Promise shook her head. The demons had to be above holding a child hostage. “You should be better than that.”
“We’re not.” Ivar said shortly. “Logan?”
Logan nodded, bunched his legs, and leaped at them. The ride was smoother than the previous night, for some reason. Pure darkness, and even though Promise kept her eyes wide open, all she saw was the void.
They landed in the front yard of a solid wooden lodge. Soldiers patrolled the lawn, somehow stepping around mature rosebushes and colorful annuals just giving up the fight as winter approached.
The door opened, and out rushed a woman wearing a white lab coat opened over jeans and a yellow sweater. Her black hair was tied back in a ponytail, and her blue eyes sparkled with intelligence. Her pink tennis shoes made no sound on the crackled stone walk. She reached them and grasped Promise’s hand. “It’s so nice to meet you. This ability you have to sense people who can teleport—have you always had it?” She began to draw Promise toward the lodge.
Ivar paused them by grasping Promise’s arm. “Missy? This is Emma Kayrs, Queen of the Realm.”
This was the queen? Promise stumbled as she turned. Nobody had told her whether to curtsy or not. Did she know how to curtsy?
Emma pumped her hand vigorously.
“Emma, this is Promise Williams, my mate,” Ivar said.
Emma’s eyes widened. “Mate?” She swiveled to pierce Ivar with a look. “When?”
“Last night?” Promise wasn’t sure what to make of the queen.
Emma smiled, color rushing into her face. “Lovely. Just excellent. Great timing.” She all but dragged Promise toward the door. “This is our medical facility—halfway between Realm and demon headquarters.” Apparently finding too much resistance, she pulled Promise close and tucked her arm around Promise’s shoulders, and Ivar had to release her. “We’ll do a little blood work before we get started on the MRIs. Since the mating is just taking effect.”
Twin groans echoed behind them as Promise let the queen lead her into her lab.
Chapter Thirty-One
As Ivar had suspected, Promise and Emma became fast friends. When Faith joined them, there was so much glee discussing the test results that he wanted to tear his own head off.
Finally, it was his turn. The MRI machine gleamed white with a tiny narrow tube to shove him in. His hands started sweating first. His gut rolled over, and he moved toward the tube, wearing plain cotton pants and a white T-shirt with no metal anywhere.
Promise patted the bed. “Just lie here, and we’ll shoot you in. There’s a microphone, and we’ll get some pictures before asking you to try to teleport somewhere and then return in a minute. If you aren’t able to teleport, no worries. We want to watch your brain try.”
He swallowed, but his throat had gone dry.
She looked up at him, her honey-chocolate eyes focusing. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” He’d faced a dragon-wolf beast in a hell dimension once, and he’d felt better at that moment than this one. After being dragged through so many portals to places with unreal gravity that crushed him, feeling nervous about being shoved headfirst into a tube that would take him seconds to break apart if necessary was fucking crazy.
She ran her hand up his bare arm. “You don’t have to do this.”
He buried his panic deep inside, where it belonged, so he could force a smile for her. No way in hell was he showing weakness to his new mate. “I’m good.” Then he lay down. His heart shook against his fused ribs. Was it possible for a hybrid to have a heart attack? He’d never heard of one, but he could be the first. If his heart blew apart, it’d take ages to mend.
Promise moved into the control room, and the lights dimmed.
The machine whirred and began to slide him into the tube. His fingers dug into the sheet on either side of his body, and sweat broke out down his entire torso.
He came to an abrupt halt, and he shut his eyes, not wanting to see that he was trapped.
Memories assailed him—took him under. Blood and death and paralyzing fear. His fangs dropped, and he pricked his bottom lip, tasting blood. Metallic and familiar.
“Ivar?” Emma’s voice came from a speaker right above his head. “Your vitals are off the chart. Do you want to get out?”
“No,” he grunted. Of course he wanted out.
“Hey, Viking.” Promise’s voice came next, and the sound smoothed over him like the soft fur he’d taken off a beast one time.