Yeah. I want full surveillance on Paxton Phoenix, the eight-year-old? On him and his dad, especially.” Her dad waited and listened. “I’m aware he’s a vampire. If he so much as snaps at that kid, I want to know about it. Right.” He slid the phone back into his pocket.
Janie’s eyebrows rose. “You’re talking about a vampire soldier, not a demon. Why don’t I call my dad?”
Zane shook his head. “Talen has enough to deal with right now, and Max will clue him in, anyway. Paxton’s mom was a demoness, and her son is my responsibility. The kid is a little clumsy and still learning to train, so he might be telling the truth. Or he might not. I will find out.”
Hope nudged the rest of her sandwich away. Pax had tripped and fallen over nothing the other day, so she knew he was clumsy, but he was getting a lot faster and stronger. She also knew he didn’t like his dad much. She reached for her daddy and another hug. They were gonna help Pax, no matter what.
* * * *
Quade spent the entire night and most of the next day educating himself about modern technology. The weapons room had been his first stop, and he’d enjoyed shooting lasers into targets. The Realm had every kind of weapon imaginable, but even after spending time with automatic weapons, he felt more secure with a knife in his boot.
For several hours, he’d learned about the status of the various species on Earth. So far, only the vampire and the demon leaders were aware of the existence of the Seven, and neither seemed particularly pleased about the situation. If the witch or shifter nations found out about them, there might be conflict. Okay. There would definitely be conflict. That was why it had been so important to keep the secret.
It was out now.
The marking on his palm had pounded for hours, and as much as he tried to ignore it, his thoughts wandered to Haven often. Way too often. He’d given her enough time to make a decision.
Ronan finally caught up to him when he was sitting on a thick wooden bench, looking at the darkening sky over the lake. Little lights came to life along all of the trees. “Hey,” Ronan greeted him as he sat. “You haven’t slept in twenty-four hours, and don’t give me bullshit that you don’t need it. I remember waking up back here and trying to get my bearings. Sleep and protein helped.”
Quade eyed the thick ice on the lake. The cloud cover was thin but enough to waft snowflakes down. His other side, where Jacer should be, felt cold. “There’s too much to learn to sleep.” He hadn’t conquered computers or the history of the world so far, although he was feeling marginally better and more centered.
Ronan leaned back and kicked his legs out, scuffing up snow. He took a deep drink of what smelled like whiskey and then handed over a large bottle. A very large one. “We need to get to Seven headquarters as soon as possible. If Ulric’s world has imploded and he’s here, we have work to do. If it hasn’t, it will, and we need to get ready.”
“Affirmative.” Quade took several deep pulls of the alcohol, and warmth infused him. He coughed and looked at his brother. “Has the king agreed?”
“No. They want us to stay here.” Anticipation lit Ronan’s eyes, as he took the bottle and drank. “We might need to make a break for it.”
Quade grinned, his blood speeding up. “Teach this younger generation that technology has flaws?”
“Yes.” Ronan chuckled, handing the booze back. “While I miss the ability to teleport, we won wars without technology. In ways these descendants can’t imagine.”
Quade’s chest warmed, and he took several more drinks, letting the liquid numb him. Sitting with his brother, discussing strategy, brought him finally all the way home. He’d never thought to see Ronan again, and here they were. It felt right. “For the first time in so long, I have hope. A little. Not a lot.” He snorted.
Ronan chuckled. “Yeah. I get that. The final ritual is pretty daunting, but it could be years away. Why not enjoy the now?”
“And prepare,” Quade said quietly.
Ronan lost his amused look. “Definitely. So, in that vein, I was thinking.”
“Always a dangerous proposition,” Quade drawled.
The smile flashed again and then disappeared. “I know you. I know what you have planned and why you’re so hesitant to mate Haven.”
Quade stiffened. “I’m hesitant because the final ritual will end in bloodshed and not a rose ceremony.”
Ronan frowned and then shrugged. “No. You’re hesitant because if you gain her ability and can jump through worlds, you might be able to jump to Ulric’s. Even when you and I were maintaining our vigil over his bubble, we couldn’t cross over from our worlds to his. Now you might have the chance.”
Quade looked back toward the lake, which was now shrouded in darkness. “We have new weapons at our disposal. Devices we couldn’t even imagine back then.”
Ronan clapped him on the shoulder. Hard. “Ulric can’t be killed from the outside. Only the blood of the three Keys has the poison necessary to stop his heart. Even then, we don’t know how the final ritual works.”
“Three Keys and the Lock,” Quade murmured.
Ronan stiffened. “You’ve met Hope. The Lock.”
“Yeah. She’s cute and little and sweet.” He shook his head. “If there’s a way to keep her from participating in the ritual, from even having to be the Lock, shouldn’t I take it? Take a bomb or laser weapon or something into Ulric’s world?” If he did, he would not return, and Haven would be left a widow, alone, for centuries. “We took a vow, Ronan. I will satisfy it.”
