She took a step back. Smart girl. Her pale hands clasped together. “You need to stay here, Conn.”
The conviction in her words, the plea in her pretty eyes grounded him. “No.”
Air swooshed into her lungs as her chest expanded. “You don’t understand the risk you’re facing.”
Was that a fact? “If we’re allies, Moira, and I believe we are, then the council won’t do anything to harm me.” So the rumors were true. The damn Nine might actually withdraw from the Realm.
He’d need to get Moira to safety before anyone else declared war against the Realm. As if the Kurjans and now the Demons weren’t enough to battle.
“We’re allies, Connlan.” Her gaze remained steady on his.
Impressive. “For how long?”
She opened her mouth to answer as the door flew open. Conn dropped into a crouch to defend, then slowly straightened as a small female barreled into his arms.
“Connlan Kayrs. Well, it’s about darn time.” Brenna Dunne patted his back, stepping away to smile with a twinkle in her gray eyes. “Thank you so much for the souped-up computer you sent for my birthday. I love it.”
Conn returned the smile of the unexpected eighth daughter of Doctor Patrick Dunne, probably the smartest man on the planet. Well, after Conn’s bother, Kane. Conn smiled at the miracle bouncing on her heels before him. In the entire history of the witches, never had an eighth daughter been created. Seven was truly the magical number. “I thought you’d enjoy playing with human satellites.”
Brenna nodded, sending mahogany brown hair flying. Unlike her seven elder sisters, she’d inherited neither the green eyes nor the red hair. Truly unexpected. “Yes. I tapped into some governmental databases last month and transferred war funds to humanitarian efforts in the middle east.”
Conn’s heart warmed at the woman born eighty years after he’d claimed Moira. She was family. “Still trying to save the world, are you?”
“Of course.” She glanced at her sister. “We need to fix the Irish economy and fast, Moira. I created a plan.”
“You always form a plan.” Moira swept toward the door. Turning the gold knob, she tossed a smile over her shoulder. “And they always work, which is impressive. We’ll go over it later, okay? For now, I need you to entertain Conn.”
Amusement warred with irritation down Conn’s spine. Two strides had him at the door. “I’m going to meet the Nine with you, Dailtín.”
Brenna gasped from behind him. “You can’t, Conn. You’ll never make it past the security.”
He pivoted and winked. “I’ve been invited, Bren.” A gentle nudge had his mate out the door, which he closed with a soft click. “Let’s go.”
“No. The security isn’t men with sticks or guns.” His mate turned, shoving him against the wall. He allowed her to move him. Tension radiated from her. “Only witches pass through the veil to the chamber. You’ll die.”
He grasped her elbows. “What veil?”
“The veil.” Exasperation filtered a soft peach under Moira’s skin. “We’re witches, Connlan. Do you really think we protect the sanctity of our headquarters with shooting plasma balls?”
Well, yeah. “I’ve never thought about it.”
A veil. Maybe he could learn to drum one up to protect the women at his headquarters. He’d like to see his family better protected. “Considering I have your powers, I should be fine.” Maybe. Who knew? Damn witches kept everything secret.
“No. The forces in the veil will rip off your head.” She shoved away from him, striding down the hallway to punch the DOWN button for the elevator. “The veil consists of perfectly chosen subatomic particles that identify my species. Even more than that, the particles identify power within my people. You have to own a certain amount to survive.” The door slid open and she glided inside.
“I have power. You’ve seen it.” But did he have enough?
His life was just getting interesting, and he’d hate to lose his head.
An indelicate snort emerged from his mate. “Yeah. You can throw plasma. So can my two-year-old nephew.” She stabbed the button for the garage level. “Have you even considered that your death will guarantee the Realm splinters?”
“Then I’d better not die.”
The woman was seriously underestimating him. Apparently, the Coven Nine wanted him dead. Either they’d discovered his new abilities, or were planning on making quite the statement with their withdrawal from the Realm.
He’d had enough of dancing around with his mate. “If the Nine truly ordered my death, would you allow it, Moira?” Long ago he’d stopped worrying about death. When his time came, it came—though he’d be damn tough to take down.
“The Nine doesn’t need to order your death when you walk right into it.” Her shoulders straightened as she tapped the button for the garage level again. “Besides, I don’t tell the Nine what to do.”
The door slid open and they stepped inside. She took a deep breath as the door closed. “You can’t tell me you’d refuse an order from the king to remove my head, Prince. Now can you?”
The temper he’d been controlling for the last several hours bubbled dangerously close to the surface. Grabbing her bicep, he shoved her against the wall of the elevator, leaning his face down. “I’d refuse any order to harm you, Dailtín. A fact you should be well aware of.”
Sparks lit her pretty eyes. The woman had no idea how close she was to being forcibly removed from her country.
He fought a snarl. “Besides, you know my king. No way in hell would Dage ever order your death.”
The doors slid open again, and she yanked from his grasp, flouncing over to where Kell waited next to three street bikes. Conn pivoted and let out a slow whistle. Two Ducatis and one Suzuki Hayabusa sparkled under the fluorescent lights. Kell stood guard over the Hayabusa as if the black and red beast meant the difference between life and death. Conn hoped to hell it didn’t. “Nice bike.”
“Nice?” Kell’s eyebrow rose. “This was the fastest street bike in existence ... even before I tweaked her. Now she’s incredible.”
Conn nodded his head toward the largest Ducati, a streamlined black Superbike. “Adam’s?”
“Daire’s,” Moira said, grabbing a sleek silver helmet off the handle of a red Ducati and swinging her leg over the side. “Scratch her, and he’ll kill you.” She settled into place, flashing Conn a saucy grin. “Then I won’t have to worry about it anymore.”
Something thumped hard in Conn’s chest. His mate straddled the bike like a natural ... sleek and dangerous. Sexy as hell. She unclipped her hair and shook out her curls before tugging on the helmet, and he fought a groan. He fought the urge to yank her off and coax her to ride him instead.
Kell slammed a helmet into Conn’s gut. Conn frowned. “Thanks.” Quick jerks had it over his head and him on the Ducati, revving the engine. She purred to life beneath him, all power, all rumble. Time to meet the folks who wanted him dead.
Light from the moon glinted off sparkling storefronts. Moira bent lower against the bike, allowing the wind to whistle past. She wound through cars, following Kell while Conn protected her back. Although she was riding one of the most powerful vehicles in existence, one embodying true freedom, the sparkle of a pretty cage still narrowed around her. The future ripped her in different directions. The Nine owned destiny, and Connlan claimed fate. Neither were a good fit.
The brand on her hip burned when she turned a corner into the touristy part of town. The light ahead turned yellow and she flicked her wrist, turning it back to green. Her ass tingled as if the vampire behind her caressed it with his gaze. He’d better not be staring at her butt.