Cara rolled her eyes. “I don’t need a doctor. This is normal morning sickness for the love of Pete.”
Talen’s jaw firmed. “It’s not morning.”
Emma tried to fight a grin. Her poor sister had puked for three solid months while pregnant with Janie. If Talen reacted like this every time, the doctor might as well be on retainer. She cleared her throat. “Why don’t I help Cara out of her dress before the doctor gets here?”
Talen’s jaw hardened until it looked like granite. “No. We’re not moving until the doctor arrives.”
Emma gave her disgruntled sister a sympathetic smile, trying not to laugh. A knock on the door heralded the doctor.
Dage grasped her arm. “Emma and I will be in the gathering room next door awaiting the doctor’s prognosis.” He tugged her through the suite, giving a curt nod to a round man with bottle thick glasses before turning to the vampire guard. “Max, please wait in the living area until Talen has his head on straight.”
Max nodded, grabbing a book off the sofa table. “Probably take nine months,” he muttered.
Emma didn’t have time to protest before Dage whisked her through the door into a well-appointed gathering room complete with fireplace, stocked bar, and deep sofas. He poured them each a brandy, flipped on the fire, and handed her a glass. “Cheers.”
“Cheers.” She tipped back her drink and took a healthy swallow. “Cara is fine, Dage.” A niggle of doubt tickled the base of Emma’s neck. What if the pregnancy had happened too soon and Cara’s physiology hadn’t adapted enough for her to carry a vampire baby? She shrugged the fear off, forcing a smile.
“Then the doctor shouldn’t be there much longer.” Dage’s own smile appeared forced. “Talen is going to drive us all crazy for the next several months, isn’t he?”
Apparently. “Let’s just say that when Cara was pregnant with Janie, I ended up running to the store for peppermint ice cream at midnight more than once.” Emma cleared her throat. She needed to conduct some tests on her sister.
Dage nodded. “I understand Janie’s father died in a car accident before she was born.”
Emma grasped the subject with relief. “Yes. Simon worked as a plant biologist for the same company where Cara worked.” He was a good man and a great friend to her sister. Certainly not the love of her life. Like Talen.
“So you took care of them. Like always.” The king’s eyes warmed.
Emma fought arousal from his lowered tone and shuffled her sore feet. They’d hit the point of dull ache in the heels until receding into numbness. She struggled to focus on anything else, not wanting to step out of the shoes. She needed all the height she could muster to face the king. Not that he didn’t have a foot on her, even with the heels. “Earlier I met someone named Prophet Milner.” The guy had parchment wrinkled skin over a bony face.
“Ah, yes. The prophets are our spiritual rulers—Milner is a couple thousand years old.” Dage swirled the amber liquid in his glass. “He considers me a young upstart.” Those damn dimples flashed and made her nipples harden.
Emma lifted a shoulder, taking a moment to control her libido by admiring the authentic C.M. Russell oil paintings. She loved western art. “You can go back to the ball if you want.”
“I don’t. Conn and Jase can deal with anything going on for the rest of the evening.” Dage glanced at a wall clock. “I mean morning.”
“Are you sure Jase and Conn are on the job? Jase was all over some cute young redhead.” Emma would bet almost anything Jase and the little shifter had headed off to get to know each other better.
Dage shrugged. “Maybe. But Conn’s mate is across the ocean, so his focus is pure.”
“Conn is mated?”
The muscles in Dage’s neck rippled as he swallowed some brandy. “Yes. He accidentally mated a witch about a century ago in northern Ireland.”
“Accidentally?” Emma bit back a laugh. “You mean he had a one night stand and ended up marking some girl?”
“Yep. And I think he’s coming to the end of his very impressive patience. I believe my brother is about to reclaim his mate, whether she’s ready or not.” Dage’s eyes heated.
Was there a warning in those words? The topic echoing around in Emma’s head shot to the surface. “I met Simone Brightstone. Shifter?” Emma swirled her own drink.
Dage narrowed his gaze. “Witch. In more ways than one.”
“Yet you dated her.”
“I was young and stupid. It lasted less than a month.”
“Really? That’s interesting, considering she’s about my age. You haven’t been young and stupid for quite some time, King.” Did he think she was a moron?
Dage grinned. “She’s a few centuries old, love. True witches—not those just practicing a religion—true witches are another species on earth. Immortal.”
Well, crap. “There’s no way to kill them?” How had humans missed this?
He laughed out loud. “Beheading or burning. Both methods will take care of a witch.” His eyes softened. “Again, I was young ... we weren’t a good match.”
Emma could understand that.
Dage eyed Emma’s blue and silver gown like a hungry tiger who’d spotted dinner. “I have to say, my taste has certainly improved through the years.”
The phone buzzed and Emma placed her drink on the sofa table, moving in a rustle of silk to the desk. “Yes? Okay. Tomorrow, then.” She replaced the receiver, pivoting to face Dage. “The doctor said Cara has morning sickness and to drink some tea before getting a good night’s sleep. He’ll check her in the morning.” The doctor would know, right? “Though, I’d like to conduct my own tests as soon as possible.” That sense of unease whirled in her brain. She couldn’t think rationally about her own sister. Cara had to be okay.
“Of course. Our lab will be ready soon.” Dage’s gaze warmed and wandered down her form and back up again.
Emma shifted her stance, an awareness beginning to weigh down the oxygen in the room. She fought to breathe normally and returned for her drink, her gaze on the king.
Firelight danced over the hard planes of his face like a lover in heat. Kissing, melting, landing. Silver eyes melted to liquid while he tracked her progress across the dusky room, his deceptively calm stance belying the vibration of muscle and power beneath his skin.
Stillness echoed around him as he stood near the daunting stone hearth; it was as if the air held its breath. For what she didn’t know. Wasn’t sure she wanted to know. She reacted to the tension, and lifted her chin in instinctive defiance.
Sharper gray flecks appeared in his eyes in response, and she wondered what ran through his mind. She stared back at him unblinkingly, her heart speeding up to knock uncomfortably against her ribs. Power blanketed him like the thickest of mantles even in the comfortable room. A wicked shiver of awareness wound leisurely down her spine.
He straightened and nodded toward the chair.
She didn’t move, continuing her perusal of him. His black hair was unbound and free about his massive shoulders. He’d tossed his jacket aside, his hard chest outlined nicely by the soft shirt. Through his slacks, his thick legs showed power in the bunched muscles. She tried not to notice the obvious bulge in the center of his groin; an impressive erection he did nothing to hide.
“Emma, we need to talk.” His voice was a low growl. Even with that spectacular body, his face commanded the most attention. Sharp planes threw deep hollows into dangerous darkness, the square jaw hinting at determination and the full lips promising the heated depths of wicked sensuality. The dark slashes of his brows and the irrationally long lashes unapologetically contrasted with the burning silver of his eyes.
“I know.” A breathiness coated her voice and she fought the urge to clear her throat. It wouldn’t help.