“I’m sure. He kidnapped the wrong woman.” The moron had thought to mate with Cara, which had ensured his death by Talen’s hand.
Franco shrugged. “You stole my mate from the helicopter, Kayrs. I guess that means I kill you.” Blood swirled odd patterns in those bizarre eyes.
The urge to end the Kurjan ruler’s life spiked through Dage’s blood at the mention of Emma.
“I’ll look forward to meeting up with you, as well as Kalin, if he doesn’t kill you first. Apparently he’s nuts.”
Franco grinned sharp canines. “Yes. The boy is crazier than a rabid dog.” True fondness colored the words. “He has such impressive plans for your niece.”
Rage threatened Dage’s clarity for a moment, and only by sheer force of will did he school his features into boredom. “He’ll die first.”
“Maybe, maybe not. Our oracles don’t seem to think so.” Franco nodded to someone off camera.
Nice try. Dage’s equipment was the best—he wouldn’t be located. “So, I thought I’d give you a chance to return my prophets. I doubt you want fate fucking with you.”
Franco clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “You’ve gone and lost your prophets? Not good, King.” He shook his head, red hair flying. “Not good at all.” Sharp nails flashed when he spread his fingers wide. “I don’t have them.”
Dage frowned. “Really. Then why ask for Prophet Sotheby to exchange herself for them?”
Franco’s nostrils flared. “Prophet Sotheby?” A deep flush slid crimson under his pasty skin. “Can you imagine the prophet as a Kurjan mate?” He sucked in air, a pleasured humming emitting from his throat.
“No.” What a pervert.
“Oh. Well, let me assure you I do not have your prophets.” Franco moved closer to the camera, his gaze intent. “If I did, they’d already be dead.” He shrugged. “After I’d tortured all of the information they possessed out of them, of course.”
“Last chance.” Dage would blow the Kurjan nation apart.
Franco smiled. “I’ve work to do, Kayrs. Bye.” The screen went black.
“I can’t wait to remove his head,” Dage muttered to Chalton. But first he had to reclaim the prophets.
He stalked out of the room and down a flight of stairs to the armory where he donned a bulletproof vest. Several knives quickly disappeared into various pockets. He lifted his head as Emma rushed into the room.
“You are not going.” She smacked her fists onto her hips, her voice shaking. Her anger increased the scent of spiced peaches always surrounding his mate.
He’d forgotten about his own shields. “I’ll be fine.” Grabbing a green gun off the table, he tucked it into his waist, his gaze remaining on her. She was entirely too pale.
“You think it’s a trap.” Fear filled her voice.
He knew it was a trap. “Probably not, love.”
“I’m in your fucking head,” she screamed, her pupils dilating to swallow the iris. “You know it’s a trap.”
Damn it. If he raised mental shields now he’d hurt her. Not physically, but even worse.
“Try it.” She lifted her head, her entire body vibrating with fury.
True appreciation swept through him. Damn but his mate was magnificent. “I promise I’ll return in one piece, Emma.” Her love shimmered with anger toward him, and he fought a primitive need to be inside her.
“You’re the king. You shouldn’t fight.”
She would try to use a human’s logic in her argument.
Dage focused on her thoughts. Fear of losing him. Hearing her say she loved him the other night had warmed his heart, feeling it from inside her body blessed his soul. “I am the king. Thus I must fight.” He took three steps forward to run a gentle finger down her smooth skin. “We’re leaving most of our troops here to protect you. The Kurjans won’t see Caleb’s force coming at them in Idaho, so even though it’s a trap, we’ll spring the prophets.” Her concern warmed him, but she needed to learn the risk of being Realm royalty. “I lead our troops, love. If they’re in danger, I’m in danger.” He dropped a fast kiss to her sweet mouth, raising his head to meet her gaze. “I promise, I’m damn good at my job.”
She rolled her eyes. “I do understand the weight of responsibility and how the walls can close in on a person. You need to show leadership, but how much of you putting yourself on the front lines is really an effort to escape?”
He started, his gaze focusing on the stubborn set of her chin. Escape? She thought he put his ass on the line to escape the office? “You think I’m evading duty?”
Her pretty blue eyes sparked. “Hell no. But I do think that in battle, when there’s one single goal, you can focus that energy, focus that soldier’s need for a moment, without having to take into account the entire world.” A slow sardonic smile slid across her face. “There really isn’t anyone else who could do the job as king, now is there?”
“No,” he breathed, his mind spinning. The woman was perceptive, that was for damn sure. Intrigue swept through him along with desire. Raw and pure.
She sighed. “You’re a great king. The fact that you’d rather be doing something else makes you even more impressive.” Reaching up, she ran one slender finger down the side of his face, making him want to shut his eyes and just feel. But he didn’t. He kept his gaze on his mate as she continued. “I’m just saying there may be a better way to escape strategy and diplomacy than letting the enemy shoot at you.”
His gaze dropped to her pink lips. “Is that so? Any ideas, love?” Damn but he planned to keep her. For eternity.
Her tongue darted out and wet her lips, forcing a low growl in his throat. He raised his head, fully expecting to see a pretty blush covering her face. Instead, the color drained away, leaving her skin a fragile eggshell. “Emma?”
“I, uh, don’t feel so well.” She paled even further and her chest hitched when her breath caught. She swayed and dropped toward the floor.
He caught her, standing for a moment staring at his unconscious mate. She was out cold, a vulnerable vein pulsing in her fragile neck. How could she be so strong and so delicate at the same time? Anger and fear mixed together until his hands shook. Guns hit the floor when he swept the table clear to set her down. A quick shake had her groaning into the silence.
“Ouch.” She lifted a shaking hand to her temple.
Dage inhaled through his nose, closed his eyes, and yanked the pain out of her head. The agony swirled in his skull for a moment before he tossed it away. “Better?”
She sat up. “Um, yeah.” A sudden cough racked her body. “I saw Prophet Milner in that place Talen showed you earlier.”
Dage raised an eyebrow. “You sat through my briefing?” She could already see out of his eyes? Pride filled the king.
She grinned. “Yep.”
He schooled his face into a frown. “Hmm. We’ll discuss boundaries later. What else did you see?”
She glanced up, apparently remembering. “They’re preparing for you to come. Guns, rockets, knives. So many weapons.”
He already knew it was a trap. “And?”
Her pretty blue eyes focused back on his face, her gaze running over his skin. “The plan is to follow you back here to find us. You should check the prophets for bugs.”
Dage nodded, his palms itching to touch every inch of her. “Already in the plans, love.” Relief swept him that the trap was away from his mate. The Kurjans should know better than to lay a trap for him. His men would reverse it in a heartbeat, snapping the teeth of death around their enemy. He leaned down and captured Emma’s mouth in a kiss. Then he helped her off the table. “Go kick the crap out of that virus. I’ll be home tonight.”
She faltered, then placed her hand against his arm. “I love you.”