Tamed

Chapter Eight

Caleb tried to settle his large boots under the conference table without knocking into the middle support. They’d drawn the blinds in the small conference room, and the darkness was making him twitchy. He was a soldier, not a businessperson. “I hate teleconferencing.”

Seated to Caleb’s right, Dage rolled his eyes and finished punching in a code on a keyboard, an ever-present grape energy drink at his elbow. “Will you please stop your whining?”

“I’m not whining.” Caleb hunched his shoulders.

“Are, too.” Dage finished messing with the keyboard and glanced up at a blank screen taking up the entire north wall. “Want to talk about it?”

“About what?” When the hell was this meeting going to start?

“Lily.”

The mere mention of her name swept heat through Caleb’s body. “No,” he growled. While the king could certainly smell her on Caleb, he didn’t need to mention the fact. “Mind your own business.”

“You’re my oldest friend. You are my business.” Dage popped open the top on his drink.

Caleb nodded at the truth. It was nice to have friends, but he wasn’t a sharing type of guy. “Thanks, but I’m good.”

Dage shrugged. “Okay. How did the training go earlier with the shifter brothers?”

Caleb sighed. Somehow Dage had found an isolated group of three wolf brothers who’d pretty much raised themselves after having lost their parents. “They’re a motley crew. Why in the hell did you send them to me for training?”

“I usually send angry misfits to you,” Dage said calmly.

Caleb’s head snapped up as the truth of the statement punched him in the gut. “That’s true. Are you pissed at me?”

Dage’s right eyebrow rose. “No. You’re just good with misfits. With counseling and training.”

Caleb’s mouth went dry. “I don’t counsel.”

“Sure, you do. Not in an office, but in bars, around campfires, and across training fields. You help the angry and the forgotten. Always have.” Dage turned back toward the keyboard.

A rare panic sped up Caleb’s heart. “You’re making me sound like a prophet.”

Dage sighed. “You dislike the ceremony of the prophecy and the superficial assumptions everyone makes about prophets because of their roles. But you’ve always counseled, and you’ve always helped soldiers, even before the marking appeared on your neck.”

Caleb blinked. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, when the door silently opened.

His mouth went dry.

Prophet Guiles held the door open for Lily. She swept inside, wearing her usual uniform of an old-fashioned dress, her hair braided down her back. An energy vibrated around her, one that took a second for Caleb to pin down.

Fury and determination.

The prophet was pissed.

Caleb cocked his head to the side, curiosity burning through him. Was she angry with him?

She smiled, somehow appearing regal. “King. Caleb.” All grace, she took the seat next to Caleb. Prophet Guiles sat next to her.

Caleb leaned into her space, the scent of strawberries nearly dropping him to his knees. He knew how she tasted, and he wanted more. “Are you all right?”

She slowly turned her head, one eyebrow arched. “Of course. You?”

Yeah, pissed. But he couldn’t tell at whom or why.

The king angled around Caleb, his eyes narrowed. “Prophet Sotheby, you seem . . . focused.”

“I am, King.” The words held both menace and promise.

Fascination shot through Caleb to settle hard in his groin. The woman had layers he wanted to unpeel and savor. This layer, this mood . . . was new.

The screen crackled, and the leader of the Kurjan nation came into focus. Franco was about four hundred years old, his eyes a Kurjan purple and his hair a deep red with black tips. White-faced and allergic to the sun, he appeared more ghoul than powerful leader. “King Kayrs,” he said, his gaze sliding instantly toward Lily.

Caleb leaned forward, his arm flexing with the need to draw Lily close. “We’d like to renegotiate the location of the peace talks.” It was a long shot, but he’d insisted on the chance. Having Lily in the same cavern with the monstrous Kurjan leader made Caleb want to puke. Or kill. Yeah. Kill.

Franco nodded, pursing blood red lips. “I’m happy to conduct more of a one-on-one negotiation. Anytime.”

Fury roared at the base of Caleb’s neck, but Lily spoke before he could respond. “With today’s technology, there’s no reason we have to meet in person for negotiations,” she said, clasping her hands on the sturdy table.

Franco flashed sharp canines. “We must sign the contract in blood.”

“Then use Fed-Ex after you sign,” Prophet Guiles said dryly.

Franco sighed and focused on Dage. “You can’t have our blood, and you know it.”

Caleb couldn’t disagree. Blood held power, and with the scientific advantages the Kurjans had reached in the last decades, he particularly didn’t want them to have the blood of any vampire, especially the king. “We don’t need to sign in blood,” he said slowly.

Dage nodded. “How about we sign in ink?”

“No.” Franco leaned back in what appeared to be a leather chair. “Contracts require blood to bind, and then we burn them. The ways of our forefathers must be followed.”

