Eternal Sin motv-6 Page 8

  She eyed her brothers. “You can go.”

  Sasha raised a blond brow. “You sure?”

  “He’s not going anywhere. Sun’s still high.”

  “All righty.” Sasha kicked the chair back and stood.

  Val too. “So, what happened? With the meeting?”

  “Mom will tell you,” she said, her voice softer than before. “She’s back at the house.” She tilted her chin in the direction of the door. “Go.”

  “Fine.” Val walked past her.

  But Sasha hesitated in the hall, his eyes on Syn. “We’ll be back in two hours.”

  “Lovely,” Synjon said overpolitely. “Can’t wait.”

  There were grumblings of irritated comebacks, but Petra managed to shuffle her brothers out the front door. When she returned, Synjon was leaning against the doorframe, his back to the dark bedroom.

  “You were gone a long time.”

  She shrugged. “There was a lot to discuss.”

  “Like . . .”

  “Dillon was there.”

  “The Order.” Interesting. And quite possibly problematic.

  Her eyes turned a crystal blue as she walked toward him. She licked her lips. “She and Gray and the Roman brothers’ mates and even a few of the mutore wanted to make sure you were being well treated.”

  Even in jeans and a tank, she was unbelievably sexy. Or maybe it was because of the jeans and the tank. He tried to keep his gaze off her belly. It bothered him that her swell intensified his desire for her.

  “And what did you tell them?” he asked.

  She stopped just a few inches from the doorway and inhaled rather obviously. “That I was doing my level best to locate and drain every bit of shitty attitude from your person.”

  He grinned. Couldn’t stop himself. It wasn’t just her swell that was making his cock twitch. It was her voice too, her attitude, the hunger in her expression. Bloody hell, he might not have emotions, but his body was on fire and ready to go.

  All she had to do was say the word.

  “I’m surprised they didn’t want to see me,” he said.

  “They did.”

  “And you . . .”

  “Told them no.” She leaned in then, breathed in, and ran her nose along the ridge of his collarbone.

  What the hell? Synjon’s hands fisted around the doorframe. Do that again, little veana, and the next time you take my blood I’ll be taking your cunt.

  She spoke against the skin of his neck. “I told them you were mine until the balas is born.”

  “And they didn’t insist?” he said in a hoarse voice.

  She laughed softly. “No one’s going to fight a pregnant girl over her food.”

  “Is that why you stand so close, veana? You want my blood—”

  She jerked back then, and speared him with her gaze. “Not want, Mr. Wise. Need. Don’t ever mistake the difference. I don’t.”

  He stared at her, his skin twitching with desire. He’d never seen a female so famished before. He couldn’t help himself. He leaned in and lapped at her upper lip with his tongue.

  Again she jerked back. “What the hell was that?”

  “You had a little of my blood on your lip.” His brow lifted. “I wanted it back.”

  She brought her hand up and swiped at her mouth. “Don’t do that again. You don’t get to touch me.”

  “Why? Because it excites you?”

  “It disgusts me,” she said far too vehemently.

  “I very much doubt that.”

  “Do you?” Her eyes narrowed.

  He couldn’t keep standing there, scenting her, his dick a pulsing stone behind his zipper. He turned and headed into the dimly lit bedroom.

  To his surprise, she followed him. “Why? Because the rich, sexy, emotionless Synjon Wise has only to lay a finger on a female and she’s panting and parting her thighs for him?”

  He turned around, shrugged. “Well, it might require more than a finger.”

  “Pig.”

  “I never claimed to be anything but, love.”

  She clamped down on his chest and shoved him hard. He fell back on the bed, taking her with him in such a controlled way it was clear he hadn’t been caught off guard.

  Shocked by where she found herself, poised above him, straddling his waist, Petra glared down at him. “How many females have you taken to your bed since we were together?”

  “I never take anyone to my bed.” When her eyes lit with something far too soft, he amended the statement quickly. “Now, if you’re talking about a casual shag over the back of the couch, well, then . . .”

  “That’s disgusting.” She tried to get up, get off him.

  But he held her ass tightly. “No, veana. That’s normal, healthy fucking.”

