“Sam? What’s up?” Chalton Reese, the Realm’s best computer expert, answered immediately.
Sam squinted rain from his eyes. “I need a favor. An address—just between us. It’s personal, not business. I’m just horny,” he lied, wanting to keep Honor under the Realm’s radar. Chalton would believe him, so he would not waste time trying to figure out why Sam wanted the number. The need to get to her, the craving to see her again, made him speed up.
As his body fell into a rhythm, he ran even faster, his mind spinning back to the fateful day, eighteen years ago, when he’d voluntarily gotten himself into this mess.
The thing was, he’d do the same thing again.
Sam looked down at the beautiful baby in his arms, and darn if his little niece didn’t look right back, her eyes a deep blue and showing a wisdom way beyond her one month of life.
He grinned.
She grinned back, her pink lips curving.
“You’re a special one, aren’t you, Hope?” he murmured, carefully holding the baby in her little pink blanket. She smelled like powder and innocence.
She gurgled.
His gaze ran unwillingly to the deep blue markings on both sides of her fragile neck, marks that set her apart as one of only three prophets his people would accept. Why her? His chest heated and his ears rang. The danger of the future wouldn’t come for her. He wouldn’t let it. “You’re safe. I promise,” he vowed.
“That’s the truth, brother.” Zane dropped into the chair next to Sam and set two longneck beer bottles on the table in front of them. He’d had a month to recuperate from a virus after the cure had been found in his child’s blood. Hope’s blood.
“Isn’t saving our people enough?” Sam muttered, keeping his voice cheerful for the baby’s sake. “Does she have to carry the prophecy mark on her neck as well? It’s too much.” He lifted her up and looked right into her violet-blue eyes, noting that she seemed to be reading him at the same time. Then she smiled and gurgled again.
“Agreed,” Zane said, kicking back in his chair.
Sam turned his attention to his older brother. The brother who’d saved his life more than once while they’d been kids, and the demon who’d just become the king of their entire nation. Thank God he had his mate at his side. Janie Kayrs was a force to be reckoned with—and loved. She was the sister Sam hadn’t realized he’d ever be fortunate enough to have. “How’s it going?”
Zane took a rare moment to relax. His black hair hung to his shoulders, and his green eyes blazed in a sign of the good health that had returned quickly after receiving the cure from a virus created by the Kurjans to kill them all. His shoulders were wide and his muscle tone already back. “It’s going.” His gaze landed on his daughter. “She’s the priority. I don’t like the marking any more than you do, and I mean to protect her from it. If she wants to be a prophet in a few hundred years, then fine. If not, then Fate will have to find another way.”
“Agreed.” Sam glanced at the markings on both of his brother’s hands. The mating markings. “I wonder.”
“Yours will be a K for Kyllwood, as will Logan’s,” Zane said, rolling his eyes. “I wish you’d gotten the first initial, but we both knew I’d be the demon king. Man, I hate being called king.” For their people, the marking a demon passed to a mate was always the first initial of their last name. Only the true and destined demon king ever had a different marking—the first letter of his first name. Zane had the markings of a Z on both hands; no doubt, Fate had been making a strong statement.
“Better you than me.” Sam reluctantly handed the sweet baby to his brother. “I have a meeting but will be back for dinner. I promised Janie I’d make my peanut butter chicken and rice dish.” Only his family was aware he enjoyed cooking. The rest of the world didn’t need to know anything about him.
Zane took his daughter and snuggled her against his powerful shoulder. “What’s your plan, Sam? I could use a liaison with the other nations, and you’d be good at it. The job would allow you to travel and have some fun, but it’d be nice to have you covering my back while you did it.”
“You’ve got it.” Even if Sam had been inclined to refuse the job, he wouldn’t do so if Zane needed him. Family was all that mattered.
“Good. Thanks.” Zane patted Hope’s back while she snuggled into his neck. His hand looked broad and strong across the baby’s tiny body, holding her so carefully. She snorted, and her body went limp in sleep.
Sam grinned. “Do you ever remember sleeping like that?”
Zane held the baby close. “No. We slept with one eye open at all times, remember?”
“Yeah.” Sam sobered. They’d been in danger from their uncle from day one, and Zane had eventually killed him, thus becoming king. “It’ll be different for her.”
Zane’s eyes blazed. “Damn straight,” he whispered.
A car sped by, throwing rainwater to hit his face and bring Sam out of his memories. He glared at the driver, and a bush caught fire at the side of the road. Sighing, he stopped running and moved over to stomp it out.
Things were getting worse.
This close to Honor’s house, maybe only three blocks away, he could feel her. His blood heated, and he darted back into a run. He needed to get to her. Now.
Chapter Four
Sam reached Honor’s house, which was surrounded by deciduous trees and landscaped rocks that probably required little maintenance. He stopped running and settled against a dripping wet tree, content to keep watch for now. He was probably going to die soon—this was no time to court a woman—but he could at least figure out the mystery of Honor McDoval.
His body slowly relaxed, and he flashed back to those moments after Hope was born that had changed not only his life but his destiny.
After leaving Zane, Sam had moved through headquarters and then stepped into the office where the two existing prophets awaited him. “Hi.”
“Hello.” Prophet Lily sat in a floral-covered chair, drinking from a teacup. “Thirsty?”
Sam shook his head. “Sorry I’m late.”
“Time is merely an artificial construct.” She’d captured her thick blond hair in a braid, and with her long skirt and demure blouse, she looked like a lady of old. Hell. She was a lady of old, even though she appeared to be twenty-five. The prophecy marking her neck did little to detract from her beauty. “Please, sit.”
Sam clocked the male standing silently near the window. “Hi, Caleb.”
Caleb nodded, his prophecy mark darker and more jagged on his neck than Lily’s. “Sam.” His bizarre multicolored eyes remained unreadable.