Caleb kept his face stoic. He’d known the Kurjans wouldn’t agree to ink, and neither would the demons. But he’d given it a shot as one last chance to keep both Lily and Janie far away from their enemies. Now he had to convince Lily to skip the negotiations. He couldn’t protect the king if he was worried about Lily. “Fine.”

Franco cleared his throat. “We also demand more than two representatives at the talks.”

“No.” Dage’s jaw hardened. “Each species has two representatives—a dignitary and a bodyguard.”

Franco slammed a hand down on his desk. “Not counting the chosen one, you have two soldiers, and three prophets. That’s five.”

Lily leaned forward. “The prophets represent all species on earth and will serve as mediators. We do not belong solely to the Realm.”

Franco’s eyes swirled from purple to a dark red. “So you belong to me also, do you?” His voice lowered to guttural, and a high flush spread across his pasty cheekbones.

Caleb growled low, startled when Lily’s foot connected with his shin. Had the lady just kicked him?

“We will attend the talks to broker peace,” Lily said, her voice clear and sure.

“At what cost?” Franco asked softly, his gaze tracing her face.

Caleb lowered his chin. The Kurjan had better stop flirting with his woman. “As per tradition enacted after the Kurjans killed a prophet, the prophets are protected by all races.” He put every ounce of threat he could into his tone, and purposely didn’t use Miles Sotheby’s name. The Kurjan who had killed Miles was long dead, and Caleb didn’t want to upset Lily any more than was necessary.

Franco swung his gaze toward Caleb. “I had wondered if the marking would tame you, Prophet Donovan. Never had I thought to see you hiding behind tradition.”

Caleb slid on an easy smile. If the fucking Kurjan thought he could get under Caleb’s skin, he was in for disappointment. “Why don’t you and I meet up before the negotiations and explore that thought?”

Lily reached over and placed a soft hand over his. “We’re discussing peace talks, gentlemen.”

Crimson rippled beneath the Kurjan’s skin, and his eyes flared as they focused on Lily’s hand. “I do hope you’re not trolling for another prophet as a mate, Lily,” Franco said, flashing yellow canines.

Caleb frowned. Just how deep did the Kurjan’s little crush go, anyway? “She has the damn virus you bastards created and can’t mate anybody. You know that.”

Franco clucked his tongue. “If she gets the cure, then she’ll be able to mate again.”

Dage leaned forward, his entire body taut. “Do you have a cure?”

Franco chuckled. “Do you think we unleashed a virus on the world without a cure for our own mates?”

Caleb rubbed his chin, his gut swirling. Every ounce of evidence they’d found proved the Kurjans hadn’t created a cure and didn’t give a shit about their mates. “You’re bluffing.”

“Am I?” Franco brushed lint off his black uniform. “Prophet Sotheby? What would you give for the antidote that would cure all vampire mates as well as all witches?”

Lily lifted her chin. “While we should save such talk for the negotiations, what would the Kurjan nation request in exchange for the cure?”

Franco leaned forward. “The nation requests nothing.”

Caleb’s shoulders hardened to rock. “Excuse me?”

Lily tightened her grip on his hand. “What do you want, Franco?”

“You.”

Another kick under the table kept Caleb from lashing out. He turned incredulous eyes on the petite blonde who’d dared to kick him. Twice.

She smirked at the Kurjan leader. “Don’t tell me you created an entire virus to catch little ol’ me, Franco. I don’t believe you.”

Franco lifted a shoulder. “Freeing you from your mating mark turned out to be a nice side effect of the true purpose of the virus, I have to admit. Again, what are you willing to sacrifice for a cure? A real one?”

Then, the most dignified, ladylike, soft-spoken woman in the world pushed back from the table, planted both hands, and leaned toward the camera. “Not a damn thing. You’re a liar and a fraud, and there’s no cure for the virus. When you want to truly negotiate, you know where to find us.” She glanced at the king. “Disconnect.”

Franco growled through the speakers.

Dage blinked.

“Now,” Lily said with a snap.

The most powerful vampire in existence then punched a button, and the screen went black.

Lily stepped back and executed a half curtsy. “Gentlemen.” With her head lifted, she skirted the table and quietly exited the room.

Silence beat around the space for several moments. Finally, wide-eyed, Dage turned toward Caleb. “What the hell did you do?”

Caleb shook his head, trying to get his bearings. “Nothing. Why?”

“Because no way in hell was that the Prophet Lily Sotheby I have known for three centuries,” Dage growled, anger vibrating along his arms.

Against all rational thought, Caleb smiled. Then he chuckled. Finally, he threw back his head and laughed, hard and deep. Joy, intrigue, and satisfaction sang through his veins. Glancing at Dage’s incredulous expression, he laughed harder.

Now that was the Lily Sotheby he’d always suspected shimmered beneath the polite prophet. The moment hit him as right, just as his brain finally caught up with his heart. He loved the stunning prophet. “You’re wrong, King. You just met the real woman.” With a whistle, Caleb stood and headed toward the door. “My woman.”