“Are you going after her?” Benny asked.
Ronan sighed and looked at the empty hallway. “No. She knows I won’t allow her sister to be harmed. I’ve let you two shoulder the burden too much. I need to help you find Omar.” He’d let Faith get some sleep and work things out on her own. Right now, he didn’t have any helpful words for her.
Benny poured three more shots. “We have to find the other Keys. That at least gives us a little time.”
Time could only help. Ronan held up his glass.
The other two did the same.
Nobody spoke. No toast came to mind.
Benny sighed. “I can’t think of how we’d be more fucked than we are right now.”
Yeah. Ronan tipped back his drink, barely registering the alcohol. Now, that was an accurate toast.
* * * *
Faith lay on her sister’s bed, her mind spinning. It was past dinnertime, but she wasn’t hungry at all. They couldn’t kill Grace. Oh, they could stop the feeding IV, and that would end her life. Probably. Would a Key die from starvation?
So far the only person to have given her any hope for Grace was the Kurjan leader. Dayne had even given her sister a little of his blood. What if he actually could help Grace? There was a chance that the Kurjan scientists had gone beyond the Seven and what they knew. They were good fighters, and their technology was impressive.
But the innovations she’d seen had been for war. Not for healing.
What if the Kurjans had focused their efforts on science? The Seven wouldn’t know a damn thing about it. And here she’d been about to mate Ronan. Betrayal burned like acid inside her.
“Faith,” Ronan said from the doorway.
Faith donned a calm expression and turned, eyeing him. He’d thrown on a black T-shirt and still wore the cargo pants he’d had on before. The shirt she’d borrowed from him covered her to her thighs, so who cared? Though her feet were still cold. “What?”
He held a bunch of clothing. “Come with me. We need to talk.”
Her throat closed. “I’m not leaving Grace.” Not for a second would she allow anybody to get past her to hurt her sister.
“I give you my word that nothing will happen to her.” He didn’t waver.
“Tonight, you mean,” Faith said, sitting up. She’d heard plenty, and she no longer trusted any of them. Their mission was centuries old and probably had far-reaching consequences. At least they thought it did. Her mission was quite simple: to protect her baby sister. Period.
He didn’t respond to that.
Yeah. That’s what she’d thought. “I’ve changed my mind. We are not mating.” What had she been thinking?
“Yes, we are. Like it or not.” His tone brooked no argument.
“Is that where you are in your grand strategy?” she snapped.
“Yes.”
She sighed. “Go away, Ronan.”
“No. Come here, or I’ll come and get you.” He was immovable in the doorway. Hard and fierce. A true warrior. “I vow your sister is safe. But we have much to discuss, and not a lot of time to do it.”
She glared. Fine. She pushed herself up and winced as her foot protested.
He was instantly by her side. “What’s wrong? Did I miss an injury earlier?”
Yeah, because they’d been too busy getting ready to have hot and passionate sex. Again. “Nothing is wrong.” She brushed by him, barely biting back a startled yelp when he shifted the clothing to his other arm and swept her up. He lifted her high against his chest and strode from the room. “Don’t you ever get tired?” she snapped.
“Yes. I’m tired now. And I need to sleep to heal some of these injuries.” He entered the bedroom where she’d tried to sleep earlier. “Yet you and I must talk first.” He set her down on the bed and put the pile of clothing next to her.
“Fine. Say what you want to say.” She was so tired her eyes hurt. In fact, her entire body felt like it had been through a cement mixer. Or a bailer.
He knelt and examined her feet. His gaze hardened. “You’re injured.”
“Just cuts and scrapes.”
He leaned in, brushing his fingers across an injury. “This looks painful.”
She sucked in air. Somehow, she had to get out of there. “What are those clothes?”
“Adare returned an hour ago with them. There are shoes beneath the jeans and a sketch pad for you to draw on.”
