Deep Within Me (The Prophesy #2)

Chapter Three

At a speed reaching one hundred miles an hour, Carreon raced north on I-25 through New Mexico’s Chihuahuan Desert. The bleak landscape might as well have been on the moon, it was that barren, colorless in the thin moonlight.

Given the hour, there was little to no traffic, certainly none from his enemies. Nor did Carreon worry about cops on this lonely stretch of road. His only desire was to put as much distance between himself and Zeke Neekoma as possible.

Bastard.

Carreon pressed harder on the Escalade’s accelerator, pushing the vehicle to one hundred and five, one hundred and ten miles per hour.

Because of Zeke, Liz was dead.

Had Dr. Munez died too?

Back at Carreon’s stronghold, the elderly man had kept shouting his daughter’s name and fighting to exit the Escalade.

“You can’t keep me from her!” Munez had cried.

Carreon had separated them in the past and, with her death, he’d made certain to do so in the future. He’d gripped the doctor’s arm to stop him from escaping, determined to keep him prisoner for his healing gift.

Hadn’t turned out that way. The same moment Carreon fled from his goddamn stronghold, Zeke had driven up to it. No doubt to rescue Liz.

“He won’t let her go,” Kele had said of Zeke, her words laced with heartache. She’d wanted Carreon’s men to bring Liz back to her own clan where she rightfully belonged so Kele could have Jacob for herself.

Clearly, both Zeke and Jacob had been enjoying Liz. Mounting her, driving their stiffened cocks into her moist, heated flesh.

“He knows keeping her is dangerous to our people,” Kele had continued in her confession about Zeke, “but he claims to love her as much as she loves him.”

That fucking love had been Liz’s greatest downfall. Carreon relished the memory of his hands around her throat, ending her life. For her betrayal. For wanting the enemy rather than him. For returning tonight with only one purpose—to see him dead.

Carreon bristled at her stupidity, the utter audacity of her plan. He’d shown her where infidelity led, but even then Liz hadn’t simply died as she should have. She’d fought hard. His earlobe still throbbed from her ripping out his earring, the pain deep, constant, making that part of him feel three times its size. The skin on his cheeks and throat burned from where she’d raked him with her nails.

He let out an infuriated growl, wishing she were still alive so he could make her pay once more for harming him.

This time, he’d have Roberto torture her slowly. He’d savor her screams, her pleas for Roberto to stop.

Carreon wouldn’t allow it. He’d take over eventually and would kill her as he had the first time, even if it was a stupid move. No matter what she’d done, how she’d angered him, he still needed her healing gift. However, his rage had also demanded a target. First, with her. Then with her father when Carreon had pushed him from the vehicle.

“You want out, then go,” he’d said, shoving him.

As Carreon had sped away, one of the last things he’d seen was Munez’s body rolling down the drive toward Zeke’s Jeep.

Had Neekoma driven over the man before he could stop his vehicle? Probably.

A mixture of pleasure and renewed indignation burned in Carreon. He hit the heel of his hand against his steering wheel, having no other target at the moment. He’d lost two healers tonight, the strongest in his clan. Neekoma had driven him from his stronghold. His. No one else’s. The SOB had forced Carreon on this wild drive through the darkness.

At this speed, if he lost control of the Escalade, Liz and her father wouldn’t be available to heal him.

The thought persuaded Carreon to ease up on the gas pedal. His vehicle dropped to one hundred, then ninety, eighty…

It felt as though he were crawling toward his destination. He glanced into his side-view and rearview mirrors. No one was behind him. In particular Zeke. No doubt he was still in the safe room, grieving over Liz’s death, holding her body.

Fool.

Accelerating again, Carreon grabbed his cell phone and dialed Ernez, one of his lieutenants. A man who’d murdered his own cousin on Carreon’s orders, for no other reason than Carreon had wanted to see if Ernez would obey the command.

He had without hesitation. Money, not blood, ruled Ernez’s decisions. He’d left poverty behind when Carreon’s lieutenants had recruited him. Few in the clan were educated and successful like Liz and her father. If they wanted wealth, they came to Carreon, and he put them to work. If they chose another path, they were on their own.

None of his men were about to turn away from the riches Carreon had shown them, not even for family.

Tonight, Ernez hadn’t been involved in the conflict at Zeke’s stronghold. There’d been other matters for him to attend to.

The call rang once. A second ring wasn’t necessary. The young man had already picked up and said what Carreon most wanted to hear, “What do you need?”

Carreon told him.

A wave of resentment radiated from Zeke’s clan, especially the women. Liz sensed many of the men behind them were only going along with the program, not wanting to enrage the females further.

