Fated

Chapter 29

Cara had never been to Canada, yet the land welcomed her with open arms. Lush maple trees, their leaves brilliant in shades of orange, gold, and red, filled the landscape of the two hundred–acre private resort. Hospital actually, though only known by the creatures of the Realm. A dirt road led to a massive pine facility masquerading as a lodge, while worn trails meandered through the forest to rustic cabins. Rustic on the outside, anyway.

They’d arrived the night before and frightening dreams had plagued her, even while safely tucked into Talen’s arms. With dawn arriving, they’d eaten breakfast in the lodge before visiting Katie and Jase in rooms more likely to be found in a bed and breakfast than a hospital. They’d both still been sleeping.

Finally, Talen escorted her down to the small gym located in the basement of the lodge. “I’ll be back in an hour or so,” he said, leaning down to trace her mouth with his own.

Warmth flooded her system and she pressed into him, parting her lips for a deeper kiss. Talen obliged her, slipping his tongue inside her mouth to taste. A low rumble echoed through his chest, and he lifted his head, golden eyes warm on hers. “Or, we could go back to our cabin.”

Cara felt her own grin to her toes. “I thought you had to plot strategy with Conn and Jordan.” The men had been furious to find a small transmitter inserted beneath Katie’s left elbow which had allowed the Kurjans to follow them to the underground Washington facility. The doctors had quickly removed and destroyed the bug.

“Conn,” Talen said, his gaze still on her mouth. “Just Conn. Jordan won’t leave Katie’s side until the doctor returns from rounds.”

Yeah, Cara had noticed that earlier. “Hmm. Go plot, I really could use a run.” She hadn’t been on a treadmill since meeting Talen.

A sharp boom rent the air and she jumped, swiveling toward the corner of the sprawling space where Dage pummeled a purple punching bag hanging from the ceiling. Shirtless, the hard muscles of his back rippled beneath an intricate black tattoo. The design wove over his left shoulder, partially down his left arm and halfway down his back. Grunting, he slammed a ferocious fist into the center of the bag.

Talen raised an eyebrow, his gaze now on his brother. “Interesting. The king is pissed.”

Cara gulped in air. Then she looked closer. “Hey. Isn’t that the same design as on your hand?”

“Yep. It’s the Kayrs marking,” Talen said, rubbing his chin.

“Great. Your hand, Dage’s back, and my ass. We match.” That was a pisser, no question about it.

Talen grinned, swooping in for another kiss. “Yep.” He turned to go.

“Wait, Talen,” Cara said, holding her left wrist toward him. “I’m safe with Dage here. Take this off, I want it off in case I lift weights.”

Drawing his eyebrows together, Talen studied the golden cuff. “Fine, but stay with Dage until I return.” He placed his entire hand over the cuff and easily slid it off before wrapping it around his own wrist. “Have Dage spot you.” With a grin, Talen sauntered away.

Arrogance. Pure and simple. Cara shook her head and jumped onto one of three treadmills, raising the incline to work her gluts. Sliding easily into a run, she unabashedly studied Dage as he pounded fist after fist into the bag, sweat flowing down his massive back.

Barefoot, he danced on the mat, his grey sweats molding to thick thighs and a hard ass. Not that she should be checking out her brother-in-law’s ass, but anybody would appreciate the masculinity before her. It was like watching a thoroughbred race. Plus, there was no question Talen was the best looking out of all the brothers. Everyone knew that.

The other corner held benches and free weights lined against the wall, while treadmills, weight machines, and stationary bikes took up the rest of the space. The gym was empty save herself and the king.

Her mind wandered as her legs heated and her calves began to ache. She wondered about her experiments at work; had anybody taken them over? Had a stronger plant virus been created to increase crop yield of corn? The people, the nations, that such a result would help gave her hope. The world didn’t have to be hungry.

With a beep, the treadmill ended the program and slowed so she could cool down. After five minutes of walking, Cara stepped off the machine, grabbing a towel to wipe her face. Stretching her calves as she moved, she placed twenty-pound weights on the barbell and lay down to do the bench press.

Dage instantly appeared above her head. “You need a spotter for the bench press, little sister.” The scents of leather, amber, and sandalwood mixed through the air around him, creating the unique smell of power.

