“They wouldn’t.”
“Sure they would. Publicly decapitating the most powerful soldier ever born to the Realm? How weak would we look?”
If Conn died, the ensuring war would coat the earth in blood. Not to mention what it’d do to Dage personally—as well as to his brothers. “Thinking as a king, the move would be bold and send a message.”
“And thinking as a brother?” Jase asked, no longer wiping the shredding rain off his face.
Power coiled inside Dage, careening to shoot out. Force of will, tenuous and fading, shoved it down. “As a brother, I’d unleash hell.” He believed in mercy. And right or wrong, he believed in vengeance. The two rarely existed during the same span of time. If the shifters beheaded his brother, mercy would cease to exist.
“Have faith in Conn, Dage.”
“I do.” If he didn’t, he’d be ripping through the shifting clans for answers, not caring who he hurt. He eyed Jordan talking to his enforcers. “Sounds like the shifting clans are as unsettled as the Realm right now.” The world was exploding.
Talen raced up, smashing wet pine needles into the snow.
Dage centered himself. “Report.”
Talen tucked a knife into his pocket. “We’ve cleared the entire facility. Five demons down, the rest made it out the back as the first charge blew.” He glanced down at the dead shifter. “Counting this guy, two dead shifters, neither Jordan’s. We have three wounded, not seriously.” Emerald overtook the gold in Talen’s dangerous eyes. “And my brother is gone.”
Chapter 20
Moira settled Emma on the smooth rock floor of the underground lab. “Is there any water?”
Katie rushed over and grabbed a bottle from the refrigerator, unscrewing the cap and handing it to the trembling queen.
Emma took a deep swallow, pressing her hand to her head. “Damn migraines.” She opened her eyes, squinting into the light.
“What did you see?” Moira dropped to her haunches. Two of her sisters were psychic, but they didn’t react in pain. Maybe vampire mates had a tougher time of it—though current science hinted enhanced humans were distant cousins to the witches. Fear swirled in her abdomen. “How is Conn hurt?”
Emma shuddered out a sigh. “I don’t know. He went down ... and pain cut into my leg. Then everything went black.”
A roaring filled Moira’s ears. Panic stopped her breath. Oh God. Not Conn.
The door swept open. Moira leaped up, pivoting to protect the queen. Kane Kayrs stood in the doorway, dressed in all black, his thick dark hair ruffled and his eyes an angry dark violet. His gaze dropped to Emma. “Vision?”
“Yes.” Emma pushed to her feet, her hands trembling as she gripped the counter. “I saw Conn go down, but not much afterwards. He seemed, well, fuzzy.”
“The shifters drugged him.” Kane tilted his head toward the desk. “Migraine medicine is stashed in the top drawer for you. Just in case.” He surveyed the room, his gaze landing on Moira. “Conn’s your mate. I need you to reach out and find his location.”
Moira swallowed hard. Fear threatened to overwhelm her senses. Light blue energy flickered on her arms. “We’ve spent the last century shielding ourselves from each other, Kane. I don’t have a sense of Conn.”
Fury at herself ripped along her spine at the time she’d wasted. Why had she waited for Conn to show up in Ireland? She could’ve sought him out—made it work between them. Then she could’ve been a link between the witches and the Realm ... so there wouldn’t be a movement to withdraw. Oh God. She loved the vampire.
Kane nodded. “I understand. Come with me, I have an idea.” He pivoted on his heel, heavy footsteps echoing down the hall.
She’d do anything. Moira raised both eyebrows at the empty doorway. “Please tell me he isn’t going to suck my brain out or something.” The combined scents of bleach and lemon cleanser from the lab rolled a large pit in her stomach. Or maybe that was from fear and helplessness.
Emma snorted. “If Kane thought that would get him results, he’d take your whole head.” She placed a hand on Moira’s arm. “I’m sure Conn’s all right. He’s a fighter, Moira.”
“I know.” He’d been hurt, according to Emma. Who could get close enough to injure Conn? Moira sighed. “No matter how calm and logical Kane is, he can’t get into my head.” Even if she agreed to let him, her shields had strength of their own. And as an enforcer, she could kick serious ass. She’d figure out a way to get Conn back.
Cara glided closer, her hand over her belly. “Kane isn’t anything near calm. He’s furious.” She pursed her lips. “Fighting serious guilt. Probably thinks he could’ve helped had he gone on the raid, instead of continuing to work on the virus.” She paled and bent at the waist. “Ow. The kid’s a kicker.” Straightening, she rubbed her side. “Do you want me to come with you? An empath might help.”
Warmth flowed through Moira. She had friends. Well, almost family. “No. I can do this.” She strode toward the door. “Thanks, though.” Sconces lit the rock walls of the hallway as she took the direction Kane had taken, not surprised to find him waiting for her outside an open doorway. “What’s in there?”
“My humble abode.” Kane gestured her inside.
She swept by him, realizing her head barely reached the top of his chest. For some reason she’d never noticed his size ... always concentrating on his big brain. The Kayrs size. She’d always appreciated Conn’s hulking size. What if he was hurt? The tinkling of water over rocks stopped her tormented thoughts, and she surveyed the peaceful room. “This place is all Zen.”
Kane shut the door, stalking around a wide leather couch to survey his space. “Yeah. When I’m down here, I like to relax.”
A deep screen showed a tranquil lake on a spring day. Dark furnishings and soft lighting lent coziness to the living room, much like her father’s study. Maleness permeated the space with a heavy sense of safety, like that she felt at Daire’s hunting lodge on the southern coast of Ireland. Rich oil paintings of fantasy scenes adorned the walls. “I figured you’d go more for the modern glass and steel look.”
Kane patted the back of an overstuffed chair. “I spend enough time around glass and chrome in the lab. Now stop being nervous and come sit down.”
Just because her hands were sweating and butterflies on crack winged through her stomach didn’t mean she was nervous. Taking a deep breath, because the room smelled like cinnamon and vanilla and not because her lungs ached, she skirted the sofa and dropped into the chair.
Kane grabbed the matching chair and shifted it to the side so they could sit face-to-face. He sat and held out both hands. “Put your palms on mine.”
Bugger. Moira wiped her hands on her jeans, reaching out to place them over Kane’s much bigger ones. Her hands shook. “What now?”
Slap! Kane flipped his hands over and smacked hers in a game as old as time. “I win.”
Moira jerked away. Surprised humor rippled through her and she coughed a laugh. “Very funny.”
Kane sat back, amusement flitting across his angled face. He had the same stubborn jaw as Conn, but his cheekbones seemed higher, even sharper. “You need to relax.”
He was right. She took several deep breaths, forcing her shoulders to lower and her hands to steady. Mates should be able to communicate telepathically, but she sucked as a mate. “Okay. What now?” Conn couldn’t be really hurt.
“How about we try some deep relaxation techniques?”
She’d rather hit something. “I’m not sure I can be hypnotized, Kane.”
“No worries. Let’s work on relaxing. Open your mind up a little to seek out Conn. A trial experiment to attempt a connection.”