Lily nodded, wiping a hand across her pale forehead. “Yes. My results are ready?”
“Yes. The direct fluorescent antibody stain test revealed you’ve been infected with the virus. Probably the night of the ball.” A printer spit out the data she’d input in the vacuum sealed lab. Grabbing a chart, she made a quick notation. She’d need to compare these notes with Rachel’s before doing more tests. The next test would measure the strength of the protein binding the virus to the prophet’s chromosome. For some reason the prophet seemed more ill than Cara. Maybe the baby or the pregnancy hormones slowed the virus down in Cara. But how much time did the prophet have then? A sudden thought occurred to Emma. “Um, do you mind if I check your marking?”
With a frown, Lily turned her head to the side. An intricate Celtic knot in deep blue decorated the nape of her neck.
“That’s beautiful,” Emma breathed.
Lily turned back around. “Thank you. The prophesy mark appeared the day I was chosen by the fates. Hurt like a knife wound.”
So far it was the only fact in the odd new world that Emma couldn’t explain through science. Could fate really play a part in all their lives? She shook her head. There had to be a rational explanation for the appearance of the knot. “Do the other prophets wear this mark?”
“Yes.” Lily smoothed her pale skirt over her legs.
Emma made another notation on the chart. One mystery at a time. “I meant your mark from your mate.” She fought a flush.
Lily grinned even white teeth. “Um, only the royal family gets, er ...”
“Branded?” Emma’s cheeks filled until the blush burned.
“Yes. Something about the Kayrs lineage.” Fathomless eyes sparkled fun for a moment. “Most vampires complete the sex act along with a good bite, thus mating for life.” She pointed to very light twin marks in her neck—bite marks.
A wave of sympathy swept through Emma. “Your mate was killed by the Kurjans?” Dage had mentioned the fact to her earlier.
“Yes.” Lily bit her lip. “We’d only been married for a couple of weeks—I barely knew the man.” She sighed. “Arranged marriage.”
“Ah. So, you, I mean haven’t ...” The barbaric custom of being tied to a dead spouse was unthinkable in today’s society.
“No. Mating allergy.” Lily sighed deep. “Though it’s not like a prophet, a spiritual leader, can just go sleeping around. Unfortunately.” She chuckled at the end before sobering. “You know, as part of my job, I often provide counsel.”
“Counsel?” Emma reached for a blood pressure cuff to wrap around Lily’s arm before pumping air.
“Yes. Take me as part nun, part psychologist, and part goodwill ambassador.” Humor tipped the prophet’s lips up.
“Okay.” Lily’s blood pressure numbers were good. Emma released the cuff and jotted down the information on the chart.
“Emma. Our people need a queen and our leader needs a mate. Both have embraced you.” Lily rubbed her arm. “And you know it.”
Emma snapped her head up. Warmth swirled around her heart and she ruthlessly pushed any sentiment down. “Fate does not get to dictate my life or future, regardless of a branding on my shoulder.”
Lily rolled her eyes in a very unprophet-like manner. “Fate schmate. Forget destiny. The man loves you.” She yanked the sleeve of her sweater down to cover the red flesh. “What you decide to do with such good fortune is up to you.”
“Fate schmate?” Emma bit her lip. “Love is dangerous. My mama stayed with a man who beat us—because she loved him.”
Lily’s eyes softened. “So make your own decision. Stay with a good man who’ll protect you because you love him.” She reached forward and grasped Emma’s arm. “I genuinely liked Miles. I may have been able to love him with passion someday.” She shrugged. “Maybe not with the fireworks lighting the air when you and Dage are near each other, but with something.”
Intrigued, Emma focused her gaze. “Fireworks?”
“Sure. I watched you at the ball. You’re head over heels for him, too.” Lily smiled even teeth in a wan face, dark circles standing at attention under her eyes. “I’d give anything for a chance at happiness like that. Instead of being tied to a legend who’s long gone.”
A chance at happiness? Emma had fought her entire life for what she wanted. First for survival, then for her career, now for what? She did love the man, no question. Had since she’d learned all about him in visions of his past. Death had lost to her before, maybe she could win again, and keep Dage. The marking on her shoulder began to burn in agreement. She shook her head, focusing back on the prophet. “You’re not tied to a legend anymore, Lily.”
Lily frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“I’m not sure how you’re going to feel about this, but the virus takes the individual mating marker away.” The marks in Lily’s neck would probably fade away.
Lily lifted an eyebrow. “Meaning?”
“Meaning you’re free to, ah, well, you know.” Emma eyed Lily’s demure sweater atop yet another long, rustling skirt. The woman still dressed as if a lady from the eighteen hundreds and yet the style fit her.
“I can have sex?” Lily’s eyes opened wide before she clapped a hand over her mouth. “Are you sure?”
Emma shrugged. “As sure as I can be about this virus right now. We’re still conducting tests.”
Lily’s gaze shot to the door and her face filled with color when Caleb stalked inside. “Oh my.”
He approached the bed, his thick hair tied at the nape, his long strides carrying him across the room in seconds. “So a prophet was infected at the Realm colloquium? Seriously?” Anger rode every word.
“Yes.” Emma said. The man remained as pissed as he was earlier when he’d carried the prophet inside the lab. Did the guy ever loosen up?
“She’s not mated anymore?” Caleb raised an eyebrow, his multi-colored gaze hard on Lily.
“That’s none of your business.” Lily lifted her chin.
“Is the tramp stamp gone?” he growled back.
Lily sucked in a breath, her eyes going wide. “You’re calling the mark of the prophecy a tramp stamp? Infidel!”
He reached for her, yanking her head to the side. “I asked you a question, woman.” He hissed out a breath at the deep marking. “You shouldn’t be a prophet any longer.”
Lily tossed her head away and shoved at Caleb’s chest. “Bite me, Caleb.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Apparently Lady Lily has entered this century. You use words like that, milady, and you’ll get what you’re asking for.”
Emma reached for the phone. “Caleb, leave or I’m calling the guards.” Either her patient needed to stay calm, or these two needed to find a freakin’ room. The sexual tension in the lab sped up her own heart.
Need help? A deep voice whispered throughout her head. She instantly threw shields into place. When had they fallen? Her heart shot from a jog to a full-out gallop.
A sigh echoed from the doorway where Dage stood leaning against the side. “Not nice, love. Not nice at all.”
“Stay out of my head,” Emma hissed, her gaze raking him from head to toe. She told herself he didn’t look wonderful in black slacks, a silver silk shirt, and thick boots. Liar.
His gaze sharpened. “I’ve given you until tomorrow morning. Lower those shields or I’ll shred them.”