Chapter 2
Adam kept his fire up around his face, hurtling ball after ball of plasma at the advancing men. He didn’t want to permanently hurt any member of the Guard, the police force for the witch nation, but he also couldn’t let them see his identity.
Never once in his life would he have thought he’d commit treason.
Nor had he ever had a plan go so completely wrong. His bike was in pristine condition, and there was no explanation for it petering out. “Victoria? Get the hell out of here,” he ordered again.
He’d also never had anyone disobey one of his direct orders during a combat situation.
“And go where?” she demanded from behind him, yanking his gun from his waistband.
What in the hell was the woman doing? Apparently one slap to the ass hadn’t been enough to teach her a lesson. “Put that back,” he snapped, hitting one of the men center mass with a plasma ball and sending the soldier flying backward into a brick building. Shards rained down, and the guy landed hard enough to bounce twice.
He didn’t get back up.
She kept behind Adam and to the right. Green laser bullets flashed by his arm as she apparently fired the gun. “What the hell is that?” she asked, still shooting.
“Laser bullets that turn to lead upon impacting immortal flesh,” he muttered. Or human flesh, probably. They didn’t normally shoot humans, so who the hell knew?
Did the woman have training? His dossiers on her didn’t include that, but since her sister was a cop, maybe there had been a few familial shooting sessions.
She fired again, the bullets going wide of target. Very wide. So . . . no training.
“Stop firing,” he said.
“No. You definitely need backup.”
Oh, they were going to have to get a few things straight, and soon. He ducked while a blue plasma ball flew by his head, making sure to keep her covered with his body at the same time. Enough. Gathering double his usual amount of power, he used both hands to create a ball and then threw it at the second man’s legs.
The impact thundered through the alley, and the guy went down with a shriek of pain. He wouldn’t die, but he’d take a few years to recuperate.
Without missing a step, Adam turned, grabbed his gun from Tori, and seized her elbow. “Keep up.” He launched himself into a run, noting how fragile her bones felt beneath his hand. It had been a century since he’d touched a human. They were far too breakable.
She ran next to him, her head down, her lithe legs pumping furiously. Her bare feet didn’t slow her in the slightest. Man, he had to get the image of her pert breasts out of his damn head so they could survive this. The woman was much too tempting.
So far, nobody had seen his face. They had to get out of there, or he’d be wanted by the ruling witch council, and he wouldn’t be able to help his brothers. They were already fugitives. The witch nation didn’t take well to subterfuge and disobedience.
His family didn’t know any other way. It was a miracle they’d worked within the system for so long.
He turned another corner, easily mapping their escape route in his mind along with their velocity, endurance, and possible hindrances. “Are you doing all right?” he asked.
“Yes,” she gasped.
“Almost there, sweetheart,” he said, leading her into a darkened alley. A helicopter whirred through the clouds above. Damn it. He reached the end of a rough stone building and jerked Victoria to a stop. He quickly rearranged a series of small stones in the exterior wall, and a barely there green door appeared.
“Wh—” she started.
He planted his palm against the door, right at eye level.
Tori leaned over, hands on bare knees, still keeping the gun clasped tightly in one. Her breath panted out.
The door hitched, shimmered, and then opened. Another helicopter joined the first above them.
Adam grasped Tori’s arm and drew her inside the quiet interior. The door closed on its own. Darkness surrounded them and pressed in. Her breathing filled the silence, and he let her adjust while he listened for any threats on the outside. The helicopters hadn’t been close enough to see them, but they might have heat sensors that had kicked in before Adam had gotten them inside.
No sounds filtered through the thick walls.
“Where are we?” she whispered.
“Lights,” he murmured.
Century-old sconces lit up along a narrow hallway; the walls were stone, the floor dirt. The sense of magic, the real kind, born of physics and the laws of nature, filtered around them.
Tori stood straighter, the purple streaks in her hair almost glowing. “Are we safe?”
“Aye,” he said automatically.
She stiffened. “Don’t give the little woman assurances. I need the truth. Are we safe?”
Fuck no, they weren’t safe. There wasn’t a haven on the damn planet for them at the moment. “We’re as safe as we’re going to get.” He shoved his gun in at the back of his waist and then took her hand to move inside the building. “We’re in a safe house for now, and our heat signatures are hidden from the outside. We’ll hole up here until we can get to the airport.”
“Okay.” She stumbled and quickly regained her balance, just like a cat.
