Fated

Chapter 34

Cara jostled awake safe and secure in Talen’s arms as he ran out of the farmhouse into the sun. She breathed a sigh of relief, realizing the clouds had burned off in the early afternoon hour. The Kurjans couldn’t come outside now.

Dage waited by a large black helicopter while Jase and Conn jumped into the front. “Where’s Emma?” she asked Dage.

His eyes narrowed to silver daggers on her. “Gone. They flew her out of here earlier headed for Franco’s headquarters up in Nunavut.” He tossed his gun to Talen, his hands going to the fasteners on his dark vest.

Cara gasped and tried to struggle out of her husband’s arms. “Where is that? We have to find her.”

“Nunavut is in northern Canada—sparse and cold. And don’t worry, Cara, I will find your sister. I promise you.” Shrugging out of his vest, he threw it into the back of the helicopter. He turned to his brothers. “Talen, secure Colorado—Jase, Alaska, and Conn, Texas. I’ll be in touch.” He unclasped his cuff and handed it to Conn. With a nod to them all, he disappeared. One second he stood in front of them, the next he was just gone.

“What the heck?” Cara asked numbly.

“He can transport, mate.” Talen settled into the backseat of the helicopter. “It’s one of Dage’s gifts. Jase can teleport as well.”

“Why did he give you his cuff?” Nausea welled up from her stomach.

“For some reason metal can’t transport with him. We’ve never figured out why.” Talen reached out one broad hand and yanked the door closed.

“Can you teleport?”

“Unfortunately not, darlin’.” The words were an endearment but the tension in the rough muscles holding her told another story. He was livid. She had to gather her courage to glance up into his face. Stone cold, his eyes sharp flecks of gold, the hard planes of his face settled into fierce and unforgiving lines. Even his generous mouth clenched tight, and his jaw made granite seem soft.

“So, you’re pretty pissed, huh?” she whispered as dread filled her lungs like poisoned air. She struggled against the urge to cough it out.

His eyes glowed to topaz as his arms tightened around her. “We shall discuss that later, mate.” One swift movement and her gold cuff was wrapped around her wrist again.

She chose not to object, and yet couldn’t stop the chill his words sent winging through her chest. The innocuous words held more threat than she had imagined. The shrill motor cut the silence like a blade through flesh, and she leaned back into Talen in exhaustion, sleep claiming her before they even left the ground.

Talen let Cara sleep for several hours after they returned to the ranch. Like a predator on a hunt, he watched her move slowly, purposefully into their comfortable living room as the fading sun cast a mellow pink light across the hard planks of the floor. She had dressed in faded jeans and a pretty white knit tank that hugged her full breasts—the decorative Celtic knots winding along the neckline whispered of feminine secrets and allure. Her unbound hair flaunted oak sparks as the sun danced across porcelain skin. She was so beautiful his chest ached. Yet her stunning blue eyes were determined, her slim shoulders back, her chin lifted—she looked ready for a good fight. The ache receded as desire clawed with sharp talons through his blood to strike at his groin.

He’d oblige her with the fight.

The touch of his eyes on Cara was more a lash than a caress, and she had to concentrate not to stumble as she skirted the couch to stand at its edge. He stood next to the rumbling fire in the massive stone fireplace, one masculine arm resting negligently on the mantle, his hand swirling golden liquid in a tumbler. He had changed into faded jeans and a deep bronze shirt that had to be silk and turned his eyes to the topaz of a night predator. They fit perfectly in a face stamped with a dangerous display of hardness and hollows. A muscle ticked in his rugged jaw, and the shadow he unintentionally cast from the firelight hinted of breadth and strength.

Fear fought with desire through her veins.

“Where is Janie?” She had looked into the little pink room on her way to the living area to find it empty.

“She’s still at headquarters with Jase.” The underlying reason slid like a whispered threat over her skin.

“Why?” She was stalling, and she knew it.

“We needed privacy.” His golden eyes revealed nothing as he continued to swirl the liquid—ice cubes clanked against the crystal, and the chill tickled down her spine.

She didn’t have a reply as they stared at each other across the wooden coffee table. The large imprint on her hip started to burn.

He broke the silence first. “Franco’s helicopter didn’t make it to his headquarters—I think Dage has Emma now. Jase and Conn are en route to pick them up.”

Relief filled Cara for a moment, even with the tension infusing the room. “Thank God.”

Golden eyes hardened to ancient copper. “Are you well rested?”

“Yes.” Her stomach lurched as she fought to remain calm. She knew him, didn’t she? He wouldn’t hurt her. “I don’t want to fight with you.” The words surprised her—she hadn’t meant to say them.

His raised eyebrow showed his surprise as well. “Don’t you, now?”

“No.” Her eyes narrowed in anger, and she fought the urge to stamp her foot. “Of course not.”

He took a sip of the liquid, his eyes both hard and thoughtful over the rim. “I believe I have been less than clear as to the rules governing our marriage.”

“Rules?” Anger wove through her words as her spine straightened one vertebra at a time. How dare he?

“Yes.” His face gave no quarter.

“I’m sorry to tell you this, Talen, but if you wanted a mindless, obedient wife, you should have found one during the last century. I’m sure you had your chances.” She welcomed the anger, so much easier to deal with than the fear.

In the way of wild animals from wolves to men, Talen showed his teeth—the beast within him rearing with a vengeance demanding to take. To dominate. He had almost lost her today, and yet here she stood challenging him. “There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do to keep you safe, mate.”

The possessive tone of his voice slid south of Cara’s stomach as an unwanted desire pooled fast and hard between her thighs. “Meaning what?” It came out as a husky whisper.

