The king was up to something. He existed as his own force and she had to consciously fight the urge to gravitate toward him, to let that heat and power surround her. To think she’d almost had sex with him in the cave. Need still rumbled in her blood and her breasts ached for his mouth. She gave him a quelling look which he met with a raised eyebrow.
Two men sought his attention, and he turned toward them, flashing her a look containing a promise she could feel under her skin.
Relief filled her when his gaze released her. Tipping back her champagne, she emptied the glass, raising an eyebrow at the stunning dark haired vision coming her way. Woman’s intuition had whispered the porcelain skinned goddess in the flowing crimson gown would stop eyeing her across the room and make a move.
The low hum of voices across the ballroom dimmed as the woman reached Emma’s side in a cloud of rose scented perfume. “Rumor has it you’re the king’s mate.” Sharp gray eyes narrowed and crimson nails sharpened to dangerous points tightened around a champagne glass.
Emma tilted her head. “Emma Paulson.”
“Simone Brightston.” An odd energy containing more than mere female anger pulsed around the woman. Shifter? Witch? “Former lover to the king.”
Well damn. Emma had known the guy couldn’t have lived as a monk for centuries, but still, the truth slid between her ribs like a knife. She forced a slow smile. “Former? You mustn’t have been very good at it.”
A rustle of silk announced Cara’s arrival. “Good at what?” The curious tone belied the sharp gaze. Nothing like an overprotective sister to make things interesting.
An odd humming set up in Emma’s ears while an electric current cascaded through her flesh. Power—at home and comfortable within her body. She cut her eyes to the king who remained absorbed in his discussion. The energy came from inside her. Interesting. One day in his presence and her physiology had already altered. She’d have to watch that.
Emma inclined her head. “Cara Kayrs, meet Simone Brightston. Former lover to the king.”
Cara’s smile belonged in a toothpaste advertisement. “How indiscrete.” She turned to run her gaze across Dage where he stood speaking to the group of men. “Why in the world would you let a man like that go?” She pursed her lips. “Oh. He let you go. Sorry about that.” Honey would’ve melted in her mouth.
Simone sniffed. “Such a pity when a royal vamp slums it with humans.” The glacial eyes slit into luminous orbs as she eyed Emma up and down. “Of course, you’ve not actually mated. Maybe there’s hope for the monarchy yet.”
Emma had no plans to mate with Dage, but this woman needed a smack down. Emma scented the air. “What in the world is that smell?”
Cara tilted her head. “Brimstone. Yes, I believe it’s brimstone.”
“You’re a waste of my time.” Simone gave a short huff and pivoted on her heel to glide across the room, her hips swaying in tune with the orchestra.
Emma bit back a chuckle. “Brimstone? Seriously?”
Cara grinned. “I was inspired. What a bitch, huh?” She tilted her head. “I’m getting the oddest feeling from you right now.”
“How so?” The energy ebbed to a soft pulse within her.
“I don’t know. Not psychic or anything. Just different.” Cara paled. “We’ve certainly entered another world, haven’t we?”
Emma huffed out a laugh. “Yes. Vampires, shifters, and witches. Who knew?”
Cara wobbled on her heels, her hand going to her stomach. “Oh crap.”
Oh no. Emma knew that look. Not good timing. She grabbed Cara’s arm and hustled her out the door. Emma nearly tripped in her heels, her arm around Cara’s shoulders as they all but ran for Talen’s suite.
Cara had a hand clasped to her mouth, her eyes a panicked hue in her too pale face. “Hurry.”
The guards lining the way let them pass, more than one instantly tapping an earpiece to relay information. Cara threw open her door, kicked off her ruby heels and hustled past a surprised vampire to the bathroom where she fell to her knees. Emma barely made it in time to pull back her sister’s hair before the vomiting began.
The vampire, Max, had been babysitting Janie since she’d left the party after dinner. He immediately tapped his ear communicator.
Cara purged her stomach and Emma flushed the toilet, releasing the auburn curls to run a washcloth under water. She handed it to her sister, who wiped her mouth and sat back against the flowered wall. “Well, shit.”