As they passed each sconce, it sputtered out into darkness.
“Weird,” Victoria muttered, her head swinging from wall to wall, her voice echoing. “How do they do that?”
He didn’t have time to explain quantum physics and the very real metaphysical world to her. “Magic.”
She snorted. “Fine. Don’t tell me.”
Why couldn’t that suffice? They reached the end of the hallway, and smooth stone steps led down to another faded green door. The second they passed through it, both the stairs and door would disappear.
He moved down the stairs, and his palm opened the door.
“Where are we going?” she asked, her voice echoing off the stones.
“Down,” he answered, tuning his senses to the outside world. No shouts or running feet. That had to mean something. He drew her inside, called for the lights, and showed her a plush living room with priceless antiques and velvet furnishings.
Victoria paused and looked around at the two small settees and hand-carved end tables. In his shirt, she appeared small and defenseless. “Have we traveled back in time to a whorehouse?”
He barked out a laugh, surprising humor heating his chest. He paused. When was the last time he’d actually laughed? “Not exactly.” The walls were bare rock . . . at the moment. “Watch this.” Was he showing off for her? Maybe a little. “Engage,” he said quietly.
Three of the walls lit up with screens—modern and very well connected. One displayed a series of camera feeds transmitting from around the local area, one showed satellite imagery, and the other was a blank screen with a cursor, waiting for his command.
“Cool,” she breathed, stepping toward the nearest screen, which showed soldiers scouting the neighborhood. Her toenails were painted a wild purple that almost matched her hair. “Are they after us?” Her voice shook.
“Aye,” he said, counting the boots on the ground through the screen. At least fifteen fully armed soldiers in combat gear wound through the labyrinth of alleys and streets within the closest seven square blocks. “This stronghold is owned by my family. Nobody else knows it exists.” Hopefully. It wouldn’t be the first time a family stronghold had been infiltrated.
“Good,” she breathed, her shoulders dropping from around her ears to where they should be.
Ah. So he had been able to provide some assurance. Excellent. Scaring her had never been his intention. Not that he had intentions toward her, but something about her free spirit intrigued him.
He’d never felt free. Not really. Duty and family always called. He was a protector of the Coven Nine, of his people, and he lived that responsibility to his very bones. To be on the opposite side of the Guard, even in one campaign, ripped claws through him.
Yet the woman staring at him managed to take him away from reality for a brief moment. God, she was stunning.
The comfortable room glowing with passionate colors seemed suddenly too small. Her feminine scent, one of wild orchids, wound around him, infiltrating his thoughts. He’d know her scent in the middle of Times Square, and sometimes late at night, when he couldn’t sleep, he could swear it was near.
That she was near.
He studied her. At least a foot shorter than he, she had classic features set in a stubborn face: straight nose, pointed chin, high cheekbones. What would she look like all flushed with passion?
Her pretty blue eyes narrowed. “Why are you shaking your head at me?”
“It’s not at you.” He turned toward the cursor and away from her delectable body. He’d always liked curvy women.
Victoria rubbed her chin. “I have so fallen down the rabbit’s hole.”
“Aye,” he said, striding toward the small kitchen to the right. “It’s past suppertime. Are you hungry?”
“No. Thirsty though.” She was right on his heels. “Have a beer?”
“No.” He rummaged through ancient cupboards and found a dusty bottle. “How about whiskey?”
She nodded. “Perfect, and now you can tell me what the hell is going on. How are you a witch? How do they even exist? Why have your damn people held me hostage for nearly a week?”
All good questions, really. He took out two lead crystal glasses, wiped them on his shirt, and poured healthy shots for them both. Turning, he handed one to Victoria.
She looked at the honey-colored alcohol, sniffed it, and downed it in one gulp. Color bloomed across her pretty face.
His lips twitched. “That’s hundred-year-old whiskey, darlin’.”
She hummed. “I like it.” She held out her glass again, and this time he gave her a double.
“Sip a bit so we can chat.” He added to his glass and moved into the living area, setting the bottle on a carved table before sitting. The woman should be coughing and not humming, although he appreciated the soft sound. “Have a seat.”
She sat on a purple brocade chair. “Time for you to talk, Adam Dunne.” After the whiskey, her voice had deepened to a sexy whisper.
