Come Fill Me (The Prophecy) (9 page)

Shock, then anger crossed her features. She shoved his arm from her and turned to face him as best she could. “Then where is he?”

“I don’t know.”

“What?” Her shout rang through the van’s narrow interior. “You said he was safe. You said—”

“I told you what my visions showed me. I never saw your father, only you and Carreon. He…” Zeke paused as images flashed in his mind, snatches of what was to come. Carreon’s earring reflecting the light, sending a prism of color to his cheek. His predatory stare, no different from a wildcat hunting his prey. Liz’s mouth forming words Zeke couldn’t hear. Her moving toward Carreon, rather than away. Carreon’s hand stroking her hair, then reaching for her throat.

Zeke blinked rapidly, trying to erase the memories of his vision. He whispered, “I saw you die.”

A small moan escaped her.

He took her hand. Liz snatched it back. “You didn’t see my father? Could Carreon have killed him first? Was I fighting him? Is that what it was about?”

Zeke struggled with what to tell her and finally decided on the truth. “In my vision, you didn’t look angry. You seemed terrified, as though he’d surprised you.”

“Were we at his stronghold?” She grabbed his forearm, demanding answers. “Did you see anything that you recognized when you were there tonight?”

How in the hell was he supposed to answer that? He’d been near death when Carreon’s men had brought him inside, his mind and soul trying to reconnect with Gabrielle. Once healed, he’d only been concerned with the gunfire and trying to get the fuck out of there.

“Please,” she said, digging her nails into his skin. “You have to tell me.”

Zeke thought back, trying to force details to surface. He recalled Carreon’s earring glinting with more light as he turned, a tear clinging to one of Liz’s lashes and falling to her cheek, then—

“What?” she asked.

“I saw yours and Carreon’s faces and a dim view of what was around you. Maybe a bookcase and a fireplace. I don’t know.”

“You’re saying you can’t bring the vision back?”

“Not the way you want. They arise from nowhere, then disappear like a dream when you wake up. Just bits of what I’ve seen remain.”

“You said we were by a bookcase and a fireplace. Were the colors light, dark? Was what you saw tall, short?”

He shook his head, helpless to answer. “I don’t know.”

“Damn you, you’re lying.”

“Why would I about that?”

“How the hell should I know?” She brought back her hand. “Maybe it’s your nature. You lied to me about my father.”

Zeke grabbed her arm and kept her from turning from him. “Listen to me. Your father’s safe from Carreon. I’ve never seen him in jeopardy from that piece of shit. My vision showed Carreon with you. You’re the one who’s in danger from him and only him.”

Liz regarded his hand on her. “But not from you? Never you?”

He released her arm. “Whatever I say, you’re not likely to believe it, are you, Liz? Tell me, do you really believe I intend to harm you?”

Her outrage hung on for a moment, then evaporated beneath a mixture of frustration and embarrassment, proving she didn’t fear him. Pushing her hair back, she fooled with it as Zeke waited for her next accusation or maybe an apology. He almost smiled at the thought.

She asked, “Did your visions show Carreon or his men harming Jacob tonight?”

Caught off guard, Zeke couldn’t stop the flood of pain coursing through him. He swallowed, then shook his head.

“Are you kidding?” She looked dumbfounded. “What good is your gift if it didn’t show you that?”

Zeke couldn’t recall a moment when he’d felt wearier. “Damned if I know. It’s not something I’ve asked for or ever wanted, you know?”

As though she did, Liz made a small sound of compassion, then eased a strand of hair behind his ear, her fingertips grazing his cheek.

Jesus. The unspoken understanding in her touch stripped away all of Zeke’s defenses, leaving him helpless. He wanted her body wrapped around his, their breathing and heartbeats in rhythm, their combined heat chasing away all that was bad, providing a bit of hope that someday there’d be a real future for both their clans. There’d be a chance to laugh. To dream.

“Was Jacob deliberately targeted tonight?” she asked.

