Dage.
Could she still be dreaming?
His silver gaze ran over her before a sharp burst of green light ripped into his collarbone, throwing him back into the rushing air.
“No,” Emma shouted as he fell, his large body half outside the helicopter. The massive bird teetered for a moment, then regained its course. She lunged forward, grasping his arms. Or tried to; his biceps were too big. Her nails bit into his flesh as she wrapped both hands around his left arm and pulled.
The Kurjan in the copilot’s seat stopped firing his weapon, probably afraid to injure her. She was the prize, after all.
Dage eased back inside, attempting to shield her with his body.
She pushed at his uninjured shoulder, leaning down to yell in his ear. “Get behind me.”
His eyes flashed fire even while his upper lip quirked. “You get behind me.”
She gave a sharp shake of her head and shoved at him again. The wind screamed a warning outside, waiting for its next victim. Dage didn’t budge. He grabbed the gun off the floor, pointed it at the copilot, and fired.
The Kurjan ducked, but the light green bullets ripped through the front windshield, allowing pure rays of sunshine to cascade inside. He screamed a shrill protest, throwing his hands up. The helicopter swerved and the pilot regained control, edging his body away from the sun and toward the side of the craft, his trembling fingers clenching the controls.
The copilot continued to scream in pain. The smell of burned hair and sizzling flesh filled the small space, and Emma fought the urge to vomit.
Like a rat fleeing a tomcat, the copilot scrambled over his seat, landing with a hard thud on the floor. His pasty-white skin melted down his face. Raw red blisters sprang up across abused flesh. Sharp yellow fangs protruded from his wide open mouth, while the rushing wind stole any sound he made.
Quick as a whip, Dage reached forward and grabbed him around the neck, tossing him toward the gaping hole. The Kurjan hit the side of the hatch, the impact rocking the small craft. Clutching both long-clawed hands into the floor, he tried to inch way away from the deadly opening. Dage shot one large flak boot into the Kurjan’s battered face, and the copilot fell into the sun. Then Dage shifted, pointing the gun at the pilot’s head.
The pilot aimed his purple gaze over his shoulder, sharp canines flashing in a dare. Kill him, and they would all die.
Dage grabbed Emma close and fired, striking the Kurjan in the head. He fell forward onto the stick, the metal bird spun, and shot for the earth.
Emma clutched Dage’s shoulders, and then ... nothing.
It was as if they traveled through a vacuum—no sound, sight, smells—just ... nothing. Except the vague sense of Dage. Power and safety but shrouded.
Reality crashed back followed by Dage’s hiss of pain. He released her to fall onto spongy grass, and she shut her eyes against the glare of the sun. The smell of wet pine and moist earth filled her nose.
The world spun. She opened her eyes, and the world spun more. Dage stood with his knees bent, held upright by ... a tree limb? A protruding snag from an old tree stump emerged from Dage’s left shoulder, his silver eyes pissed, his blood a deep red.
His right hand patted the shards of wood emerging from his body. “Not my best landing, love. Sorry about that.”
Emma shook her head to clear it. Her knees popped when she rose and stumbled toward the king. He’d impaled himself on an old limb. She peered around his back to find the gnarled trunk protruding from deep in the ground. Damn it. She needed some sort of chainsaw to cut him loose. And a medical team to remove the wood from his body.
An explosion over the next hill rent the air with an angry boom. She turned. Furious smoke billowed into the untouched sky. “The helicopter?”
“Yes.”
“We didn’t jump?”
“No. I can teleport. A bit, anyway.” He readied his stance, positioning both hands on his knees like a lineman waiting for the snap.
Teleport? How in the world was that possible? Something to do with dimensions or gravity? Possibly relativity theory. “What are you doing?” She hated the quake in her voice. The smell of copper scenting the air made her gag.
He gave a weary grin. “I thought I’d take out this splinter.”
Panic rushed through her. “You can’t. I mean, you’ll bleed to death. You can’t.” She pressed a hand against the black cotton covering his good shoulder where muscles tightened in response.
His eyes darkened. “I’ve waited centuries for your touch, Emma.” He hissed out a breath. “This isn’t how I pictured it.” Shutting his eyes, he drew a deep breath. “Now step out of the way, love.”
“No. You can’t do this.”
Silver eyes pinned her. “Night will fall within three hours. The Kurjans will descend upon the last known location of their helicopter, and we need to be long gone from here.”
“Where are we?” The forest pressed in with silence. No doctors nearby, that was for sure.
“Shoshone mountains in northern Idaho. I chose to intercept you here because there are old mining caves to hide in.”
Forget hiding. He was going to bleed to death. “Can you teleport us to a hospital?”
Shaking his head, Dage drew another deep breath. Round bullet holes from the copilot’s attack dotted his upper chest and neck near the wood splintering his body. His blood flowed freely and spoiled the fresh air—along with the strongest hint of sandalwood. His scent. “No. I usually can only teleport once, then need to recharge. I’ve done it three times today, and I’m wiped.”
“Three times?” She pushed harder against his good side, trying to keep him in place.
“Yes.” Amusement lit his eyes even through the raw pain swirling in the depths. “Once to the ground along your known flight path, then to the helicopter when you were in sight, then to right here.”
“How did you know my flight path?” Damn. He shouldn’t remove the wood without a surgical unit on the ready.
“We raided the Kurjan facility in Montana right after they forced you to leave.” Dage gasped in a deep breath. “One of the Kurjans kindly volunteered the information.”
Emma raised an eyebrow. “Good thing you spotted the correct helicopter,” she murmured, glancing at the stained branch. A warm tingle teased her heart. He’d come for her. Because his brother had married her sister? Or because he knew her as she’d known him all these years? Through visions. Of course, while she appreciated the rescue, she wouldn’t have needed help if the vampires hadn’t dragged her and her sister into their world. “So you were in time to rescue Cara?” Hope filled Emma. Please let her sister be safe.
“Yes. Talen should have his mate safely home by now.”
Thank god. Emma exhaled. Vibrations from Dage’s pain pounded toward her, and she concentrated on the situation at hand. Blood from his wounds flowed into each groove of the wood, resulting in the look of stained teak.
Dage groaned. “Step back, love.”
Her trembling hand patted his shoulder before she stuck it in her pocket. “You’re really a vampire?” She’d known of the vampire race for a couple of months since Cara had married Talen. Though this was the first time she’d actually been face to face with one. Apparently the sun didn’t bother the good guys, only the Kurjans.
“Yes.”
Emma took a step back. Vampires were immortal, right? “You’ll survive this?”
“Yes. We can only be killed by beheading.”
“Okay.” She couldn’t see an alternative. Her stomach pitched, and fear slithered down her spine. This had to work.
Dage sucked in air, then sprang forward. The tree branch ripped out of his flesh with a protesting snap. He landed on his knees in the crusty pine needles, emitting a string of Russian, Greek, or maybe Gaelic that sounded like curses. The earth rumbled and the wind picked up its strength around them. Winding down, he pushed to his feet. “Damn.” His good arm grabbed the hem of his shirt and ripped it over his head, his back to her.