Most of them glared at her and her father, their hatred evident.

Not wanting to make the situation worse than it already was, Liz eased her hand from Zeke’s.

He countered by slipping his arm around her waist, drawing her into him in clear opposition to what his people surely wanted. And then her father tightened his arm against hers, a protective gesture.

Oh, Zeke. Oh, Papa.

Liz wanted both of them to tell her everything was going to be all right even as she gave her own assurances. The words wouldn’t come. She didn’t have enough hope.

“What’s this about?” Zeke demanded rather than asked, not even trying to hide his irritation.

Isabel stepped forward. She was a small woman, her coppery complexion barely wrinkled despite her sixty or so years. Her graying hair and eyebrows were all that gave away her true age.

“We don’t want them here,” she said, her attention going to Liz and her father.

Murmurs of agreement came from the women around her. The men said nothing.

Defiantly, Zeke eased Liz even closer. The worst thing he could do. She should have pulled away but knew her strength would be no match for his. Nor did she want to leave his side. She needed to stand with and protect him, no matter how futile it seemed.

“They have nowhere else to go,” Zeke said. “You know that. They’re not a threat to any of us. They’re healers.”

“They’re death,” Isabel snapped, color rising in her cheeks. “They caused tonight’s carnage.” She uncrossed her arms and gestured to the surrounding area.

In too many places, bullets had torn through the wood paneling. Blood pooled on the floor…it speckled the walls and ceiling. When Liz had fled this place to go to Carreon’s stronghold, she’d run past too many of his lieutenants’ bodies.

Those corpses were gone. The stink of death and gunfire remained.

“That’s not true,” Zeke countered Isabel. “You know it isn’t. Liz and her father had nothing to do with what happened.”

“You brought her here,” Isabel argued.

“An enemy,” a young woman to her left said. “Our enemy.”

The others nodded as they voiced their opinions.

“I brought her here to heal Jacob,” Zeke reminded them, speaking louder than everyone else so they’d hear him. “Without Liz, my brother would have died. Did all of you want that?”

“You know we didn’t,” Isabel said through her teeth. “Jacob isn’t the problem. You could have taken her back after she healed him, but you refused. You put her welfare above your clan’s. If not for her, Carreon’s men wouldn’t have come here to—”

“Stop it, please,” Kele interrupted. She pushed through the crowd to reach Isabel. “It wasn’t their fault.”

Liz found it almost painful to look at Kele. The young woman’s velvety brown eyes held a mixture of shame and heartache that made her seem excruciatingly vulnerable. Tall and slender, with a tawny complexion and black hair that hung to her waist, she could have been a supermodel ready for a shoot—she was that lovely—except for the smears of blood on her tee and jeans, the cruel bruises ringing her throat.

From Carreon’s hands or one of his lieutenants’? My God, what had they done to Kele before bringing her here? A wave of revulsion weakened Liz, forcing her to lean against Zeke for support.

Despite the ominous stares from the group, Kele remained subdued, which wasn’t like her at all. In the days Liz had been here, she’d always seen the young woman wear an expression of bitterness or frustration. Resolve seemed to have replaced Kele’s previous emotions, as though she’d finally come to a decision.

“I was the one who brought Carreon’s men here,” she said to Isabel then glanced at the rest to include them in her confession. “Zeke had nothing to do with it. Neither did she—Liz. Without her, Jacob wouldn’t have survived. I should be punished.”

“You will be,” a twenty-something woman called out.

Kele ignored her. She went to Zeke, standing beside him, facing the others. “He’s done nothing but risk his life to help us. To make sure we’re safe.”

“Until he brought her here,” Isabel countered, gesturing to Liz.

“He didn’t know what else to do to protect me,” Liz said before anyone else could speak. “But you’re right, all of you are. I don’t belong here. Neither does my father.”

“Liz.” Zeke wouldn’t release her as she tried to pull away. “You’re not leaving.”

There wasn’t any other choice. He must have known that from the moment he fought his people to keep her here. What he and she felt for each other shouldn’t have happened…and couldn’t continue. Zeke had already lost everything. Liz couldn’t bear to see him deprived of his clan’s respect and support. Her chest and throat ached with grief, but she wouldn’t back down. She couldn’t. “I have to go.” Her voice shook. Tears blurred her vision. It killed her to leave him, but she wanted him safe… She needed him loved. “You owe your loyalty to your people.”

He frowned. “I owe it to them and you.”

“Please,” she murmured. “Someday we might see each other again.”

“Someday? Might?” His frown deepened. “Hell, no.”

“There’s no other choice,” she whispered. “Let me have one of the vehicles. I’ll take my father to a safe place.”