Emma smoothed Cara’s hair back from her face, concern pooling in her stomach. “The ball was lovely.”
Cara’s lips trembled as she tried to grin. “Yeah. Dage’s speech was awesome. Very rah-rah, go Realm.” Her gold dress pooled on the marble floor, which matched her pasty face.
Emma grabbed her embellished skirt, jumping out of the way to avoid being run over by Talen.
“Cara?” His eyes widened in panic as he reached for her, lifting her in his arms. “Dage, get the car. We’re going to the hospital.”
Dage slid to a stop right behind his brother, his gaze fierce, his jaw set hard.
“Jesus.” Cara put her hand to her head, her gown spread over Talen’s arm like a princess in a fairy tale. “Stop freakin’ moving me, damn it.”
Emma slapped one palm on the vibrating muscle in his arm. “Put her back down, Talen. It’s okay. She was like this with Janie.” It was just morning sickness. It had to be.
Cara began to gag again and Talen dropped to his knees, still holding her over the bowl. Emma leaned in to tug her sister’s hair out of the way until she finished heaving.
Talen turned his molten gaze on Emma. “What should we do?”
“Put me the fuck down,” Cara muttered, grabbing the washcloth and wiping her face again.
“No.” Talen shifted, sliding down until he sat with his back against the wall, his love in his arms, his face pale. Being helpless clearly pissed him off.
Emma turned toward Dage and Max. “Order some herbal tea from room service. Orange Zing if they have it.”
Talen met his brother’s gaze. “I want the doctor here. Now.”
Dage nodded, his gaze concerned as it slid to Cara. “He’s on his way.” Max hurried off to call room service.
Cara rolled her eyes. “I don’t need a doctor. This is normal morning sickness for the love of Pete.”
Talen’s jaw firmed. “It’s not morning.”
Emma tried to fight a grin. Her poor sister had puked for three solid months while pregnant with Janie. If Talen reacted like this every time, the doctor might as well be on retainer. She cleared her throat. “Why don’t I help Cara out of her dress before the doctor gets here?”
Talen’s jaw hardened until it looked like granite. “No. We’re not moving until the doctor arrives.”
Emma gave her disgruntled sister a sympathetic smile, trying not to laugh. A knock on the door heralded the doctor.
Dage grasped her arm. “Emma and I will be in the gathering room next door awaiting the doctor’s prognosis.” He tugged her through the suite, giving a curt nod to a round man with bottle thick glasses before turning to the vampire guard. “Max, please wait in the living area until Talen has his head on straight.”
Max nodded, grabbing a book off the sofa table. “Probably take nine months,” he muttered.
Emma didn’t have time to protest before Dage whisked her through the door into a well-appointed gathering room complete with fireplace, stocked bar, and deep sofas. He poured them each a brandy, flipped on the fire, and handed her a glass. “Cheers.”
“Cheers.” She tipped back her drink and took a healthy swallow. “Cara is fine, Dage.” A niggle of doubt tickled the base of Emma’s neck. What if the pregnancy had happened too soon and Cara’s physiology hadn’t adapted enough for her to carry a vampire baby? She shrugged the fear off, forcing a smile.
“Then the doctor shouldn’t be there much longer.” Dage’s own smile appeared forced. “Talen is going to drive us all crazy for the next se
veral months, isn’t he?”
Apparently. “Let’s just say that when Cara was pregnant with Janie, I ended up running to the store for peppermint ice cream at midnight more than once.” Emma cleared her throat. She needed to conduct some tests on her sister.
Dage nodded. “I understand Janie’s father died in a car accident before she was born.”
Emma grasped the subject with relief. “Yes. Simon worked as a plant biologist for the same company where Cara worked.” He was a good man and a great friend to her sister. Certainly not the love of her life. Like Talen.
“So you took care of them. Like always.” The king’s eyes warmed.
