Dangerous (30 page)

Everyone in the room stared at the unconscious man who had started all of this so many years ago with his sick, illegal bid for immortality.

“Let her go,” Liam demanded gruffly, his entire demeanor no-nonsense as he aimed one of Devona's new pulse guns at Jacan's head.

Devona looked up over her shoulder and into the dark eyes of the Morphate who held her. This was a very dangerous man. She could feel the power in his body and could see the capability in his eyes. She recognized his face. Jacan. Ambrose's Beta.

“You are Alpha now. You will be recognized as such by the Council,” she said softly to him. “You can lead very differently from the way Ambrose did. And you can help us pack off Eric Paulson to the penitentiary he has long deserved.”

Jacan looked over her features for a long moment, then slid a glance at Liam.

“How do I know you won't spray down this entire place with mercury once I release you?”

“Because we would have done it already,” Liam answered for her. “Instead, your people will wake with headaches from the stunner in an hour or two. An hour after that they will never know they'd been hit. And like she said, we're not interested in you or your people as long as everyone remains calm and behaves.”

Jacan took several beats to think. He took in the situation in which he now found himself.

“I am grateful you don't assume everyone in Dark Phoenix is of Ambrose's bent. You understand I couldn't overtake him yet. As much as I would have liked to, he was too well fortified and much stronger than I was.” Jacan let her go and stepped back. Tansy hurried to his side even as Liam reached out for Devon's arm and pulled her into the safety of his hold.

Never once did she lower her hand or turn her focus from Eric Paulson's direction.

“Interesting choice,” Liam said quietly to her, pressing his lips to her hairline and gently rubbing a soothing hand in circles over her lower back.

“When faced with the two of them, it was the only choice. I could have killed Paulson and stuck to my original plans as far as Ambrose was concerned, but the truth is Phoenix needs a new Alpha and Paulson needs to be held accountable for his crimes. It would have been selfish of me to deprive a great many other Morphates of the opportunity to see this sick bastard locked in a tiny cold cage of his own. They've waited fifty years for this, and he makes, by far, the better choice. I think Ambrose's death and Phoenix's new Alpha makes the point for obeying the Council laws well enough.”

“I would have to agree,” he said, looking carefully into her eyes. “So let's bundle Paulson up and get him in front of your Council then, shall we? It's long past time you got home.”

The face of the world was changing.

She had been instrumental in it.

Nick Gregory watched through the balcony glass as Devona turned over the E-pad in her hands, effectively turning off the news program she'd been watching. He reached out to touch Amara's hand, stroking her fingers in just such a way that, after fifty years, spoke very clearly to her.

“You thought she would be happier,” Amara said with a strange smile on her lips.

“She worked long and hard to achieve the things she did. But she hasn't smiled once since coming back into our fold.”

“That's because she left something behind,” Amara said softly.

“Something?”

Just then the bell to the apartment rang out, drawing its owner's attention out on the balcony. Devona stood up and crossed through the living room, acknowledging her first visitors with a nod of her head before going to let in her next one.

“But now that the Freedom Act is on the verge of passing, I think things are going to change,” Amara told her husband wisely.

Devona opened the door and froze in shock to see the frame filled with Liam's presence. He was by far the most beautiful thing she'd seen in weeks. The return to her pretty penthouse home in Dark Manhattan, the retrieval of her identity, the faces of her friends, all of it had been glorious, but nothing had made her feel the way opening that door and seeing his face made her feel.

He looked a little tired . . . a little haggard. But despite that, he was as huge and gorgeously male as ever. He was vital and strong, so intensely alive in front of her that she could almost feel the beat of his pulse emanating off of him. In just a few heartbeats she was wet between her legs and parched against her tongue and craving him in both places.

But they hadn't spoken once since she had returned through the Dark Manhattan gates. Not one call. Not a single email. He'd simply said goodbye to her and they'd left it at that.

“Here's the deal,” he said in a rough rasp. “I'm human. I'm going to grow old and die. I love my job. I love my business. I'm not going to give any of that up. But . . .” He swallowed so hard she heard it. “But I'm pretty damn sure I love you, too, and I'm not willing to give you up either. So . . . you're the smart one. Figure out how we can do this.”

Devona took a deep breath and slowly, suddenly, began to smile. She reached out to touch him, her fingertips on his chest, her breath leaving her on a sound of great relief.

“Well, nothing says you can't live in Dark Manhattan. And in a few months I can leave the reservation and we can stay anywhere you want.”

“I heard the news and I came right here. I didn't want to interfere in the homecoming you waited so long for. Worked so hard for,” he said, finally stepping over the threshold and taking her up in his arms.

“It wasn't as special as I wanted it to be,” she confessed breathily to him. “It was missing you. This is all echoes of the past, and all I craved was possibilities of a future. Do you really love me?”

