He ducked and dove through a damaged window, hitting the ground and rolling. Pain rode him hard, and he shoved all feeling down to deal with later.
Nick Veis nodded from a crouched position in the thick smoke. Blood covered his face and poured from several wounds along his neck. He grunted before straightening to shoot through the window. “Nice of you to join us.” A bomb went off in the distance, and wooden beams dropped from the ceiling.
Zane ducked and crab-walked closer to the shards of glass. He smelled Kurjan. “Gun.”
Nick spun a laser weapon through burned embers on the floor.
Zane clasped the handle, rose up, and fired a volley of shots toward the tree line. “How badly are you hurt?”
“Not bad,” Nick groaned, leaning against a side wall. “Just need a minute to repair the damage.”
“Humph.” Metal glinted in the forest, and Zane took aim, neatly hitting his target. Kurjan blood sprayed. “Status?” Zane asked.
Nick grunted as a bullet hole closed next to his trachea. “Status? Our status is that a holy fuck of a shit-storm has descended upon the demon nation.”
Zane nodded and took aim again. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t shut the bullet wounds in his shoulder after having just teleported. The best he could accomplish was stemming the blood flow. “Kalin didn’t like Suri’s double-cross today?”
“No.” Nick kept low and took position on the other side of the destroyed window. “The second we attacked the vampire helicopters and tried to kill Janet Kayrs, the Kurjans figured out our double-cross and attacked us here.” He dodged as a series of green bullets ripped by his chest. “Suri promised Kalin delivery of Janet Kayrs on a platter, and the Kurjan wants to feast.”
Zane grimaced. “Gross.”
“There’s more.” Nick leaned up to take a shot.
“There’s always more.” Zane fired a series of shots into the forest, listening closely for any impact. His head reeled, and his knees weakened. Teleporting three times in an hour after just getting shot had taken too much of a toll. He needed protein and fast.
Nick paused as another explosion rocked the earth. “After we shot out their helicopters, the vampires immediately struck back, hitting us in Eastern Europe, Africa, Iceland, and Florida.”
“Florida?” Zane wiped grime out of his eyes.
“Yeah. How they discovered our holdings there is beyond me.” Nick drew a smartphone from his pocket. “No updates.”
That wasn’t good. “So Suri’s double-cross put us in the crosshairs of the vampires and the Kurjans.” Zane took a deep breath and then coughed out soot and powder. He had to find his mother and youngest brother. “Any chance they’ll gang up on us?”
“Sure. Why the hell not?” Nick lifted the phone to his ear. “Suri? What is going on?”
Zane frowned.
Nick nodded as he listened. “Keep us apprised.” He slid the phone back into a pocket.
“Well?” Zane rubbed his still damaged shoulder and tried again to close the wounds. No luck, but the blood flow trickled.
“Suri and Kalin are communicating now. The vampires are so pissed, they’re attacking worldwide with shifter and witch backup. The Kurjans need us to counter, and it looks like we need them now, too—regardless of our double-cross.” Nick spit out blood.
Dread dropped like a lead weight into Zane’s gut. “Janie will be the bargaining chip. Kalin won’t deal this time unless it’s a guarantee and we hand her over.”
All sounds of a fight stopped outside.
Nick’s eyebrows rose. “Apparently Suri and Kalin are reaching an agreement.” He wiped off his neck. “Were you successful in your mission?”
“Yes. Janie is safe.” Zane studied Nick. Just how much could he trust the older demon? “How about you?”
A bullet popped out of Nick’s jaw to ping across the dirty floor. “Logan is fighting in southern Africa, and I should have a location on him soon. I haven’t found any trace of your mother, but I will. Sam is prepared to move on orders.”
Zane dropped down to lean against the soot-covered wall. “What’s the Intel on Janie and the vampire helicopters?”
Nick slid a fresh clip into his weapon. “Total damage on the helicopters and several yellow parachutes with shooting vampires as they plunged into the ocean. Their backup arrived amazingly fast, so I assume no deaths. Good injuries, though.”
“And Janie?” Zane whispered.
