Claimed (2 page)

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Authors: Rebecca Zanetti

BOOK: Claimed
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“Yes. Talen should have his mate safely home by now.”
Thank god. Emma exhaled. Vibrations from Dage's pain pounded toward her, and she concentrated on the situation at hand. Blood from his wounds flowed into each groove of the wood, resulting in the look of stained teak.
Dage groaned. “Step back, love.”
Her trembling hand patted his shoulder before she stuck it in her pocket. “You're really a vampire?” She'd known of the vampire race for a couple of months since Cara had married Talen. Though this was the first time she'd actually been face to face with one. Apparently the sun didn't bother the good guys, only the Kurjans.
“Yes.”
Emma took a step back. Vampires were immortal, right? “You'll survive this?”
“Yes. We can only be killed by beheading.”
“Okay.” She couldn't see an alternative. Her stomach pitched, and fear slithered down her spine. This had to work.
Dage sucked in air, then sprang forward. The tree branch ripped out of his flesh with a protesting snap. He landed on his knees in the crusty pine needles, emitting a string of Russian, Greek, or maybe Gaelic that sounded like curses. The earth rumbled and the wind picked up its strength around them. Winding down, he pushed to his feet. “Damn.” His good arm grabbed the hem of his shirt and ripped it over his head, his back to her.
Emma gasped at the raw wound above his right shoulder blade. Sharp wooden splinters emerged from split bone, shredded muscles, and cut tissue next to the dangerous tattoo she knew so well. The breath caught in her throat when he pivoted and blood poured from his broad chest. “You're bleeding.” She shook her head, her focus narrowing on the wicked tattoo of intricate markings along his left arm and over his shoulder to his back.
The design had haunted her dreams like a warning talisman.
He nodded, inhaling deeply, his metallic eyes unfocusing for a moment, his muscles visibly relaxing. The blood flow stemmed, leaving the bullet holes seeping. The wide gash crusted over. “That's the best I can do for now. It'll heal.” He shoved the tail ends of his shirt into a back pocket and held out one large boned hand. “Come.”
No. She wouldn't run into the woods. Not again. “Ah ...”
Dage raised an eyebrow. “We need to get going, love.”
How many nights had she run through the woods to escape her drunken father and his beefy fists? Those days were over. She'd thought she was done running from monsters.
Dage waited patiently, his gaze on her, his hand extended.
She hesitated, glancing at the tarnished limb still protruding from the ground and awaiting its next victim. In slow motion, she shifted her gaze to Dage and paused for the briefest of breaths before sliding her hand in his. A click echoed throughout her heart, throughout her head when his warm palm closed over hers. No. Wrong time to deal with this. “I need to get to Cara in case the Kurjans had time to infect her with the virus.”
Dage tightened his grip and started to jog, tugging Emma to keep pace. “Cara is fine.” Pine, sunshine and wildflowers commingled into a scent carried by the slightest breeze as the trees rushed past. “Talen made sure of it.”
Thank God. “The Kurjans didn't get a chance to inject her with the virus?” Relief began to wind through the nerves still jumping in Emma's skin.
“No. Cara and the baby are safe.”
Emma stumbled, then regained her footing with the king's help. “She told you about the baby?”
Dage flashed a grin, the sunlight dappling through branches high above to kiss his bronze skin. “No.” He tightened his grip. “I sensed the babe's heartbeat when Talen carried Cara out of the Kurjan research facility earlier today. I take it she told you?”
“No.” Emma grinned back. “Psychic here. Sometimes, anyway.”
“Ah. I wondered if you were an empath like Cara. A psychic scientist, huh?” Not by one breath did Dage show he ran with blood streaming from his shoulder.
Reality crashed back like falling boulders. “Yes. A scientist who helped develop the virus that might kill all vampire mates, including my sister.”
Dage shook his head, slowing his pace. “No. The Kurjans didn't design Virus-27 to kill our mates.” He stopped, resting his back against the trunk of a lodgepole pine, blood weaving down a six-pack worthy of billboards. “I need to close these damn holes.”
