Wicked Kiss

  Victoria Monzelle was one of a kind, without question.

  She met his gaze, amusement and a glittering triumph in her eyes. He smiled, wishing they had all day to explore just how rigid he could be. But the second he put his hands on her, it was over. He knew it. By the curve of her mouth, she knew it, too. For some reason, she wanted to goad him. She’d misread him if she thought he’d back down. “You really do like playing with fire, don’t you?” The irony, considering he could create fire, only amused him more.

  “I truly do.” She moved his way, no fear anywhere in her. “But we both know you’re all talk, don’t we?”

  “The second I stop talking, we’re both in trouble,” he said honestly. “Yet trouble is something you seek.”

  She moved into his space, and the scent of wild orchids, the kind growing abundantly around his childhood home, washed over him. “I love trouble.”

  ALSO BY REBECCA ZANETTI

  THE DARK PROTECTORS SERIES

  Fated

  Claimed

  Tempted

  Hunted

  Consumed

  Provoked

  Twisted

  Shadowed

  Tamed

  Marked

  THE REALM ENFORCERS SERIES

  Wicked Ride

  Wicked Edge

  Wicked Burn

  THE SCORPIUS SYNDROME SERIES

  Mercury Striking

  Shadow Falling

  Justice Ascending

  Wicked Kiss

  Realm Enforcers, Book 4

  REBECCA

  ZANETTI

  LYRICAL PRESS

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  Victoria Monzelle was one of a kind, without question.

  ALSO BY REBECCA ZANETTI

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Epilogue

  Teaser chapter

  LYRICAL PRESS BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2017 Rebecca Zanetti

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.

  LYRICAL PRESS and the Lyrical logo are Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  First electronic edition: July 2017

  ISBN: 978-1-6018-3517-8

  ISBN-13: 978-1-60183-518-5

  ISBN-10: 1-60183-518-3

  This one is for Gabe Zanetti,

  who hits like a truck on the football field,

  smashes the honor roll in school,

  smiles like a sweetheart,

  and loves his mama.

  Yeah, you’re going to take ribbing

  about that last one if your friends read this.

  Your friends shouldn’t be reading this book.

  You’re all too young at the moment.

  If a girl you like says she’s read my book . . .

  she’s too old for you.

  True words.

  And I love you, son.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I have many people to thank for help in getting this fourth Realm Enforcer book to readers, and I sincerely apologize to anyone I’ve forgotten.

  Thank you to my husband, Big Tone, for being everything I could ever want in a mate. Thanks also to Gabe and Karlina for being such awesome kids and for making life so much fun;

  Thank you to my amazing, talented, and dedicated Kensington editor, Alicia Condon;

  Thank you to the Kensington gang: Steven Zacharius, Adam Zacharius, Lynn Cully, Alexandra Nicolajsen, Vida Engstrand, Michelle Forde, Jane Nutter, Lauren Jernigan, Kimberly Richardson, Fiona Jayde, Allison Gentile, and Arthur Maisel;

  Thank you to my hardworking and talented agents, Caitlin Blasdell and Liza Dawson;

  Thank you to my fantastic Facebook street team, Rebecca’s Rebels, and thanks to Minga Portillo for her hard work there;

  Thanks also to Jillian Stein for basically saving my sanity and doing such amazing work on my behalf;

  Thanks to Liz Berry for her friendship and wonderful insights;

  Thank you to all of my writer friends. They mean so much to me, and I’d like to name each one, but my space here is a bit limited;

  And thanks also to my constant support system: Gail and Jim English, Debbie and Travis Smith, Stephanie and Don West, Brandie and Mike Chapman, Jessica and Jonah Namson, and Kathy and Herb Zanetti.

  Chapter 1

  So far, the magical world of Ireland sucked eggs. Her dreams of rolling hills, rugged men, and wild adventures had given way to facts that tilted her universe, spun it around, and spiked it headfirst into the ground.

  The world held too many secrets.

  Tori Monzelle leaned her shoulders against the cold interior wall of the van and tried to blink through a tight blindfold. Nothing. She couldn’t see a thing. The carpet in the rear of the van smelled fresh but was rough against her pants, while she sat with her knees drawn up and her hands tied behind her back.

  A metallic taste filled her mouth. Her mind whirled, and she tried to focus, but her breath panted out of her lungs as if somebody squeezed them.

  The vehicle hiccuped a couple of times but ran smoothly for now. It would experience a mechanical glitch at some point. Her curse was predictable. At least then she could run.

