Page 28

Well after midnight, Lyrica sat in Vero’s bed, reading a mystery novel she’d found in the kitchen. She had wavered between going back to her room or staying in his, but she really wanted to talk to him. They had to at least settle what the heck was going on between them right now. She had felt off the entire day and, frankly, it had been one of the longest days of her life. Finding that body had been both depressing and shocking. They had transported the victim to the medical facility where a grumpy Dr. Fizzlewick had waited to perform an examination.

Vero had then ordered Lukas to bring Lyrica back to the main lodge. She wanted to argue, but his tone had promised that she wouldn’t win. She didn’t like that. There were enough overbearing males around her right now, and she didn’t like Vero thinking he could tell her what to do.

Lukas had remained quiet and somber, dropping her off and saying he’d return to cover the enforcer’s back. The kid was being forced to grow up w ay too quickly.

The page in front of her kept blurring, and she had no clue what she’d read for the last hour. Finally, she heard Vero’s heavy footsteps in the hallway outside before the door opened and he strode inside.

He’d already ditched his jacket and boots and looked tall and dangerous in a black long-sleeved T-shirt and faded jeans. He had taken quickly to wearing modern clothing, as had most of the Kurjans. The idea that they had spent most of their lives in uniforms seemed incomprehensible to her. It was nice to see them embracing s ome creativity.

Her mind flashed to Maeve and the old-fashioned dresses. Did the woman even want to wear dresses? Maeve might love to wear a pair of jeans.

Lyrica placed the book on the bedsi de table. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he said, just looking at her , his gaze hot.

She tried to keep her blood from racing through her veins. He was so close, his outdoorsy scent wafted toward her, tempting her. “Did they identify the newest victim, by any chance?”

“No,” h e said shortly.

Lyrica’s shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Me too,” he muttered. “The symbol of the circle with the three slashes was carved into her back.”

Lyrica winced. “With a ballpoint pen?”

“Yeah, this one was black.”

Lyrica shook her head. “I wish we could figure out what that symbol means.”

“If it means anything,” he returned, striding toward her. “It may be something this group just made up.”

She gulped as he came near her. “Is this something that has happened before in the Kurjan nation? I mean, weird markings, weird symbols, and w eird killings?”

“No. This is something new for us.” He paused. “That is interesting tho ugh, isn’t it?”

Her curiosity was piqued. “What i s interesting?”

“This is new for us. A lot of things are. Somebody different brought this in,” he said slowly. “We have a lot of newcome rs these days.”

The vampires had returned to the Realm, though. “Yet the three who attacked last night? Those were Kurjans.”

“That’s true.” He scrubbed a broad hand down his face. “We need to talk.”

“Yes,” she said. Even as she burrowed under the covers, an unexpected chill crept over her. She shifted, sitting up straighter, and tucked her knees to her chest, keeping the blankets wrapped tightly around them. “Tod ay felt weird.”

He barked out a short chuckle. “Today did feel weird.” He dropped his hand from his face, and his gaze met hers, the blue in his eyes undefinable. “How are you feeling today?”

“A little sore,” she admitted, trying not to be embarrassed. “But in a good way,” she added quickly.

Tension radiated from him. “I’m glad to hear that. Anything else?”

She tilted her head. “Wha t do you mean?”

He shrugged. “I’m just asking if you feel differen t than before.”

“Well,” she said slowly, “like I said, I’m sore. But I’m also fighting a cold, I think.”

His gaze sharpened. “Explain that.”

“Why the heck do you want to know how I feel?” When his chin lowered, she gave in. This wasn’t worth a fight, and exhaustion weighed down her limbs. “Fine. I feel like I’m coming down with something. Like I’m a little tired and my mus cles are weak.”

He swallowed. “Interesting.”

“How so?”

He looked her over. She’d still been cold when she’d gone to bed, so she had donned one of his sweatshirts, thick socks, and yoga pants. “Do you notice anything else different ab out your body?”

“No.” She frowned. “Like I s aid, I’m sore.”

“Where?”

Okay, the embarrassment now heated her face. “Pretty much everywhere you can guess, Vero ,” she snapped.

He crossed muscled arms. “Gi ve me details.”

“What in the world? Do you need an ego stroke or something?”

He blinked. “No.”

Good point. The guy had a huge ego. He didn’t need a stroke.

“Then why are you fishing fo r compliments?”

He stared at her for several long, drawn-out moments. “You’ve lost me,” h e finally said.

