Rebecca Zanetti: Hunted

Conn stilled. “Daire and Adam?”

Kell and his two brothers served as the chief enforcers for the Nine. Something huge must be going down if they all had been summoned at once. Suspicion tightened Conn’s shoulders.

“Why are you with Moira, Kell?” Conn’s voice dropped to an octave that should’ve warned his friend. He’d assumed Kell was with Moira to perform his duty as liaison and enforcer and perhaps to provide protection. But if his mate needed protection, someone should’ve called him.

Kell cut his gaze to Moira. “I believe that’s a conversation between you and the Seventh, Kayrs.”

“Don’t call me that.” Moira stiffened. “You’ve no right to be pissed, Kell.”

Kell stepped forward, his eyes blazing. “No right to be pissed? Are you kidding?” He swept his hand toward Conn. “There’s a good chance I’m going to end up in a fistfight with one of my best friends because you’ve refused to get your life in order. And now it might be too late to fix our world.”

One step had Conn in front of Moira. “Don’t yell at her.” A brawl was guaranteed—though the first punch came from the brat behind him. Two-fisted and right to his kidneys.

“That’s it.” Conn swirled around and ducked, tossing his witch over his shoulder. She bellowed in surprise. He pivoted, heading for the exit. “Since I’m under strict orders from my king not to piss off the council, we’ll go meet with them now. You can explain what the hell’s going on during the flight.” He strode through the door and into the sun, not caring whether or not Kell followed. Moira struggled, smashing her hands into his back. “Then, mate, we’re going home.”

Rage burned in his gut. Moira’s family had power and knew how to wield it. The second he forced her from Ireland, they’d declare war.

So be it.

Moira settled back against the plush seat in the helicopter, for once not appreciating the luxury of the well-built machine. She longed for the sound of rushing wind to drown out the testosterone-filled silence of the two men currently ignoring her. Kell sat across the aisle with his legs extended, head back, eyes closed. Conn dominated the seat next to her, punching laptop keys until his computer flared to life. Maybe she should go visit with the pilots. She pushed up on the armrests, only to still when Conn swiveled his head.

Green eyes pierced her. “Sit. Back. Down.”

Warning filled his tone and should’ve pissed her off. The energy needed to get truly angry escaped her. Tired. She was so damn tired. Leather hissed out air when she flopped back down.

A rugged face took shape on the screen. Bugger. He’d called the king.

“I’ve walked into a shitload of trouble,” Conn said as a greeting.

Dage Kayrs lifted an eyebrow. “Good to see you, too, brother.” Tight and packed hard, the king filled the screen dressed in jeans and a black silk shirt. The background appeared to be a filmy screen ... not giving a hint as to his whereabouts. He cut his silver gaze to the side. “Hi, Moira.”

“Hi.” Pride filled her at the steadiness of her voice. Calm. She’d stay calm.

“Sorry.” Conn rubbed his chin. “How is your mate?”

Dage frowned. “Emma’s working around the clock to find a cure for the virus.” He sighed. “Her sister is due in less than a month, and Talen’s driving me crazy.”

Cara had been infected with Virus-27 while pregnant, and nobody knew what the chromosome-altering disease would do to the baby. But Moira had assisted with defeating the catalyst in Cara’s blood that would’ve sped up the process in changing her from a vampire mate with twenty-seven chromosomal pairs back down to a human with twenty-three. Of course, no one knew if the virus would stop there or keep deleting until death. For now, they’d slowed the damn bug down.

Dread filled Moira. “Cara is strong, Dage. She’ll be all right.”

The king nodded. “I hope so.” He shifted back to his brother. “So? How angry is the Council of the Coven Nine?”

Conn shrugged. “I don’t know yet. My guess is pretty pissed.”

Moira nodded. “Good guess.”

Dage lifted an eyebrow. “I didn’t think my request was unreasonable.”

The arrogance of the Kayrs men should be bottled and sold. “Not once in the history of the Realm has a king requested our soldiers train under his direction.” In fact, if you asked her, the coven’s soldiers could kick the vampires’ asses. She smiled.

An answering smile flirted with Dage’s full lips. “You’ve been working on diplomacy, haven’t you?”

“Yes.” Someday she’d have to use it all the time on the council. Unfortunately.

“Keep working on it.” Conn leaned closer to the computer screen. “I’ll explain the danger of the new breed of werewolf, and our training schedule.”

“It’s about control,” Moira muttered. “Our people ally with yours. We don’t answer to you.” So much for diplomacy.

“No. The stakes are so high, we all need the right training.” Dage frowned. “Who’s spinning my request in such a manner?”

The entire council. Moira eyed Kell across the aisle. Damn man should wake up and help her out. “We train our own soldiers, King.”

“We’ll see about that.” Dage cut his gaze to his brother. “Why am I getting the feeling more is at play here?”

“Your instincts are spot on. What I understand so far”—Conn aimed a glare her way—“is that somebody has learned to transport people against their will.”

“Excuse me?” The king stepped closer to the camera.

“A portal of sorts opened up and tried to yank Moira through. I figure it’s close to teleporting.”

Dage frowned. “Only a few of us in the world have the ability to transport through dimensions and arrive somewhere else, Conn.”

“I know. Could you transport someone if they weren’t doing it with you?”

“No.” Dage gazed into the distance. “Transporting is jumping between dimensions.” He focused back on them. “Moira, the specialty of quantum physics the witches master is similar. Have your people been experimenting?”

Conn stiffened, and Moira kept her focus on the king. “No. We use energy to alter the state of matter on a subatomic level. Pure science, Dage. You manipulate time more in line with string theory. The two are totally different.” But, well ... science was science.

“What if both happened at once?” Conn asked.

Moira shrugged. “Then an incredible amount of power might be released. Perhaps enough to yank someone through dimensions from a remote location.” The person doing the transporting would be drained of energy for long afterward. The idea explained the gap in time between disappearances of council members. A fact she was under strict orders not to reveal.

“Anything you want to tell us, Moira?” the king asked softly.

Even across the distance, a prickle set up at the base of her skull. She slammed shields shut and smiled. “I’m a well-trained witch, King. Stay out of my head.” While she considered Dage a friend, akin to family, her head stayed closed.

Dage glanced at Conn.

“He can’t get in, either,” Moira said. As her mate, he had a good chance of getting past her mental shields soon. They’d only been in the same vicinity for about two hours, and already she sensed his feelings. Pure, pissed-off male. That was nothing compared to the fury she’d meet if he breached her shields and read her thoughts.

“Yet.” Conn’s threat hung in the air. “Though I can tell you the council is circling the wagons and has recalled the enforcers. In fact”—he frowned, his gaze on her—“Moira here isn’t nearly as surprised as she should be that someone tried to take her. I’m thinking this isn’t the first attempt.”