“Where?” Zeke snapped. “Carreon’s still out there. So are his men.”

“They think I’m dead. They won’t be looking for—”

He interrupted, speaking to his clan, “If Liz leaves, then so do I.”

“Zeke, no.” Liz tried to push his arm from her waist. He held her even tighter. “You can’t mean that,” she cried.

“I’ve never been more serious. She and her father stay,” Zeke told the others, “or I leave.”

“Me too.”

Jacob’s voice came from behind the men, his announcement labored with what sounded like pain. His clenched jaw and frown recorded every bit of it as he worked his way through the crowd then paused to lean against the wall to draw in a ragged breath. One of the men reached for him, to help in some way.

Jacob put out his hand to keep the man back. On his biceps was a tribal band, similar in design to Zeke’s but without the eagle’s eye that designated the wearer as a seer. A tourniquet wound around Jacob’s upper thigh, directly above the bullet he’d taken. His jeans were wet with the blood he’d already lost, his skin damp and ashy, his handsome features—less rugged than Zeke’s—contorted with hurt.

Didn’t stop him. Younger than Zeke by a few years, Jacob kept limping toward his older brother, refusing any assistance. His dark hair, waist length and damp with perspiration, clung to his throat and back.

Zeke released Liz and went to Jacob, easily supporting his body. Though both men were tall and broad-shouldered, Zeke was more muscular.

“I’m all right,” Jacob panted.

He was hurting more than Liz could bear. She went to him.

Ignoring her, Zeke turned to her father. “Help him. Please.”

“I’ll do it,” she said.

“No.” Zeke pushed her hands away from Jacob. “Not you. Your father. Please, Dr. Munez.”

Upon reaching them, he sank to his knees and placed his hands on the bullet-torn jeans, Jacob’s wound. Air hissed through Jacob’s teeth; the muscles in his neck corded at the surge of power and heat, the healing force Liz knew was pouring from her father into him.

She watched in silence, feeling useless, not understanding Zeke’s refusal to let her heal. Had he believed her gift wasn’t strong enough to help Jacob? How was that possible? He’d watched her save his brother when Jacob had been far more injured, those bullets having ripped into his gut.

Despite the wounds, Liz had restored him to full health. Zeke had taken her then, along with Jacob, their thick cocks sliding into her mouth, stretching her cunt, burrowing into her anus. They hadn’t held back in the least. Neither had she, enjoying both men. Though not equally. Her heart had already belonged to Zeke. Always would.

Was that why he didn’t want her touching his brother? Zeke was again establishing his claim on her? One his people would always fight, with that battle eventually tearing him and her apart.

“How do you feel?” her father asked Jacob. He brought back his hands from the wound, which was closed now, nearly indistinct, as though it had never happened.

Jacob released a long, contented sigh. The kind one hears from a man who’s been given a powerful narcotic to blunt the worst sort of pain. “Great.” He tested his leg and huffed happily when it took his full weight. “Thanks.”

“Here.” Liz offered her arm to help her father to his feet.

“I have it,” Jacob said.

He didn’t glance her way. In fact, he hadn’t looked at her at all since he’d made his presence known. He finished removing the tourniquet then assisted her father. As the older man stood, Jacob spoke to the others, determination replacing his previous pain. “If Zeke goes, so do I.”

“No,” Kele insisted. “I’m the one who should be banished.”

Everyone started talking at once.

“Quiet,” Zeke ordered. “This isn’t getting us anywhere.”

“You’re right,” Ike said from behind. “Let’s take a vote like we always do. I vote that everyone stays.”

Grim acceptance rather than joy rang in his words. Zeke was their leader, the most powerful seer of their clan, a man whose integrity they’d never questioned or doubted. Ike obviously didn’t want to lose a man like that, even if it meant having to put up with their enemies, which now included Kele.

The men beside Ike muttered their comments, looking as ambivalent as those who stood behind the women.

Although Isabel’s expression darkened, she said nothing.

Liz didn’t dare speak or move. She still believed that staying here would be next to impossible with so much animosity. However, going outside this stronghold meant she’d probably never see Zeke again. As awful as that was, Carreon was also a consideration. If he found her and her father, imprisonment and possibly torture awaited them. Once he knew they could reanimate, there would be no end to what he’d demand—no abomination he wouldn’t indulge in to make certain he got his way.

One of the young women cleared her throat loudly, as though she wanted to offer an opinion but wasn’t certain she should. Given her dewy skin and fresh features, she was barely out of her teens. At last, she said, “This might be a good thing.”

“In what way?” a stout female snapped.

The girl pulled in her shoulders but didn’t back down. “They could help us with the children when they get sick.”