“Oh yeah? Fine. Yes, I’m sore. Your cock was huge. I was stretched—delightfully so. Is that good e nough for you?”

Amusement quickly danced in his eyes, and his lips twitched.

“If you smile, I swear to God, I’m going to punch you in the mouth.” She me ant every word.

He cleared his throat. “No punching in the mouth tonigh t, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart? It was the first time he’d used an endearment with her. She should not like that as much as she did, so she glared.

“That’s not exactly what I was talking a bout,” he said.

“What are you talking about?”

He exhaled and held up his hand, palm out. “I’m talki ng about this.”

She paused, shock grounding her. The letter C marked his huge palm, surrounded and crisscrossed by wicked-looking barbed vines. The design struck a balance between beauty, menace, and raw danger. “What in the world? ” she breathed.

He looked at his palm. “I know. It’s a demo n mating mark.”

She had seen Paxton’s mark, which was a P for his surname, and had heard of the marks on other demons—once they met their mates. The whole thing sounded rather barbaric to her. “I didn’t know Kurjans got mating marks o n their hands.”

He kept staring at his palm as if looking for answe rs. “We don’t.”

How did that make any sense? “You don’t even have last names. What does a C on a Kur jan palm mean?”

“No clue.”

Her mind spun off in several different directions. “Wait a minute, what do you mean ‘no clue’? There is a mark on your palm. What does that mean? I thought markings only appeared when demons mated—or met their mates, or touched their mates, or kissed their mates…” She trailed off, trying to recall everything Hope had explained to her. “I can’t remember al l the details.”

He swallowed. “Yes. That’s my understa nding as well.”

The world went silent. “Wait a minute. D oes that mean—”

He dropped his hand, his gaze stark. “I have no idea.”

“Oh,” she whispered softly, realization dawning. His half-brother was part demon, and Paxton had been an experiment. “Do you think that you were an experiment as well?” sh e asked softly.

Vero stared down at the bedspread. “I don’t know.” Frustration darkened the planes of his immortal face. “I believe all the scientists who worked on the projects at that time were killed afterward. I haven’t been able to find any records.” He looked around the room, as if not seeing any of the beautiful furnishings. “All the computers and records from headquarters arrive tomorrow, but I don’t think there’s going to be anything there. I can’t expl ain this mark.”

“Can you conduct a blood test?” Urgency sped up her breath.

Vero exhaled sharply, his expression turning pensive. “We’ll have the lab equipment soon enough, but it won’t be as simple as you think. We don’t have a stash of demon blood. There must have been some at one time, but I’ve never seen even a trace of it in my lifetime. If I tested my blood, I wouldn’t know wha t to look for.”

“There has to be a way.” Though, did this really matter? Immortal was immortal, as far as she was concerned. Perhaps it would be good for him—that he and Paxton would share t hat uniqueness.

He paused, tilting his head as though considering the idea further. “I could compare my blood to Paxton’s, once he returns. Both of us have Kurjan markers, so I could isolate anything unfamiliar. Whatever I don’t recognize might point to demon DNA.”

Her heart quickened at the thought of him solving this puzzle. “You could also just ask the scientists at the Realm. Ho pe would help.”

“No,” Vero said sharply, his tone cutting through any chance of debate. “I’m not asking the Realm for anything, and I’m sure as hell not giving them my blood.”

She swallowed, trying to approach the matter carefully. “I’m sure the Realm has Kurjan blood stored somewhere. From what Hope told me, the queen takes blood samples from everyone to develop cures for human diseases. If they already have Kurjan blood, they would n’t even need—”

“Absolutely not.” For a brief second, the killer they’d warned her about show ed in his eyes.

She leaned closer, willing him to see reason and trying to banish her sudden fear. Of him. “They’re our allies now, Vero. You need answers.”

“I can’t let this be public,” he snapped, his frustration spilling over. “Don’t y ou understand?”

She flinched at the heat in his voice but then shook her head. “No, I don’t.”

For a moment, his gaze softened, but the difference was fleeting. His expression hardened again, though his words carried a thread of quiet desperation. “Paxton is only half Kurjan. The nation accepted him because I vouched for him. Everyone believes I’m fully Kurjan. They think I’m the rightful prince—some even want me to be king. But if our enemies—or even some of our so-called allies—find out I might be part demon, too…” He shook his head, his jaw tightening with controlled fury . “We’re dead.”