Emma tugged her hand free to bend at the waist to suck in air, her calves protesting the sudden stop. “You'd think with all the running I've been doing from the Kurjans I'd be in better shape.” Her lungs ached. She'd been on the run from the bastards for five terror filled weeks when they'd finally caught her. She eyed the path she'd just run, adrenaline prickling goose bumps on her skin. Were the Kurjans behind them?
Wait a minute. “Virus-27?” She tilted her head. “What do you mean it doesn't kill?” She thought her lab had been working on a cure for cancer. Not a way to genetically alter vampire mates, like her sister.
“Well ...” Those silver eyes probed her for a moment, bringing an unwelcomed skittering to Emma's abdomen. “What do you know about a vampire mating?”
The skittering turned into a full flush which traveled north to heat her face. “Just what Cara had time to tell me when we were locked in the room by the Kurjans earlier today. And she, um, showed me the brand on her ass.” The design resembled the tattoo winding over Dage's shoulder.
Twin dimples flashed in Dage's strong face. “Yes, well. When we find our mates, a marking appears on our palm. It transfers to our mate during sex and changes the human to immortal.”
Warmth heated Emma's face, and she struggled to focus on the genetics involved, stretching her calves during the moment of rest. “Your mates are always human?”
“Well, non-vampire anyway. Vampires are male only.” He pushed off from the bark and her senses swam with sandalwood, leather, and amber. Power. “The marking changes a human from having twenty-three chromosomes to twenty-seven.”
Emma's scientific mind reeled. “Vampires have twenty-seven chromosomes?”
“No. We and the Kurjans have thirty.”
She shook her head. “So Cara now has twenty-seven chromosomes and is immortal?” Emma needed to get back and take some blood samples. She wouldn't have believed it had she not stolen lab results full of proof.
“Yes. And as a mate, she's safe from the touch of any other vampire or Kurjan. We call it the mating allergy.” He closed his eyes, breathing deeply as the holes in his body reduced in size. “My brother Jase tried to kiss a mated woman a century or so ago and ended up in agony with raw blisters across his face.” Dage smiled in remembrance.
“So my research to create a virus that mutates chromosomes was actually to change this mating allergy?” She'd hoped to combat non-Hodgkin's lymphoma by having a man-made virus attack and mutate the cancer cells.
“We think that was one of the goals. The virus initially attacks the twenty-seventh chromosome, thus my brother Kane named it Virus-27. We believe the twenty-seventh chromosome ties into the mating bond. The Kurjans want to steal our mates.” Dage opened his eyes, dark gaze on her.
“Why? I mean, why don't they just find their own mates?”
“Ah. Well, mates are enhanced humans. Psychics, healers, empaths—and you're few and far between.” He eyed the sun just beginning to lower in the west. “In fact, there's a pretty strong theory that enhanced humans are descendants of the fey people, cousins to the witches.”
Witches? No way—she was a scientist, damn it. And his reference to her as a potential mate should not have set butterflies to flight in her stomach. The desire to explore a world where her psychic visions not only made sense but were accepted flirted with her need to protect a hard-earned, well-ordered life. Focus. She needed to focus. “So Cara and the baby are safe from the Kurjans, so long as they're protected from the virus?”
“Yes. They're safe from the Kurjans.” Dage stretched his arms, his gaze sliding to the forest before them and clearly avoiding hers.
Unease wound down Emma's spine at his tone. Something concerned the king. “Who isn't my sister safe from?” Good God. Was Talen dangerous? Or ... “Is something wrong with the baby?”
Dage sighed and rubbed his chin, sending a tendril of unease down her spine. “Probably not.”
“Probably?” Not good enough. Not nearly good enough.
His silver gaze wandered her face, taking her measure until she lifted her chin in response. He sucked in air. “The speed of the pregnancy is unheard of in our people. Cara's physiology is still changing from human to immortal—no mate has ever reproduced so quickly. It usually takes decades or even centuries of trying for a successful conception.”
Well. Nice of him not to sugarcoat it. “Successful conception?”
