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Authors: Rebecca Zanetti

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BOOK: Hunted (Dark Protectors)
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Conn smiled, slow and sure.
Moira’s heart kicked into gear. She placed a quieting hand against his arm.
He quickly covered it with his own. “That leads me to my purpose for being here, Councilwoman Northcutt.”
Vivienne’s face settled into solicitous lines. “Which would be?”
“Is the Coven Nine planning to withdraw from the Realm?” Conn asked in the polite tone of a bank robber requesting cash.
Dead silence dropped throughout the chamber. Moira tried unsuccessfully to tug her hand from under his, but his bicep flexed, trapping her.
He did not ask that question. He couldn’t have asked that question. Did he not just witness a man’s organs turn to black tar in his body? “What the hell happened to diplomacy?” she muttered out the side of her mouth.
“It’s overrated,” he volleyed back.
Only for the fucking Kayrs family. Those men wouldn’t know diplomacy if it blew up their homes. Go in fast and hard ... and screw the consequences. While Moira appreciated the technique, the method threatened to draw a line down the center of her world. She had nowhere to safely land.
Vivienne settled back, her hands clasped on the smooth stone. “Yes.”
Surprise grounded Moira in place. Well. Cards on the table then.
Conn nodded. “Why?”
“Why?” A rosy flush crossed Vivienne’s face. “The king demanded our people train under yours. We
align
with the Realm. We
do not
answer to it.”
“Councilwoman. We’re dealing with a new threat, a new breed of werewolf created by Virus-27. An animal that was formerly a shifter, with all the strength, intelligence, and downright cunning held by shifters.” Conn swept a hand out. “No longer are werewolves human converts that die within a year. We all need to train for a new war. Together.”
Trevan cleared his throat, the sound echoing oddly through the screen. “I vehemently protest the king’s order. Statistically, anytime troops have trained under a new leader, many have transferred allegiance to that leader. King Kayrs knows this.”
Conn’s smile lacked warmth. “Councilman, while I appreciate your ... scholarly analysis of the situation, I can assure you, we don’t want to steal your soldiers. The king merely wants them properly trained for the new threat.”
Moira eyed Trevan. The guy had no clue about training or battlefields.
Vivienne shook her head. “We train alone, Prince. Besides, the king let
humans
know about us—about our world, about our science and genetics. He’s lucky he’s still breathing.” She shuddered as if surprised she’d said the words aloud.
Conn stepped forward. “I’d be very careful with your words, were I you, Councilwoman.” His voice lowered to a deadly softness rumbling with power. “Threatening my king is a colossal mistake.”
Peter shot to his feet. “Threatening a member of the Nine will get you killed before you breathe another molecule, Kayrs.”
Moira yanked her hand free, pressing both palms out. “Whoa. Everyone take a step back. We need each other. The Kurjans are perfecting the virus, the demons are at war with us all, and now some unknown entity is yanking the unwilling through dimensions to God knows where.” She sucked in a deep breath. “Everyone relax.”
Pete’s gaze hardened. “The virus doesn’t affect witches, Moira.”
“You sure about that?” Conn asked.
“We will be.” Vivienne lifted her chin. “The virus attacks the twenty-seventh chromosome of shifters and vampire mates. Probably demon mates, though they won’t admit it.” She yanked a file up from the floor, flipping it open. “Vampires with their thirty chromosomal pairs seem safe, as do witches with our twenty-nine.”
“We don’t actually know that.” Conn’s voice remained level, steady. “The current conclusion of the smartest people on the planet is that the thirtieth chromosome, held only by vampires, Kurjans, and demons, is the one that protects us from the virus. Councilwoman, neither you nor your people have that chromosome.”
Moira swallowed. Conn had a point, and a good one. The idea of losing her abilities, of being taken down to a mere human, boiled anger in her gut. The Kurjans needed to be eliminated from the world—for good—which is why she needed to preserve the alliance with the Realm. Regardless of her mating.