She refused to be touched. When had Adare returned? Did that mean she could go right out to the jeep and just drive away? The security wasn’t full force here yet.
Perhaps she could get her hands on a phone and call Dayne. He’d given her his number, and right now, he was her only chance at saving Grace. Truth be told, she didn’t trust Dayne either. But maybe she could negotiate. Though the Cyst soldiers who’d attacked the mountain hadn’t been there for tea. Could she broker a deal with a dangerous immortal?
What choice did she have?
The Seven’s solution was to end Grace’s life to let another Key be born. Oh, Ronan had protested, but even he hadn’t seen another way out. “I’d like to go to the store for supplies,” she said. “Some ointments and medical supplies.”
“We can fetch anything you might need,” Ronan said. “You will stay here and be safe.”
Safe? Right. Like Grace was safe? “I heard your conversation.”
“I’m well aware of that.” His fangs slid down, and he slashed them into his wrist.
She paused and then started to back away, scooting herself across the bed with her elbows. Her skin chilled.
He pulled her back and pressed his wrist to her mouth. “Drink.”
“No.” She tried to move away, but he cupped the back of her head and held her still. Then he ground his wrist against her mouth, and she gasped, trying to dislodge him. Fire swept inside like a drug, going right through her tongue and sending her senses spinning. Delicious. She sucked harder, taking more of the elixir into her system.
Her energy soared. Blood popped in her veins and her feet mended. She felt like she was ten years old again with no aches. No pains.
He gently removed his wrist. Before her eyes, his wound closed. She couldn’t help but lick her lips.
His eyes flashed. “Better?”
“Wh—what was that?” she asked, her body igniting to a slow burn. Her thighs ached and her nipples hardened to diamonds. Her clit throbbed in perfect time with her heartbeat.
His nostrils flared. “You’re my mate. My blood can heal you to a certain point even though we haven’t mated. Once we have, I’ll be able to take away any pain you experience.”
She leaned back, trying to focus even though she was precariously close to orgasm just from taking his blood. Man, she needed sex. Just once. Jeez. “I’m not mating you.” Was he insane? The bastard was considering killing her sister for some prophesy that might not even be real. “It’s not happening.”
He leaned in, his hands on either side of her thighs, trapping her in place. “You’ve already made up your mind. You said yes. That’s the end of the discussion.”
She remained perfectly still. “Not a chance.”
Arrogance lit his expression. “You’ll eat those words.” He leaned even closer, his lips hovering right above hers, his eyes boring into her. His hand covered her bare thigh.
Her body clenched with hunger. In just the T-shirt and panties, she should feel vulnerable. But she didn’t. She hungered. What was wrong with her? She couldn’t think.
He nipped her lip and brushed his knuckles lightly across her clit.
Electricity zinged through her lower half. Her entire body jerked. She gasped, her eyes widening on him. “Don’t stop,” she whispered. This felt way too good.
He smiled, the expression primitive. Then he did it again.
She exploded into an orgasm, crying out. He k
issed her hard and swallowed her cry, his knuckles continuing to tap, prolonging the waves until she was spent. The waves pummeled her, taking everything she had.
Then he lifted his head.
She gaped at him, stunned.
He stood. “We will absolutely continue when I’m back around midnight. By tomorrow morning, you’ll wear my mark.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Ronan followed Ivar down through steep tunnels, winding and pivoting until they were deep in the earth. Heat surrounded him, irritating his skin. Sweat rolled down his forehead and matted his shirt to his chest.
Ivar turned right, leading him into a round chamber. “Witch allies created a force field here with an inter-dimensional cross to protect us from the heat.” He wiped sweat off his brow. “Believe it or not, without it we would pass out or even die from the fumes and fire.”
His ears rang and heaviness filled his body. Ronan cleared his throat and scrutinized the round chamber. A circle was in the middle of a circle, and as he watched, the stone floor there brightened. “Nice job.” He fought a chill as he remembered his bonding.