“I don’t want them touching my kids,” the stout one countered.

“I do, if they can help them,” another commented. She appeared to be in her early thirties. “You can, can’t you?” she asked, her gaze moving from Liz to her father.

“As pediatricians,” Zeke answered. “What Dr. Munez did for his patients before Carreon imprisoned him. What Liz has done since she took over her father’s practice. They can help with the medicine they know—regular treatments. It’s too dangerous for them to use their healing gift on a child.”

Everyone started talking again, asking questions or complaining about a gift that wasn’t all it should have been. Something Liz had told Zeke early on when she’d warned him that her healing ability wasn’t infallible or the answer to every medical situation.

Zeke interrupted, “We’re voting now. Raise your hand if you want us to leave.”

Liz tensed, fearful of the outcome no matter what it was. If she could have fled without Zeke following, she would have forced herself to do so. Even when she believed he was her enemy, she’d never wanted to bring him such turmoil or pain.

The air was thick with coming sorrow. A moment passed then another as the group exchanged glances. Finally, the stout woman raised her hand, followed by only two others. Isabel wasn’t one of them. She’d tightened her fists as though she’d suspected this result.

“It’s settled,” one of the older men said, his lined cheeks and pure-white hair making him older than Isabel. “We won’t speak of this again. They’re part of us now.”

“What about Kele?” a young woman asked. She wore her black hair modishly short. Four turquoise studs graced her left lobe, five on her right. “She caused all this shit.”

As a whole, the group turned to Zeke.

He looked wearier than Liz had ever seen him, torn between what was expected and what he could live with.

“We should banish her,” the young woman said.

Kele lowered her face, making no move to defend herself.

She seemed so alone, so thoroughly defeated, Liz ached for the young woman as much as she did for Zeke. Kele had done a monstrous thing by leading Carreon’s men here. However, her hopeless love for Jacob, wanting to keep him away from Liz had driven her. Nothing else. Surely, everyone here knew that.

“No,” Zeke said. “Kele stays. I know she made a mistake.” He interrupted the young woman, his tone mild, pacifying. “But she also risked her life to protect you and the others. No one harms her. No one treats her badly, understand?”

Kele murmured, “Thank you.”

Liz swallowed. She wanted to hug the girl, give her some measure of comfort, but didn’t dare do so.

“Close the door,” Zeke ordered.

As they sealed the stronghold, he spoke to Jacob. “Dr. Munez needs a place to stay. See that he’s comfortable, all right?”

Jacob nodded once, still not acknowledging Liz’s presence.

It was so odd, she couldn’t help but continue to question it. Before tonight’s battle, he’d made it clear that he wanted Zeke to share her, not even bothering to ask her thoughts in the matter. Those, Liz suspected, Jacob had known from the start. He was a great-looking man, as virile as his brother. However, he wasn’t Zeke.

She wondered if Zeke saving Jacob’s life tonight might have had something to do with his sudden attitude change, unless there was something more behind it.

Maybe Jacob didn’t want to challenge his brother’s authority at this point…as Isabel had just tried. Perhaps he was simply being more circumspect in his desires. Or he was still worried about Kele’s jealousy. What she might do next because of it.

“Please go back to your rooms and see to your loved ones,” Zeke said to his people. “No one followed us here. No one can get inside.”

“So you want your people to hide here forever?” Isabel asked.

Liz noted the derisive way the older woman had said your people , as though their vote for Zeke to stay had made them her enemy.

He sighed. His entire body seemed to wilt with it. “We’ll have a meeting in the morning to discuss our options and whatever else you want.”

Her expression didn’t soften.

“We’ll meet now if you’d like,” Zeke said.

“No,” Ike cut in. “We’re all tired. Tomorrow morning’s fine, right, guys?”

They mumbled their agreement.

Ike clamped his hand on Zeke’s shoulder. “We’ll take care of things tonight.”

Not arguing with his friend, Zeke took Liz’s hand and went down the hall toward the group.

They stepped back immediately, allowing him and Liz a wide berth. Out of respect or because none of them wanted to touch her?

Liz could feel Isabel’s glare and had to force herself not to glance over her shoulder at the woman. Once Zeke brought Liz past the last of the crowd, she murmured, “Where are we going?”

“My room.”

As he had during her first time in the stronghold, Zeke led Liz past a series of halls, each of them bullet-ridden now and filthy with blood. Earlier, they’d been filled with children playing games, watching TV. Liz’s stomach rolled. If Carreon’s men had harmed one of those innocents tonight…

At the awful thought, she squeezed Zeke’s hand.

He looked over. “What?”

