Consumed

Chapter 10

Jordan stretched his legs under the conference table, trying without success to ignore the poison still vibrating through his veins. Conn had used a sedative necessary for taking down large game animals. It was a good move, because Jordan had been more animal than man when he’d bitten Katie. The idea that he’d hurt Kate made his stomach lurch. While he’d had no intention of injuring her, the craving to mark her had nearly destroyed him. And marking her, considering she had lost shifter strength and power, might destroy her.

Dage sat at the head of the table, flanked by Conn. Stunning oil paintings by Brenna Dunne lined three walls, while floor-to-ceiling windows showed the sea waiting for daylight. The central aboveground hub of the Realm was both comfortable and imposing.

Dage tapped a file on the mahogany. “We need to decide if we should move again.”

“I got the sense Brent is alone.” Anger made Jordan’s head spin. “He has Katie’s scent, her blood, and he’ll find her wherever she goes.” What had he been thinking to let her fight werewolves? “I’ll take her away from headquarters and set a trap somewhere else for him.”

“No.” Conn leaned forward, his dark T-shirt shoved up past his elbows. “We stick together.”

Jordan closed his eyes briefly when the other men nodded. Thank God. He might pose more danger to Katie than the werewolf did. “I bit her.”

Conn exhaled. “She’s fine. We secured everyone underground, and Katie’s sleeping right now. You didn’t do any lasting damage.”

But he’d wanted to do something lasting. The beast inside of him had wanted to mark her ... for all time. “That’s good to know.” He’d broken skin but the mating process could only happen during a claiming. Right then and there he vowed never to be alone with Katie again. He glanced out the window, counting the remaining dawns until the full moon. Three nights left. “I’ll head out to find Brent.” It’d be the last thing Jordan did as leader of the feline nation.

“No.” Dage rubbed his chin. “I have scouts out now—we’ll find him. Unfortunately, we have bigger problems than one werewolf.”

“One werewolf who can speak and think.” Conn yanked a double-edged knife from his side to twirl through his fingers. “I guess it makes sense the monsters have evolved.”

“Not this quickly.” Jordan eyed the flash of steel. “Plus, he knew me. Remembered me from before he became a werewolf—he knows who he was—next in line to lead.” Brent apparently remembered everything.

Dage stiffened. “Anything you want to tell me?”

“No.” Jordan kept his face bland and his gaze away from Conn. What they’d done—they’d done together and with a vow that the king would never know. “I have a sense of this guy. Why do you want me to stay here?”

The king didn’t look appeased. A hard glint entered his silver eyes, promising the discussion wasn’t over. “Because all hell is about to break loose.”

As far as Jordan was concerned, all hell had broken loose ten years ago when the Kurjans had unleashed the virus. “Again?”

“Yes.” Conn snorted. “I say we take the Bane’s Council out at the knees.”

“They’re our allies.” Dage’s gaze seemed anything but friendly.

“What’s going on?” Jordan asked, dread slamming into his gut.

“Terrent Vilks will arrive sometime today and wants to see both you and Maggie,” Dage said.

Terrent was the head werewolf hunter on the Bane’s Council and the most deadly wolf alive. Adrenaline heated just under Jordan’s skin. “Who told him about either one of us?”

“We don’t know.” Conn flipped the knife faster, a true sign of his agitation. “Not only did he demand to see you both, he knew you were here.”

Jordan sat back, forcing his claws to stay retracted. “He knew the location of Realm Headquarters?” Lance had been correct—the location wasn’t close to a secret. “How?”

“We need to find out.” Dage’s eyes gleamed, flashing blue within the silver.

“We have a leak.” Jordan blew out a breath. “The feline nation has had an uneasy alliance with the canine nation for two hundred years—and I consider Terrent a friend. It sucks he’s here to kill me.” But that might solve several problems.

“He’s the most prolific member of the Bane’s Council.” While his face remained grim, a thread of respect filtered through Dage’s words. “Though I’m not sure why the head of the Bane’s Council is making the trip.”

Jordan nodded. The Bane’s Council consisted of three wolf shifters created for the sole purpose of hunting down and killing werewolves. Before the virus had been unleashed on shifters, werewolves were former humans who didn’t live very long anyway. Now that male shifters could become werewolves—it was an entirely new world for them all. “I can’t let Terrent kill Maggie.”

“The Bane’s Council has refrained from killing female shifters infected with the virus—so long as they’re receiving treatment from the Realm.” Conn tucked the knife in the back of his waist. “Maggie’s receiving treatment.”

“Maggie can shift.” Jordan scrubbed both hands down his face. “No other infected female can shift—the ability makes her a threat. The poor woman doesn’t even remember her past.” Maggie had been one of the first shifters kidnapped and experimented on by the Kurjans, and she had no memory of her life before being captured.