“No news.” Nick grinned. “The Kurjans and your uncle are afraid the vampires got her to safety.”
Zane’s shoulders relaxed. “So we’re the only two who know that I have Janie safe.”
“Well, and the vampires must know you captured her. But they’re not talking.” Nick slid down to sit.
No, the vampires would be waiting for Zane to make demands. While they attacked the hell out of every demon stronghold in the world, that is. “So much for the peace talks.”
His phone buzzed, and he glanced at the face. “Sam?”
“What the hell is going on?” Sam sounded beyond pissed. “We were just besieged by both vampires and Kurjans, who then turned on each other. It’s fucking chaos in Iceland.”
“Hang tight and duck low.” Zane stretched to his feet. “You’ll be out of there shortly. As soon as I find Logan, I need you to get him.” Sam could teleport, unlike either their mother or Logan. “Be ready, and if you need to flee, do it.”
“I’m not fleeing.”
Zane nodded. His younger brother was a warrior and a loyal one. He’d fight to the death. Pride and fear filled Zane at the thought of losing Sam. If they all made it out of the current mess, it’d be a miracle. “Stay safe—I need you.” He ended the call, searching for a miracle.
The phone buzzed again, and Zane read the face. “Suri wants us.”
Nick shoved to his feet. “He’s holed up in the center of the building.” No expression crossed Nick’s face, but judgment echoed in his words.
Zane nodded in agreement. “Any chance you want to lead the demon nation?”
“Fuck no. You?”
“No.” Zane shoved damaged beams out of the way to hustle to the heart of the whorehouse—the private bar area. “Neither does my mother, unfortunately.” He loped inside to find Suri pacing the wall before a blank screen. “I told you not to double-cross the Kurjans.”
Suri slowly turned, his eyes a burning black. “Where have you been?”
“Scouring wreckage for Janet Kayrs,” Zane growled. “Then I was fighting downstairs, defending this place, as you were . . . in here.”
Nick shut the door behind them.
Suri snarled. “I was negotiating with Kalin for another chance at peace and to double our efforts against the vampires. It’s time to take them all out.”
Zane’s head jerked up. “Did you manage to kill any of them?” God, he hoped he wouldn’t have to break bad news to Janie.
“No.” Suri shook his head. “Our sources indicate we injured several of the vampires, but nobody died. We didn’t really expect anybody to die from bombing their transport.”
“No. You did expect Janet to die, however.” Zane’s fingers clenched with the need to slam his fists into Suri’s face.
Suri nodded. “Yes, well . . . that didn’t work out. So we’ll have to go with Plan B for sure.”
Zane’s blood chilled. “What did you promise Kalin?”
“Janet Kayrs, of course.” Suri clasped his hands behind his back. “If she survived the attack, then she’s back at the vampire headquarters in Oregon. You can teleport, and you can find her there.”
“Or what?” Zane asked softly.
Suri flashed sharp fangs. “You have twenty-four hours to bring Janet Kayrs here. One minute after that deadline, and I have your mother killed. Painfully.”
Janie finished stashing knives around the tidy cabin, her mind spinning. She’d wrapped her bare feet in kitchen towels and climbed outside to the top of the cabin, but only trees and snow had met her gaze. A lone ant
elope had wandered by, and several birds had flown above. Weren’t they supposed to fly south?
Finally, with shudders racking her body, she’d climbed down and headed inside to warm up when it had become too dark to see. When feeling had returned to her feet, she had to bite back tears, but she wouldn’t allow them to fall.
She had to get home.
Was her father all right? He had to be. So did her uncles. The idea of losing one of them, so close to the end of the war, sliced a sharp pain through her heart. They’d protected her for decades, and it was her turn to protect them. Somehow. By doing whatever it was she was meant to do.
Which couldn’t happen in the wilds of Alaska—if she really was in Alaska.
The silly kitchen blades she’d hidden might harm Zane, but she couldn’t force him to teleport her home. Frustration filled her until she couldn’t help tapping her foot. Several deep breaths calmed her until she could plan. She glanced out the double-pane window to the quiet world outside. Still and silent with only snow pummeling down. As if just waiting for her to look, the wind picked up, whistling an eerie tune through the trees as the world turned darkly white. A tantrum of freezing cold and no visibility.