“Ah, yes. Apparently creating immortals isn't that easy.” While he smiled at what appeared to be an understatement, concern filled his amazing eyes.
“But you have four brothers.” How hard could it be?
Dage shrugged. “I know. It took three centuries of attempts and miscarriages for my parents to have me. Then my brothers came along quickly. I can't explain it.”
She needed a lab and blood samples from all of them. There was a rational explanation for the scenario—the right research method was all that was needed. Science could explain anything, regardless of the species and genetics involved.
He reached out and grasped her hand. “Being a mate carries danger, Emma. You need to know that right now.” Loping into a jog, he tugged her into a run.
She had no intention of being mated with a vampire, regardless of her dreams. “What's up with the primitive language? I mean, assuming the legends of vampires are true and you're fairly immortal, shouldn't you have progressed past the whole possessive ‘my mate' language?”
He rasped out a chuckle. “Fairly immortal? We can be killed by beheading, as can the Kurjans.” His hand tightened on hers and trees rushed past. “Don't for a second think the possessive ‘my mate' language is archaic terminology. It fits.”
A warning tickled the back of her neck even as warmth spread through her limbs. A glance at the sky jerked her out of her thoughts. The sun angled lower toward the mountains. They were running out of time.
Chapter 2
D
ust tickled Emma's nose and powdered her knees as she knelt next to Dage while the last rays of the day filtered inside the dank cave. They'd run for nearly two hours until reaching the hills and myriad of caves. A dripping somewhere down a small tunnel caused a shiver to run up her back, and she pushed away thoughts of bats. And spiders. She had real monsters to worry about.
She shifted her attention to Dage, who sat against the wall, blood running in rivulets down his broad chest to stain his jeans. He'd been sitting for nearly fifteen minutes attempting to close the holes in his body without success.
The sound of her throat clearing echoed around the rock walls of the cave. “You're hurt, you need to feed.”
He raised an eyebrow, arrogant even in pain. “Feed? You watch too much television, love.”
“You don't drink blood?”
“Sure. During extreme situations like battle or sex. But for dinner I prefer a nice steak with a vintage cabernet.” His grin slid into a grimace.
“I'd say this is an extreme situation.” The scent of his blood sent her instincts reeling. She may not have her sister's empathic abilities, but even Emma could feel vibrations from the king's pain. “You need blood.”
His chin lifted, a challenge sparking though those dangerous eyes. “Do I?”
Frustration whispered through her. “Yes.” Although she needed saving because of his people's war, he had mounted a battle against several monsters to save her, and she couldn't do less for him.
“Sure you can. You don't owe me anything.” He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the rough rock wall. “And while the Kurjans dragged you into this mess by using your lab for research, you'll soon learn this is where you belong.”
Damn it. “Listen vampire, you'll show me the respect of staying the hell out of my head.” Great. That's all she needed. The guy who'd starred in her kinkiest fantasies since her teenage years reading her thoughts.
His full lips quirked up. “My apologies. I'm not at one hundred percent here—blocking takes effort.”
“Try.”
“I promise I'll try.” He kept his eyes closed.
She fought to concentrate on anything but the king's pain. “How old are you, anyway?”
“Three and a half centuries or so.”
Wow. “How long have you been king?”
“All but twenty-five of those years. Our parents were killed by the Kurjans and I had to step up.” His breath hissed out on a note of pain. “We went to war for too long, and then we brokered peace. Until last month.”
“When the Kurjans discovered me.” Guilt slid down Emma's spine. She'd led the devils right to Cara and Janie, Cara's young daughter. Two more gifted females.
“Yes.” Dage stretched the long column of his neck, sucking in air. “They discovered you when using your lab to conduct some of their research.” A pained grin lifted his lips. “You must be very good at your job.”
“Good enough to figure out I wasn't working on a cure for cancer.” She'd never forget returning to the lab one night to discover two Kurjans meeting with her old boss. “I saw the Kurjans and ran away.” She'd mailed her flash drive to a friend, and she'd been on the run since.
“We're going to need you to recount what you remember from your research.” Dage paled further.