He smiled down at her.

“Yeah. I'm pretty well stuck on you, honey. I figured it out after about a week of missing you, wandering aimlessly through my life and feeling like someone kicked my puppy.”

“I'm a Morphate,” she felt the need to remind him as he started to kiss her with no little amount of heat.

“I think we've established that,” he said with a chuckle.

“I won't grow old. I won't die. I'm going to fang you frequently. At this very moment I'm dying to get my claws into you.”

“Thank Christ!” he declared hotly.

“And . . . I think I'd like to have children. But I have to unlock some of these genetic anomalies we're seeing. And our child would be a hybrid. I'm not sure there's been a hybrid of human and Morphate before, or if it's even possible. It ought to be, since we work the same reproductively . . .”

Liam sighed and pressed his cheek against hers, his gaze falling on the couple sitting just beyond her shoulder.

“She gets like this sometimes,” he said to them with a grin.

“We know,” Amara said with a smile.

Liam wrapped Devona up in the biggest, most powerful hug he could manage, pulling her feet right up off the floor.

“Just say ‘I love you, Liam,' he instructed her softly against her ear. “And all the rest will take care of itself.”

“I love you, Liam,” she said obediently.

And it did.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

New York Times
bestselling author J
ACQUELYN
F
RANK
is the author of the successful Nightwalkers series, which first introduced the world to her unique paranormal romances. She has since gone on to create two more successful, bestselling series, The Shadowdwellers and The Gatherers.

Jacquelyn Frank has been passionate about writing ever since she picked up her first teen romance at age thirteen. Since then, she's gone on to write over ten bestselling books, with more on the way. Before Jacquelyn became an author, she worked as a Sign Language Interpreter and substitute teacher.

For more information on Jacquelyn Frank and her books, readers may visit her Facebook page at
www.facebook.com/pages/Jacquelyn-Frank/371620872548
or visit her website at
www.jacquelynfrank.com
.

Read on for an excerpt from HUNTER by
Jacquelyn Frank writing as JAX, available now.

It had been ten years.

He turned his face up toward the night sky, feeling the sharp cold of winter across his skin, seeking the kiss of the moon as its thin light shone through the veil of clouds skimming its surface. Frost coated the hardened ground; every step he took crunched into dormant grasses and autumn's discarded leaves as he moved deeper into the woodlands. There was no snow, neither fresh nor old. Not unheard of, but rare for this time of year. He wondered if it had snowed at all this season yet.

He didn't guard his steps, the feeling of being on home soil relaxing his normal vigilance. The vibration of his power and presence brought nature to awareness, rippling through it in some ways, meshing with it in others—as foreign to it as it was familiar.

At last, he spied the breach between the two slanted oaks that marked the clearing. When he stepped between the thick trunks of these two old sentries, he saw the lone willow in the center of the uneven terrain of the clearing, and he felt his heartbeat quicken in anticipation. After all, it had been a decade since he'd last seen the Blessing Tree. A decade too long.

Oh, how he had missed this place!

The magnificent old tree whispered of its ancient power, tantalizing him with its hum of familiarity and homecoming. This was the center of his world. It had been since he was only seventeen. His blood stained the bark of the old willow, and so did the blood of his family. He had roamed very far from this core place, but distance had never changed the fact that his roots were here, just as much as the old willow's were.

It had been the agony within his family, caused by his very presence, which had driven him to abandon his home. He had been in pain, blinded by anger and guilt. All of the turbulent emotions young men are prone to succumbing to. Those feelings had spurred his decision to leave. Even now, years later, the hurt still lingered in his slightly tarnished spirit.

He moved closer to the old tree, the ground lumpy now with the running of its massive root system. Its gnarled trunk shone silvery luminescent in the frail moonlight, even through the curtain of thin, naked branches. He passed through them and headed farther in.

When he reached the base of the Blessing Tree, he carefully stepped up the steep knots of inclining roots. He touched the light gray of the bark, watching the weak moonlight dance with dappled patterns over the back of his hand. His palm warmed and prickled, the energy of the tree flowing through him. He couldn't help the deep sigh that rushed out of him as he was infused through every cell with the blessing and wisdom of the august tree. It swept away all the remnants of poorly managed emotions, lingering bitterness, and the disappointments of the past, giving much-needed succor. His mind and heart cleared; his pulse pounded with joy.

He was home at last.

ZEBRA BOOKS are published by

 

Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018

Copyright © 2013 by Jacquelyn Frank

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

 

If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

 

 

Zebra and the Z logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

 

ISBN: 978-1-4201-3445-2

First eKensington Books Electronic Edition: September 2013
First Zebra Books Electronic Edition: September 2014
eISBN-13: 978-1-4201-3663-0
eISBN-10: 1-4201-3663-1