She’d never make it to safety if she ventured out.
The fire crackled, warming the interior. A hand-stitched quilt covered the inviting bed, and carved cupboards made up the kitchen walls. The space would be very comfortable if she hadn’t been kidnapped.
Was this Zane’s getaway?
The area smelled of fresh cleansers, pine, and something indefinitely male. For years she’d wondered at his scent. In dream worlds, she hadn’t been able to smell him, but now that she’d transported through dimensions, his scent all but covered her. Something outdoorsy and free, like a forest right before spring. Dark, dangerous, and ready to live.
Even as furious and determined to get home as she was, her body felt electrified. Alive as if for the first time.
The air fizzled by the door. She stood, reaching for a knife tucked in her back pocket. Her heart kicked right back into full gallop. Sparkles zipped through the oxygen.
Zane plunged to the ground and impacted the polished wood floor with a resounding boom. He groaned and rolled to his feet. Both dark eyebrows rose at her defensive stance. “You going to stab me?”
She tightened her grip on the handle, fighting relief that he’d returned. “Would it do any good?”
“No.” His eyes sizzled an electric green, and harsh grooves cut into the sides of his generous mouth. Power and tension vibrated from him. All of his earlier humor had disappeared, leaving a full-grown, battle-scarred, pissed-off male. Though he remained still, his stance whispered he could pounce at any second. Fast and without warning. “Put the knife away.”
An order. Definitely an order.
Janie was accustomed to dealing with angry vampires, but this one was different. This one looked at her as if he’d either like to eat her alive or toss her on the bed. She swallowed. Her abdomen fluttered, and her breasts grew heavy. The cabin suddenly shrank in size, overwhelmed by Zane. She kept her stance steady, studying him, and then gasped. “You’re injured.”
“Yes.” He held her gaze. “Either put the knife away or attack. Let’s get this over with.”
Chapter 9
Stabbing Zane wouldn’t get her home. Janie slowly slid the blade into her back pocket, trying to banish concern over his bleeding chest without success. “Who shot you this time?”
“The Kurjans are irritated Suri double-crossed them.” Zane snapped open his black vest, dropped it on the floor, and then yanked his shirt over his head, turning to stride into the kitchen.
Janie’s mouth dried up. Smooth, hard, predatory muscles shifted in Zane’s back as he moved. He’d always been big, but seeing him in person, seeing his ripped, corded body in real time, stole her breath. The sweet boy had grown into a magnificent creature. “Are you more vampire or demon?” she whispered as he retrieved a first-aid kit from beneath the wide sink.
He turned and dropped into one of two kitchen chairs, which creaked under his weight. “Hell if I know. Add in a feline shifter as a great-grandmother and a wolf shifter several generations back, and I don’t belong with any race.” Loneliness flashed across his face to be quickly banished as he removed a set of pliers from the box.
Wow. Such a pedigree made for an explosive combination. Although he certainly shared his genetics with his brothers, he seemed so alone. An island in the middle of nowhere and responsible for everyone. Without even taking a breath, he shoved the pliers into his flesh.
Janie rushed forward, panic heating her lungs. “What in the world are you doing?” She wrapped her hand on top of his, not coming close to covering it.
He stilled and glanced down at her hand to look back up. Curiosity filtered through his gaze. “Teleporting weakens me, and I can’t shove out the bullets. So I’m removing them.”
Oh. Not for one second had he even thought to ask for assistance. That idea saddened her more than the fact that he’d been shot twice in a day. She gently pushed his hand off the tool. The man needed to learn how to accept help. “Take a deep breath and hold it, remaining perfectly still.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “You know how to remove a bullet?”
“Of course. My life is surrounded by war, Zane.” She studied the wound. Circular and small. His vest had done the trick and protected him from a through-and-through. “Did you think I just hung out and did yoga all the time?”
