The threat and determination in his gaze washed sadness through her. This is about duty and power, not love or passion. “We shagged once, Conn. One night isn’t going to determine my fate, marking or not.” She’d never forget the heated pain of him marking the front of her left hipbone as her orgasm exploded—right before his did. He’d left her the next day to deal with the aftermath, with the anger of her people that their Seventh had mated for all time with a vampire.
He held his right palm toward her, showcasing the intricate design with the raised K in the middle. “You’re not the only one with a brand, darlin’. I wear the mark, too.”
The Kayrs marking. Legend declared the brand appeared when a Kayrs met his mate, transferring during sex. “I’ve read of your family, Conn. Some matings were arranged.”
“So?” His voice rumbled lower with anger and warning.
The wind outside increased in power, beating against the high row of windows to get in. A storm threatened. Moira lifted her chin, meeting his gaze. “Did you mark me on purpose?”
Conn took another step toward her, his jaw firming. “Are you asking if I forced the mark on my hand and then on your flesh?”
She fought the urge to retreat. “Yes.” Enough with fate and destiny. I’m sick of the pressure. “You know what I am—the line I hold.”
“I do. You have the potential to be the most powerful ruler the Council of the Coven Nine has ever claimed.”
“Yes.” Fire ripped through her. His family ruled the vampire world and thus the Realm, a coalition of powerful allies including shifters and witches. “Quite the allegiance our mating might make for the Realm.”
“But our mating didn’t cement anything, now did it?” Tension spiraled from him. “Because you needed space—because you haven’t declared your intention to be mine.” Something in his tone promised she’d be making such a declaration soon.
He didn’t know her or what she could do. She’d disappear before allowing herself to be used as a political pawn in his war. “You’d do anything for the Realm.”
“Ah, Moira,” his voice softened to a deadly tone, “you’re miscalculating here.”
She suppressed a shiver. “Why’s that?”
“The second I marked you, the second you became mine ...” Something flashed in his eyes. Regret? Anger?
She doubted being forced to wait a century had been difficult for him, and wishing for such a thing was just silly. A century ago he’d agreed to leave way too easily. And now he shows up on the eve the Realm is at war with the Kurjans? The Realm needed the Coven Nine to continue the alliance—especially since the demons had declared war as well. “Your family, the Realm is everything to you. You would’ve mated for political reasons.” He probably had. Duty was all but stamped on his handsome face.
Not by one twitch of an eyelash did his expression alter. “Possibly.”
“Did you?” Her voice dropped to a hush. Her body steeled for the emotional blow.
“No.” Silver began to thread through the green of his eyes—true proof of a vampire’s anger. “I didn’t consciously mark you, Moira.” Conn blew out a breath. “But I felt the rightness of it. The belonging when the marking appeared.” His stance settled again. “You were meant to be mine, and I’m taking you home.”
The certainty of his vow convinced her as nothing else could have. He’d told her once he didn’t lie or threaten. A vampire like him didn’t need to do either. He wouldn’t leave easily.
She sighed. “I’m staying here.” She drew her fingers in, allowing molecules to reshape from her energy. Quantum physics at its finest. “You’re leaving.”
He flashed his teeth. “Get to it.”
With a nod, she concentrated on the invisible molecules in the air, throwing subatomic particles through them to alter the matter into pure, dangerous burning energy. She’d been coming to Shea’s for decades and had taken her first drink at the bar. Damaging the tavern would not only bother her, it would totally tick off Danny Shea, and the old witch would tell her parents. As well as charge her triple for any repairs. She needed to be careful and aim just for Conn.
Electric blue plasma wavered and then formed into the size of a cantaloupe in her right hand, which she pulled back and threw at his torso.
The mass flashed through the air. She felt a quick moment of regret. The energy wouldn’t kill him, but oh man would it hurt. The ball would singe his skin like a very bad sunburn. It was merely the beginning.
She expected him to evade and order her to stop its movement. Instead, his lips tipped ever so slightly, and he held out a hand. The plasma ball halted mid-flight, then swept forward until it hovered above his palm. Captured.
Moira stepped back. Her breath caught in her throat. “That’s impossible.” She’d focused her own energy into the matter to create the force. No one else could control her creation. Fear slithered down her spine.
He shrugged, shifted, and threw the orb at her with an impressive push-off.
She leaped to the side, the ball rushing past her to collide with a bar stool, sending the worn seat into the air to land back with a crash. The scent of ozone whipped through the space. Her knees gave, and she clutched the edge of the bar, digging her nails into the wood, her eyes wide on Conn.
“How?” Her voice trembled, but she was beyond caring. Straightening, she unclenched her fingers and pivoted to face him. How can he not only take my energy but use it against me? Impossible.
He shrugged. “What exactly do you think I’ve been doing this last century?”