“I know.” She leaned forward, willing his bleeding to stop. Coppery fresh blood flowed down the hard planes of his chest. That tattoo whispered secrets and flared nerves to life along her skin. The Kayrs Marking. A quick glance at his collarbone and neck revealed bullet holes oozing blood. Smaller than before, but still bleeding.
These were the first actual bullet holes she'd ever seen. Her father had shot toward her with a shotgun during his drunken rages, but he'd always missed. “The green flash from the Kurjan's gun looked like lasers. Why are there bullet holes in your neck?”
“The burst of light is a laser which hardens into bullets when meeting flesh.”
Weapons to injure immortals. God knows what damage such devices would inflict upon humans. She sighed. “Do you think the Kurjans are near?”
He shook his head without opening his eyes. “No. I don't sense evil anywhere near us. We're probably safe for a couple hours, then we should move again.”
A couple hours? Damn. She needed him in fighting shape. “Will drinking my blood help heal you?”
His lids flipped open, revealing those silver eyes that had haunted her dreams for fifteen years. Hunger, raw and pure, filled them. “Yes.”
Emma gulped in air. The husky timber of his voice caressed nerves she didn't want to own. “I won't become a vampire?”
His dimples winked at her. “No. Vampires are born, not made.”
Fear and her damn curiosity blended until she could only whisper. “Okay.” She held out her wrist and shut her eyes. And waited. The breeze picked up outside the cave, rustling pine needles and leaves inside the small entrance, and she shivered. Finally, she opened her eyes in exasperation. “What?”
Reaching out with his good arm, he lifted her chin with one knuckle, waiting until her gaze met his. “I want your neck.”
Low and rough, his voice skittered need through her midriff. Talk about direct. “Um, well, why?” Her mind reeled and she fought the urge to drop her gaze to his mouth. She lost the fight. He ran a tongue along those full lips. Need rippled through her. How did he do that?
He waited again until she focused on him, her eyes widening on the pure confidence shining in his. “I've been waiting to taste you for centuries—I don't want you extending your wrist to me and looking the other way.”
“What do you want?” She shouldn't have asked that.
For answer, he reached out with his healthy arm and lifted her until she straddled his lap. She should've protested, but the easy strength and warm hand on her hip caught the breath in her throat. Fascinating. Such true, raw power. She pressed both hands against the undamaged muscles of his chest, balancing herself. His erection lay thick and hard beneath her, and she fought the urge to clench her thighs against his legs.
He stared at her through half-lidded eyes, his hands going to unbutton her cotton shirt.
“What are you doing?” she breathed.
“I don't want to get blood on your shirt.” His gaze dropped to the swell of her breasts over the plain white bra. Fire flared within those silver depths and she fought a moan.
“That's enough.” She covered his hands with hers.
With a nod, he gently placed her hands on his thighs before clasping the shirt and drawing it down both arms. The lower buttons remained engaged, and the material trapped her arms at her sides.
He pinned her with a gaze so full of hunger she couldn't speak. “You'll give your blood?”
Emma nodded, her focus narrowing to the man before her.
Sharp fangs emerged from his canines and he growled, reaching one arm around to cup her head and pull it to the side. Her neck stretched and vulnerability battled with arousal down her length. Every muscle in her body tensed to flee. His other hand gasped her hip, flexed, then slid up to her bare shoulder, entrapping her.
There was no escaping him.
Tugging her closer, he buried his head in the hollow between her neck and shoulder. She tensed, waiting for the pain. Instead, he pressed one tender kiss to her rapidly beating pulse. She felt it to her core.
He inhaled, running his mouth along her collarbone and up to her ear, where he nipped. “You smell like spiced rum and peaches.” He breathed against her skin, his hands holding her firmly in place. “Some dreams I could smell you, but not this strongly. Never this fully.” He rose up, drawing in a deep breath. “Never so much I'd do anything to have you.”
Quick as a whip, he struck.
His fangs pierced her skin. Emma cried out, shutting her eyes.
Her blood boiled.
