She breathed deep, sliding into the misty world between dreams and reality. There was a time she’d controlled the world, and now she needed to learn how to reclaim the power. For tonight, she drifted away and wandered inside the now empty ballroom.
Zane entered from the ocean side, his footsteps echoing in the empty room, his gaze taking in the remnants of the party. “Who got married?”
She glanced down at her heels and slipped them off. This was her dream, and her feet deserved a break. “My uncle Jase married Brenna Dunne.”
“Ah.” Zane brushed flowers off the bar. “Did you have a date?”
She tilted her head. “Maybe.”
“Hmm.” He moved closer, his gaze on her shimmering blue dress. “You look beautiful.”
So did he. In faded jeans and a dark T-shirt, Zane was the most handsome man she’d ever seen. Deadly angles made up his face, which highlighted eyes a deep green. Deeper than any river she’d ever seen. “Thank you.”
He traced a knuckle down her face. “Your birthday is coming up soon. What do you want?”
Heat flared through her at the gentle touch. She sighed at the approach of her twenty-fifth year. As a child, she’d known that was the year fate would be met. “I want to win.”
Zane nodded. “Me, too.”
“Speaking of which, thank you for saving Garrett.”
“Not a problem.” Zane’s eyes darkened. “Now you owe me one.”
Was that a fact? She was damn tired of waiting for destiny, and twice as tired of waiting for Zane. So she stepped into him and tilted her head. “What exactly do you want?”
His nostrils flared. “Don’t play, Janie Belle.”
She kept still. “What in the world makes you think I’m playing?” Her frown narrowed her focus. “I’ve always known how this would end, and I’ve never considered it a game.”
“None of us knows how the war will end.” His lip twisted as his hand slid around her neck. “We know the players, but do you really know who wins? Are we together or on opposing sides?”
“Together.” Heat cascaded off him, even in the dreamworld. But no smell. She’d always wondered about his scent.
“Is that your heart or brain talking?” His lids dropped to half-mast. “What do you really know?”
“I know the good guys.” She kept her face set in honest lines. Was it possible to have fallen in love as a child? To have known her destiny since she was four years old? “Without a doubt, I’ve always known the Realm wins. So you might want to get on board.”
“Ah, Belle. You don’t know the final outcome, and there are no true good guys in this war.” His fingers tightened on her nape. “I’d like to think you’ve never lied to me.”
“I haven’t.”
“Then tell me the truth. Tell me about your vision. You owe me.”
Yeah, she did. “Why did you save Garrett?”
“Because he’s your brother, and I could.” Zane lowered his head closer to hers. That close, she could see tiny flecks of darker green in his irises. His lips covered hers.
Warmth flushed through her along with an intriguing edge of need. She’d never felt it with anybody else. Only Zane. Her knees weakened and her spine tingled. He swept inside her mouth, taking claim.
She’d always known he’d stake a claim. He lifted his head, and the desire swirling across his strong face gave her strength.
He licked his lips. “Now talk.”
The man was right—she did owe him. The need to trust him, to have him trust her, became stronger than the desire to be strategic. “The end to the war comes this year, when I’m a quarter of a century old. You, Kalin, and I end up in the same place at the same time. At least one of us doesn’t make it out.”
“At least one?” Zane asked.
She closed her eyes and exhaled. “My feeling is only one of us will be left standing.” Frankly, she’d never truly believed it would be her. “I’ve always hoped you lived, Zane.”
He made a noise low in his gut. “Don’t be sweet. Please, don’t be sweet.”
She couldn’t help the smile as she opened her eyes. “You didn’t think this would be easy, now, did you?”
Read on for a sneak peek at Rebecca Zanetti’s e-novella Tamed, available May 2014.
Lily Sotheby settled back into the worn leather of the booth, her fingers around the stem of a wineglass. “This cabernet is, um . . .”
“Piss.” Hilde Freebird pulled the label off her longneck beer as Garth Brooks crooned from the jukebox. “You don’t order wine at a honky-tonk, Prophet.”
“Shhh.” Janie Kayrs, the other accomplice, said, eyeing the peanut shells lining the tavern’s floor. “Don’t call her that.”
“Oh yeah. My bad.” Hilde pushed her glasses farther up her nose and nodded at a group of men playing pool. Fit and hard, several wore handmade silk suits. They seemed out of place, as well. “Have you chosen?”
This was such an incredibly bad idea. “No.” Lily tracked the distance from the booth to the door. “If the king discovers we’re at a bar, he’s going to kill me.” What in the heck was she thinking bringing the vampire king’s niece to a public bar? Half of the immortal species wanted to kidnap Janie, the other half wanted her dead.
Janie snorted. “I know. We’re safe because nobody in the world would expect to find us here. But I’m twenty-five, and I’ve always wanted a real night out with the girls—without vampires or bodyguards.”
Hilde nodded. “That is important for a human woman, which you are. And getting the prophet laid is an admirable goal.”
On all that was holy. Lily’s face heated. “I’m sure I don’t remember how to, ah, copulate.” She’d mated a vampire three centuries ago, and he’d died shortly thereafter. Once mated, a vampire or mate could never become intimate with another being . . . until now.
“Well, first you need to stop using the word copulate.” Jane took a swig of beer. “How odd is it that a virus created by our enemies now allows you a second chance at love?”
Forget love. Lily just wanted an orgasm with somebody else in the room. “Virus-27 is designed to unravel our chromosomes until we become bacteria . . . no doubt we’ll die before that happens.” But, for now, the virus took away the mating ties, and she could actually touch a man again without inflicting a horrible allergic reaction upon them both. If she found a man. She smoothed down her long skirt.
“Speaking of copulation”—Hilde clucked her tongue—“did you have to dress like a puritan?”
Lily examined her flowering gown. “This is how I dress.”
“Well, at least ditch the sweater.” Without waiting for agreement, Hilde grasped the sweater’s hem and yanked it over Lily’s head. “Oh my.”
Lily glanced down at her breasts rising above the bustier. “This is to be worn underneath the sweater.”
“Not if you want nookie.” Hilde shoved the sweater in her bulky purse. “Come on. Unlike you, I’m a widow who hasn’t contracted the virus and can’t touch a male without an allergic reaction. You must get some for both of us.”