Claimed (7 page)

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Authors: Rebecca Zanetti

BOOK: Claimed
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Her thighs released his damp hips as the ripples slowly subsided. Dage shortened his thrusts until he remained motionless inside her. For one brief moment, his heartbeat echoed throughout her body, so full of emotion she had to blink away tears.
He rolled to the side, spooning her into his large body and grabbing the bedspread to cover them. “Are you all right, love?”
She stretched like a satisfied cat, forcing all emotion into a box. “Fantastic.” A tingling set up through her veins as if carbonation mixed with her blood. Nerves flared to life in her extremities.
No. Anger and dread pooled near her solar plexus. “Did you mark me?”
He stiffened behind her. “Of course not. I said I wouldn't.” Thick arms tightened their hold around her waist and his breath stirred her hair. “Tonight, anyway.”
She ignored the not-so-veiled threat as well as the renewed desire beginning to hum throughout her pores. “I feel different. Powerful.” What the hell had he done to her?
He shrugged. “You're my mate, love. Your body knows that, even if you don't. The marking is only one part of the process.”
The mattress dipped and she found herself on her back, her gaze held captive by his. “I told you I won't be forced into this by fate.”
He nodded and his lips whispered against her. “Yes, you did. But I'm not fate.” Slowly sliding inside her, he nipped her lip. “I'll give you time, Emma. But if you think I'm letting you go, you've misread me.” His polite, matter of fact tone did nothing to hide the determination in each word.
A chill wound down her spine even as a warm hum set up in her core. Her eyes rolled back in her head as he started to thrust. Gently at first, then with a strength that had her nails digging into his skin.
She'd argue the point with him later.
Chapter 5
C
ontrolling his irritation with the two feuding leaders, Dage finished his third meeting of the day. How in the hell had these assholes become leaders? He rested his elbows on the small conference table and nodded to Felix, the head witch of the New Jersey coven who sat to his right. “You'll agree to the new boundaries?”
The young witch flashed black painted nails and bit his lip, his bloodshot gaze sliding to where Conn leaned against the door of the makeshift office, a muscle ticking in his large jaw. Dage fought a grin. Conn hated diplomatic shit and would probably solve the problem by shooting both jackasses.
Dage stamped down on his own basic need to do just that, forcing diplomacy to the surface once again. He took a drink of his grape energy drink, rolled his shoulders against the feeling of being trapped in a cage, and pierced the witch with a hard gaze.
“Um, yes.” Felix shifted back to face Dage. “We'll agree to the new boundaries.”
Ignoring the hotel's lemon cleanser scent, Dage turned toward Niles, the shit-kicking cowboy vampire who'd been trying to retake land lost by his uncle centuries ago. “Niles?” The dumbass had sat with his back to Conn and the door. Not smart.
Niles perched his battered Stetson farther back on his head, his dilated eyes narrowing. “Ah, I guess.”
What a couple of morons. Dage stood. “The papers will be ready for signature after the tea today. Gentlemen”—he allowed his canines to drop—“if either of you break this contract, I'll come after you myself.”
Both men made a hasty exit and Conn slammed the door shut. “I hate this shit.”
Dage ignored the shredding pain in his hand from the unused marking. “I know. But Talen's with Cara who isn't feeling well, Jase disappeared with some redhead, and Kane is on a jet heading this way.”
Conn's eyes narrowed. “Cara's still sick?”
Dage shrugged. “I guess she had morning sickness with Janie, so she isn't concerned. Though Talen ...”
Conn grimaced. “I'll keep my distance.”
“Good plan.” Dage stood and straightened his dark suit coat before striding toward the door. “We need to get to the tea. You're sitting with the prophets.”
Conn hissed out a breath. “Seriously? Damn it. Milner's on me to retrieve Moira and procreate. I can't stand that guy.”
Dage paused. “I have a feeling you're preparing to do just that.”
Conn nodded. “I am. I've waited long enough. She's a full witch now and it's time—after we get things settled here.” He yanked open the door. “But why do I have to sit with him?”
Dage stalked into the hallway. “It's either the prophets or the Bane's Council. Considering we're keeping something from them, I thought I'd face that challenge.”
“Maggie,” Conn breathed.
