Free Tamed by Rebecca Zanetti Page B

from her face. If she were any other woman, she’d punch him in the nose for the barbaric treatment. But she was a prophet. So, with a sniff, she turned on her heel. “You’ve lost the right to figure it out with me by such ridiculous behavior.”
    As an exit line, it was perfectly delivered. Unfortunately, instead of appreciating her professional rejoinder, Caleb hauled her into his arms before she could take another step. “Damn it, Caleb.”
    He grinned, pressing her close against his hard chest, his hold gentle to keep from bruising. “Is that any way for a prophet to talk?”
    At the sarcasm and the overdone gentleness, something snapped in Lily. Ducking her shoulder against his armpit, she punched him in the nose.
    His head jerked back, his eyes wide. Blood welled by his nostril. Lily gasped, horror filling her abdomen.
    Caleb narrowed his eyes . . . and smiled. “There’s my girl.”
    “No.” Shame tightened her throat. “I’m not a woman who hits. I do apologize and ask you to put me down.” It felt too wonderful to be in the rebel’s arms, and she needed to get a grasp on herself. Duty called.
    “No.” He continued to stride through the lodge until he kicked open the door to his quarters.
    Her mouth opened and then shut. She shook her head. Nobody said “no” to her. “I believe my request was clear.”
    “Fine.” With a mere twitching of his shoulders, Caleb tossed her across the room to land on the sofa.
    She bounced several times, her arms flailing to find security. Her gasp echoed while she settled her skirts appropriately into place. “I am a prophet.” At the words, the clear, reasonable words, fury burned hot enough to scald her tongue. She shot to her feet. “ Nobody throws me across the room. Ever.” She employed guards who would kill him in a second—even if he was a prophet.
    “I just did.” Caleb leaned against the door, muscled arms crossed. “What are you going to do about it?” His right eyebrow rose, and those myriad of colors in his odd eyes brightened.
    She wanted to knock him on his butt. But even after years of training, she’d be self-delusional to think she could take him in a fight. “Last night I had a visionary dream about a little boy with your eyes and my nose. Our child, Caleb.” Might as well go for the emotional punch since she couldn’t throw a physical one.
    He blinked. “Excuse me.”
    “Your ears are functional, are they not?” She mirrored his stance, crossing her arms. “Fate told me that if I wanted that child, I had to kill Janie.” If there was one thing she’d learned as a counselor, it was to share burdens and fears. The idea of losing that little boy before he really appeared sliced through her heart. What would it do to Caleb? Maybe he could help her figure out the truth.
    He rubbed his chin, gaze dropping to her abdomen.
    She huffed out a breath. “I’m not pregnant now, you dolt. We’re not mated yet.”
    “I know.” His voice softened, the tone licking along her skin. “You said ‘yet.’ ”
    “That wasn’t my intention.” Deflated, Lily settled back on the sofa, her ankles crossed.
    “A babe? Our babe?” Caleb’s eyes lightened in wonder. “Tell me more about him.”
    She swallowed. “He looked like you and supposedly ends some plague. I guess he turns out brilliant. But when I saw him, he was a toddler.” A beautiful boy with multicolored eyes. God, she wanted him. Tears choked her throat.
    “I can’t wait to see him.” Caleb’s smile held gentle promise.
    If he came into being. Lily fought against emotion and searched for logic. “Whatever is causing these dreams, these directives to kill, it’s becoming more persistent. Or it’s tapping in to the future, which is often true with visions.”
    “Or both.” Caleb straightened, gaze intense. “Why manipulate you with a child?”
    Lily swallowed. “One of my deepest regrets is being unable to have a child, since I was widowed so quickly.” Until the virus