Rebecca Zanetti: Provoked

She frowned. “Meaning what?”

“You act like a brat, and I’ll treat you like a brat.”

Oh, the vampire had no idea who he was messing with. She held out her hand. “It’s a deal.”

His hand enveloped her in a warm, firm grip. “Deal.”

A smile flashed to her lips, and she couldn’t help the challenging curve.

Someone knocked on the door.

Kane froze. Releasing her, he stood. “Stay here.”

Not in a million years. She followed his long strides through the living area to the door.

The king stood on the other side, his face blank, his eyes a burning blue. “We reactivated Hilde’s tracker—she’s on her way to Scotland. We should have her final location within a few hours, and then we’ll go.”

Kane’s shoulders straightened as if he were bracing himself. “And?”

“We intercepted a second video. The demons cut off Jase’s head—he’s dead.”

Amber cleaned up the breakfast dishes, her heart hurting, her mind spinning. Kane had left with the king to create battle plans without saying another word.

The rage and pain in his eyes would haunt her forever.

Everything that happened to his family, to his people, wasn’t his fault just because he was so smart. Why did he have to take all the responsibility on himself?

She wanted to help him. Truth be told, she wanted to soothe him.

Worst truth? She loved him. Had since he’d rescued her on the side of a wintery road.

Why couldn’t he love her back?

Maybe he did and just didn’t know it.

She snorted. That kind of thinking belonged in junior high. Yet still . . .

After cleaning the kitchen, she went through the already tidy quarters and tidied up some more. Finally, she made the bed—not that they’d slept much. Her heart beat faster as she straightened the heavy down comforter into smooth lines. The dark gray color was somehow sexy. Or maybe what had happened on the bed made the bedspread look sexy.

Her marking began to burn.

“We go in an hour,” Kane said from the doorway.

She yelped, her heart racing as she whirled toward him. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I’m quiet that way.” His smile didn’t come close to being genuine.

“I’m so sorry about Jase.” Tears filled her eyes, and she tried to blink them back.

“Me, too.” Kane sat on the bed, still wearing his loose sweats and no shirt. “I really wanted to be wrong—but I saw the video. He sure looked dead.”

Kane’s pain made the air heavier.

Going on instinct, she moved between his knees, cradling his head to her chest. “Maybe the video is wrong.”

“That’s what Talen said.” Kane sighed, relaxing, his breath warming her skin. “I’m not sure. I watched it three times just to make sure . . . until I couldn’t watch it again.”

“Tell me what happened.”

His shoulders stiffened. “Jase was in the cell, on the ground, and Suri plunged a knife into his neck. Then he twisted.”

Okay, there wasn’t a decent way to ask the next question. “Did you see . . . um . . .”

“No. I didn’t see Jase’s head roll free.”

“So there’s hope.”

“God, I don’t think so. But maybe.” Kane’s lips wandered along her flesh.

Desire slid through her veins like warm silk. She swallowed, trying to force it away. Now wasn’t the time for sex.

Kane lifted his head, dark eyes full of need. “When we go after your grandmother, some of us may not be coming back. If anything happens to me, you listen to Talen. He’s promised to get you to safety.”

“You think you’re not coming back?” she asked softly, tangling both hands in Kane’s thick hair.

He shrugged. “I’ll do my best.”

Holding him, she leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his straight nose. “I’ll make sure you survive, Kane.”

His rueful grin seemed more natural. “It’s my job to protect you, mate.”

A logical man shouldn’t be so old-fashioned. “I think it goes both ways these days, vampire.”

“Not to my people, sweetheart.” His hands slid over the silk robe to cup her ass. “No matter how much we plan, how prepared we make ourselves, things go wrong in battle. The demons are waiting for us, and they’ll be prepared.”

His palms burned through the thin material. She shifted her weight, trying to concentrate on his words and not her need. “I know.”

His hands moved to the tie of the robe. Drawing the material apart, he studied her, eyes flaring. “You are incredibly beautiful.” The reverence in his voice humbled her. Gently, he pressed a kiss to her abdomen.

Her knees trembled. “Um, I’m not sure—” Then she yelped as the room spun and she ended up flat on her back.

“I’m sure.” Kane kissed his way up her torso, nipping and licking in between kisses. The bed groaned in protest. “We’re heading into hell. Right now, I want a slice of heaven before we go.”

His knee forced hers apart, and she arched against him. For a scientist, the man often sounded like a poet. “You have a romantic nature, you know.”

“Right.” He nipped the underside of her jaw.

She gasped, stretching up into his hard body. “Trust me.”

“I do.” His large hand flattened against her abdomen, moving frustratingly slow toward where she burned.

She closed her eyes, sliding into desire. The man needed to stop thinking, to stop hurting, to stop worrying about everybody else. For this moment in time, she could comfort him. She could help him escape, if only for a little while.

She tilted into his exploring hands.

He grinned against her skin. “Will I find you wet for me?”

“Only one way to find out.” She dug her nails into his shoulders, her breath panting out.

“Good point.” One finger ran along her clit, sliding inside her. “Ah, very wet.”

Wet and in serious need. Nerves flared in demand. “I don’t want slow.”

“Too bad.” His tongue traced the shell of her ear. His other fingers rolled her nipple, pinching just enough to have her gasping for breath.

The man was intoxicating. Devastating. Addictive. No other man would ever come close.

Could passion have an owner? If so, he owned hers. She ran her hands down his broad back, reaching his tight ass. She sank her fingers into the hard muscles, grinning at his groan. Oh yeah. Two could play at torture.

This moment was hers. The man needed her. He needed to forget pain, war, and reality for a brief time. That she could help him with.

He lifted his head. A dangerous, wicked smile curved his lips and made her thighs tingle. He slid his finger free, his smile broadening at her whimper of protest. Then slowly, keeping her gaze captive, he slid his hand around her hip to tap on the marking.

Fire shot from the brand through her entire body. She cried out, biting her lip to keep from moaning.

His hand flattened out, his heated palm pressing against the brand.

Her eyes fluttered closed as raw need filled her in a painful demand. His thigh pressed against her core. He plucked a nipple.

A climax bore down on her, so intense her eyelids snapped open to see the world in a haze. Uncaring of any decorum, she rode his thigh, tears pricking her eyes, sweat blooming across her chest. Shuddering violently, she came down, her body relaxing. Almost.

He planted a hard kiss on her lips. “You’re sexy as hell. I very well may adore you.” His forehead wrinkled as if he pondered a tough physics question.

Well, it was a start. “You’re overdressed.” Lifting her knees, she curled her toes in the waistband of his sweats and shoved down.

He chuckled and assisted her by shimmying out of the sweats.