Ivar nodded. “It’s ready, and so are we. We can’t wait any longer.”
“When will Garrett and Logan arrive?” Just saying their names hurt. The idea of one of those young immortals seizing up and dying during the ritual made bile rise in his throat. He’d seen it happen and it had looked excruciating.
“They’ll touch down tomorrow afternoon,” Ivar said.
Ronan prowled around to see the sharpened blades set at seven points around the outer circle. The Seven marking, the one on his back, was etched into each knife handle. They somehow glinted in the dim room. He could still feel the cut. But that was nothing compared to the pain of the bones in his torso bonding together into a shield. “We can’t even tell them what to expect,” he murmured. “There are no words.”
“I thought I’d go with devastating and unreal pain,” Ivar said, his voice hoarse. “But you’re right. That doesn’t come close to explaining it.”
“No.” Ronan turned from the blade. Was he making a mistake in allowing the ritual to go forward? What was his alternative?
“If you’re mated by the time we do the ceremony, you’ll be stronger,” Ivar said. “You know you will.” He moved around the other side of the circle, dropping to his haunches to examine one of the knives. “Though I don’t suppose that’s a reason to mate.”
“I’m not mating just for strength,” Ronan countered. “She must be protected and she’s…mine.” He glanced down at the marking that still burned on his palm. “It’s that simple.”
Ivar snorted and stood, turning at the last minute. “Tell me you used better words than that.”
Ronan frowned. “Excuse me?”
Ivar rolled his eyes. “You know, the flowery shit. Eternal love and multiple orgasms. Those kinds of promises.”
He’d just given her an orgasm. Sure, he’d been making a point, and she hadn’t been able to fight it, but still. “Faith is a scientist. I don’t think the fate and love poetry appeals to her.”
“God, you’re a moron,” Ivar said, sliding his hands in his pockets.
Ronan’s head jerked. Temper pricked the back of his heated neck. “Fuck you.”
“No. Fuck her,” Ivar retorted. “After you give her the love talk. Any asshole can give an orgasm. A woman, even a scientist, is going to want reassurance that you love her.” He shook his head. “Dumbass.”
Love? It was a four-letter word that didn’t come close to explaining his feelings for Faith Cooper. Even before he’d met her, he’d felt her in his soul. Did she really need those words? Could he even find the right words? What he felt was absolute and true. He looked at Ivar, this new brother he already trusted with his life. “I hadn’t thought about all of that.”
“You might need to alter your grand strategy just a little bit.” Ivar moved toward a back crevice. “Help me get the torches in place. These flashlights won’t do for the ritual.”
“Of course.” Ronan walked around the circle again.
Ivar handed him a torch. “It should take us about an hour or so to get this place completely ready. During that time, I can help you figure out the right words to say before you see her again.”
“Right. Like you know how to woo a woman.” Ronan moved over to place the torch in a hole already bored into the rock. Now, he just had to figure out what to say to Faith. Good thing he had at least an hour to come up with something good. Love? There was a hell of a lot more to it than that. She was everything.
He would try the flowery words. For her.
But in the end, she would be his. Period.
* * * *
Comfy in her big bed, Hope Kayrs-Kyllwood snuggled with her bunny. Paxton had given it to her yesterday because the bunny’s soft eyes had looked lonely. Pax had used the small amount of money he’d earned by washing cars to buy it.
He was her very best friend. Him and Libby. Someday they’d all build houses and live next to each other with their families around. Maybe not his father. But everyone else.
The air around her whispered secrets and she listened, comfortable with her safety. Her daddy was both a vampire and a demon, while her mama was magical. They both could fight off a hundred bad guys. A million bad guys.
When it came down to it, and someday it would, those million didn’t count.
There was just one bad guy to worry about.
How she knew that at seven years old didn’t matter. None of the weird questions did. She was usually careful not to tell anyone the things she knew. Sometimes, she couldn’t help it, so she told. Then the grown-ups listened and nodded, acting like she was normal.