Conn settled his stance. “For the record, no humans know about any of us. We’ve used their expertise to research the genetic ramifications of this virus. They have no idea what they’re dealing with.”
Moira nodded. “I spoke with Kane Kayrs last week. Along with the king’s mate, he’s leading the team searching for a cure. They have used well-educated humans to research, but these people are in a different lab, and each is only studying one tiny aspect of the situation. They remain unaware beings other than humans exist.” Kane had been matter-of-fact when they’d spoken, and she believed him.
“In addition, Dage
requested
your soldiers for training. He didn’t demand anything.” Conn clasped his hands behind his back. “If you’re concerned about other soldiers discovering your powers ... well ... it’s too late. I have those powers, and the king is well aware of them.”
Moira snapped her teeth together. Did the damn man want the Nine to cut off his head right here and now? “I’m sure the king is discreet.”
Peter cleared his throat. “You’re an old friend, Moira, and I mean no disrespect. But you’re mated to a Kayrs. As an enforcer, the power you’re collecting makes you a definite threat. We need to be certain of your allegiance.”
It was the last question she wanted to answer. “I took an oath as an enforcer, Peter.” The choice to use his first name was deliberate, and brought a tightening to his lips. “While you may not understand that oath, I do.” Yeah, She had power. Right now she wanted to prove it to him by turning him into a frog. Not possible, yet the idea calmed her.
Peter sat back, his hands clasped before him on the tablet. “I understand the oath, Moira. Does your mate?”
Conn tightened his hold. “While I haven’t read the oath, considering everything you people do is shrouded in secrecy, I assume it’s similar to the oath of my soldiers. To give all to the cause.”
Viv tapped a pencil on the stone. “Close enough. What if this comes down to war? Moira, there will be no choice for you.”
Conn growled low enough only Moira heard. “Should we go to war, Councilwoman, I can assure you my mate would adhere to any vow. She’s the most honorable person I know.”
Warmth filled Moira’s heart. Quite an endorsement from the prince. “Thank you,” she murmured softly.
“And you, Connlan?” Brigid spoke up, her head tilted to the side. “You’d align against your mate?”
Moira shuffled her feet. “Mother—”
“No.” Conn’s voice rang deep and true. “I would not align against my mate.” His smile lacked any semblance of humor. “I would, however, take her away from danger, away from you.”
Temper and amusement rose in Moira equally. “I believe that’s a debate for another day. For now, we need to find the missing coven members.”
The lights flared and the two screens went blank.
“Damn it,” Vivienne hissed. “What in the hell is wrong with the system?”
Grace shrugged, typing rapidly on a keyboard out of Moira’s sight. “We’re down again.” She rolled dark brown eyes at the leader. “I’ll take notes and e-mail them to Trevan and Simone. Let’s finish this meeting.”
Peter reclaimed his seat. “I’m not convinced we need to send our soldiers to train with the vampires. In addition, last time I checked, the Kurjans and the demons are at war with
the Realm
. If we withdraw, we’re no longer at war.”
Conn growled low. “You’ve been discussing the situation with the demons, have you?”
Moira frowned. “Of course not.” She focused on her aunt, waiting for Viv to agree.
She remained quiet.
Holy hell. Moira’s eyes widened. “You’ve been in negotiations with the demons? Seriously? They employ the worst mind warfare tactics imaginable. Surely we can’t be aligning with them.”
“The decisions of the Nine are private, Moira.” Vivienne’s jaw hardened. “If you’d like to take your rightful place up here and stop playing around with the enforcers, then do it.”
“That’s enough, Viv.” Moira’s mother pinned her sister with a glare. “My daughter has been one of the most successful enforcers in history these last thirty years. Don’t even think of downplaying her accomplishments.”