Cara gasped—the king moved fast. “I don’t want to interrupt your imaginary fight.” She reached for the metal bar and lifted up.

Dage grinned, his silver gaze on her arms. “Just a workout. Really.”

Right. And she had a bridge she’d like to sell. “If you say so.” Damn, the bar was heavy. Pressing her head back into the padded bench, she lowered the bar to her chest, counting to five on the way down.

He retrieved her discarded towel and ran it across his sweaty face, his stance ready in case she needed help. “So, tell me about Emma.”

Cara faltered and Dage grabbed the bar with one hand to balance her, his chiseled face frowning in concern as he gazed down at her.

“I got it,” she said, regaining her balance, smiling at him when he released it. Tell him about Emma? Okay … “Um, well, she’s the smartest person I’ve ever met, as well as the bravest.” But she wouldn’t take to the rules governing Dage’s world, that much was certain. Cara continued raising and lowering the bar and finished the eighth repetition with a sigh of relief.

Dage nodded, taking the bar and replacing it in the stand. “Rest between sets.”

Bossy. Correct, but bossy. “And she will never take orders from a man, even a king.”

He flashed twin dimples. “What are you saying?”

Cara shrugged, sitting up. “You give orders all the time. Being autocratic is probably a job hazard with you, but Emma won’t take it.”

Dage chuckled low, handing her two blue hand weights from the stack and taking large silver ones for himself. He sat on the next bench, facing her. “Bicep curls?”

Cara nodded and settled into position. “Yours are bigger,” she said, grinning.

“Just a bit.” Dage’s silver eyes twinkled at her as he curled his hand toward his shoulder, muscles bunching and flexing.

Cara grimaced. “But”—he really seemed a decent guy darn it—”she would like that you created a treaty and ended centuries of war.”

Dage sighed, moving to his other arm. “I didn’t create the treaty. Talen did.” Shrugging, he put both massive weights together in one hand to continue. “Your mate ended the centuries of blood and death, Cara. I didn’t.”

Cara shifted one weight to her other arm, pleasure moving through her. “He did? Wow. Why?”

Dage jerked his head, raising an eyebrow. “Because of you, my sister. Peace ultimately happened because of you.”

Intrigue caught her and she dropped the weights to rest between sets. “I don’t understand.”

Dage nodded, placing his own weights on the floor and stretching his legs toward her bench. “The first five years after our parents’ death, blood ran thick along the ground. By my hand, by my brothers’ hands. We killed.” His voice lowered in remembrance. “Allies died, enemies died, too many humans died.” The silver slid to coal as his gaze pinned her. “And I wanted more. More death. More blood.”

Chilled fingers scratched down Cara’s spine at the change in his eyes, the raw pain in his voice. “I’m sorry.” The words weren’t enough.

Dage nodded toward her weights and grabbed his own for the next set. “Talen came to me one day and dropped two stacks of paper on my desk.” Grimacing, Dage focused on something above her shoulder. “On one stack, he placed his sword. Still red with blood which soaked into the paper and scented it with death. Talen nodded and told me that the battle plan to end our enemies lay beneath the blood; though most of humanity would die as well.” Dage refocused on her. “I corrected him, said ‘humankind,’ not ‘humanity,’ and Talen, his young face so deadly serious, said, ‘that too.’”

The vivid image filled Cara’s mind and her heart ached for both brothers. “And the other stack of papers?” She shifted the weight to her other hand for a set.

“A pen. Talen threw our father’s gold fountain pen on the other stack.” Dage dropped his weights to the ground and grabbed for the towel to wipe his forehead. “The other stack comprised the treaty; the way we could all live in peace for a time.” Clenching the towel with two broad hands, Dage continued, “I asked Talen why. Why the hell should we care about humans?”

Fury and self-disgust coated the king’s words now, and Cara fought the urge to reach for his hand and provide comfort. “What did he say?”

“He said ‘Because she’s out there. My mate. And every time a Being dies, there’s a chance she won’t be born.’” Dage stood and stretched his neck, reaching for her weights. “Talen fought for peace so you could be born, Cara.”

Did he? Was there only one mate for each? The thought filled parts of her with light, with hope. But doubt had a way of threading itself through faith. “So you chose the treaty?”

