Zane nodded in agreement. “Any chance you want to lead the demon nation?”
“Fuck no. You?”
“No.” Zane shoved damaged beams out of the way to hustle to the heart of the whorehouse—the private bar area. “Neither does my mother, unfortunately.” He loped inside to find Suri pacing the wall before a blank screen. “I told you not to double-cross the Kurjans.”
Suri slowly turned, his eyes a burning black. “Where have you been?”
“Scouring wreckage for Janet Kayrs,” Zane growled. “Then I was fighting downstairs, defending this place, as you were . . . in here.”
Nick shut the door behind them.
Suri snarled. “I was negotiating with Kalin for another chance at peace and to double our efforts against the vampires. It’s time to take them all out.”
Zane’s head jerked up. “Did you manage to kill any of them?” God, he hoped he wouldn’t have to break bad news to Janie.
“No.” Suri shook his head. “Our sources indicate we injured several of the vampires, but nobody died. We didn’t really expect anybody to die from bombing their transport.”
“No. You did expect Janet to die, however.” Zane’s fingers clenched with the need to slam his fists into Suri’s face.
Suri nodded. “Yes, well . . . that didn’t work out. So we’ll have to go with Plan B for sure.”
Zane’s blood chilled. “What did you promise Kalin?”
“Janet Kayrs, of course.” Suri clasped his hands behind his back. “If she survived the attack, then she’s back at the vampire headquarters in Oregon. You can teleport, and you can find her there.”
“Or what?” Zane asked softly.
Suri flashed sharp fangs. “You have twenty-four hours to bring Janet Kayrs here. One minute after that deadline, and I have your mother killed. Painfully.”
Janie finished stashing knives around the tidy cabin, her mind spinning. She’d wrapped her bare feet in kitchen towels and climbed outside to the top of the cabin, but only trees and snow had met her gaze. A lone antelope had wandered by, and several birds had flown above. Weren’t they supposed to fly south?
Finally, with shudders racking her body, she’d climbed down and headed inside to warm up when it had become too dark to see. When feeling had returned to her feet, she had to bite back tears, but she wouldn’t allow them to fall.
She had to get home.
Was her father all right? He had to be. So did her uncles. The idea of losing one of them, so close to the end of the war, sliced a sharp pain through her heart. They’d protected her for decades, and it was her turn to protect them. Somehow. By doing whatever it was she was meant to do.
Which couldn’t happen in the wilds of Alaska—if she really was in Alaska.
The silly kitchen blades she’d hidden might harm Zane, but she couldn’t force him to teleport her home. Frustration filled her until she couldn’t help tapping her foot. Several deep breaths calmed her until she could plan. She glanced out the double-pane window to the quiet world outside. Still and silent with only snow pummeling down. As if just waiting for her to look, the wind picked up, whistling an eerie tune through the trees as the world turned darkly white. A tantrum of freezing cold and no visibility.
She’d never make it to safety if she ventured out.
The fire crackled, warming the interior. A hand-stitched quilt covered the inviting bed, and carved cupboards made up the kitchen walls. The space would be very comfortable if she hadn’t been kidnapped.
Was this Zane’s getaway?
The area smelled of fresh cleansers, pine, and something indefinitely male. For years she’d wondered at his scent. In dream worlds, she hadn’t been able to smell him, but now that she’d transported through dimensions, his scent all but covered her. Something outdoorsy and free, like a forest right before spring. Dark, dangerous, and ready to live.
Even as furious and determined to get home as she was, her body felt electrified. Alive as if for the first time.
The air fizzled by the door. She stood, reaching for a knife tucked in her back pocket. Her heart kicked right back into full gallop. Sparkles zipped through the oxygen.
Zane plunged to the ground and impacted the polished wood floor with a resounding boom. He groaned and rolled to his feet. Both dark eyebrows rose at her defensive stance. “You going to stab me?”
She tightened her grip on the handle, fighting relief that he’d returned. “Would it do any good?”
“No.” His eyes sizzled an electric green, and harsh grooves cut into the sides of his generous mouth. Power and tension vibrated from him. All of his earlier humor had disappeared, leaving a full-grown, battle-scarred, pissed-off male. Though he remained still, his stance whispered he could pounce at any second. Fast and without warning. “Put the knife away.”