Yea. Go mom. Moira lifted her chin. “Aligning with the demons is preposterous.” Not to mention an incredibly bad decision. The demons screwed with their enemies’ brains ... they destroyed minds. While they might align themselves with the witches for a time, no doubt they’d turn at some point. The mere thought of her abilities in the hands of the demons crawled terror down her spine. “Such an alliance is tantamount to declaring war on the Realm.”
“I’m aware of that.” Vivienne glanced at Conn and back to Moira. “The Realm is weak. The Kurjans have been preparing for war for centuries, and now the demons have joined in. Not to mention the shifter clans coming after you since the king allowed Caleb Donovan back in the fold.”
Moira fought the urge to scream. She understood why Dage let his old friend, who came with numerous allies, back into the Realm. The man had been unjustly blamed for the death of a prophet centuries ago. Ironically enough, Caleb had been claimed by fate as a prophet last year. A fact she’d heard he was denying loudly and often.
Conn rolled his shoulders back. “The Realm isn’t weak, Councilwoman. Not by a long shot. While rejoining forces with Caleb angered the demons, as well a few shifting clans, the forces he brought with him strengthened us tenfold.”
Moira nodded. Caleb’s brother had mated with a lion shifter who’d been betrothed to a demon, angering several clans. He’d been fighting them along with the demons for a century. Currently he had Realm backing. “Let’s not forget Caleb is now a prophet for the Realm.” A position none of them would dispute.
Vivienne inclined her head. “We are so aware. The Nine must still consider all options.” She focused back on the enforcers. “For now, we need to solidify our power base. Kell, you go to Greece and escort Trevan here. Moira, please retrieve your cousin from New York.” Viv raised an eyebrow at Conn. “I assume you’ll be accompanying her?”
“You assume correct.”
Great. Moira frowned. “You want me to leave Ireland?” That didn’t make any sense. She eyed her mother, who stared back without expression. A warning set up at the base of Moira’s skull. She didn’t want to leave her homeland.
Viv grabbed a manila file, tapping it several times. “No. I want you to do your job as an enforcer and escort a member of the Coven Nine here to safety.”
Not much leeway there. Moira had Conn, her bitchy cousin, and her irritated aunt to deal with. What else could go wrong?
Chapter 7
 
T
he scent of lilac and musty books filled Conn’s nostrils as he glanced around Moira’s spacious office at the academy. “Do you also need to submit grades at the University of Dublin before we leave town?” His mate taught at both the human university and the witch center of higher learning. He ran his finger over a crystal ornament of a fairy perched in front of books on the shelf. He’d sent the priceless gem to Moira last year when she’d been promoted to full professor at the Quantum academy, a university known only to magic users.
Her shoulders jumped, as if she’d been expecting another question. “No. I turned the human grades in last week.” She licked a manila envelope, scrunching her nose afterwards. “Damn glue tastes horrible.”
Wheels from her chair squeaked when she pushed back from the alder-wood desk. Anyone in the hallway would know when she was sitting in her chair. Conn needed to teach her more about stealth. “You’d think with all the advancements in computers, we wouldn’t need to file a hard copy of grades with the dean.” She stood, rolling her eyes.
Conn snorted. “Magic users are notorious for hacking computers. Your dean is smart.” Celestial light glinted off the pretty figurine, and he turned toward the night. The shade slats revealed large windows overlooking a quaint courtyard bathed in moonlight. He’d held her hand under the moonlight a century ago as he’d led her away from the festivities—toward destiny.
“Good point.” Moira shuffled around two chairs piled high with thick, leather-bound books, her boots clipping across the ancient wooden floor.
He could see her as a scholar. Perhaps later she’d put on glasses and tie her hair up in a bun. A sexy librarian, waiting to be kidnapped—which he pretty much had decided to do. Time to get his mate out of Ireland.
He ran a rough hand through his hair. “The Coven Nine is in trouble.” Unsettled, scared, and reacting instead of steering their people.
“I know.” Her tone held a note of resigned inevitability. “I’ll need to join sooner than I’d planned.”