She knew better.
Their eyes always told another story. They worried about her. About the things she knew. So it was better not to tell them.
A mama who worried didn’t have time to bake. And Hope’s mama made the best chocolate-chip cookies in the entire Realm. She also shot an arrow better than most warriors.
Hope grinned, knowing she’d get more cookies tomorrow. She slipped into sleep, instantly finding her dream world. It had been weeks since she’d seen her friend, and she hoped he wasn’t mad at her.
She found him sitting on a rock near the ocean, kicking his foot and scattering sand. Her tummy felt funny. “Hi, Drake.”
He turned, his eyes a dark green with a purple ring. So pretty. “Hi. Are you still sick?”
“No.” She hopped up by him on the rock and looked around. “I think our ocean is blue, right?” This one was light pink.
“I’ve never seen it, but I think so,” Drake said, stretching his neck back to look up at the two suns. “This feels so good.”
She patted his hand on the rock. “You can’t go outside, can you?” Maybe someday somebody super-smart like Hope’s mama could create a pill or something so the Kurjans can go into the sun. Then they’d all get along, probably.
“Not yet,” Drake said. “But I can last out there longer than a grown-up. Most kids my age can.”
Wouldn’t it be awesome to see Drake in the sunlight and show him her house by the lake? “Are you still working on stuff?” Maybe he’d tell her about his job. A boy with a job was pretty cool. Drake was cool. She kicked out her feet like he did. Maybe he’d think she was cool. What could she say? She didn’t work yet. “I learned how to grapple yesterday.” Well, kind of.
Drake looked back at her. “You did?”
“Yeah.” Her chest puffed out. “I practiced really hard and almost threw Libby over my head.” Nobody could throw Libby, though. Feline shifters were very strong.
“That’s great.” He smiled, his teeth a bright white. “Our females don’t train or fight. It’s cool that you do.”
Cool. Yep. He’d said it. Cool. She grinned. “Where do you live, Drake?”
He looked back over the wide sea. “Where do you live?”
She wasn’t supposed to tell anybody. He probably wasn’t, either. Why couldn’t all the grown-ups just get along? “Do you have a favorite TV show?”
“Not really, but I like the wilderness ones. You know, where the humans go out and try to survive? Those are funny.” He twisted his feet, looking at the sand covering them. “Definitely I don’t watch cartoons.”
She loved cartoons. Especially the ones with bunnies or bears. “How come?”
“They’re for babies.” He snorted.
Oh. She and Libby watched the bunny stories after school every day, and then when Pax got there, they turned to the bear stories. Pax was nice, but he could also lift heavy stuff. That wasn’t babyish. “My friend Pax likes bear cartoons.” Maybe Drake had never seen a good cartoon.
Drake scratched his chin. “It’s okay for girls to like cartoons.”
Now, wait a minute. “Pax is a boy.” And girls were just as tough as boys. “It’s okay for anybody to like cartoons,” she blurted, her cheeks getting warm.
Drake was silent for a minute. “Okay. I’m sorry.” He reached out and held her hand. “Don’t be mad.”
“I’m not.” The Kurjans probably didn’t have good television shows. There was so much she didn’t know about him, but they couldn’t talk about jobs or families or homes. “What do you wanna be when you grow up?”
“The leader,” he said, shrugging. “Like my dad. It’ll be my job.” He glanced sideways at her. “Since you have the prophesy mark on your neck, do you have to be a prophet?”
“No,” she said softly. “My mama said I can be anything I want.”
Drake was quiet for a minute. “Is your mama right?”
Hope rubbed her free hand down her purple jeans. “No.”
He nodded. “That’s what I thought.” He cleared his throat. “Have you heard of the Seven?”
Heard of them? No. But she’d dreamed about them. They were part of the change that was in the air all around her. “Have you?” she asked.