Kane. Jacquelyn Frank
to come out a winner against Kane’s powerful brother.
“Good,” Jacob commended Kane, unaware of how the fledgling had to struggle to stay where he was, to let her go into the dangerous night and a ridiculous date where she wouldn’t be even slightly appreciated for the wonder that she was.
Kane sighed. Nothing about this felt good. Not the position he was currently in, and certainly not turning her back over to that inept buffoon who knew nothing of how precious she was . . . of how exquisitely, painfully she was capable of making a male feel just by her very presence in a room.
“She’s so beautiful. Did you see that smile? All I could think about was how much I wanted her to smile when . . .” Kane flushed as he looked at the Enforcer. He had not intended to speak aloud. He had not wanted to confess so much to his brother. Oh, nothing would change the inevitability of the consequences to come, but there was a sanctity to what he felt for his redheaded human torturer. It was private. Nothing to be shared with others. “I never thought this would happen to me, Jacob. You have to believe that.”
When it came down to it, Kane didn’t want Jacob to think he had purposely brought them to this pass. He loved his brother.
“I do.” Jacob hesitated for a moment, for the first time making it obvious to Kane that this had been a terrible struggle for him, no matter how well he projected otherwise. “Do not worry, Kane. I know who you really are. I know that this curse is hard for us to fight. Now,” he said, his tone back to business, “please return home. You will find Abram there awaiting you.”
This time, Kane brushed away the welling trepidation within himself. He did it for Jacob’s sake, knowing how deeply the situation cut the Elder Demon, even though the Enforcer’s thoughts were too carefully guarded for Kane to read. “You must do your duty as you would with anyone. I understand that, Jacob.”
Kane then gave the Enforcer a short nod of kinship. After glancing around to make sure they were unobserved, he exploded into a burst of sulfur and smoke as he teleported away.
It took everything . . . every fiber of control he could muster, not to stray from the course Jacob had demanded of him.
Chapter 1
Agony.
Sweet and bitter all at once, it raced through his blood, stretching every muscle and stripping down his control to the very thinnest of threads. Swallowing down a groan lest the others hear him, he bent forward in his chair and braced his elbows on his denim-clad knees.
This was intolerable. It was a recipe for disaster and devastation. His rushing and pounding heart would not bear the strain of this pace for all the hours that stretched out before him.
Peace, he whispered into his own mind, find peace. Think on it a moment. Here you are, by her side, where you never thought to be again. You thought you would never be allowed within miles of her again, and yet now you can reach out and touch her . . .
But he didn’t dare reach out to the unconscious form of the woman in the nearby bed. He was terrified that if he began to touch her he would not be able to force himself to stop. The fever in his blood was what made that fear boil so hot and so true. It was a caution he must heed. No matter what. No matter how tempting a figure she was to him.
It wasn’t her beauty or shapeliness that captivated him, or even the fiery brilliance of her coiled and curling hair. The former had been starved and drained away from her in by a terrible illness and the latter had been dulled as well by the same culprit. Still, whenever he looked at her, all he saw was the vibrant green-eyed beauty who had stood mere inches away from him, stood within his reach, a sensual, vital, and beautiful creature without compare. He had touched her then. For an instant, a single charged moment that had struck down through him like a killing spear, and he had known the feel of refined pale skin and forbidden human warmth. She had scorched against his fingertips like ignited butane, burning so sweet and clear and clean.
That single touch had nearly written a warrant of death for her.
Kane swallowed in pain that had little to do with the fire of a full Samhain moon crackling in his blood. Oh, yes, the curse of moon madness had flared through him in agonizing ways before, a struggle of morals and conscience every Demon, male or female, young or old, had to wrestle through each time the moons of Samhain and Beltane came around full, but never before had he crossed boundaries and broken laws to reach out and touch a human woman.
This human woman.
“Corrine.”
Kane whispered her name in a raspy voice, trying out his newfound right to speak it . . . just as he was shockingly now permitted to be at her side. The very idea of it was baffling. A week ago he’d stalked her and been duly set back from the forbidden line he had crossed. But now . . . now a new truth was known. A new understanding. Maybe it had been madness that had fueled his hunt for her, maybe it had been a curse that had compelled him to break Demon law . . . or maybe it had been fate and Destiny. Maybe he had not stalked random prey at all, but instead had been driven by a single, sharp truth.
She was meant to be his.
The truth of it was known now. A single touch of his hand had awakened a change within this human woman who wasn’t entirely human. Dormant Druid DNA, the perfect complement to his own Demon genetics, had woken inside her with a vengeance. The reaction was volatile and demanding, needing power and energy to complete the conversion.
Power she simply didn’t have living in the simple ways of humanity. It was his power the change needed to feed off of. His and his alone. No other Demon would do. No other man would do. It was his abundant and complementary power she would need to fuel her existence from now until the day one or the other of them died.
And because he had been slapped back by the Enforcer, Kane had not been there to provide that desperately needed energy resource. The result had been the starvation of what had once been a vibrant and sensually stunning beauty, leaving behind a pale-grey and fragile girl who now tottered on the precipice of life and death. If he stepped too far away from her for even a moment, he might just as well shove her over that cliff.
So here he stayed, sitting in reach of her, staring at how she had been ravaged because of their ignorance of what she was. But he had known. Some instinct had called from his depths, demanding he take what was meant to be his. He had been so sure of it, so determined she was his even though it was against everything his brother had raised him to believe.
Kane had known she was meant to be his. He only wished it hadn’t taken such brutal damage to her to make that clear to everyone else. Almost as much as he wished to control the fire of need burning in his every last cell.
It was called the Imprinting, this thing between them. Though it was a very rare connection between two Demons, he was quite familiar with the lore of the symbiotic bond. Every Demon was. It was something every Demon longed for just as all young men and women longed for soul mates and true love.
Kane ran a hand back through damp, ebony hair, the already mussed curls licking around his passing fingers in clingy determination that matched the guilt riding deep and sore within him. The Imprinting was a sacred event, the ultimate connection between complementary souls. The couple involved began to exchange the essences of themselves from the very instant they touched. Between Demons it was the emotional and spiritual bond that threaded the two together, but with Kane and Corrine it was the physical one that had been crucial. He was supposed to provide for her and protect her, keep her safe, strong, and treasured. It was his right . . . his duty. Destiny had gifted him with her, his mate, and he had . . .
He had almost destroyed her. He had driven her almost to the point of death. Kane couldn’t stand the thought and it chilled him even as his stomach turned. The sensation of powerful guilt was bracing and welcome. It was the only thing that cooled the fiery call of Samhain in his blood.
Because nothing stood between an Imprinted pair on the night of Samhain. On this night, above all others, they would be driven into each others’ arms. The demand to mate would be imperative; there was no ignoring it.
But his mate lay unconscious