An answering smile flirted with Dage’s full lips. “You’ve been working on diplomacy, haven’t you?”
“Yes.” Someday she’d have to use it all the time on the council. Unfortunately.
“Keep working on it.” Conn leaned closer to the computer screen. “I’ll explain the danger of the new breed of werewolf, and our training schedule.”
“It’s about control,” Moira muttered. “Our people ally with yours. We don’t answer to you.” So much for diplomacy.
“No. The stakes are so high, we all need the right training.” Dage frowned. “Who’s spinning my request in such a manner?”
The entire council. Moira eyed Kell across the aisle. Damn man should wake up and help her out. “We train our own soldiers, King.”
“We’ll see about that.” Dage cut his gaze to his brother. “Why am I getting the feeling more is at play here?”
“Your instincts are spot on. What I understand so far”—Conn aimed a glare her way—“is that somebody has learned to transport people against their will.”
“Excuse me?” The king stepped closer to the camera.
“A portal of sorts opened up and tried to yank Moira through. I figure it’s close to teleporting.”
Dage frowned. “Only a few of us in the world have the ability to transport through dimensions and arrive somewhere else, Conn.”
“I know. Could you transport someone if they weren’t doing it with you?”
“No.” Dage gazed into the distance. “Transporting is jumping between dimensions.” He focused back on them. “Moira, the specialty of quantum physics the witches master is similar. Have your people been experimenting?”
Conn stiffened, and Moira kept her focus on the king. “No. We use energy to alter the state of matter on a subatomic level. Pure science, Dage. You manipulate time more in line with string theory. The two are totally different.” But, well ... science was science.
“What if both happened at once?” Conn asked.
Moira shrugged. “Then an incredible amount of power might be released. Perhaps enough to yank someone through dimensions from a remote location.” The person doing the transporting would be drained of energy for long afterward. The idea explained the gap in time between disappearances of council members. A fact she was under strict orders not to reveal.
“Anything you want to tell us, Moira?” the king asked softly.
Even across the distance, a prickle set up at the base of her skull. She slammed shields shut and smiled. “I’m a well-trained witch, King. Stay out of my head.” While she considered Dage a friend, akin to family, her head stayed closed.
Dage glanced at Conn.
“He can’t get in, either,” Moira said. As her mate, he had a good chance of getting past her mental shields soon. They’d only been in the same vicinity for about two hours, and already she sensed his feelings. Pure, pissed-off male. That was nothing compared to the fury she’d meet if he breached her shields and read her thoughts.
“Yet.” Conn’s threat hung in the air. “Though I can tell you the council is circling the wagons and has recalled the enforcers. In fact”—he frowned, his gaze on her—“Moira here isn’t nearly as surprised as she should be that someone tried to take her. I’m thinking this isn’t the first attempt.”
“Is it the Kurjans, Moira?” Dage asked, his jaw hard. A white-faced, red-haired vampire race afraid of the sun, they had created the virus in order to steal vampire mates.
“I don’t know who it is.” She truly didn’t. The Kurjans were more likely to show up with an armored tank than manipulate time and dimensions. Too subtle.
“This is the first I’ve heard of the ability to open dimensions in such a manner.” Her jaw firmed as she glanced at Conn. “In addition, it’s the first time someone has tried to transport me.”
“What about others? Has anyone else been taken?” Conn went for the jugular.
The damn man should’ve been a barrister. “Not to my knowledge.” The lie rolled smoothly off her tongue.
“You’re a terrible liar, Dailtín.” Conn turned back toward his brother. “Anything new on the demon front?”
Dage exhaled. “No. While they declared war eight months ago, they have yet to make a move ... unless this new transport business is their first strike.” He rubbed a finger in the cleft of his chin. “The demons fight by messing with images in the brain ... as well as traditional weapons. I’m not sure I envision them playing with physics.”
Conn angled the monitor. “My guess is it’s witches or ... well ... us. Maybe a vampire with the ability. But if you think about it, the Kurjans studied biology the last three hundred years, preparing the virus. Maybe they’ve branched out to quantum physics.”