“Yes.” Dage held out a hand to help her up. “The agreement took two years to broker and sign, but at the end of those years, we had the chance of peace.” He gestured her toward the door. “Exhaustion rode me, and I told Talen he needed to ascend to the throne, so to speak—that I was finished.”

Cara stumbled, turning back to face Dage as surprise clenched her stomach. “Really? You told Talen to be the king?” Wow. “What did he say?”

A full smile lit Dage’s face. “Nothing. He broke my jaw.” His hand going to rub that stubborn jaw, Dage shook his head. “My brother has a righteous left hook.”

Oh. Cara frowned. “Then what?” Geez.

Dage shrugged. “I said ‘I see,’ Talen nodded, and that was the end of the discussion. Come on, Cara—I’ll escort you to your mate.”

She took his arm and stretched her calves with each step down the hallway, instinct whispering to her that she’d just been included in a very small club. “You don’t normally open up to people, do you, Dage?”

He gave a short chuckle. “No. Being the king of a world ready to erupt doesn’t lead to many confidences.”

Warmth flushed through her, and she fought the urge to skip. But she couldn’t help the full smile spreading across her face.

“What?” Dage asked.

She shrugged. “There was this family in church where we grew up. They had about ten kids, often loud, usually fighting. But always together—especially if anyone threatened one of them. I was so jealous, wishing I belonged to a family like that.”

The king took her arm and placed it through his. “Welcome to the family, little sister. You belong and we won’t let anybody hurt you. Ever.”

A family to keep Janie safe. What more could she want? “Emma doesn’t trust men, Dage.” Guilt filled her as she discussed her sister, but he needed to know. He needed to know Emma might act tough but had the kindest soul imaginable.

“Why not?” His entire body stiffened even as he slowed his stride to match her shorter one.

Cara shrugged, her gaze on the stunning colors outside the windows they passed. “Our father was a mean drunk.”

A low growl rumbled in Dage’s chest. “He hurt you?”

“Yes.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “He hurt Emma more.”

“Is he still alive?” The muscles in Dage’s arm bunched as if preparing to hit something. Hard.

“No.” Cara patted his arm. “Emma put herself in his way every chance she got, so he’d hit her and not me or Mama. She was so brave, Dage.”

Dage sighed. “Did she kill him?”

Cara started, her hand clenching on Dage. “No. He and Mama died in a car accident—they plunged down a cliff.”

The king relaxed. “Good.” At the door to Katie’s room, he turned and touched her arm, his eyes shining a polished silver. “I’ll protect your sister’s heart, Cara. I promise.” With a nod at Talen lounging in a thick orange chair, Dage gave Cara a little push inside before focusing on Katie. “Hi, Kate. How’s the side?”

Katie rolled her eyes, sitting up in a plush hospital bed. “I’m fine, Dage. Talk to Jordan, would you?”

Dage grinned. “About what?”

“It’s time for me to go home—my home. And he’s pulling the ‘I’m head of the Pride,’ crap on me.”

“He is head of the Pride.”

“Yeah, but you’re the king. You outrank him.”

Dage shook his head. “Not true. I’m King of the Realm, but each species has its own leader, and they don’t answer to me. We’ve all signed agreements to belong to the Realm.”

Cara gasped as Talen yanked her down onto his lap. “So you’re kind of like the United Nations?” she asked, settling herself more comfortably on hard thighs.

Dage nodded. “With a bit more teeth, though.” Then he chuckled at his own joke before nodding and moving down the hall toward Jase’s room.

Cara shifted toward Katie who had her tawny hair pulled into a band, showcasing her odd topaz eyes and flawless skin. “How are you?”

“Fine.” Katie rolled her eyes. “Ready to get the heck out of here—I still need to find a dress for the ball coming up.”

Talen snapped the golden cuff around Cara’s wrist and she jumped. “Hey—”

“It’s there or on an ankle, mate,” Talen said, standing and placing her back on the chair. “I’m going to check on Jase—stay here until I return.” He nodded toward Katie. “Jordan said he’d be back soon, so I’d stay in the bed if I were you.” He whistled the Canadian national anthem as he strolled out of the room.

Cara twirled the cuff on her wrist and focused on her friend. “Men.”

“Jackasses,” Katie replied.