“Meaning that reality is something you will come to grips with, and you’ll do so now.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Don’t you?” he asked silkily as he took another drink of scotch. “I think you do, Cara. I think you do understand that the freedom you’ve enjoyed, the freedom you’ve abused,” his voice hardened on the last, “is one I’ve allowed.”

“Allowed?” She choked on the word as a fine red haze covered her vision. If it were possible for her head to spin around and explode, it would have just happened. Boy, this was one vampire who needed a good lesson in modern relationships.

“You picked the wrong girl to dominate, Dracula.”

His broad hand slapped the glass onto the mantle with a harsh snap as he turned to face her. Desire clawed through him with sharp blades as he took in her flushed face, clenched fists, and the sheer daring it had taken to call him by that ridiculous name. Yet his voice when he spoke was silky, dark. “Have I, mate?” He took a step forward, and his eyes flashed to the hard pebbles of her nipples through the light cotton.

She resisted the urge to cross her arms over her traitorous breasts while her thighs softened even more in response. This was getting out of hand—she needed to bring some reason into the conversation. Even worse, she knew she had been wrong before. It would about kill her, but fairness demanded the truth—she would deal with his idiotic proclamation about rules later.

She shifted her feet. “I’m sorry I went to Wyoming without you.”

At the very least she expected a graceful acknowledgment, even an acceptance of her apology. What she got, however, was an arrogant smile. “Do you think so?”

She blinked in confusion. “Do I think so what?”

“Do you think you’re sorry?”

“I just said I was.”

“No.” The arrogance remained.

“No, what?” Cara asked in exasperation.

“You’re not sorry. Not yet anyway.” His stalking step forward was as graceful as any jungle cat hunting its prey. Spiced pine tickled her nose.

It was either stomp her foot in frustration or take a step backward in retreat. The wooden floor vibrated as she took the first option. “Stop threatening me.”

The harsh caress of his eyes over her aching nipples made her shiver in response. Hard gold lifted to meet her gaze, and she shivered again. Desire, want, and need all blended through her blood. “That was a statement, not a threat.” Another step closer. Less than a foot of tension-filled air remained between them.

“You’re the one who lied,” she snapped back, remembering suddenly why she had been so angry.

A superior eyebrow lifted. “I didn’t lie.”

“Yes, you did. You married me because some damn high prophet said you had to.” Her temper gathered like a winter storm through her veins.

“Bullshit.”

She gasped and a haze of fury crossed her vision. “I saw the damn letter, Talen.”

“I know that, mate. What I don’t know, what I don’t understand, is why you didn’t ask me about the letter.” His temper rose to match hers. “In fact, I believe I do understand it. You weren’t running from me, Cara. You were running from yourself.” Rage flashed across his face as he remembered the danger she had put herself in. “Do you truly believe that I would let anyone order me to mate?”

“Well you did,” she retorted, fighting the urge to retreat. “I saw your return letter.”

“Did you see the dates of either letter?” His voice lowered.

She tilted her chin. Not exactly.

“I didn’t think so. The letters were copies of those sent over a century ago, mate. The originals are in a safe at headquarters.”

“You still agreed.” Her voice trailed off at the end—maybe she should’ve looked at the date.

“I mated you because you’re mine, Cara. And you damn well know it.” At her stubborn silence, a dangerous glint entered his eyes. “And you’re going to admit it, darlin’.”

The claim hung in the tense air between them for several beats. “I’m not going to run,” she murmured, unsure whether she warned herself or the warrior closing in on her.

“Running would prove fruitless,” he agreed, reaching out to run one finger over a cloth-covered nipple.

She bit her lip to keep from moaning and then gasped as he pinched her. “No more holding back, mate,” he issued a quiet warning before soothing her abused flesh with one broad hand. Flesh that was all but begging for more, damn it. She gave a negligent shrug and moved to step back, only to have his other palm grasp her hip and hold her in place. He flexed his hand on her waist and sent fingers of anticipation through her abdomen; she quickly stifled the whimper that wanted loose. The hand on her hip slid around and smacked her backside in retaliation.

“Hey,” she protested, raising both hands to push against his chest. Liquid heat spilled from her, readying her body for him with gleeful abandonment.

“I said no more holding back, Cara.” The hand reached up to tangle in her hair and tug, forcing her eyes to meet his deadly serious ones. “Every cry, every moan, every whimper is mine. You will give them to me, mate.”

“They aren’t yours.” She wasn’t even sure what they were talking about but knew she needed to protest. Though her body was all but begging to get him naked.

He reacted with the speed of a striking cobra. With a twist of his wrist he exposed her neck—and instantly dipped to sink razor sharp teeth into tender flesh. She couldn’t hold back the cry that escaped her this time, and there was no doubt it was a sound of ecstasy and not of pain. As he drank from her with sharp pulls, she wondered why it didn’t hurt. Shouldn’t it hurt? Instead, fire spiraled first to the imprint on her hip and then lower to the apex between her legs. She moved into him with a soft whimper and groaned as he slid one muscled thigh between her legs to press. Hard. Somehow, with another cry, she shattered.

When she came back to earth, she focused on his eyes right above her. With a fierce grin he leaned down and spoke heatedly against her mouth. “They are mine. As are your blood, your orgasms, and your soul, Cara. And before this night is over, you will beg me to accept them all.”

With a swift motion, he had her off her feet and was striding purposefully toward the bedroom. He stopped and looked down—his face unwavering, his metallic eyes determined. “Tonight you will submit, mate.” He walked inside and kicked the door shut before placing her on her feet.