Rebecca Zanetti: Provoked

Most likely she held a knife.

An odd choice, really, considering she must know he was a vampire. She’d have little chance of harming him. While she was a demon destroyer, a powerful mind warrior. . . she was still human. Still so very fragile.

The vulnerability she’d tried to hide in those stunning black eyes had stopped him cold. He’d even saved the two drunk morons who had planned to hurt her—an unnecessary and truly time-wasting act. But she’d asked, and he’d hurried to do her bidding.

What in the world was wrong with him?

He’d told Dage he could handle the mission. Talen would’ve just hog-tied the woman and dragged her home. Same with Conn, their other brother. But Kane had hoped to reason with her.

Why did she have to be so stunning? Beautiful enhanced women were a distraction. One he couldn’t afford, even if the world hadn’t gone to hell. Two huge goals loomed before him. First and foremost, he needed to save Jase. Then he needed to cure a virus created to take out his loved ones.

But now, he needed to find patience and some sort of camaraderie with the woman. The sooner she made her move with the weapon, the sooner he could illustrate there was no hope of escaping him. She needed to help, and she would.

He cleared his throat. “Where should I take the snoring drunks?”

She jumped, swinging her torso toward him, those pretty eyes wide. “Ah, good question. There’s an all-night restaurant north of the bar—we can drop them off in the parking lot.”

Her voice trembled and her shoulders stiffened.

Wonderful. She’d make her move at a public place. He shook his head. “Whatever you’re planning won’t work.” It was only fair to give her warning. Maybe she’d heed the threat.

“I’m not planning anything.”

Nope. The woman wasn’t going to heed shit. “Is there a reason you won’t help me?”

She picked at a loose thread on her jacket. “I don’t believe you about the demons.” Her lips quirked. “I’m sorry.”

Oh. Well, that was an odd one. “Why not?”

“Demons don’t exist.” She scrunched up her face. “I mean, probably.”

“You can trust me.” While he understood the need to hide her gifts, he couldn’t allow the subterfuge to continue. The sooner they got that unpleasant reality out of the way, the sooner she could help him find Jase.

“Sure. Yeah, you’re totally trustworthy.”

He turned west along darkened streets toward the bar. “The demons took my youngest brother hostage four years ago—and you of all people know what they’ve done to him.” A rare rage heated in Kane’s gut, and he shoved all emotion down.

“Me of all people?”

“Yes. As the only demon destroyer we’ve ever found, you must know what they can do. What they will do.”

“Demon destroyer, huh?” She shifted in the seat. “You sure you have the right gal?”

His hands tightened on the wheel. “I’m sure.”

“You poor, crazy man.” She sighed. “How many brothers do you have?”

So, she was going to humor him. “I have four brothers—Jase is the youngest.”

“Where do you fall in the lineup?” Her smile whispered sweetness.

“Smack-dab in the middle.” He fit the middle child cliché to a T. The peacemaker, the brilliant one, the one in the middle. “When the first war intruded, and my older brother had to step up as king, we all fell into place. I’m his confidant when he needs logic and order. And a plan.”

“Sounds lonely.”

How odd. Kane narrowed his eyes, glancing at the woman. “No. We all do our jobs.”

“What about when you don’t want to be logical? What about when you’re angry and want to hit something?” Streetlights from quiet storefronts glinted off her nearly white hair, turning her into an angel.

He shrugged. “That’s an indulgence I can’t allow. The king needs me logical, so I am.”

“Maybe that’s why you went a bit . . . off the track.”

Good Lord. Was she back to that? “Stop playing with me, sweetheart. Logic can kick your butt as quickly, if not more efficiently, than a good broadsword.”

“Was that a threat?” Her posture went ramrod straight.

“Would a threat work?” he asked, an unwilling smile tingling his lips.

“No.”

That’s what he thought. Bright lights spilled from the all-night diner and cut through the softly falling snow like an invitation. He maneuvered the truck into the parking lot. Regret filled him as he grabbed Amber and hauled her across the seat. “We can’t have you jumping out, now, can we?” He turned to shove Chuck in the shoulder. “Wake up.”

Chuck groaned.

Good enough. Kane cut the engine. “They’ll awaken soon and head inside. We need to get out of here.” Jumping out, he kept a firm hand on the woman, even while helping her to the ground. What kind of a moron lifted his truck so high a lady needed assistance getting out?

Her boots scattered snow as she landed and then regained her balance. “Thanks.” She kept her gaze on his chest.

“Sure.” He shut the door and waited patiently for her to make a move.

She remained still. Snow billowed softly to coat her lovely hair. A small shiver racked her shoulders.

He peered down at her. “Amber?”

“Yes?”

“If you’re going to attack with whatever’s in your right hand, could you hurry it up? We need to get going.”

She started, her gaze slashing up to him. “How did you know?”

He shrugged. “What kind of a knife do you have?”

Her cheeks pinkened, and she drew her hand forward. “I have a pen.”

A blue ballpoint pen. He blinked twice, his gaze on the harmless tool.

Maybe it was the ridiculousness of the pen. Maybe it was the woman’s courage in planning to use it on him. Or maybe it was the sheepish half-smile she gave.

Either way, his heart rolled over.

Warmth flushed through him, so hot, so fast, his ears rang. His mind blanked. For the first time in centuries, his brain shut off. The woman was crazy. Stepping in, he grasped her chin and tilted her head back.

Her eyes widened, and then her gaze lowered to his lips. A soft sound of surprise emerged with her breath.

He dove in, allowing the animal within to awaken. For the first time in three centuries, there was no thought. All instinct ruled as his mouth took hers . . . no finesse, no calculation, just pure, raw need. He shoved her against the truck, his other hand clutching her hip as he went deeper.

Honeysuckle exploded along his taste buds as his tongue swept inside her mouth. Not gentle, not persuasive, just taking. Claiming.

And it wasn’t enough. Not even close to enough.

Pressing into her, body to body, heat to heat, something clicked. Beyond his brain, beyond his body . . . somewhere deeper.

Finally, he found home.

Her nails bit into his skin as she rose to her tiptoes, meeting him more than halfway. A small whimper escaped her as she tightened her hold, her nipples pebbling against him.

A low growl centered in his chest, and he palmed her butt, yanking her into his erection. At the contact, fire rippled up his spine. He needed to be inside her . . . now.

Her flesh filled his hand and he squeezed, feeling her moan inside his mouth. The jeans were a hindrance. With a growl of impatience, he slid his palm beneath her waistband and found silky smooth skin. No underwear—or she wore a thong. He slid his finger over. Yep. She was wearing a thong. Jesus, his head might blow off. As he kneaded her butt, awareness pressed in. She was cold. Or rather, her rear was cold.

He broke the kiss, breathing heavily, his gaze on her upturned face. Snow fell on her lashes as her eyelids fluttered open. Her cheeks were rosy, her mouth bruised. Tempting lips formed a perfect O as awareness filtered into her eyes.