Dage nodded. “No clan has been looking for her the last ten years. We have to assume she was alone, or part of a clan off the grid. Either could be possible.”

“My bet is off the grid.” Jordan tried to keep track of all feline, canine, and multiclans not part of the Realm, but it was difficult if they didn’t want to be found. “Well, we know Terrent is probably coming to make sure somebody kills me if I turn into a werewolf. But again, there has to be more to his visit than that.”

The telephone to Dage’s right buzzed and he grabbed the handset. “What?” His gaze shifted to Jordan. “Put him through on screen.” Dage hung up and pressed a button to make a screen slide down to cover two of the paintings. Conn moved to the side and out of the way.

Noah appeared on the screen, his catlike gaze zeroing in on Jordan. One of the biggest cougars alive, his stealth and quickness were unmatched. The perfect enforcer. He stood in the main control room of the mountainous headquarters, dark rock surrounding him.

Jordan’s shoulders went back. “Noah?” he asked softly.

Noah took in the rest of the room. “We need to talk. Privately.”

Logic clicked through Jordan’s brain along with the inevitability of his demise during the next full moon—that is, unless Kane’s cure actually worked. “We can talk in front of the Kayrs family—they’re going to need to know what’s going on to back you.” He already had Dage’s guarantee the Realm would back Noah as the new leader of the feline nation. Secrets would only hinder that support.

Noah nodded, keeping his gaze on Jordan. “David Bomant challenged you as head of the feline nation about an hour ago. The challenge has gone public.”

“Bomant?” Conn raised an eyebrow. “As in Brent Bomant—fucking werewolf?”

“We thought Brent was our former Alpha’s only offspring.” Jordan kept his face expressionless. The situation was turning into more of a disaster than he’d feared. Death awaited him in a couple of moons, and he didn’t have time for one more issue.

“The Brent who is now a werewolf,” Dage repeated, his gaze cutting to Conn. “Well now. I guess we know who has been helping Brent out by stalking Katie.” The king was no dummy.

Conn twisted his head to give Noah his attention. “Who’s David?”

“Apparently Brent’s daddy got around a bit before mating for life and had a child. Illegitimate, yet a son nonetheless. Possibly.”

Jordan fought a snarl. “Accept the challenge—somewhere in Nevada, Colorado, or Utah.”

“What if his claim is untrue? What if he’s not Kyle’s son?” Noah asked.

“Doesn’t matter right now.” Jordan didn’t have time to worry about small details. Any feline shifter could challenge him for leadership. The threat developed only if Jordan lost because many people might reject Noah and follow Bomant out of loyalty to his dead father. “If I lose, then you need to investigate his claim.”

“I’m on it.” Noah cleared his throat. “Ah, there’s more.”

“Isn’t there always?” Jordan rested his hands on the table.

Noah lifted a shoulder. “The leaders of several feline clans want to have a video conference meeting with you. In an hour.”

“Set up a meeting.”

“Okay.” Noah cut the transmission.

Dage leaned forward. “What does that mean?”

Jordan shrugged. “I assume they want to discuss my being infected, my plans, and now the new challenge. I’ve accepted the challenge, so we fight to the death. If David is truly a blood relative, he’d take over if I died. Well, until someone challenged him. If someone challenged him.”

“So why not wait?” Dage asked. Then he colored. “I mean—”

“I know what you meant.” Jordan felt an unwilling smile. He’d made the king blush. “Killing me instead of waiting would cement him as leader—not many would challenge him.” Irritation heated in Jordan’s lungs. His strength had increased since being infected, but his sharpness in battle had diminished to animalistic instinct. The fight wouldn’t be an easy one.

Dage leaned back in his chair. “Am I the only one not seeing a coincidence between Brent’s resurfacing and David’s challenge?”

“No.” Jordan grabbed a band from his jeans pocket and tied back his hair. “It can’t be a coincidence. You’re right. They’ve been working together. It’s the only conclusion that makes sense.” A werewolf working with a shifter ... what had the world come to?

“We need to alter our view of werewolves.” Dage nodded. “If they’ve evolved, you need to figure Bomant out. What do you remember about him?”

“He was a bad guy. Hated women, loved to fight.” Jordan fought to keep his hands loose and relaxed. “Three hundred years ago the Kurjans took out his parents when they killed yours as well as mine, and I truly thought Brent would destroy the feline nation and maybe the Realm. Then he disappeared.”

“What really happened?” Dage asked softly.

Jordan’s hackles rose. “I just told you. So now we have the Bane’s Council, intelligent, full-functioning werewolves, and a challenge to my leadership to deal with.”

“That’s not all.” Kane Kayrs strode into the room, a handful of computer printouts in his hands. “I finished analyzing the blood I took from you earlier this morning.”

Hope flared hot and bright in Jordan’s chest. “And?”

