him.”
Agony flashed in his dark eyes, and Brenna fought the urge to soothe him. He didn’t want her help. So she cleared her throat. “What about Jase’s blood? Is anything different?”
Emma shook her head. “His blood never changed—although his skills did.”
Brenna frowned. “How does that make sense?”
Emma eyed Jase and shrugged. “Don’t know. It’s not a physical issue.” With a sympathetic grimace, the queen disappeared into the early morning.
Brenna sat up. “It’s psychological?” She hadn’t even considered that possibility.
“So they tell me.” His jaw snapped shut.
“Jase, if you can break through your block and help me harness the power, maybe there’s a way we can find Garrett.” But how? Would she have enough power to become psychic? Reverse time? Send out a missive to the freakin’ universe for help?
Her shoulders slumped. “I should’ve been learning about this entire situation.”
“You were trying to save your life.” He shook his head. “Don’t look back, Bren. There’s only forward.”
Why did his little nickname for her give her special tingles? God, she was pathetic. He’d made it clear as glass they were friends and had mated to save both their butts. “You’re never going to fall in love with me, are you?”
His head jerked. “What?”
Some would call her stupid for shining light on the issue. But it felt brave. “I have to know. Is there a chance?”
He blinked several times. “Brenna, you know I like you—”
She held up a hand. “Good enough.” Could she be a bigger moron? So they’d had crazy vampire sex and she’d orgasmed like there was no tomorrow. So little Brenna Dunne had caught one of the most eligible bachelors on earth. So she could tell he was a great guy with a lot to give.
He didn’t want to give.
She felt like a pathetic reality-television star who didn’t get the guy. But curling up and bawling about it wasn’t going to help anybody. It sure as heck wouldn’t help find Garrett or help her mutate Virus-27. If she had the chance to save all witches and vampire mates from the damn illness, she needed to do it and stop worrying about her crush. “Forget it. Right now, we need to figure out a way for you to curtail the comet’s power.” She’d help him get his nephew back safely, and then she’d go home. Alone.
Jase blew out air. “I need to break through my mental block, if that’s really what’s holding me back.”
Admiration welled inside Brenna. The guy didn’t want to look inside his own head, but to save his nephew, he’d suffer. What would Jase’s love for a woman feel like? Probably all-encompassing and secure. “How do you break through?”
He grimaced. “I go back to Lily.”
Chapter 21
Jase took a moment to relax his shoulders before knocking on the prophet’s door. She opened before he could knock.
“Come on in.” Long skirts swished as she gestured him toward one of the dainty chairs, the scent of strawberries wafting around.
His feet wanted to drag. Yet he forced himself to cross the room and sit. The sound of the door shutting made him jump. His hands shook. This was such a bad idea.
Lily sat across from him and smiled. “You’re brave to want to be hypnotized, although I think we should just talk. Your memories are all accessible.” Steam rose from a cup of floral tea next to her, and in her long skirt, she looked like a lady from centuries ago. One who shouldn’t be exposed to the reality of his life.
He pressed the fine armrests to stand up. “This is a bad idea.”
She patted his hand, her skin so pale and delicate. “You can do this.”
“I know.” How did he explain? “I don’t think you should, I mean, you—”
A sweet smile lifted her pink lips. “I’ve been a prophet for three centuries and during two wars. As such, I’ve counseled many people who’ve literally gone through hell.” She sighed, her eyes reflecting a weary wisdom she usually hid. “Unfortunately, nothing you say will shock me.”
He settled back into the chair and studied the prophet. There was more to Lily Sotheby than he’d seen. “Anything I tell you is confidential.”
“I won’t tell a soul.”
Before that moment, he would’ve assumed Dage, as king, could get all information from Lily. But now, he doubted it. “If anything I say upsets you, please stop me.”
Lily’s blue eyes softened. “Everything you say will upset me because I care about you, Jase. We’re old friends. But I promise, I can handle the truth.”
They might be old friends, but he always felt like a kid in her presence. And something in him, deep down, experienced shame at the torture he’d lived through. As if he’d deserved the pain. No, it wasn’t rational—and he was no victim. So it was time to suck it up and deal. “What now?”
“Now you relax.”
He barked out a laugh. “No problem.” His shoulders hardened to rock.
Lily settled back. “We’re going to talk for a while, and you’re going to concentrate on breathing in and breathing out. Smooth and easy. Okay?”
“Okay.” He breathed in.
“Good. Before the first war started, when you were just a kid, what was it like with four older brothers?” Lily asked.
Jase grinned. “Fun. Lots of fun. We were the Kayrs kids . . . full of fire and trouble. Even Dage was relaxed—well, for Dage.”
“Before he was forced to become king?”
“Yes. Before the Kurjans murdered our parents.” Jase wiped his wet palms on his jeans. “Dage changed overnight—he had to.”
“And he sent you to fight.”
“Yes. I was fifteen and old enough.” Of course, Jase always had his older brothers flanking him. As war went, he was safe. “Dage has always felt guilty.”
“That must be a hard burden for you to bear.”
Jase shrugged. “We all have our crosses.”
“So true,” Lily murmured. “What’s your favorite season?”
“Summer—as hot as possible.” There was a time he’d raced cars, boats, planes. Anything with speed. His shoulders relaxed as memories assailed him. “Though winter was always good, too.”
“What are you afraid to tell everyone?”
The question caught him off guard, and his heart sped up. Concentrating on his breathing, he slowed it down. “I’m afraid everyone will know how crazy I went.” One day the rock face had spit out shards, and he’d stuck one in his jugular. Just to end the pain.
“Why?” she asked.
He blinked. “Well, I lost. I mean, they beat me. I went nuts.”
“No.” She leaned forward, her gaze intense. “You survived, and you won. Regardless of the games your brain created to help you survive.”
“I stabbed myself.” Suicide wasn’t a winning move.
“You didn’t die.” She shook her head. “Come on. You’re a three-hundred-year-old soldier who has killed many times. If you’d truly wanted to die, you wouldn’t be sitting here right now.”
His lungs seized. “Then, why?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it was momentary weakness. Maybe you just needed to do something . . . anything to retain control. But you didn’t really try to kill yourself.”