  She cleared her throat. The whole situation was just so surreal. If she could get the two kidnappers to stop the van, maybe she could get free. “Listen, jackasses. I’m done with this entire kidnapping scenario. I promise not to tell anybody that supernatural beings exist. Just let me go.”

  A snort came from the front seat. “Supernatural,” one of the men muttered.

  Her chest heated. “So you think you’re natural. Then how about I refrain from announcing your species even exists?”

  Another snort.

  Where were they taking her? The sounds of drizzling rain and honking horns filtered in from outside, while the two men breathed loudly in the front seats. She hadn’t recognized either of them when they’d arrived at the penthouse an hour before. For an entire week, she’d been held hostage in various luxurious Dublin locales after having been kidnapped from Seattle. The last penthouse where she’d been kept even had a piano. Finally, she’d been able to play music and had created a new score.

  Then they’d come for her—again. This was the first time s
he’d been blindfolded during relocation. That couldn’t be good.

  Had it only been a week since she’d learned the world wasn’t as she’d thought?

  Immortal beings existed. As in really existed.

  “Are you witches, demons, or vampires?” If she had to guess, they were witches. They were just a different species from humans. So far, she’d seen witches create and throw fireballs, and she’d met a demon who’d shown her his fangs. She had to go on faith that vampires really existed, but at this point, why not believe? “Mr. Kidnappers?”

  No answer. She’d seen their faces; the only reason to blindfold her now was to keep her lost and confused. So she couldn’t find her way back to safety. She shuddered.

  The van swerved, and she knocked her head against the side. “Ouch.” It was time to get free. “This is international kidnapping.” Did witches care about international laws? Her shoulders shook, and a welcome anger soared through her.

  The van jerked.

  “What the hell?” one of the guys snapped.

  The world tilted.

  Something sputtered. The engine?

  An explosion rocked the van, and it started to spin. Her temple smacked metal. Pain flashed white and red behind her eyes. She rolled to the other side across the carpet. Breath swooshed from her lungs. Blood welled on her lip, and she blinked behind the blindfold.

  The van stopped cold, and she rolled toward the front, her legs scrambling. Her forehead brushed the carpet and she shook her head frantically, dislodging the blindfold.

  The front doors opened, and grunts sounded. Men fighting. Punches being thrown.

  The back doors opened, and light flooded inside.

  She turned just as broad hands grabbed her ankles and dragged her toward the street. Kicking out, she struggled furiously, her eyes adjusting and focusing on this new threat. A ski mask completely covered the guy’s head, leaving only his eyes and mouth revealed. With the light behind him, she couldn’t even make out the color of his irises.

  His strong grip didn’t relent, and he easily pulled her toward the edge, dropping her legs so her feet could touch the ground.

  She threw a shoulder into his rock-hard abs and stood. He was at least a foot taller than she and definitely cut hard.

  Everything in her screamed to get the hell out of the area and make a run for it. She was smart, she was tough, and she could handle the situation. No time to think. She leaped up and shot a quick kick to his face. While he was tall and fit, he probably wasn’t expecting a fight.

  He snagged her ankle an inch from his jaw, preventing the impact. Using her momentum to pull her forward, he manacled his other hand to the back of her thigh and lifted, tossing her over his shoulder in one incredibly smooth motion.

  Her rib cage slammed into solid muscle, knocking the wind from her lungs. She stilled in shock. Her adrenaline spiked, and the blood rushed through her ears. Free—she had to get free. This guy was too powerful and way too much in control. She couldn’t fight him, and there was no doubt she was outmatched. Fear sharpened the entire day into focus.

  She tried to struggle.

  One firm hand anchored her thighs, and he turned, moving into a jog. The sound of fighting behind them had her lifting her head to see more men in ski masks battling the two guys from the van. Those two were losing badly. Blood sprayed from the driver’s nose, and he went down. Hard.

  Then her captor turned a corner and ran through an alley, easily holding her in place.

  “Let me go,” she gasped, pulling on the restraints holding her hands. Cobblestones flew by below, while cool air brushed across her skin. Rain pattered down, matting her hair to her face. Begging wouldn’t work with this guy—she just knew it. What did he want? “Leave me here, and I won’t turn you in.”

  He didn’t answer and took two more turns, finally ending up in yet another alley, next to a shiny black motorcycle. Her hair swooshed as he ducked his shoulder and planted her on her feet. Firm hands flipped her around, and something sliced through her bindings.

  Blood rushed into her wrists, and she winced at the prickly pain, pivoting back around. “Who are you?” She set her stance to fight.

