“Ah. That when you got the guy it’d be happily ever after, holding hands, dancing through the tulips?”
Katie chuckled “Yeah. You know. Be the first lady of the feline nation ... throw parties, support my husband.”
“Being in the background isn’t your thing, huh?”
“Jordan is awesome. He’s enough to make anybody happy.” Katie bit her lip.
“There’s nothing wrong with wanting more. With wanting to make your own mark ... and have the man of your dreams.” Cara nudged her with a shoulder. “Fight for what you want, Katie. It’s all you can do.”
Now Jordan might turn into a hairy beast she’d have to kill. If they could somehow save him, she still didn’t want to be in the background. She had a job to do.
One battle at a time. Even if they only had two nights together, Katie wanted all of him. “I want to mate him.”
“Then do it.”
Boots stomped on the ground behind them. They turned around to see Janie zip up her coat. “Mom? Stupid Garrett got all mad and threw Charlie across the room. He’s all bloody now from fangs.”
Cara jumped to her feet. “Who’s bloody?”
Janie rolled her eyes. “Garrett cut his mouth with his new fangs. Charlie is fine but will probably never kiss me again.”
Cara shook her head, clearly trying to make sense of the conversation. “You kissed Charlie?”
“Yeah. And Garrett’s fangs came in. Dork.”
Cara hustled toward the door. “Does your father know you kissed a panther?”
Janie snorted. “Considering Charlie is still alive ... no.”
Cara chortled, a small grin playing on her face. “We may need a tranquilizer gun. I’ll take care of it.”
“Funny.” Janie grinned.
Katie wasn’t so sure Cara had been joking. A dart gun seemed like a wise move.
Cara sobered. “I’m checking on your brother, and then we’re having a talk.” Muttering to herself, she disappeared from view.
Janie huffed out a breath, gliding forward to sit on the bench. “Great. Another sex talk.”
Katie laughed, sliding an arm around the girl. “So, your first kiss, huh?”
Janie blushed. “Yeah. The kiss was nice ... but I kept thinking of Zane.”
“Been there, done that, girlfriend.” If Katie could spare Janie from the Zane-crush, she’d do so in a heartbeat. “Don’t let a guy you may never see again ruin your happiness right now.”
“I’m psychic. I don’t know how, I don’t know when, but I will see him someday.”
The words sent a chill down Katie’s spine. “Things very rarely work out the way you think they will, sweetheart. Psychic or not. You know the future changes daily.”
“Yep.” Janie snuggled closer. “So, you and Jordan, huh?”
Katie stiffened. What? Could the girl smell Jordan on her? Wait a minute. Janie wasn’t a shifter, she couldn’t—
“Man, stop thinking so hard. You’re hurting my head.” Janie giggled. “Sometimes I just know stuff, remember? I mean, I don’t get images or pictures in my head, so don’t worry about that.”
Katie gave a strangled cough.
Janie kicked out her feet. “Though now I’ve seen a naked shifter, I kinda wonder if they all look so good.”
“What?” Katie froze. “I mean ... what?”
Janie rubbed her nose. “Charlie shifted when Garrett attacked him. Shredded his clothes. I gotta say, great body ... but penises are weird.”
Katie’s left eye began to spasm. “Uh-huh.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
Only if it had nothing to do with penises. “Sure.”
“What’s it like when the guy you really like ... actually likes you back?”
Katie bit back the sarcastic jibe about Jordan. Janie had so much longing in her young voice, Katie had to be truthful. “Well, at first you don’t believe it because it’s too good to be true. Then you don’t want to believe it because it must be a trick. Then you do believe it, but it turns out to be different than you’d always thought.”
Janie sighed, turning to the ocean. “Why is life so confusing?”
“Why indeed.” With a matching sigh, Katie followed her gaze, but the ocean provided no answers.
Jordan kicked the punching bag, sending it flying across the wide gym. Irritation had him snarling. Even with funds so low from the war, Dage should create a better fucking workout area.
He’d slept with Katie. Pivoting, he slammed a fist into a second bag. Told her he loved her. Jesus. The fact that she didn’t say the words back wasn’t lost on him. Another kick, and the second bag tore in two.
“Stop breaking things.” Conn strode into the room, hands in his faded jeans.
“Facilities suck.” Jordan grabbed a towel off the thick mat to wipe his forehead.
“Want to talk about it?”
Jesus, no. “Why don’t you go get your mate so you have something to do?”
“My mate has work to do in Ireland. I have work to do here.” Conn’s voice stayed even.
Guilt swamped Jordan. His shoulders slumped. Conn remained behind so he could either save him or kill him. “I’m sorry.”
Conn shrugged and leaned back against the wall, keeping his flak boots off the mats. “Right now you’re the least of my worries. Any chance the shifter headquarters in Western Virginia needs a visit from Talen?”
“We want to get rid of Talen?”
“A shifter kissed Janie.”
Jordan jerked his head. “She’s too young to kiss.”
Irritation swirled in Conn’s eyes. “She’ll be sixteen in a week. When did I become the voice of reason around here?” He kicked a medicine ball. The heavy leather crashed against the far wall and returned, zinging by Jordan’s head.
Jordan cracked a smile. “Reason suits you. Tell me the guy wasn’t a wolf shifter.”
“Nope. Feline. Panther.”
“Well, that’s okay then.” Jordan eyed his friend. His best friend. Tension lines cut into Conn’s face, his shoulders seemed stiff. The guy could use a brawl. Jordan opened his mouth to offer when Dage’s voice came over the speaker in the far wall.
“Conn, Jordan, get to control room one. Now.”
They didn’t pause. Loping into a jog, Jordan followed Conn through corridors and down three flights of stairs, deeper in the earth. If the king wanted to meet in his private control room, something was very, very wrong.
They arrived in unison with Kane, Talen, and Max, who had been Dage’s primary bodyguard until taking over Janie’s protection. The door shut, locks sliding soundly into place.
Tension and power filled the small room. A large table sat abandoned to the side, but nobody moved toward the various chairs. They stood by the control panel near the entrance. Jordan tucked his hands in his sweats, resting against the side wall. Silence pounded around them.
Dage punched in keys on the panel and two men took shape on a large wall screen.
“Jesus,” Conn breathed.
Caleb Donovan, a vampire prophet, and Kellach Dunne, a witch enforcer, barely held each other up, leaning against a black stone wall.
Blood cascaded from Caleb’s eyes and nose. It flowed out his ears to mat in his long brown hair. He opened his mouth to speak. Blood poured out. He staggered, and Kell shoved them both against the wall.
Kell’s head swiveled. The flesh on his face flayed open from inside, veins and shards of bone sticking out through the flowing blood. His black eyes were a mottled red.
Caleb spit out blood. “Demons attacked. We lost—” He bent over, a rattling cough shaking his huge chest. Kell held on to him, then helped him to straighten.
Nausea rolled in Jordan’s gut. The demons fought with mind control—misfiring neurons in the brain until the victim bled out or went stark raving mad. They could also force horrible images inside until the person couldn’t distinguish between reality and illusion. It was a miracle the two men were still functioning.