Yeah, Maggie. A young wolf shifter who'd been infected with the virus, and was hiding in Dage's Colorado headquarters. Hiding from the Bane's Council, whose job it was to hunt down and kill werewolves. “During the full moon, Maggie managed to turn into a wolf and not the werewolf trying to get out of her. Hopefully the virus will run its course and fail.”
Conn nodded. “The virus will fail. If the Kurjans were able to turn immortal creatures into werewolf slaves, well ...”
It would be a disaster. Dage paused in the middle of the hallway. “Do you think the law requires us to inform the Bane's Council about Maggie?”
Conn shook his head. “No. I think you were right. The law requires notification if we suspect a werewolf so the council can investigate and destroy. Maggie isn't a werewolf. She's a wolf shifter.”
Who might become a werewolf. Dage started walking again. “Besides, Jordan has put her under the protection of his pride. All I need is his going to war with the council.”
“We stick with Jordan.” Conn threw open the double doors to the ballroom, nicely set with floral tea cups. “Whose fucking idea was it to throw a tea every ten years at the symposium?”
Dage shrugged, waving a hand to Terent Vilks, the head of the Bane's Council. Time to dance.
Exchanging pleasantries as he maneuvered between tables, Dage's gaze kept returning to the dark haired beauty chatting with Jordan at the head table. His mate—whether she liked it or not. A polite smile slid across Dage's face as he gave a nod to Jordan. “Where's Katie?” While the young lioness and Jordan weren't a couple, she usually accompanied him on business issues.
Jordan cleared his throat. “She's not feeling well, and Terent dropped by to bring her some special tea.”
Terent rolled his eyes. “It's lavender tea—guaranteed to cure the common cold. I was not hitting on your woman, cat.”
Jordan's eyebrow rose. “We're just friends. You know that.”
Terent quirked his lip but remained silent. Dage bit back his own smile, taking his seat next to Emma, brushing a kiss to her cheek as he did so. She might as well get used to belonging to him. “Kate did say she was fighting a cold last night.”
Terent flashed strong canines in a bronze face. “Well ... cats.” The wolf shifter gave a mock sympathetic shudder of his shoulders.
Jordan grinned. “Listen, pup. I believe the last time we played one on one, I schooled you.”
Reaching for a roll, Terent shrugged massive shoulders under a gray jacket that brought out matching streaks in his deep eyes. “You cheated.” He spread butter across the pastry. “You had Katie trip me, and it was either fall on and flatten the poor girl or release the ball.” He pushed the roll basket toward Emma. “I'm sorry Katie's not feeling well.”
Dage cleared his throat. “Where's the rest of the council?”
“The other two members are hunting down rogue werewolves,” Terent said.
Dage made a pretense of sipping his water, wondering again if he should notify his friend about Maggie. If the council had any idea Maggie might possibly be a werewolf, all hell would break loose. Emma's hand on his knee jerked his attention to her.
“How were your morning meetings?” she asked with a lift of one finely arched eyebrow.
“Productive.” He flattened his hand over hers, more than liking the feeling of having her near. “Sorry to leave so early.”
A pretty flush colored her high cheekbones. She nodded her thanks to a waiter who placed a scone on her plate while another began pouring tea. “I stopped by to see Cara on the way to this tea.” A frown marred Emma's face. “Talen's going to drive her up the wall.”
Dage grinned. “We take centuries to find our mates, love. He can be excused for being a bit overprotective.”
Terent grabbed his cup and pushed back from the table. “Why do I always have to give the council update during the friggin' tea?” he muttered for his table alone to hear.
Jordan chuckled. “That's my favorite part of this whole damn week.”
During the tea, anger began to roll in Dage's gut while Terent gave the statistics for how many werewolves had been created the last ten years. Most had been captured and destroyed by the council.
Terent returned to his seat with the applause still dying down. “I'm good for ten years, my friends.”
Emma cleared her throat. “You didn't let any of the werewolves live?” She pursed her pink lips as if calculating scientific formulas in her intelligent head.
Terent frowned. “Of course not. When humans are bitten by a werewolf, they turn into one—pure animal wanting to eat and kill. They don't live for long, even if they're bound by a master with a spell.”
Dage patted her hand, knowing she'd keep quiet about Maggie. He had seen the spell performed once in his youth. The werewolf stood shackled in silver while an incantation was read by the new master. Dage leaned toward Terent. “Your numbers were extremely high this time.”