Raw need flared her flesh to life and a hum began deep in her core. Without caring enough to stop and think, she pressed against him, so hard, so full. His mouth pulled harder, and her nipples pebbled into pinpoints of need. Something contracted in her womb, begging for him. He drank more, and she exploded into a thousand pieces. The room sheeted white as an orgasm tore through her with the force of a furious tornado. She went limp, held upright only by his hands.
Sealing the wound, his tongue lashed across her skin and she shivered, nearly dazed. He held her in place and lifted his head away from her, his gaze piercing on her heated face.
She should be embarrassed, but a warm haze clouded her vision, her brain.
“Emma?”
She lifted heavy lids to focus.
His eyes burned hotter than molten steel. “I want you.”
“I know.” She sat on the proof of his desire. Hard and throbbing. “But we just met.” Hours ago.
His hands slid down to cup her hips, pulling her closer along his rigid length. “Have you dreamed about me?”
“Yes.” She fought a groan at the warm strength grasping her even as desire began to heat again.
His gaze dropped to her needy breasts, and his hands flexed before he looked back up. “For how long?”
She glanced away, evading his question to see the bullet holes close into healthy flesh and the large wound from the tree stitch together until disappearing. His chest appeared as if never injured. “You're all right.”
“Yes. I asked you a question.”
She'd say the arrogance returned with his healing, but really, had it ever disappeared? “I'm aware of that, Dage.” The breathiness coating her voice ruined the sarcasm.
He released her to grab his discarded shirt and wipe the remaining blood from his skin. “Then answer me.”
She shrugged. “Fifteen years or so.” Since she'd hit puberty.
Pleasure filtered across his strong features, and he tossed the shirt away. “I've dreamed about you for two hundred years. I'd say we've known each other for quite a bit of time.”
She grinned. “Is this your way of making a move?”
His eyes darkened to zinc. “No. This is.” One large hand covered her breast and flexed.
She gasped, fighting the absolutely insane urge to rub against him.
Desire and intent filled his eyes. His free hand clasped her hair and pushed her mouth to his. Pure raging fire slid through her veins as the immortal made his move.
Sweeping his tongue inside her mouth, he tasted at his leisure, pressing her further into him. Her mind spun, her breasts ached. Almost as if he knew her thoughts, he swept one callused thumb inside her bra, sliding across a turgid nipple. She moaned into his mouth, both hands clutching his strong shoulders closer.
He deserted her lips, trailing hot kisses along her jawline to her neck, where he nipped. Leaning back, he slid her shirt down farther, his clever hand flicking open the front clasp of her bra and sliding the sides apart. His eyes flared hot and hungry before his head dropped and he drew one hard nipple into his blazing mouth.
She moaned, her hands clenching his hair, drawing him closer. Oh God. Pure wanton need shot through every nerve, clamoring together in a craving only he could satisfy. He suckled, sliding his hand around her waist to plunge into her jeans and cup her ass. Rough and warm, he kneaded.
Wait, something tickled the back of her mind. Something there ... “Dage!” She pulled back, her breast leaving his mouth with a soft pop.
“What?” he growled, clearly disgruntled, moving back toward her chest.
She tightened her grip and yanked on his hair.
He stilled, danger flashing through his eyes. “What?”
“Your hand.” She gulped in air, trying to focus, trying to dispel some of the need. “Your hand.”
“What about it?” He pulled free to glance at it.
For answer, she released his hair, grabbed his hand and flipped it over, curling the fingers of her hands around the edges. A raised crest, intricate and black spread across his palm. Lines crossed and swirled, and a thick K rose through the design. A smaller version of his tattoo.
“The marking,” he said, his voice deepening to a rumble.
“The marking,” she affirmed. They needed to get a couple of things straight right now. Her visions never lied, and she had to protect them both. “I'll not be branded, Dage.” She swallowed rapidly, trying to clear her head.
He raised an eyebrow. “The marking only appears when we touch our mates, love. I drank your blood, and it appeared.” His jaw firmed. “You will be marked.”
Her temper stirred to war with desire. “No.”

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