“No.” He frowned. “He was trying to save me.”

“From Carreon’s ambush?”

Zeke shook his head. “We learned from our usual sources where he’d be tonight. The location put him in a precarious position, and I decided to kill the bastard once and for all for what his men had done to Gabrielle.”

Liz cradled his fist in her hands, running her fingertips over his knuckles.

He stopped squeezing them, suddenly aware of how they hurt, her light strokes draining some of the tension from him.

“What happened?” she asked.

What didn’t? He pushed his free hand through his hair, pulling it away from his face.

“Jacob argued against me going, saying it might be a trap. I didn’t care. When I refused to listen to him, he lied, claiming Carreon would arrive later than he actually did. Jacob went in my place to attack him.” He muttered an oath at his damn, bullheaded brother. “Carreon wasn’t there. It was a trap, just as Jacob had thought. When he surprised Carreon’s people, they fired on him and the men he’d brought along. None of our other men were hurt. They brought Jacob back to the stronghold. When I saw the extent of his injuries, I left to find you.”

“That’s when they attacked you.”

“They tried to take me prisoner. I wouldn’t let them. I fired. They fired. You know the rest.”

“Did your visions warn you of the attack and you almost dying?”

“I told you, they aren’t like TV programs, all right?”

“But they did give you a glimpse into your future,” she said. “Don’t deny it. I can see the truth on your face. What in the hell’s the matter with you? Why did you put your life at risk to go through with it? Wasn’t there another way to save Jacob?”

Zeke had to wonder why she was asking. Because it would have spared her from being kidnapped tonight, or because she cared just a bit about a man she’d been born to hate?

“I knew you’d heal me,” he said. “I saw it in my mind. I had to put myself at risk, not only to save Jacob but so Carreon’s men would bring me to his stronghold. It was the only way my people could follow and see where it was, learn its weaknesses. Now we know.”

Liz released his hand. “I can’t leave my father. I have to get back before Carreon does anything to him.”

“Why would he?”

“It’s how he keeps me in line. Ever since my father refused to heal for him, Carreon’s depended upon me, imprisoning my father to make certain of it.”

“Then he won’t be harming him,” Zeke said. “With you gone, your father’s all that Carreon has left, unless others in your clan have your same gift.”

“They don’t. Not really.”

“And that means?”

She scratched the rough carpeting with her thumbnail. “They can’t heal to the degree that my father and I do. Hell, I can’t heal the way he does. All he has to do is lay his palm on the injured, and they’re all right. I—well, you know what I have to do.”

“I’ll never forget.”

She sighed as if he’d said a dirty word. “None of the others in my clan has the mark. It proves my father’s gift, and mine to a lesser degree, are the strongest.”

Zeke took her hand, regarding the reddish stain in the center of her palm. His first thought was to kiss it. However, he wasn’t that brave a man, fearing her rejection. He traced the dark oval with his forefinger, stunned by the brief spark of energy, the sense of life flowing from her body into his.

She folded her fingers to stop him.

“Carreon won’t harm your father,” Zeke said. “He may be worse than an animal, but he’s no fool. As long as he needs someone, they’ll remain alive.”

“Can you guarantee that?”

When he said nothing, she pulled her hand away.

“I didn’t do this to harm you or those you love,” he said. “I don’t want your pain any more than I believe you want mine.”

She glanced at her claw marks on his chest. “You’re sure of that?”

He stopped his smile, figuring she wouldn’t appreciate it. “Very. What are you doing?”

She touched the deepest of his injuries. He flinched at the uncomfortable sting.

“Does it hurt that badly?” she asked.

“No.”

“How about this?”

Damn. Zeke clenched his teeth at the pain shooting down his arm. He frowned at the raw flesh where his snake’s head tattoo had once been. Someone had cut it out. When?

“Burns, huh?” Liz asked.

Zeke managed not to wince. “Not at all.”