Terent's gaze narrowed. “Yes. Someone is purposefully trying to create slaves. Short term, anyway. We're on it.” He raised an eyebrow at Dage. “We need your data on the virus and the goal to impact shifters, though frankly I don't see it happening.”
“Kane will be here tomorrow and has cleared his schedule to work with you,” Dage said. His brother would share most of the data, anyway. Everything but the fact that one little wolf shifter had already been infected. Damn but he hated lying to his friend. The fact that Dage made a good king, could lie easily for the sake of diplomacy and the common good truly served to show what a bastard he'd become.
Emma placed a hand over his and he stilled, swiveling his gaze to her soft eyes—understanding eyes complimenting a small smile. She gave him a reassuring pat.
Damn. How had she read him so easily? His shoulders relaxed from her comforting gesture even as his mind spun. His mate.
The tea over, Emma placed her napkin on her empty plate and stood. “I think I'll go check on Cara.”
The rest of the table stood, and Dage grasped her arm, taken aback for a moment by the fragility of the bones beneath his hands. Fate had created her for him, and he'd be damned if his world would cause her harm. “I'll accompany you.” He smiled at his friends. “See you at the general meeting in a few hours.”
They had almost made it to the door when Prophet Milner sidled up. “Well now, isn't this a grand sight?” His beady dark eyes sparked with approval, then his hooked nose sniffed the air. “Wait a minute. You haven't marked her yet?” Bony hands went to bony hips.
Dage forced a half smile. “My private life is private, Prophet.” The ability to couch a warning as polite conversation had been taught in his infancy.
“You have a destiny to fulfill.” Parchment thin skin stretched over sharp bones, giving Milner the look of a buzzard. The man wouldn't know a warning if it bit him on his nonexistent ass.
Emma shifted. “I will not be marked, Prophet. Get that through your head, now.”
Milner chuckled, his pale hands clasping together. “Of course you will, my dear. Our people need a queen.”
“No. I will not be your queen.” Emma's lips firmed and sparks of fire lit her pretty blue eyes. “I'm heading home as soon as my sister is settled in.”
Rage shot through the king like he'd never known. She'd denied their future to another person. It was one thing to need a little persuading, quite another to publicly reject him. The woman had another think coming if she thought to pat his hand, offering the supporting comfort of a mate and then take it away. He tightened his grip on her arm and nodded to Milner. “See you at the meeting.”
It took every ounce of Dage's formidable control to continue escorting his brat of a mate out of the room without tossing her stubborn ass over his shoulder. Anger and need flared through him in equal measure. Damn but she made his blood boil.
She jerked her arm back. Unwise move. His hand tightened even further. “I strongly suggest you refrain from speaking until we reach privacy, love.”
“Let me go, damn it,” she hissed out of the corner of her mouth.
Now
she kept things between them.
He didn't answer her, just yanked her into the hall and to the family quarters where he nodded at the two guards. “If anyone tries to get past you, shoot them. We will not be disturbed.” Ignoring her protests, he tugged Emma down the passageway to the gathering room. It was time to get some fucking things straight.
Emma stumbled into the room, finally yanking her arm from Dage. What the hell was his problem? She hadn't lied to him. Even so, she backed away from what appeared to be a furious vampire. “You've no right to be angry.”
He took three long strides, leaned against the cherry wood desk, and crossed his ankles. A red flush slid across his face, and his normally silver eyes swirled with a dangerous blue. Gone was the diplomat, leaving pure, pissed-off male in its place. “You denied who we are. That will never happen again.” An animalistic growl rode every word.
She gazed at him, her nostrils flaring as the truth of the matter struck her dead center. “You only pretend that smoothness.”
He raised an eyebrow, his massive shoulders tensing. “Excuse me?”
How could one simple phrase sound like a threat? “The diplomatic suit you don—it's bullshit.”
He raised his head and slowly lowered his lids to half mast, his bluish-silver eyes focusing on her like a wolf with a trapped doe. “I don't believe the Queen of the Realm should use such base language.”
The low rumble of his voice, the inherent danger threading through each word, nearly distracted her from the fact they were talking about
him
. “I don't give a shit.”
Every tiny movement, every royal thought focused with incredible precision in those metallic eyes as they focused on her. Completely and absolutely. He didn't move. He appeared to barely breathe. Yet the strength of that focus kept her rooted firmly in place. How could so much power come from one gaze?

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