Her stomach twisted painfully, and her world seemed to tilt. There had always been a comfort in knowing Vero had the nation’s acceptance, that he could shield her from their enemies. But now, cracks formed in that safety, and fear spiraled thr ough her chest.

“Then we need to find out if you’re part demon. And we can’t let anyone know.” Lyrica forced herself to calm. She couldn’t afford to panic—not now. “Have you told your brother?”

“No, not yet,” Vero admitted. “I thought I should speak w ith you first.”

A strange warmth bubbled up inside her at his words. She paused, trying to suppress the delight threatening to surface. Why would that make her so happy? “That’ s…sweet, Vero.”

He stared at her, his expression unreadable. “I wasn’t tryin g to be sweet.”

She gulped, her cheeks flushing with warmth. “Then why?” Her gaze shifted to his hand, landing on the intricate mark etched into his palm. Understanding clicked into place. “Wait a minute… You bit me last night.” She looked up sharply, her pulse hammering. “You don’t think t hat you and I—”

“I have no idea,” he said, cutting her off. “We were wild and…passionate.” His voice softened slightly, but tension radiated off him. “But I didn’t see the marking on my han d until today.”

“Well,” she said, trying to sound logical despite the whirlwind in her chest, “if you wanted to mate me—just as a K urjan—did you?”

He looked at her, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Mating as a Kurjan isn’t something that just happens, Lyrica. It’s deliberate. It’s permanent.” He paused, his gaze holding hers. “And no. I di dn’t mate you.”

Relief flooded her, and she released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Some of that might be disappointment. She’d deal with that reality later. “Oh. Okay. But…” She hesitated. “That still doesn’t explain that.” She motion ed to his hand.

“Kurjan mates,” he explained, his voice rough, “leave permanent marks during the act. We slash down to the bone of the shoulder, and the markings never heal. They don’t hurt, but they stay forever. I didn’t d o that to you.”

Yep. An additional tiny bit of disappointment hunched her shoulders until she shoved them back. She might be falling for the soldier, but first things first. “Okay. So, let’s fi gure this out.”

“Pureblooded Kurjans mate by marking to bone. But demons? Demons don’t need to change the bones. The marking on the hand—transferring that marking during sex and a bite—is a per manent change.”

Her breath hitched. “Oh,” she whispered. Her gaze darted away, trying to process everything. “Okay. So…where were your hands when you bit me?” Heat licked at her skin, and memories of the night before surged back—wild, unrestrained, and overwhelming. Desire coiled in her belly as she tried to piece t hings together.

“Everywhere,” he said. “But when I bit you, m y hand was on—”

“My…” She trailed off, embarrassment crashing over her. “Okay. You know what? I’m sure this isn’t what we think.”

Vero’s gaze darkened, and his jaw tightened as he stepped closer. “We need to know,” he said, his voic e low but firm.

Lyrica tugged at the edge of her sweatshirt before pulling it over her head and tossing it onto the bed. Left in a thin tank top, she crossed her arms over her chest. She glanced up and froze. “Did y ou just growl?”

He didn’t move, his face implacable, but tension ra diated off him.

She must’ve imagined the sound. Hands trembling, she reached for her yoga pants, pulling down the side just enough to expose her hip. She twisted, trying to see for herself, but there was nothing visible from her angle.

“Enough of that,” Vero said gruffly. Before she could protest, he plucked her out of the bed, placing h er on her feet.

“What are you doing? ” she demanded.

He turned her around. “Looking for answers,” he said simply.

“Hey!” She slapped back at him. “Just—just let me check.”

“We have to know.” His tone left no room for deba te. “Trust me.”

She gulped, heat rushing through her, but she nodded reluctantly. “Fine. But don’t pull them all the way off.” Embarrassment thick ened her voice.

“Understood,” he said, his voice low. His thumbs slipped under the waistband of her yoga pants, moving slowly, deliberately. He eased them down just enough to reveal the curve of her left buttock. Cool air brushed her skin, sending a shiver through her. A molten heat zipped through her body as his fingers lightly grazed he r exposed skin.

He stilled. “It’s here,” he murmured, his voice rough and almost reverent. “There’s a perfect marking that matches min e. Right here.”

Her heart slammed against her ribs. “What?” she whispered, her v oice trembling.

Before she could turn, his lips pressed against her skin, his touch both searing and electric. Pleasure and shock tore through her, making he r knees wobble.

“Wait a minute,” she gasped, yanking her pants back up and spinning to face him. Her voice rose, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. “You mea n…we’re mated?”