His frown bracketed hard lines at the sides of his mouth. “Moira has been summoned by the council. Then I’ll get the truth about other disappearances from my mate.” He cleared his throat. “I need you to make a phone call, Dage.”
Dage’s expression remained like stone, yet blue shot through the silver of his eyes. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Consider it done.” The king clicked off.
What in the blazes was that about? Moira turned toward Conn. “Care to explain?”
Arrogance stamped into every line of his chiseled face. “No.” He snapped the laptop closed, glancing out the window. “Dublin looks stunning.”
“Yes.” Dublin stood as the cleanest city in the world with a mixture of ancient and modern architecture. Yet the economy of Ireland as a whole kept spiraling downward. True proof the council was in trouble. “You haven’t been here for a century, Conn.” A tiny bit of irritation crept into her voice.
He clasped his hand over hers, tugging until her palm rested against his hard thigh. Heat flared right to her heart. “I needed an ocean between us to keep from taking you, Moira.”
Baloney. He’d walked away and hadn’t looked back. Maybe if she’d had some experience or something, he’d have stayed. But he’d been her first and only. She shook her head. “We don’t even know each other.” They’d had sex one night and had ended up mated for life. In fact, it wasn’t until the last ten years that he’d contacted her. Formally at first, then with some ease.
He sighed. “You were so young. I understood you needed to grow into the leader you’re meant to become.” His hand tightened over hers. “But time’s up.”
The man wasn’t getting it. Her nails clutched into his leg. “You don’t need to do this. Fate can’t force us into anything.” He had to stop touching her. It’d been a century since she’d had sex, and her body was on fire. The second he’d marked her, he’d ruined her for all other men. Literally. Vampires were male only. Once mated to a vampire, the woman became untouchable by any other male. An allergy of sorts.
“I want to take you home.”
“You do not.” The words slipped out before she could bite them back. Heat climbed into her face. She kept her gaze straight ahead.
He grasped her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tugging her to face him. A puzzled frown settled between his dark eyebrows. “You can’t possibly believe I wanted to stay away from you for an entire century.”
She blinked. Twice. Vulnerability tightened her stomach. Pure stubborn pride tightened her shoulders.
His expression smoothed out, his hold firm on her jaw. “Well, now.”
“You can’t tell me you weren’t relieved the council forced you to your own continent.” Maybe he’d deny it. A stupid, soft voice echoed the plea in her head.
He exhaled, blowing out air and glancing to the side. “Maybe a little. At first.” He focused back on her. “The marking caught me off guard. The night we shared ... I don’t usually lose control. Ever, actually.”
She knew he’d been relieved and even understood it a little bit. Yet, something ached deep inside. The marking. “Me either. So let’s ignore the marking and tell fate to bugger off.”
“Moira.” The softness of his tone provid
ed warning and set goose bumps jumping on her skin. “Forget fate.” His gaze held hers. “I made you mine and I’m taking you home.”
Irritation and dread comingled in her gut. “You don’t really mean that. I need to stay here.”
“No, you don’t.” He released her face to glance at his wristwatch. “The nine members of the council are spread across the globe. You can work from anywhere.”
She bit back a sharp retort. He needed something she couldn’t give. “What do you see happening here, Conn? We head back to your home, I work via the net and you go off and fight wars?”
“Yes.” He slipped the laptop into a dark sleeve, perching it on the floor. “I understand you’ll need to travel sometimes for work, and that’s okay. But I also envision children, and you staying safe and protected.” His shoulder took up half of her seat when he relaxed back in the chair. “Of course, kids are a long way off. After we win the war. For now, I thought you’d want to settle in.”
Oh, if he only knew. She struggled to keep from smacking him on the head. How could a being with advanced intelligence be such a moron? Her shoulders shrugged against the walls closing in.
The helicopter rushed over the streets of Dublin. Soon the setting sun sparkled off the Liffey River as they maneuvered, hovered, and finally touched down on the roof of one of the new buildings. Conn raised an eyebrow. “We’re going to Kell’s place?”