Probably true. Good thing she could do so remotely. Away from whoever was attacking her people. She’d need training against werewolves, although he had no intention of allowing her on the front line. Still, learning defense was a must in their worlds.
“So what other abilities do you possess?” If the woman could turn his spleen into glue, he’d appreciate knowing about it.
She sighed. “I deal in quantum physics, Conn. If something has molecules or waves, I can alter the material state.” A frown marred her pretty face as she faced him squarely.
Brave little witch.
“But when altering, I can only choose a state like solid, gas, or liquid. I can’t take a destroyed heart and reshape the organ into a working heart. Just into some sort of solid, which wouldn’t help at all.”
“Too bad.”
“Yes.” Her tooth bit into the flesh of her bottom lip, making his fangs ache for a taste. “The process is much easier on humans, of course. You’re probably rather safe.” The glint in her eye didn’t reassure him. “Besides. You vamps have plenty of abilities and weapons you don’t go around advertising.”
She hadn’t quite answered his question.
“I asked what else you could do.” The hair on the back of his neck rose, yanking him from the issue at hand. “Wait a minute.” He grabbed her biceps and shoved her behind him.
“What the hell are you doing?” she gasped.
An ominous silence filled the corridor outside. He sniffed the air. Nothing. The silence lay heavy, like a wool blanket on a summer day. Something waited in the hallway. His gun instantly cooled his hand. “Get down.”
Glass shattered. Plastic skipped across the floor. Conn whirled, grabbing Moira and tucking her face into his chest, pinning her against the bookshelf. Light flashed, bright and deadly. His ears rang. More glass shattered and boots landed hard and loud on the wooden floor.
“Damn it.” Conn bent Moira at the waist and shoved her underneath the desk, pivoting and leaping forward to take the first body to the ground. Anger ripped through his system. The flash grenade blurred his vision, but his knife slashed true. Kurjan blood sprayed across his face, burning like embers. Strong arms grabbed him, throwing him into the bookshelf. The door splintered open. Three more Kurjans swept inside.
They wore all black, with many red medals across their chests. High ranking. An elite squad. The one in the lead leveled a large green gun between Conn’s eyes. Bright purple eyes glowed in the monster’s stark white face. These guys deserved to live only in darkness. “Kayrs. It’s five against one. Give us the witch and you won’t die today.”
Green fire flashed from beneath the desk, the laser bullets turning to lead as they ripped into the leader’s face. He crashed to the floor.
Moira jumped to her feet. “Five against two, asshole.” She dropped into a slide, knocking the next guy on his ass. Instantly, her knife slashed into its neck, decapitating the monster.
Talk about impressive. Conn jumped for the two Kurjans still standing, ripping the arm off one as his fangs dropped low. The soldier bellowed in pain, silencing as Conn struck into his jugular, taking away part of his neck. A knife cut into Conn’s gut, and he grunted, keeping one eye on Moira as he turned his attention on the Kurjan who’d stabbed him. A side kick to the groin and a punch to the monster’s face later, he whipped his knife against the enemy’s neck. The Kurjan’s head rolled to the ground.
Moira battled with the remaining Kurjan, who had size and strength on her. But Conn’s mate owned speed and agility. She ducked, slashing with her knife, drawing first blood. The Kurjan landed a lucky punch, connecting with her cheekbone and sending her sprawling.
Conn saw red.
Fury loosed the blood in his veins, allowing adrenaline to course faster. A roar escaped him, and he lunged forward, taking the Kurjan to the floor. The idea of anyone harming Moira, of anyone
daring
to strike out against his woman shattered the chains around the shackled beast inside him. Not only genetics separated vampires from humans. The additional chromosomal pairs comprised enhanced strength of an animalistic nature.
Immortality came with a primitive price.
A pounding clashed inside his skull. His bare hands dug into the bastard’s neck, his fingers digging so hard blood sprayed. The need to protect, the primal fury to defend his mate gave him strength beyond the possible.