Ronan’s head dropped. “We will both satisfy our vows, brother, but only when it comes time for the final ritual. Your dying in Ulric’s world makes no sense, and besides, we can’t take weapons when we teleport. We’re strongest working together as the Seven, and we will plan together as always.” He looked over, snow landing on his dark hair. “In the meantime, why not grab happiness with both hands right here and now?”
Quade nodded. “I have already decided to mate, yet I am sorry for the eternity she will be alone after I am gone.” Perhaps there would be a good stretch of time before they found Ulric. “She’s lonely already.” Which was the absolute truth.
Ronan cleared his throat. “Well, okay. Here’s the thing. There’s now something called a virus, like an illness, that can be injected into a mate to negate the mating bond.”
“Bullshit,” Quade said, partially turning and scattering snow.
“It’s true.” Ronan held up a hand. “So far, the virus has only been employed on those whose mates died a long time ago. It has never been used in a mate whose partner is still alive. We don’t know if it’d work under those circumstances.”
Quade shook his head. “Why the difference?”
Ronan shrugged. “Nobody knows yet. Perhaps once
a mate dies, and time goes by, the mating mark and chromosomal pairing disintegrates, making it possible for the virus to run its course. That’s the queen’s hypothesis, and it works for me.”
What the hell were chromosomal pairs? Quade was starting to greatly dislike this new world. “So you are saying that if I die, Haven could one day mate another?”
“Yep.” Ronan kicked back again, staring at the dark lake.
Somehow, that did not make Quade feel any better. He tipped back the rest of the alcohol, taking it all in and letting the warmth spread through him. Haven was his, damn it.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Haven swayed on her feet as she finished cleaning her brushes. Her eyes ached from being open too long, and her shoulders felt as if she’d been moving boulders all day. It had been at least twenty-four hours since she’d slept, and her body wanted to shut down.
“That’s beautiful,” Quade said, leaning against the doorjamb. Snow dusted his thick hair and dark T-shirt, molding the material to his hard-cut chest. A shadow covered his jaw, and his eyes had turned a deep aqua with a hint of more green than blue.
She didn’t have the energy to be startled. How long had he been watching her? “Thank you.” Turning, she stared critically at the oil painting of little Hope with her big blue eyes and cute pigtails. The girl was surrounded by pink trees, a wide beach, and a winding river with rocks in the middle. A green book was open on a rock, reflecting the sun.
“Where is that?” Quade murmured.
“I don’t know.” Haven set the brushes back into place. “Hope said she had a dream world, and my guess is that this might be it?”
He loped closer to the painting and studied the forest across from the beach. “The trees are lovely, but these shadows between them, are…”
“Ominous,” Haven said. She shivered and rubbed her arms to warm up. “I know.”
He moved to the next painting, which was of him standing in front of the window, this time shirtless. The scars across his heart were darkened, and his eyes had turned pure green, with no blue. Her body had hummed the entire time she’d been painting him, and sensual colors made up the background in swirls of deep red and blue with a splash of purple. Even now, as she looked at it, her heartbeat picked up, despite her exhaustion.
He partially turned to face her. “This is how you see me?”
As sexy and dangerous and strong? “Yes.” Her chin lifted. “I’m not ready to mate.” She probably wouldn’t ever be. She didn’t believe in forever…with anybody.
He finished the turn to face her squarely. “You need sleep.”
“Yeah.” She was half-asleep already, and denial didn’t seem worth the effort. “I thought you might want to sleep with me.” She’d been able to think about nothing else since painting his damn face. Every time he was near, and even when he wasn’t, he seemed to fill her mind. Or maybe her body. Either way, she was tired of fighting it.
He tilted his head, his eyes nearly turning the color of the ones in the painting. The atmosphere swelled and heated. “Just sleep?”
She smiled and her face grew warm. “No. We’re both consenting adults, and we’re attracted to each other. You know as well as I do that we’re going to act on that attraction again, so why not tonight?”
His gaze sharpened even as a small smile played across his generous mouth. The one she wanted on her again. “You make the situation sound so logical and planned.” He ran a broad hand through his thick hair in a gesture she was becoming familiar with, even though she didn’t know exactly what it meant. “You want me to keep this to myself.” He held up his palm.
Her entire body heated this time, just from looking at the mating brand. “Yes. Definitely keep that to yourself.” She still hadn’t figured out how the thing worked, but she believed him that mating was forever. Arousal slid through her, and she tried to quell it. Unsuccessfully. “If you’re next to me in bed, maybe you can awaken me if I get caught in the dream worlds again.” Was she really trying to talk him into sex? For Pete’s sake. “Or not. Maybe it’s a bad idea.”
“Oh, it’s definitely a good idea.” He pushed off from the doorway and held out a hand for her.