  He reached out and tugged the blindfold completely off her head before ripping off his ski mask.

  Adam Dunne stood before her, legs braced, no expression on his hard face. Rain dripped from his thick black hair, and irritation glittered in his spectacular green eyes. That expression seemed to live on him. She knew he was some sort of brilliant strategist, definitely a brainiac, and he always appeared annoyed.

  She blinked twice. “Adam?”

  He crossed his arms. “It has been nearly impossible to find you.”

  His deep voice shot right through her to land in very private places. Then the angry tone caught her. She slammed her hands against her hips. He was the very last person in the world she wanted to see right now. “That’s my fault? Your stupid people, the witches, kidnapped me.”

  Witches. Holy crap. Adam Dunne was a witch. Sure, she’d figured that out a week ago, but with him standing right in front of her, she was face-to-face with the reality. The sense of power she’d always imagined in him was real. True power.

  The man looked like a badass vigilante and not some brilliant otherworldly being. For this kidnapping, he’d worn a black T-shirt, ripped jeans, and motorcycle boots—definitely not his usual pressed slacks and button-down silk shirt. For once, he appeared just like the criminal she thought he might be.

  His sizzling green eyes darkened. “I have about an hour to get you to a plane and out of this country, so you’ll be quiet, and you’ll follow orders.”

  She pressed her lips together. No matter how badly she wanted to punch him in the face, she wanted to get out of the country even more. But could she trust him? He was one of the witches. He was probably their leader, and this could be just another part of the whole kidnapping. “Fine.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “We’re getting on the bike, heading to the airport, and then you’re flying to Seattle. You don’t know who rescued you, and you haven’t seen me in weeks.”

  She swallowed. Oh, she knew more about him than he could even imagine. For now, she’d play along, especially if it got her out of the country. “How much trouble are you in if we get caught?”

  He grabbed a helmet off the bike. “Treason and death sentence.”

  Right. Like she believed that one. Yet . . . she had a part to play. “Thank you.”

  He shoved the helmet at her. “Don’t thank me. Just do what I tell you.”

  Man, what a jerk. Nearly biting through her tongue to keep from lashing out, she shoved the helmet on her head. If her intel was right, he might be a killer. A cold-blooded, meticulous, dangerous killer. And here she was, alone with him.

  He swung a leg over the bike, holding out a hand to help her.

  She ignored him and levered herself over the bike and into place, anger flowing through her along with awareness. She didn’t know how to fight like he did. Even without dangerous powers, Adam was solid muscle and powerful strength. Could she escape him?

  He ignited the engine. It sputtered. He stiffened and tried again.

  No, no, no. She closed her eyes to calm her temper and soothe her fears. Being stuck in the alley with Adam was a disaster. Work, bike. Damn it, work. The more she tried to concentrate, the more irritated and breathless she became.

  He twisted the throttle again, and this time, nothing.

  Why did this always happen to her? What was wrong with her? “It won’t work. If it’s broken, it won’t work.” She tugged free of the helmet and shoved herself off the bike. Maybe he’d just leave her alone in the dismal alley. She could get to safety somehow.

  He turned toward her. “The bike ran just fine an hour ago.”

  Her face heated. No way was she telling him about her oddity. She eyed the end of the alley. Could she make it before he stopped her? “I know the sound of an engine that’s not coming back to life, and so do you.
”

  He frowned and tried the bike again. No response. “All right.” He swung his leg over and stood, studying her. “Are you up to running?”

  She blinked. Was that concern in his tone? “Yes. In fact, it’d be better if we separated and ran in different directions.”

  His lips twitched.

  She stared, almost fascinated. Had that been a hint of a smile? While she’d known Adam for months, she’d never seen him smile. “It’s a good plan,” she asserted, wiping rain off her hands.

  “Sweetheart, I haven’t spent an entire week scouring the country for you to send you away unprotected.” His brogue deepened, and he reached out to tug a wet curl away from her cheek.

  Her body short-circuited. From one simple touch. “Why have you been looking for me?” Was he telling the truth?

  His pocket buzzed, and he withdrew a cell phone and pushed a button, taking a step back. “Our transport isn’t running,” he said into the phone, his gaze remaining on her.

  “I’ve downloaded information from the phones on the van you just demolished. The woman has been tagged,” came an urgent male voice over the speaker. “There’s a tracker planted on her clothes somewhere, and you have about five minutes until the Guard gets there.” Keys clacking echoed across the line. “Get rid of the tag and find safety. I’ll be in touch with new coordinates as soon as I can.” The line went dead.