Adrenaline flowed down her back through tissue and muscle, causing her to feel a bit lightheaded. “Training the Realm’s soldiers for the war we all knew was coming.” The war with the Kurjans, the pasty-white bloodsucking monsters who were afraid of the sun.
Conn nearly grinned. “Yes. The vampires and shifters are prepared. But I multitasked.”
“Multitasked?” Her voice waivered while dread ripped through her. The deadliest soldier ever born to the vampires, multitasked? He’s kidding me. “Meaning what?” Only force of will kept her knees from buckling. Again.
“You know exactly what I mean. Rumor has it you’ve been training—swords, guns, knives ... even hand to hand.” Two long strides had him a foot away from her. “Now darlin’, where do you suppose you gained those skills?” A dark flush whirled over his high cheekbones.
She angled her head to meet his eyes square on. “I worked damn hard on them, Connlan.”
His thumb and forefinger grasped her chin and his eyes darkened. “I’m sure you did. When we mated, Moira, my skills became yours.” Leaning down, he brushed his lips across hers before straightening back up. “And yours became mine.”
Her breath hitched. Her heart swelled. Her thighs softened. All from one small kiss. She jerked out of his grasp. “Bollocks. You lead the soldiers of the Realm. You don’t study.”
Genuine amusement lit his eyes. “You think I merely hit things?”
Well, yeah. “I assume you play chess once in a while with the king, but other than that ...”
He laughed—a true throw-your-head-back deep masculine chuckle. “While my brother and I do enjoy games of strategy, some studying is often involved.”
Military strategy, maybe. “You’re telling me you’ve spent the last century studying quantum physics, string theory, and the other applications of magic?”
“Of course.” His gaze dropped to her lips, making them throb in response. “I mated a witch. A basic understanding of all scientific principles, most notably quantum physics, is necessary to manipulate energy and matter.”
To practice magic. True magic. Her mind spun on all that was holy. “So you can manipulate my energy. Since we’ve mated.” Son of a bitch. How in the hell am I going to keep him out of my life now?
He cocked his head. “Now’s the time to tell me what has you so frightened.”
“I can handle my own problems, Conn.”
Irritation curled his lip, hinting at a te
mper she really didn’t want to see. “Did you truly think I’d leave you alone, Moira? With Virus-27 on the loose? With witchcraft being used to harm people?”
She closed her eyes briefly. The virus created by the Kurjans to attack vampire mates—to take them genetically down to human form and maybe beyond—by using genetic science combined with quantum physics and true magic. “Yes.”
Her gaze focused on him again. Virus-27 was the absolute least of her worries right now. Her mind scrambled for something, anything to get him to leave.
He exhaled, taking a step forward into her space again. Sage and power swirled around her in the scent of male. “I’m done waiting, Moira.” One large hand smoothed through her curls, clenching to tangle at the nape of her neck and tugging back.
Her neck stretched and her hands reached out for balance, grabbing the shirt covering his broad chest. She opened her mouth to protest.
His descended.
Firm lips slid against hers. Heat seared her, shooting down from her mouth to her core. She swayed toward him, opening her mouth to allow entrance. Like the soldier he was, he dove in, all purpose, all blazing fire, his lips capturing hers as his tongue took control. The brand on her hip began to burn with desperate need.
He growled low, grasping her waist and tugging her flat against him. His mouth devoured hers, his tongue claiming every inch, the hand on her hip clenching with restrained power. The erection against her belly jumped with demand.
Her knees weakened. Her heart pounded. Desire for him lit her on fire. Need spiraled deep into her womb. She craved.
Releasing her, he lifted his head, his fingers spreading out to cup her scalp. Desire shot silver through the green of his eyes. A muscle ticced in his jaw. “Let’s go to your cottage, Moira.”
She sucked in a breath, her eyes widening on him. Was there anything more intriguing to a woman than a strong man who wanted her? Memories of what this man could do with his hands, with his mouth, flushed through her mind until her body ached. She ran her hands down his flat stomach to curl around his leather belt. They’d had one night. It wasn’t like she’d practiced sex this last century. “Not a good idea, Conn.”
“Why not?”
Because I don’t know what to do. “I don’t want you.” She lowered her chin.
“Liar.” His eyes softened.
It had better not be in understanding.
Then he cut his gaze behind her, a frown settling between his masculine brows.
“What?” She released his belt, an odd tingling running over her neck. The air changed. Her skin heated. Matter shifted and energy zapped. Oxygen swirled. A passage opened. “Conn—”
Invisible claws dug into her flesh and ripped her away from him.
BRAVA BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, New York 10018
Copyright © 2012 Rebecca Zanetti
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
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ISBN: 978-0-7582-7700-8
Rebecca Zanetti, Tempted
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