Moira shifted in her seat as the pilot cut the engine. “Not exactly.” Well, kind of. Kell lived there, too. She unbuckled her belt. “You haven’t been here, have you?” If the vampire had been on her continent, she would’ve sensed him.
Conn slid the door open. “No. I’ve mailed information to Kell here before. As well as new weapons for the enforcers.” He jumped out.
She’d used a couple of those. Accepting his outstretched palm, she leaped to the ground, ignoring the strength in the vampire’s broad hand. Tingles cascaded up her arm. She jerked back, barely refraining from rubbing her palm on her jeans. The natural musty smell from the river wafted in on a light breeze, and she ducked her head to run across the gravel to the blue metal door.
Kell beat her there, opening it and gesturing her inside. The rubber soles of her tennis shoes beat silently down the five steps to the interior door, which she pushed open to reveal a large, rather empty foyer for three penthouse apartments.
“Be ready in fifteen minutes, Moira. We need to stop by The Squid on the way,” Kell said, striding toward the east apartment and shoving open the door without looking back. The click of the bulletproof door shutting echoed against the marble tiles.
Should she turn? Or just act casual? Kayrs was about to be in her apartment, her private domain. He stood behind her, his silence heavy with question. She understood enough about him to know he wasn’t going to like the answers. Steeling her shoulders, she loped to the west apartment and opened the door.
He followed her inside, bringing the masculine scent of gunpowder and sage into her space. A low whistle escaped him at the sun setting over the sparkling view of the Liffey. “Beautiful.” The door shut behind him, and she held back a nervous hop.
The scent of lemon hung in the living room, the tables polished a deep brown. Plush pillows she’d spent days choosing with her sisters were scattered across the room. With a sweep of her hand, they lifted to line up perfectly on the leather sofa and matching seats. Moira cleared her throat. “Ah, make yourself at home, Connlan. I’ll be a minute.”
How she’d get him to stay in the apartment and not follow her to the meeting was beyond her. She’d need to knock him out. Quantum physics and magic wouldn’t work—she needed a brick.
“Moira.” Low and soft, his voice caressed nerves across her skin.
Her shoes squeaked when she pivoted to face him. “Yes?”
He more than overwhelmed the small entryway, his combat boots looking lethal on the white marble. Cocking his head to the side, he took in the tumbled stone fireplace with the northern seascape painted by her sister Brenna perched above the mantel. “You live here?”
“Sometimes. It’s easier to stay here when I’m teaching at the college than go home to the cottage.” Though teaching wasn’t why she owned a condo in Dublin. “I’ll hurry, Conn. Grab a beer from the fridge.” She needed to get a move on. The man would have to fend for himself.
Scurrying to her bedroom, she closed the door, wasting precious moments to lean back and sigh. The deep maroon comforter her sisters had given her as a housewarming present beckoned her to jump inside and hide—like they let her do when she was four. Her light scent of lilac perfume, specially made by her sister Molly, hung in the air and propelled her to action. Quick movements had her at the closet, tearing out the appropriate clothing. She hurried to change.
The laptop dinged on Darcy’s hand-me-down desk in the corner.
Dread wound down her spine. Tugging her top into place, she crept across the room and answered the call. “Hello, Vivienne.”
Vivienne Northcutt, head of the Coven Nine, gave a curt nod. “Moira.”
“Kell and I are on our way, ma’am.” Moira glanced at the antique clock ticking away the minutes on her bedside table. She’d found it at old Malley’s garage sale the year before, and the darn thing was always five minutes slow.
“I’m issuing a formal order for you to bring Connlan Kayrs to the meeting today.” Not by one flick of an eyelash or catch in her voice did the leader let on this was anything but astounding news.
Moira gasped. Her heart thumped hard. “That’s impossible.” The security developed by the witches in protecting their leaders was unbeatable—even by the ultimate vampire soldier. “I don’t understand.” But she did. The ramifications all but slapped her across the face.
Vivienne pursed thin lips in a parchment white face. “I think you do.”
