Actually, he wasn’t much liking it. The heat touching his fingers around the bars felt like a burn. “What was in that drug?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Hope really believed you wanted peace.” There were times Pax had hoped for that outcome as well, but he’d never trusted Drake.
“I will have peace once the Realm falls.” Drake clasped his hands behind his back.
Paxton stared evenly at him. “Should’ve paid attention to Tacitus. ‘They make a desert and call it peace,’” he quoted.
Drake smiled. “I quote myself, hybrid.”
A truck roared to a stop near the other vehicles to the north, and two soldiers jumped out, hurrying toward Drake. Paxton straightened.
Vero was the first to reach them. “What have you done?” the young soldier hissed, throwing up his arms and looking from Paxton to the lodge. “We just got word that you kidnapped Hope Kayrs-Kyllwood.”
“You can’t kidnap your own mate,” Drake said, looking at Vero and dismissing the other very quiet soldier.
Paxton gave a short nod to that silent male, glad to see Hunter Kayrs still alive and in place. He was the king’s kid, who’d been undercover with the Kurjan nation for far too long. He’d even undergone surgery to make him look more like a Kurjan. Power emanated from him, and it was shocking that Drake couldn’t feel it. He and Vero both stood to about six foot six, which was short for Kurjans, but they were wide and incredibly fast. Pax would need help getting to Hope and helping her to safety.
Hunter shook his head. “You just declared war, Drake.”
Drake turned on him. “Harold, you shouldn’t even be here. You should be, I don’t know, gathering roots and berries with the women. I’ve seen you fight.”
Actually, Drake hadn’t really seen Hunter fight. He obviously didn’t see Hunter.
Paxton started to formulate a plan.
Hunter flicked his gaze at him and then back. “This is crazy.”
Vero nodded vigorously. “I agree. If Hope is meant to be your mate, she will be, Drake. You didn’t have to kidnap her.”
“There is no doubt my father allowed you too much time with the females. You’re soft, Vero. I should’ve kept Karma away from you.” Drake’s lip curled.
Vero’s chin lowered. “Karma was a kind female, and she taught me a lot. Especially that kindness and love don’t make you weak.” He glanced at Paxton. “Then she was taken by Benjamin Reese, a member of the Seven. He had better not be hurting her.” Fire glowed in his odd blue eyes.
“He’s not,” Paxton said. “They’re mated and are about to have another kid. She’s happy and in love…and very safe.”
Vero’s expression didn’t change. “Good. For now, we need to figure out what to do with the Realm princess.”
“Hope will be my mate—she doesn’t have a choice about that,” Drake said slowly. “You two get back to your duties.”
“No,” Vero said, setting his stance.
Hunter stepped up to his side.
Paxton stiffened. He didn’t want to see either one of them get hurt.
“Where is the woman?” Hunter asked.
“It’s none of your business,” Drake said. “You’ll see her when she’s my queen.”
Hunter looked toward the lodge and back at Vero. “We can’t let him force a female to be his queen.”
“Oh, she’ll make the choice,” Drake said, looking directly at Paxton. “I promise.”
“Why is that?” Paxton asked, his blood feeling as if biting ants were crawling through his veins.
Drake looked down at the white leather-bound book. “Because of this. Even now I can’t believe they pulled it off.”
“Pulled what off?” Vero asked.
For an answer, Drake handed them the book. “You might as well read it. The journal belonged to your father.”
Vero jerked. “My father kept a diary? I can barely remember him. He died when I was a toddler.”
Paxton thought through what he knew of the young soldier. Vero’s father, Talt, had been killed, leaving behind his two brothers, Dayne and Terre. Dayne had been the leader of the Kurjans, and Drake was his son. Terre had been a brutal soldier who’d died a while back. Terre had been the one to take in Vero, the poor sap. Drake and Vero, thus, were cousins.
Vero started reading the pages.
Drake rolled his eyes, grabbed the bound book, and opened it to a page near the back. “Start here. We don’t have all day.”
Vero started reading. He stiffened and his eyes widened. His jaw dropped, and he flipped over another page, then another. He slowly looked up at Paxton.
“What?” Paxton asked. “What did…？” Dread slithered down his spine. He opened his mouth, but he couldn’t speak.
Growling, Hunter yanked the book away and read it quickly. “Holy fuck,” he muttered, scanning another page. “Seriously?” He looked toward Drake, then Paxton, then Vero. “How is this even possible?”
Paxton remained silent, searching again for a glimpse of Hope in any of the upstairs windows of the main lodge.
Drake chuckled, and the sound was grating. “Apparently the Kurjans have been conducting experiments for much longer than anybody realized.”
“Meaning what?” Paxton asked softly, returning his attention to the bastard who’d kidnapped him.
“Meaning you’re not a vampire-demon hybrid, Paxton Phoenix,” Drake said.
Pax remained silent, knowing Drake would continue. In the quiet, Drake looked at Hunter and cocked his head. His gaze became speculative. “Drake? You going to sleep there?” Paxton drawled, yanking his attention back where it should be.
Drake slowly turned to appraise him, near glee in his bizarre eyes. “You are a Kurjan-demon hybrid. You and Vero shared a father. Talt was a real bastard who liked to kill people slowly, and I have no doubt you’re just as twisted.” Drake threw back his head and laughed. “Welcome home, cousin. It is fitting you shall die amongst your own people.”
Just as Lyrica finished speaking, the door opened. All three women took a step back.
General Ulric stepped inside, more imposing and terrifying in real life than Hope had feared. She’d met him in his horrific prison world during a dream, but now that he was free, it appeared he’d rebuilt his health.
He stood to about six nine and was four hundred pounds of solid, raw muscle. His face was so pale he looked like a ghost, and one long line of white hair bisected his too-pale scalp and was braided down his back. He wore the battle gear of the Cyst and the Kurjans: black combat pants, a black vest with a multitude of medallions on his left breast, and black boots that had to be size twenty-four.
“Get out,” he ordered.
Lyrica and Genevieve scrambled to edge around him and flee. Hope couldn’t blame them.
She felt ridiculous in the fairy-tale gown, but even so, she put her shoulders back and her chin high. “It’s been a while, Ulric.” She was shocked that her voice didn’t tremble.
“I remember,” he said. “It was kind of you to visit me in my prison world.”
“Eh.” She lifted a shoulder. “I didn’t have anything going on that day.”