Emma fought arousal from his lowered tone and shuffled her sore feet. They’d hit the point of dull ache in the heels until receding into numbness. She struggled to focus on anything else, not wanting to step out of the shoes. She needed all the height she could muster to face the king. Not that he didn’t have a foot on her, even with the heels. “Earlier I met someone named Prophet Milner.” The guy had parchment wrinkled skin over a bony face.
“Ah, yes. The prophets are our spiritual rulers—Milner is a couple thousand years old.” Dage swirled the amber liquid in his glass. “He considers me a young upstart.” Those damn dimples flashed and made her nipples harden.
Emma lifted a shoulder, taking a moment to control her libido by admiring the authentic C.M. Russell oil paintings. She loved western art. “You can go back to the ball if you want.”
“I don’t. Conn and Jase can deal with anything going on for the rest of the evening.” Dage glanced at a wall clock. “I mean morning.”
“Are you sure Jase and Conn are on the job? Jase was all over some cute young redhead.” Emma would bet almost anything Jase and the little shifter had headed off to get to know each other better.
Dage shrugged. “Maybe. But Conn’s mate is across the ocean, so his focus is pure.”
“Conn is mated?”
The muscles in Dage’s neck rippled as he swallowed some brandy. “Yes. He accidentally mated a witch about a century ago in northern Ireland.”
“Accidentally?” Emma bit back a laugh. “You mean he had a one night stand and ended up marking some girl?”
“Yep. And I think he’s coming to the end of his very impressive patience. I believe my brother is about to reclaim his mate, whether she’s ready or not.” Dage’s eyes heated.
Was there a warning in those words? The topic echoing around in Emma’s head shot to the surface. “I met Simone Brightstone. Shifter?” Emma swirled her own drink.
Dage narrowed his gaze. “Witch. In more ways than one.”
“Yet you dated her.”
“I was young and stupid. It lasted less than a month.”
“Really? That’s interesting, considering she’s about my age. You haven’t been young and stupid for quite some time, King.” Did he think she was a moron?
Dage grinned. “She’s a few centuries old, love. True witches—not those just practicing a religion—true witches are another species on earth. Immortal.”
Well, crap. “There’s no way to kill them?” How had humans missed this?
He laughed out loud. “Beheading or burning. Both methods will take care of a witch.” His eyes softened. “Again, I was young ... we weren’t a good match.”
Emma could understand that.
Dage eyed Emma’s blue and silver gown like a hungry tiger who’d spotted dinner. “I have to say, my taste has certainly improved through the years.”
The phone buzzed and Emma placed her drink on the sofa table, moving in a rustle of silk to the desk. “Yes? Okay. Tomorrow, then.” She replaced the receiver, pivoting to face Dage. “The doctor said Cara has morning sickness and to drink some tea before getting a good night’s sleep. He’ll check her in the morning.” The doctor would know, right? “Though, I’d like to conduct my own tests as soon as possible.” That sense of unease whirled in her brain. She couldn’t think rationally about her own sister. Cara had to be okay.
“Of course. Our lab will be ready soon.” Dage’s gaze warmed and wandered down her form and back up again.
Emma shifted her stance, an awareness beginning to weigh down the oxygen in the room. She fought to breathe normally and returned for her drink, her gaze on the king.
Firelight danced over the hard planes of his face like a lover in heat. Kissing, melting, landing. Silver eyes melted to liquid while he tracked her progress across the dusky room, his deceptively calm stance belying the vibration of muscle and power beneath his skin.
Stillness echoed around him as he stood near the daunting stone hearth; it was as if the air held its breath. For what she didn’t know. Wasn’t sure she wanted to know. She reacted to the tension, and lifted her chin in instinctive defiance.
Sharper gray flecks appeared in his eyes in response, and she wondered what ran through his mind. She stared back at him unblinkingly, her heart speeding up to knock uncomfortably against her ribs. Power blanketed him like the thickest of mantles even in the comfortable room. A wicked shiver of awareness wound leisurely down her spine.
He straightened and nodded toward the chair.