He shrugged and winced as his shoulder pulled on the wound. More blood slid out. “I guess we don’t know much about each other’s real lives, now do we?”
“Apparently not.”
“I, ah, imagined you more involved in the intellectual side of the Realm. Planning and strategizing.”
Her upper lip twisted. “Didn’t see me getting my hands dirty, did you?”
“Bloody.” He leaned back in the chair and stiffened. “Your hands are bloody, sweetheart.”
“Not for the first time.” Probably not for the last, either. She took a deep breath to settle herself and slowly probed inside the wound, trying to get a good grip on the bullet.
Zane didn’t twitch. Only watched her with that thoughtful gaze that flared all her girly parts to life.
As gently as possible, she drew out the first bullet. While she winced, he didn’t move, although his tissue tore. So she went to work on the second bullet. “You’re doing great,” she murmured.
He gripped the table. “I checked on your family. No deaths after the attack this morning. Everybody is fine.”
Relief caught in her solar plexus, and she stopped probing until her hands regained steadiness. “Are you sure?” Her voice thickened.
“I’m sure.” He reached up with his free hand and brushed a curl off her cheek.
Thank God. She blinked back tears and kept working. Even though the scent of copper hung in the air, and the sense of danger threaded the oxygen, intimacy filtered through the small cabin and kept her voice soft. They were alone in the middle of nowhere. Although administering first aid, her body began to hum from his nearness. She struggled to find something to talk about. “The demons in rafts shot a mental attack up at us. You countered the pain and terrible images for me?” she asked.
“Yes.”
She nodded and forced herself to remain calm. “Can you attack minds?”
“I can, but I choose not to rip into people’s brains.” His voice lowered a little on the last.
“So if you wanted, you could crush my mind.” Although she trusted him, the idea of anyone holding that kind of power stole her breath and set her nerves on alert.
He cleared his throat. “Yes, but I fight with my body and don’t play mind games.”
She paused and glanced at his implacable face. In times of war, why would anyone ignore an advantage? “Why?”
“So I’m not like him. Ever.” Vulnerability flashed for a second in Zane’s emerald eyes before being veiled.
“Yes.” Zane’s monotone said more than if he’d shouted the words.
The need to offer comfort gentled her movements. If only he’d share his pain and let her heal him. He seemed so alone that pangs attacked her heart, but she continued working, instinctively knowing he wouldn’t appreciate her seeing his hurts.
A twist of her wrist captured the second projectile. Only a twitch of his jaw showed his pain. Man, he was tough.
After removing the bloody bullet, she covered the wounds with gauze, pressing lightly against his chest. His hard-as-steel chest.
“Thank you,” he said softly.
The intimacy of the moment wound around them, filling her head. She set down the pliers and began to move back. A broad hand wrapping around her hip stopped her.
She stilled, energy rushing down her torso.
They were alone and in real time. No dreams, no fantasies, just reality.
Zane stood, brushing warmth against her front. So much taller and bigger than she was. He slid his free hand along her jaw to the nape of her neck, tilting her head up. Keeping her in place.
She wanted to say something, but words fled. Instead, she lost herself in his green gaze, finally dropping her concentration to his full lips. Intrigue, curiosity, and need kept her still.
Just one. Just one kiss.
Right now, in person, just to feel if any of her dreams could become real.
He lowered his head slowly, adding anticipation to the moment. As if waiting two decades wasn’t long enough. “Belle?” he asked, his breath brushing her lips.
“Yes.” She stepped into him, stretching up to meet his mouth, her hand flattening against his bare abs.
The second their lips met, something clicked into place deep inside her.
He made a sound low in his throat—a sound of welcome. Then he immediately took control. Firm lips curved over hers, taking and forcing her to feel. Too much. Definitely too much.
But it was too late to turn back.
As he hauled her closer, her breasts flattened against his chest. Sparks flew from her nipples to her sex. His grip tightened along with every nerve inside her body. Sensation after sensation bombarded her as his tongue tangled with hers, pushing deep, retreating, and demanding. Desperation and loneliness colored his touch, along with hunger.
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