Well. Okay then. Her knees wobbled a bit as she walked toward him. Because she was tired. Yeah. That was it. She slid her hand into his, rubbing her palm against the mating mark. Desire slammed through her so fast she partially bent at the waist.
“You are exhausted,” he said, misinterpreting her reaction. Releasing her, he pivoted and swept her up.
She bounced once and settled against his rock-hard chest, desire blooming across every nerve inside her. This was too much.
He carried her through the suite to the bedroom, where he set her gently on her feet at the edge of a bed big enough for several people. Well, several humans. It was probably the exact right size for him. She looked up, unable to stop touching him. She sighed inside, where he couldn’t hear, at finally allowing herself the freedom to run her palms across his chest and down to his abs, counting each one. Truly incredible. “I don’t want you to think that I’m, well, too forward?” Had she ever been this awkward and turned on at the same time?
“I don’t.” He cupped the side of her face, the brand hot against her skin. “At some point, you will have to stop running from the inevitable. For the moment, I will humor you, but we will be mated. If you want to be logical about it, as it appears you do, mating me will give you skills to maneuver the dream worlds. Maybe even give me the skill to go in your place.”
She shook her head. “Nothing is for sure.”
He leaned down and kissed her nose, the muscles beneath her hands vibrating as he schooled himself to gentleness. “You will need to confront your fears, and I will help.”
The words took a second to register and then she leaned back, her neck prickling. “Oh, Quade. I have a lot of fears in this new world I’ve discovered. You are not one of them.”
His quick smile flashed a hint of fangs. “No? Then you’re not paying attention.”
He leaned down and kissed her, forcing her to swallow a quick retort. He tasted like mint. A lot of it. Then he went deeper, his mouth on hers, his body leaning over hers, and she forgot all about anything but him.
* * * *
Quade lifted Haven onto the bed, removing her shirt in one motion and revealing her full breasts. Too many impulses gathered inside him—need, lust, anger, patience—and he ignored them all as he finally kissed his woman. Down by the lake, he’d made the decision to mate, and once made, it was absolute. Her mouth felt soft and sweet beneath his, and when she moaned and kissed him back, his head nearly came off his body.
She tasted of oranges and woman and everything he never thought he’d have again. He’d give her time to reach her own decision, but the world pressed in with a sense of urgency that quickened his movements.
“Your shirt,” she said against his mouth, tugging on the hem.
Releasing her mouth, temporarily, he pulled the material over his head and dropped it to the floor.
The sound she made as her palms met his chest shot right to his balls. She sat all the way up, and those soft hands went to the clasp of his jeans.
Electricity zapped down his spine, and he took a step back, making quick work of the remainder of his clothing. He stepped free, nude and aroused.
Her eyes widened.
He would’ve laughed, but desire had become a pounding hunger that had to be appeased. Gentle. He had to be gentle. She lay back and shimmied out of her leggings, which were splattered with different colors of paint. Her hands went to her underwear, and he dropped to his knees, stopping her. “Let me.” His voice was so hoarse the words were unintelligible.
She paused and then rested her hands on the bedcovers.
He tucked his thumbs in the sides of the flimsy pink panties and drew them down her legs, kissing her thighs and knees a
s he did so. Then he levered himself up and placed a kiss right where she wanted it.
She jerked and sighed.
Her taste spurred him on, and he licked her, brushing his whiskers against the tender skin of her thighs. They trembled around him, and he smiled. He was hard and ready, but he’d hurt her if she wasn’t prepared. So he licked her again, taking his time, enjoying this slice of heaven after being in hell for so long.
Her body tightened, and an orgasm rolled through her, much faster than he’d expected. He prolonged her waves, licking her, finally letting her body ease onto the bed.
Then he maneuvered his way up her, enjoying the flush across her chest and face. “That was quick.”
She grinned, the smile slightly lopsided. “Let’s hope I don’t say that.”
Cute. His palm hurt as if he’d been stabbed with a hot poker, but he tried to stay in the moment and enjoy it with her. “You won’t.” He hoped. It had been centuries for him.
This moment was so intimate and sweet, he should find some words to say.
She cupped his jaw with both hands, sliding her palms along his whiskers and up to his hair to tug him down. His lips met hers, and she kissed him, her thighs widening and making more room for his hips.
He returned the kiss, his cock prodding her entrance insistently without his conscious intent. “Haven.”
“Quade.” She moved against him, her hardened nipples scraping across his chest. “It’s just sex. It’s okay.”
Nothing was just sex with her. How could she not see that? “All right.” Reaching down, he grasped her hip and pulled her off the bed. Then he penetrated her, going slowly, pausing several times until he could feel her relax around him. She was so small, he had to fight every instinct he owned not to shove all the way home.
Around him, she felt like heaven. Hot and wet and so tight. To feel such intense pleasure after lifetimes of pain and hell humbled him. Pulled much more from him than he was ready to give.
He withdrew and then thrust back in, holding himself back, going as slow as possible.
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