A frown centered between Kane’s brows. “The cure didn’t work. In fact, as far as I can tell, the concoction had no impact on the virus in your blood. With the magic involved, we should have concrete results at this time. I’m sorry, Jordan.”

His chest deflated, along with his future. “Me, too.” He rubbed his chin, glancing at Conn. “Well, let’s get to training today because tonight, we hunt.”

Katie ground a palm into her exhausted eye, wondering how long the headache would last. She had given up sleep after tossing and turning for an hour. Being underground again sucked.

Dawn had yet to break, yet she refused to return to bed. Her sweats hung loose around her hips—looser than last week. But her bunny slippers still fit perfectly. Flipping on the light of the smallest underground lab, she skirted the one examination table and started opening wide cabinets.

“Kate?” Kane Kayrs strode inside and tossed papers on the small table by the door. Even at the early hour, he lounged in creased black pants and silk shirt.

She pressed harder, trying to force the pain away. “Don’t you ever dress down?”

He smiled, transforming his angular face into something that should be selling vodka on billboards. “Well, I don’t have bunny slippers.” Stalking toward the far wall, he yanked open a drawer and tugged out a small vial. “Aspirin.” He poured two into her hand and grabbed a water bottle from a fridge hidden under one counter. “You okay?”

She swallowed the drugs and took a drink of the water. The guy moved more like a panther than a vampire—all fluid grace. Rumors had it he hunted werewolves for sport and by himself. “No, I’m not okay.” Hopefully the painkiller would kick in soon. “Are those the latest test results?”

“Yes. No change in Jordan’s blood. Or yours. I just came from telling Jordan.” Kane jerked his head to the side. “Sorry.”

The scientist wasn’t a sugarcoating type of guy. Disappointment heated down her esophagus. But she did appreciate him working around the clock to find a cure. She tilted her head in curiosity. “I’ve known you almost my entire life.”

He nodded. “Yes. And so far, it has been a great pleasure.”

Smart aleck. Not once, in all the get-togethers, had he ever brought a date. “Are you gay?” Not that she’d care, she only wanted Jordan. But she did know a truly awesome fox shifter who was single—great guy. Really fun loving.

“No.” Matter of fact, Kane didn’t appear insulted or even interested in the topic. “I like women. Always have.”

“So you do date?” What kind of woman did Kane like? Probably someone really, really smart. Rocket scientist smart.

“Sure.” He tapped a manila file against his hand. “But I usually screw up. I miss hints, miss clues, don’t say the emotional thing at the right time. My last girlfriend was probably the most logical woman I’ve ever met, and even she got angry when I failed to remember our first month anniversary.” Bewilderment quirked his lip. “Relationships always come second to my work, and most women don’t understand that. Casual, very casual relationships are a must for me, I think. Especially now since the virus takes all my time.”

Katie nodded. “That’s cool. Of course, maybe you haven’t met the right woman. The one you’d put first, before your work.”

“No. My work always comes first. It’s life or death.”

She sincerely hoped she was around when the methodical Kane Kayrs fell hard for a woman. “If you say so.”

“Have we spent enough time distracting you from the coming moon by talking about my love life?”

From anybody else, the question would’ve been either sarcastic or humorous. Not Kane. He was genuinely serious.

Katie shook her head. For a non-emotional guy, the scientist read people really well. “Yes. I’ve been wondering, should we try to capture Brent alive? I mean, since he has evolved?”

“No.” Kane reached into a different drawer to toss her a candy bar. “He has evolved only because there has been time to do so. In all the werewolves I’ve tested, the virus hasn’t changed. If you get the chance to take him out, do it.”

“Okay.” Back to Plan A—kill the bastard. Taking Brent alive would’ve been a huge risk, anyway.

Kane frowned. “Your neck is hurting you. Want a bandage?”

She barely kept from rubbing the ache. “How did you know?”

He reached for the bandages. “I’m observant.”

Maybe so, but she hadn’t given one clue her neck hurt. “I’m fine. No need for bandages.” She wanted to keep the bite from Jordan as long as she could. How freakin’ embarrassing was that?

Kane cleared his throat. “Okay.”

Curiosity reared up. “What’s it like? I mean, being the smartest guy on the planet?”

An elegant shoulder lifted. “It’s pretty convenient.”

Amusement had her smiling. She’d expected him to be nonchalant or humble, maybe even deny he was so brilliant. “No, really, don’t argue with me. You’re super smart. Honest.”

He rubbed his chin with long, tapered fingers, good humor lighting his eyes. “Well, there are issues. Genius and madness skirt a fine line. Most geniuses go stark raving mad at some point.”

“You don’t seem worried.”

“I’m not. If the voices take over, they take over.” He grabbed a bandage from the counter to hand her. “If you change your mind, this has numbing medicine on the pad.”

She took the small object. To keep Jordan’s bite, even for a short time, she’d live with the pain.