“Were any of your people harmed?”

“Except for Jacob and Samuel, no.”

Samuel. He’d been guarding the outside door when Kele and Carreon’s men had arrived. One of those lieutenants had shot both of Samuel’s knees, leaving him in agony. Before Liz had left the stronghold, she’d healed him. Not to the extent that he was whole again. That would have taken time she hadn’t had in her determination to see Carreon dead. The last she’d seen of Samuel, he was sagged against one of the vehicles, shouting at her not to drive away.

“Wait,” Liz said.

“Why?” Zeke kept his pace, forcing her to follow.

“I didn’t heal Samuel fully. I should—”

“Your father will take care of it.”

Was he joking? “He’s more tired than I am. He’s old, Zeke. I want him to rest, not tend to your men’s injuries when I can do it.”

“Samuel will be fine.”

They’d reached the stairway that led to the stronghold’s second level. Zeke directed Liz up those steps. The first time they’d done this, he’d taken her to his brother’s room where she’d pressed her naked body against Jacob’s, restoring him to full health. Unlike her father’s power that allowed him to heal the gravest injuries with a mere touch, Liz’s gift wasn’t as strong. When a man was near death, all of her nudity had to touch his in order for her to push enough of her healing gift and life force inside.

It was only when the injury was relatively minor, like her father’s sprained ankle or even Samuel’s bloodied knees, that her touch alone would suffice.

A touch she hadn’t used since leaving Carreon’s stronghold.

When she and Zeke reached the landing, Liz asked, “Why don’t you want me to heal anyone?”

He went in the opposite direction of Jacob’s room, toward the end of the hall and a set of grand double doors. Constructed of a dark wood, possibly mahogany, they bore geometric designs—the same as those on the rugs gracing the walls—and had ornate silver handles. “Did I say that?”

No. But he kept keeping her from doing it. “I can heal Samuel’s knees without taking off my clothes and crawling all over him, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Zeke stopped at the double doors and regarded her, his emotions well concealed. “Good to know.”

Was he teasing her…or was he worried about something? Liz recalled his weird questions in the Jeep, his unease as he’d studied her as a physician might, looking for signs of what? Sickness? Physical decline? Death?

She stared at him.

He ignored her and opened one of the doors. “Go on.”

She backed into the room, noting its limestone walls, the same as those in Jacob’s, decorated with similar snake totems in vivid hues. However, this space was three times as large. She regarded the wide bed of a rustic construction, its design matching the nightstands and lamps. What tourists would pay thousands for in order to possess authentic Indian art and craftsmanship.

“What’s going on?” Liz asked, wanting to know what Zeke was thinking. What worried him about her.

He closed the door. Its spring lock clicked faintly. The moment he touched the limestone wall, it glowed as it had in Jacob’s bath and room, the rock a soft golden shade, lending a dreamy, cozy feel to this space.

The setting should have relaxed then aroused Liz with what was surely coming.

Zeke’s silence precluded that.

More questions poured from her. “Why won’t you let me heal anyone? In the Jeep, why did you ask if I’d fallen asleep? Wait.” She interrupted herself even though he hadn’t said anything. Liz shook her head. “You said I’d passed out. Why? And why did my father ask how I was feel—”

He stopped her with his kisses on each corner of her mouth, surprisingly tender and gentle, his arms wrapped protectively around her.

Unable to resist, Liz twined her arms around his neck and sagged into him. “Zeke—”

“No more questions,” he said with a sigh, his mouth on her ear, his body pressed close. “Not now. Just hold me. Please.”

His weary plea did more than any command. The love Liz heard in those few words touched her soul. Drawing him as close as she could, she nestled her face against his neck and suckled his skin, enjoying its salty flavor.

Zeke inhaled contentedly. His tenderness didn’t last. With one hand on her back, the other on her ass, he held her tightly against him, his strength precluding any escape. She lifted her face to assure him she wouldn’t leave.

He never gave her the chance. Zeke sought her mouth, his tongue demanding entrance, his kiss impassioned as though this might be their last chance. Their only time to seek comfort in each other’s arms.

Liz matched his intensity and desire, driving her fingers through his hair, grinding her pussy into his thickened cock. Zeke grunted in what sounded like pleasure. She moaned, proving hers. The sounds they made were uncivilized, delicious. They fueled her reactions.

All too soon, Liz needed a full breath but ignored it. She pushed Zeke’s tongue aside so she could slip hers into his mouth. They kissed greedily, their hands clutching, touching, caressing.

Only when her lungs burned for air did Liz pull her mouth free. Her lips brushed Zeke’s stubbled cheek as she whispered, “Not enough. I want you deep within me.”