Free Provoked by Rebecca Zanetti Page A

Jase counted the closed doorways along the way. Then he cataloged each step for when he escaped. That probably wouldn’t be soon. While he stood to six-foot-five, the demon guards were several inches taller, and certainly broader. How much weight had he lost, anyway?
    Willa opened a door into a spacious room and swept inside, settling herself on a feminine divan. A plush Persian rug covered the rock floor, and priceless oil paintings adorned the walls.
    Jase eyed an oil of the Northern Sea. Dark thunderclouds mirrored the tumultuous ocean, the scene both mysterious and somehow threatening. “I doubt Brenna Dunne would appreciate demons having her painting.”
    Willa shrugged. “Her oils will be worth a fortune someday, and our people need money as much as yours. Besides, Dunne seems to understand the demon mind-set with dark works like that.”
    Odd, but Jase hadn’t noticed that dimension to Brenna before. “If you say so.”
    Will nodded. “The value of that work will soon increase—considering she won’t have time for painting with Virus-27 affecting their kind.”
    Jase stumbled. The virus did affect witches?
    The demon smiled. “Oops. That’s news, huh?”
    “Yes.” His mind reeling, Jase allowed the brutes to shove him into a plush leather chair situated off the rug. Virus-27 had been created by his enemies to harm vampire mates—to take them with their twenty-seven chromosomal pairs from immortal down to human or maybe worse. Nobody had realized the virus would affect witches. But considering witches only had twenty-eight chromosomal pairs, apparently they were susceptible.
    Vampires with their thirty chromosomal pairs were safe.
    The tallest guy reached for a set of restraints hammered into the floor.
    “No. I want his hands unbound.” Willa crossed her legs, revealing silky skin.
    The closest guard stiffened, turning toward her. An apparent, silent battle of wills ensued. Finally, the guard dropped the restraints and grabbed another set, clasping them around Jase’s ankles. With a growl, he and the other guy stomped from the room, slamming the door.
    What kind of game was this? Jase tugged a little on the restraints—not very impressive . . . he could probably break free. Even in his state, he had to outweigh the small demon. He lifted an eyebrow. Maybe.
    She smiled, sliding to her feet and sauntering over to a bar set in the corner.
    The stunning painting of the Northern Sea caught his eye again. There was a time he’d spent hours running along the beach, feeling the salty spray on his face.
    Willa turned with a low hiss. “You like the painting.”
    “Yes.” Lying seemed to be a waste of time.
    “Or is it the artist who has captured your attention?” Willa asked softly.
    Jase settled into the chair, surprise jerking his head. “Brenna? Well, she is a sweetheart.” Or at least she was last time he’d seen her.
    Willa laughed, the sound grating. “That witch is the reject of all rejects. Imagine an eighth sister being born to a seventh sister.” The demon shook her head. “They should’ve killed her on sight.”
    Jase lifted a lip in irritation. While it was true that a seventh sister of a seventh sister was known to be the most powerful of witches, like his sister-in-law, Moira, maybe it was just coincidence that no eighth sister had ever been born. Well, until Brenna. The young witch’s fathomless gray eyes had always intrigued him. “I like her.” The words tumbled from him as if he were talking to the rock faces.
    “Lucky Brenna Dunne.” Willa turned back to the heavy antique. The bar matched the sofa and end tables. Late eighteenth century. Crystal chinked. Turning toward him, she carried a goblet full of red liquid. The smell hit him when she was two feet away.
    Blood.
    His stomach clenched in pain. Need had his fangs dropping against his will.
    She held out the wineglass, and he hesitated before taking it, the world narrowing to the shimmering liquid. She pressed the stem into