His pants suddenly felt too tight. All right. It had been a while since he’d been with a woman, and this one was completely wrong for him. His body was just reacting like any healthy male’s would. He could control himself. “What do you want to know?” He took a big drink, allowing the whiskey to heat through him.
She blinked. “How do humans not know about witches, and can you turn me into a frog?”
He laughed. “Humans don’t know about other species, more powerful species, because we don’t want them to know.” Her blue eyes seemed to darken, and he watched, impressed. “I wouldn’t turn you into a frog. A mermaid, maybe.”
She leaned back. “You could turn me into a mermaid?”
He couldn’t help the smile this time. “No. First, mermaids don’t exist. Second, we use quantum physics to alter matter, like to create fire out of air. We can’t take a higher being like a human and turn it into anything else. You’re safe.”
A slight smile curved her pink lips. “Did you just make a joke?”
“I’m very funny,” he deadpanned.
She finished her drink. “Why did your people kidnap me? I just don’t get it.”
He sighed, reaching for the bottle to pour her another. Why not? They weren’t going anywhere for a while, and her tolerance was impressive. “You were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and then you saw witches get in a firefight.” At that point, her life came into jeopardy.
“That’s not my fault,” she sputtered.
“No, it isn’t. But the Coven Nine, the ruling body of witches, is fractured right now, and they don’t want any threats out there. Your knowing about us is a threat.” His hiding her from them was treason. He’d always lived in a black-and-white world . . . and now gray surrounded him.
She sipped slowly, her expression smoothing out. “I’m a threat to a bunch of witches. Seriously?”
“Aye,” he said, taking another drink. “Consider this: my brothers and my cousins are all going into hiding, temporarily. So, yes, you’re definitely in danger. I have to get you to the States and off the grid.”
She reared back. “Why is everyone going into hiding? And what about my sister?”
Of course she was worried about her sister, who was now mated to his brother. Adam considered what to tell her. “My brothers committed treason the other day by helping one of our cousins go against the sitting Coven Nine members, our ruling council of witches, of which there are now only three instead of the usual nine.” He held up a hand to forestall her question. “I can’t tell you why or who my cousin is. Just know that we’re in, ah, big trouble.”
“Was it Simone?” Victoria asked.
Hell. He’d forgotten Victoria and Simone had become friends in Seattle. “Yes. The Council ordered her death. Found her guilty of treason even though she was set up. Right now, she’s safe as we try to prove her innocence. I promise.”
“What about my sister?” Victoria ground out. “She’s dating your brother right now. Is she in danger?”
“They’re a little past the dating stage,” Adam said dryly. “Kellach mated your sister.”
Victoria leaned away from him, her eyebrows slanting down. “What the hell does that mean?”
Might as well give her all of it. “Mating is for life. Sex, a good bite, a marking, and aye . . . immortality for your sister. Her chromosomal pairs will increase, which means only beheading or perhaps completely burning will kill her.” Adam smiled. “Good news, right?”
Victoria paled. “That’s impossible.”
He didn’t correct her, just waited until she ran the facts through her head. There wasn’t time to gently ease her into the knowledge. After seeing witches throw fire, she’d believe soon enough. “Human females, ones who are enhanced, can be mated to immortals. To witches.”
“Enhanced?” she asked, her brow furrowing.
“Yes. Psychic, empathic, telekinetic . . . you name it.” He studied her. “You’re enhanced—I can feel the vibrations.” Aye. She could mate an immortal. His breath tried to speed up, and he forced his lungs to behave properly.
“I-I’m not psychic. Or any of those things.” She paled.
He shrugged. “You’re somehow enhanced. Sometimes empaths don’t even realize their gifts. I think your sister is empathic.”
Victoria shook her head, looking bewildered. “Why didn’t she tell me about witches and this whole mating thing?”
“Treason,” he said simply.
“Then I guess I’ll deal with my sister later.” Victoria looked at him then, her eyes focused, intelligence shining in them. For several seconds, she just studied him. Then she took another deep drink. “Why don’t you like me?”
He paused. What kind of a question was that? “I do like you.”
“No, you don’t.” She swirled the alcohol around in the glass. “You’re bossy and impatient, and you always look at me like I’m annoying you. Why?”
He sighed and sat back, forcing his body to relax. “I do like you, Victoria. Entirely too much.” He appreciated that she didn’t ask for an explanation. A stunner like her probably didn’t need one. More soldiers came into view on the screens, and he sighed. “Looks like we’ll be spending the night here.”