Temper threatened to flare and Moira shoved anger down. “Then why would you ask this?”
Fire flashed in the witch’s coal black eyes. “The king requested his brother’s presence at our meeting today. I am acquiescing to the king’s wishes.”
Ah. The phone call Conn had asked Dage to make. Moira shook her head. Absolute panic ripped through her system. “He’ll die.” While vampires were difficult to kill, even Conn wouldn’t survive trying to reach the council.
“Maybe.” Viv drew air into her lungs loudly. “I explained that fact to Dage, but he insisted Conn would survive our security because of the mating ... which he might.”
Moira smoothed out her expression. Did the Nine know of Conn’s abilities? “Do you believe our mating has given Conn powers vampires don’t usually possess?”
Viv could give lessons in donning smooth expressions. “We’ve considered the possibility since your mating. But, well, no. Not unless he’s spent the last century studying our ways.” She sniffed.
It was exactly what Conn had done.
“I see.” Realization settled heavily on Moira’s shoulders. “So you expect him to die today.” It was certainly a possibility. Being able to harness her energy didn’t mean he could pass through the veil. “Quite the strategy, Aunt Viv.” Moira shook her head. Even more than usual, she dreaded the day she’d sit on the council.
“Strategy?” Viv lifted her eyebrows.
“Conn dies and it’s the king’s fault.” Moira grabbed a moonstone bracelet off the table, clasping the silver around her wrist. “The Nine withdraws from the Realm ... or the Realm kicks us out. Either way ... it’s smooth for you.” They couldn’t withdraw from the Realm. What was the council thinking?
Viv’s eyes darkened. “Quite the strategic thinker, aren’t you, Seventh?”
Oh, her aunt had no idea. Fear forced Moira to lower her voice to keep from stuttering. “We don’t want the Kayrs family as enemies, Viv. You should’ve told Dage no.”
“Refusing the king’s request would’ve been tantamount to withdrawal, and we’re not ready to take that step.” A dark flush slid up Vivienne’s face. “We shall worry about t
he consequences later.”
“Consequences?” Fire rushed through Moira’s veins. “Aunt Viv—”
“Enough.” Electric green energy crackled on Vivienne’s skin. “Moira, you are the seventh sister of the seventh sister. You were born to lead this council, and you’ve taken an oath to obey our laws.” Her narrow nostrils flared as she settled her face into firm lines. “These type of difficult decisions will face you every day.”
The weight of destiny almost knocked Moira to the ground. The rush of anger kept her standing. “If Conn doesn’t make it through the veil, the vampires will be the least of the coven’s worries.” Reaching out, she cut the line. An empty threat, unfortunately.
She considered calling Dage and quickly discarded the thought. The king would back up his brother. Her only choice was to deal directly with Conn.
Chapter 4
Conn swallowed another gulp of Guinness, his gaze on the inside of Moira’s refrigerator. Everything was lined up neatly and by color. Beer to the left, limes to the right. Sodas on the second shelf, condiments, lined up by size, on the first. Weird. Shouldn’t he know this about her? They’d been mated for nearly a century. He knew what kinds of food she liked because she’d told him in a recent conversation, though he had no clue she was nutty with her food organization.
Nutty and far too vulnerable for his peace of mind. He’d hurt her by agreeing to the coven’s demands a century ago. How had he missed that? Maybe because the relief in being given time to deal with the overwhelming feelings of possession and need that had clawed at him.
When he’d left Ireland, his heart had firmly stayed in her delicate hands. She owned him—body and soul. Distance had assisted him in finding peace. Time had given him a chance to plan. He was older and wiser ... and was not letting go of her, so the woman had better find peace with that.
He closed the door, leaving the peaceful kitchen with its ocean fresh walls and burnished oak cabinets—original Jono Dungs, a master craftsman for the last two hundred years. Wide steps had Conn in the living room. The jewel tones she’d chosen spoke of sensuality and sex. It was much different than her sweet cottage with the homemade quilt he’d visited so many years ago. The cottage belonged to a girl. This room, well now. It belonged to a woman.
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