Purple eyes swirled to red and then black as the Kurjan struggled, fighting to live. With an animalistic bellow, Conn ripped the head off the body.
Moira darted forward to clutch his arm. Her swollen cheekbone contrasted with her pale face. “Conn. We have to go. More are coming.”
She began to dodge into the hall and he stopped her by the scruff of the neck, tugging her behind him. “Stay behind me, Moira.” He was first through the door—any door. Always.
He fought the urge to take her hand and dodged into the hallway, swinging his gun one way and then the other. Silence. Light filtered in the broad windows, glinting off the polished oak floorboards. “Come on.”
Keeping his back to the wall, he inched toward the exit, his senses on high alert. Nothing moved. If the Kurjans were near, he’d sense them. His mate followed, her breathing even, the gun steady in her grip. They’d have a discussion soon about her current employment, though her training impressed him. Unwanted pride filled his chest.
The outside door remained shut tight. He paused, his senses searching the night. “When I open the door, run for the bikes.
Behind
me.” His body would conceal hers as they moved. “If I go down, keep moving.”
She snorted. The woman actually snorted.
He’d deal with her later. For now, they needed to run. His shoulder lowered and he twisted the knob, shoving open the heavy maple door and leading with his gun. Their bikes sat at the edge of the curb, sparkling under the full moon. Various vehicles lined the road and music spilled from a bar a block down. The witches hid their school in plain sight. “Run, now.”
His torso swung back and forth as he ran down the steps, aiming his gun into the shadows. Nothing moved. A row of hedges lined the brick building. He didn’t sense anyone hiding behind them. Quick strides had him across the pillared entryway to the street. Moira threw her leg over her bike and twisted the ignition a second before he did, both forgoing helmets for speed.
“Conn!” she yelled, leaping for him and tackling him to the ground just as a missile hit his motorcycle.
Boom!
The machine sailed into the air and crashed into the front window of a clock shop. Springs, clock faces, and shredded wood flew into the street.
Heat blasted his face. Concrete ripped into his cheek. Cold fury shot the night into focus.
In one fluid movement, he rolled over, lifted Moira, and jumped on the back of her Ducati. “Drive.” Folding his larger body around hers, he turned and fired his gun into the alley where the missile originated. He and the Kurjans were about to come to an understanding—as soon as he got his mate to safety. A bellow of pain echoed from the darkness.
Moira kicked the bike loose, turning into the street and punching the power. Bullets pinged across the metal, the small windshield shattered. Conn returned fire. Pain exploded in his rib cage in a blast of five. Lights sped by, music filtering into the distance. Moira dodged into an alley, following it until ripping into traffic at the other end, swerving to avoid a taxi.
A minivan tried to pull into the street. Moira swept her hand out, stalling the vehicle in place. Impressive.
The wind smashed into Conn’s face. He lowered his head closer to Moira’s neck. Even with the world rushing by, her scent of lilacs surrounded him. Filled him. “Go to the private airport.”
She shook her head, curls slamming into his eyes. “Need to get my stuff,” she yelled.
He tucked his gun in the back of his pants, reaching around to cover her hands on the bars. Lowering his mouth closer to her ear, he fought the urge to take a bite. “They’ll be waiting. Go to the airport or I’ll drive.” He did not believe in threats, so when he spoke, he told the truth. Always.
She stiffened. Her head turned, the soft skin of her cheek brushing his mouth. “I smell blood.”
Nothing on earth could’ve prevented the soft kiss he whispered across her smooth skin, even while keeping one eye on the road. Lilacs filled his nose. “Nothing to worry about. ’Tis only a flesh wound.” He gave his best Monty Python impression, but the rough cough that followed may have ruined it. The slight shrug she gave relaxed his shoulders—for the moment. When they reached the plane, when they reached safety, boy were they going to talk.
BOOK: Hunted (Dark Protectors)
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