“Liar.” Leaning close, she laid her palm over one of the injuries she’d caused. “Does this help?”

A fucking lot more than she’d ever know and not only because of her healing touch. The sting on his pec ebbed, replaced by a surge of tenderness and gratitude—something he hadn’t felt in far too long for anyone outside his clan. “I’m not sure. You better not stop until I am.”

She made a dismissive sound, the kind women use to let men know they’re being jerks. However, her attention travelled from his chest and abs to his growing erection, evident in the dim moonlight streaming into the back of the van. His arousal didn’t seem to embarrass or disturb her.

Emboldened, Zeke covered her hand with his. “Are you healing me again?”

“Not entirely.”

What was that supposed to mean? “You’re not certain either?”

“It’s not that.” She hesitated, then shrugged. “Wherever we stop, you should consider putting alcohol or peroxide on those abrasions to avoid infection.”

“I’m not following. You were willing to heal my bullet wounds but not the scratches you gave me?”

Her expression grew even more guarded. “After I heal Jacob…that is, if I can, do you intend—”

“Wait a minute.” Zeke brought back his hand. “What do you mean if you can?”

Liz kept her palm on his pec, stroking it, playing with the small point of his nipple. Heat rushed to his groin. He curled his toes.

She murmured, “Your people’s DNA is different from that of my clan. I wasn’t all that certain I’d be able to save you.”

“But you did. And I’ll be forever grateful.” He kissed her fingertips, risking her disapproval, the chance that she’d pull away.

She didn’t. In the scant light, he saw her cheeks flushing just as they had in his fantasy, her eyes growing glassy with desire.

“You’ll do the same for Jacob,” he said.

Something passed over her face, chasing away her arousal. “And then what?”

Zeke released her hand.

She didn’t back off. “I deserve an answer. What happens after I heal your brother? Are you going to let me return to my father, or are you going to keep me a prisoner so I can heal others of your clan?”

He matched her frown. “Would you rather see them die?”

“Are you nuts?” she snapped. “I don’t want anyone to die; that’s the point. Whether I heal your men or Carreon’s, the outcome is always the same, isn’t it? Endless fighting and more death. Not everyone wants carnage, Zeke. Maybe if I don’t heal anyone that will change.”

She couldn’t be that naïve. “For who?” he countered. “Carreon? Me? The men who fight with us, or the children and women he targets?” Zeke cupped her chin in his hand, forcing her to look at him. “Would you let those innocents die? Would you have refused to help my daughter all in the name of peace that Carreon and the goons that follow him will never give?”

Her mouth trembled. “How can you even ask that? If I could have saved Gabrielle, I would have. I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am for your loss. But you’re wrong about my people. Not all of them are like Carreon. They regret allowing him to come to power. This has to end. I refuse to be a party to it any longer.” She pulled away from him, wrapping her arms around herself.

The pose she struck did little to enhance her determination or to hide her nudity. If anything, she appeared more vulnerable than Zeke could have imagined.

He found it difficult to believe she’d ever been Carreon’s woman. How could she have craved the man, given what he’d done to his own people and her father? What lies had Carreon told Liz to have brought her to his side?

What did it matter? She was with him now, where Zeke intended for her to stay.

Liz must have read his expression, because she scooted farther away, her breasts jostling with that and the van’s movements.

“I’ll heal Jacob as you want,” she said, “but then I have to go back. I have my father to think of as much as you do your brother.”

Zeke wasn’t about to comment, wanting her to believe whatever made her feel good.

She glared at him. “No matter how miraculous you believe my gift is because it saved you, it’s not what you think. It could kill as well as heal. There are things about it even I don’t know.”

“What are you talking about?”

“From the time I was little, my father warned me to be careful with it. When I asked him why, he’d always hold back, telling me that I had an obligation to heal only those I believed could survive. No one else. I still don’t know what he meant. I asked him if he was talking about brain damage. He’d never give me a straight answer. To this day, I don’t know what my gift will do exactly.