Rebecca Zanetti: Hunted

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. Of course, vampires had no more problem with the sun than did humans. Legends were bunk. This strike was merely the beginning.

She expected him to evade the energy weapon. Order her to stop its movement. Instead, his lips tipped ever so slightly. 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 could anyone not only take her energy but use it against her? 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 light-headed. “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 since it fried them.

Conn nearly grinned. “Yes. The vampires and shifters are prepared. But I multitasked.”

“Multitasked?” Her voice wavered while dread ripped through her. The deadliest soldier ever born to the vampires multitasked? He was shagging kidding her. “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 the hell was she going to keep him out of her 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 temper 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. 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 she didn’t know what to do. “I don’t want you.” She lowered her chin.

“Liar.” His eyes softened in what had better not be 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.

What the hell? Conn leaped forward and grabbed Moira’s arms, settling his stance on the tavern’s wooden floor. Wind twirled behind Moira in a circular pattern with the force of gravity, fighting to draw her in. A swirling white mass of a tornado concealed the other side. She cried out, her green eyes wide with fright, her hands digging into his forearms until she drew blood. Her hair whipped behind her, yanking her head back.

A high-pitched squall emerged from the abyss. Bar glasses shattered, sending shards spinning. One sliced into his neck. Electricity sizzled through the air, sparking against polished surfaces.

The energy pulled Moira’s head back farther, the cords in her neck stretching. Her hold loosened on his arms. She half fell in the swirling mass, tugging him with her. Ice, fire, liquids, and gels, all commingled against his skin. Dimensions?