“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.”