She didn’t move, continuing her perusal of him. His black hair was unbound and free about his massive shoulders. He’d tossed his jacket aside, his hard chest outlined nicely by the soft shirt. Through his slacks, his thick legs showed power in the bunched muscles. She tried not to notice the obvious bulge in the center of his groin; an impressive erection he did nothing to hide.
“Emma, we need to talk.” His voice was a low growl. Even with that spectacular body, his face commanded the most attention. Sharp planes threw deep hollows into dangerous darkness, the square jaw hinting at determination and the full lips promising the heated depths of wicked sensuality. The dark slashes of his brows and the irrationally long lashes unapologetically contrasted with the burning silver of his eyes.
“I know.” A breathiness coated her voice and she fought the urge to clear her throat. It wouldn’t help.
“Sit down.” This time he didn’t nod toward the chair.
She didn’t want to sit, needing to be on her feet to face the masculine power swirling around the room. “No.”
A simple word Dage hadn’t truly heard in over three hundred years.
Three feelings slammed into him simultaneously; the first was surprise, the second a grudging admiration, and the third was need. The need to dominate. It flashed through his blood with raw claws and struck harshly at his groin. Yet he deliberately turned and placed his brandy on the mantel before facing her squarely.
He reminded himself that he was a king, and control was his responsibility. But as his eyes slowly wandered down the deep shimmering gown that hugged her lush figure and brought out her incredible blue eyes, he knew with a man’s certainty control was merely a hopeful thought taught by those who knew better.
“Not used to the word no?” she asked with a hint of sarcasm.
He narrowed his gaze. “Most people wouldn’t dare.” The fact that she’d dared made him harder than he’d been in his long life. The urge to teach her the result of tempting his beast was one he’d satisfy. Without question.
“I would think most kings aren’t. However, you are not my king, either by birth or fealty.” Her eyes flashed with too much challenge for him to ignore.
He cocked his head to the side. She knew exactly the temptation she presented.
What the hell was she doing? Emma fought the urge to take a step back, knowing she might as well be shaking a red flag in front a raging bull. She couldn’t seem to help herself. “And I won’t take orders from you.”
The smile he flashed her was not kind, even with the flirtatious dimple winking for just a second. It was knowing, wicked, carnal. “Oh love, you misunderstand. It wasn’t the king demanding your obedience.” His muscles bunched like a predator before springing. “It was the man.”
“There’s a difference?” The urge to run spiked through her blood.
His mouth plundered hers. Gone was the sweet kiss of seduction he’d used in the cave or the teasing exploration of his tongue from earlier in the evening. Masculine need, demanding and strong, surrounded her as he swept inside her mouth, taking what he wanted.
Her world spun, and her mind swam. A sharp longing spiraled through her body to pinpoint in one vulnerable spot. She had to get away from him. She kicked out, not connecting well enough to do any damage.
He lifted his head. “You promised me a night, Emma. I’m collecting now.”
She slapped both hands against his chest, jerking her head back. “That was in the cave. This is different.”
“Is it?” He raised an eyebrow. “I can smell your desire right now. You want me, and you want this.”
True. She might’ve been able to fight the desire rushing through her nerves, but the curiosity was something else entirely. Would it be as good as in her dreams? Would he be as good as in her dreams?
“Better.” He lowered her until her stilettos met the floor. “This first time I take you, love, I’d rather it not be in a living room.”
She took a step back, her body trembling with need. God, she wanted this. Just one night. She could enjoy one night without becoming too attached. Or giving him false hope of a future. “The same rules apply. No marking and stay the hell out of my head.”
He sighed. “As you wish.” Grasping her hand in his, he led her to the door—where they smacked into Conn. “What the ...”
Conn glanced from Dage to Emma and back again. “Er, sorry bro. Prophet Milner wishes to speak with you.”
Dage pushed his brother out of the way, tugging Emma down the hallway to the staircase. “Tell him no.”
She had to practically run to keep up with him until they landed safely inside a plush bedroom complete with an extra large bed covered in shimmering silk. Dage snapped the lock into place, its click echoing around the room.
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