Paxton’s ears heated. “Why talk to him? He doesn’t know a thing.”
“Bullshit,” Zane countered. “We’re ripping apart your life right now, Phoenix. I’m going to know absolutely everything about you by tomorrow, and your uncle is right in the middle of your life. I took you to him, remember?”
Yeah. After Zane had saved Pax’s life. “Leave my uncle alone. He doesn’t know anything. He’s a guy who studies butterflies.”
“My ass,” Talen grumbled, finally speaking. “I say we see how he stands up to torture.”
For the first time, Paxton let anger sizzle in his eyes. “You touch my uncle, and we’re going to have a problem.”
Talen’s smile wasn’t nice. It wasn’t even fierce. It was cruel. “I’ll bring him to you in a box.” With that, he turned and strode away. The king gave Zane one long look and then followed his brother.
Zane remained on the other side of the bars. “Tell me your motivation for this fucked up mission was to keep Hope safe.”
Now Paxton couldn’t help but let the emotion show on his face. For just a second, he felt no need to hide from Zane. “Everything I’ve done in my entire life was to keep that female safe. You of all people should know that.”
Zane lifted one eyebrow. “I told you once, many years ago, after I beat the hell out of your dad and kicked him out of headquarters, that we make our own fate.”
“I remember,” Pax said softly.
Zane shook his head. “So exactly what kind of fate did you just make for yourself?”
“You wouldn’t understand if I told you, and I’m not going to say another word. So if you want to come in here and go at me, let’s do this, Zane.”
If Paxton had thought Talen’s smile was cruel, he’d been mistaken. The one that instantly lifted Zane’s lips shot a chill through the entire room. Zane leaned to the side and tapped on a keyboard. The bars slowly rolled out of the way. Paxton braced himself. When the demon king came at him, he probably wouldn’t see it until he felt the first strike.
“Let’s go,” Zane said.
Paxton jerked. “Is this a trick?”
“No. Get out of the cell.”
“All right. You want to fight in the hallway? We’ll fight in the hallway.” Except he wasn’t really going to engage. Zane had saved him when he needed it, and no matter how screwed up things had become, Paxton would never lift a hand against the warrior. “You hit first. You are kind of old.” Yet Zane looked thirty and could destroy anybody in his line of sight.
Something ached in Paxton, speaking to Zane like that, but he also couldn’t back down. He walked into the hallway.
“Move,” Zane said. “Get out of here.”
“And where am I… Okay.” Paxton strode down the hallway, expecting an attack from behind. His gut churning, he strode up the stairs into the main lobby of headquarters. The Christmas tree in the corner glowed light blue, with handmade ornaments hanging from every branch. Too many presents to count were stacked all around the green boughs.
The double doors leading outside were within reach. He paused. “What is happening?”
“Get out, Paxton. I think if you stay here any longer, Talen or Dage is going to come back. Believe me, they definitely want a piece of you.”
Confusion filled Paxton’s head, but he moved toward the exterior door, shocked to freely walk out into the snowy Idaho evening.
What had just happened?
Chapter Seven
Paxton caught wind of Hope’s scent as he walked along the lake from vampire to demon territory. There was a wide sidewalk where guards patrolled between the two compounds, but right now, none were visible. That was odd.
This entire situation was messing with his mind. Had that been their intention? If so, it was working; he hadn’t felt this off-balance in at least a year. Then he caught sight of the woman, and the world narrowed in focus. His heart started to thrum, and his blood heated.
She sat on the hood of his dark blue truck—she must have wiped the snow off it. She wore a heavy jacket and thick pants, but even so, her nose was pink, and her hands were shoved in her pockets.
He didn’t increase his pace, needing to get his raging hormones under control before he reached her. Even from a distance, he could see the shocking blue of her eyes glimmer through the night. She shivered slightly, though she was wrapped up while he wore only jeans and a black long-sleeved T-shirt, keeping his hands in his pockets. He was such a cold bastard that even Mother Nature could no longer touch him.
She tensed as he finally approached, looking at the darkened house and then at her. “Is my uncle here?” he asked.
“No.” She shook her head. “I knocked and I rang the bell, but nobody answered.”
Good. Hopefully Santino had found safety in the underground bunker and was not being tortured by Talen right now. “You have to know that I didn’t mean for you to get hurt,” Paxton said quietly, his gaze catching on the sling barely visible around her neck. She sat tipped to the side, as if her arm was folded beneath the jacket. “Wait a minute, you still haven’t healed your arm?” Irritation slashed through him.
“No,” she said, “not yet.”
He was unable to stop himself from taking another step toward her. “Why?”
“Because I just didn’t,” she said, her small chin lifting. Several streetlights shone down and fully illuminated her, showing her pale face and fragile bone structure. Not to mention the unfathomable blue of her eyes that matched the prophecy markings on each side of her neck.
“Are you telling me you still can’t heal your arm?” he asked, not feeling the cold, even though it had to be about zero degrees Fahrenheit. It was probably too chilly for her to be out, but he knew she wouldn’t come inside the house. The woman was there for answers, and he didn’t have any to give to her.
When she didn’t answer him, he stepped even closer so his legs were touching hers as they dangled off the side of the hood.
“Hope?” He put command into his voice this time, even though his brain was still mushy from those drugs.
“I can’t heal it, all right?” she snapped, her tone tense as frustration lowered her brows.
Shock kept him immobile. He knew that she caught illnesses sometimes, but he figured that even somebody with slower healing cells would be able to heal a fractured bone in a day. His fangs slowly slid down. “You need blood?” He pushed his shirt sleeve out of the way so he could get to his vein.
“No,” she said, holding up one hand.
“Don’t make me force you.” He’d do it, too. In order to heal her, to make her feel better, he’d do pretty much anything except tell her the truth.
Her delicate jaw firmed. “I can’t take blood, Pax, or I would’ve already taken it from my dad. I mean, give me a break.” She might sound snippy, but he could feel the pain vibrating from her. “Emma doesn’t want me to take anything until the drug from the darts is completely out of my system. It might react negatively with vampire or demon blood.”
So the darts were filled with more than just a tranq. Great. He frowned, the nape of his neck itching as the night air finally began to clear his head. Being casual about it, he glanced around the neighborhood. Ah-ha. That made more sense. “How many snipers are trained on me right now?” he asked. “Merely curious.”