  “No, Syn, that’s just you. Screw ’em and leave ’em.”

  His fingers dug into her ass and his voice dropped without his permission. “You walked out on me. Let’s not forget that.”

  Her jaw worked and she stumbled slightly over her words. “I haven’t. I don’t.”

  “Good.”

  “Just like I won’t forget that you wanted to kill my father.”

  “Wanted to?” He started to laugh. “It may not have happened in that dungeon as I’d planned. But it will happen.”

  “I won’t allow it.”

  “You won’t be able to stop it.”

  Her fangs dropped. “I could kill you right now.”

  “Shhhh . . .” He grinned. “No empty threats in front of the balas.”

  Practically growling, she swatted his hands away and climbed off him. “It’s a promise. One I make to the balas. Protection from the evils of the world.”

  “Then we are both saying the same thing, Petra.” He watched her turn and walk out of the room, his body screaming for her to come back, make him warm again. Maybe even make him feel again. “Because like it or not, love,” he called after her, “accept it or not—grandfather Cruen is the evil of this world.”

  7

  “They remain in the Rain Forest?” Cruen asked calmly, his gaze moving down the table, taking in the face of each member of the Eternal Order. “Why have they not been rescued?”

  There was no more mountaintop. No more snow, or Feeyan solo at his side. This time, Cruen stood before the ten, his feet ankle-deep in the very sand he had once conjured. Yes. Before the Order. Not behind the table where he’d ruled for so long. The shame was not lost on him.

  His jaw tightened. Gods, how had he fallen so far? How had he allowed a piece of British tripe to best him? Make him so weak and ineffective that he had been forced to piggyback to the Hollow of Shadows on one of his Pureblood guards?

  A fact he would never allow the members of the Order to learn. To the ten, he was only here on Eternal Breed business. His concern for one of his brethren, and his desire to protect the pure blood. And perhaps even his need for redemption for not only keeping the shifter world a secret but using their DNA to enhance the vampire race.

  “The Order has just returned from the Rain Forest,” Feeyan informed him coldly. “All I have heard is that one of the Purebloods is not a prisoner.”

  “And from whom have you heard this?” Cruen asked. “Who did you send?”

  “Me.” Dillon grinned from her seat, farthest down the table. “Hello, Daddy Dickest.”

  As the other Order members muttered under their breath, Cruen’s gaze narrowed on the vampire and jaguar shifter he’d adopted so long ago. The one who had run from him when she claimed one of his guards had touched her. Cruen had never been sure of what happened. But he was sure of Dillon’s penchant for deceit, and for turning the other mutore against him. This time, however, she would not interfere with his plans. “You are one mongrel I wish I had left in the ditch.”

  “Awww,” she said with heavy sarcasm, her head cocked to the side. “You’re still such a sweet-talker.”

  Feeling his blood heat to a dangerous, energy-stealing level, Cruen ripped his gaze from the femal
e and turned back to face Feeyan. “What of the other Pureblood? Has he professed his wish to remain as well?”

  “Why is this any of your business?” Dillon continued brusquely. “Why are you even here? Because we all know altruism is not your thing.”

  His fangs started to descend. He should’ve drowned her when he’d had the chance. “So the Order is now being run by not only its newest member, but a mutore.” He spoke to Feeyan, and liked the flash of embarrassment and unease he saw in her eyes. “How far we have fallen.”

  “Oh, that’s rich coming from you,” Dillon snapped back. “You who created us.”

  This time, he did turn to look at her. “Mistakes are part of any experiment.”

  She hissed at him, pushed away the gentle, calming hand of the Order member beside her. “Calling yourself a mistake, huh, Pops? How many species are you now?”

  “I was born a Pureblood, mongrel.” He sneered, but inside, the weight of his physical and emotional exhaustion threatened to fell him. “What I did to myself, how I used my own flesh, my own blood to test the DNA of other species, was for the good of our race, to better our race. My sacrifice makes me a hero. But your birth will always make you trash.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “That’s quite enough,” Feeyan interrupted smoothly.

  “Look how he speaks to a member of the Order,” Dillon said hotly. “You know he doesn’t give a shit about the Eternal Breed.” Her eyes narrowed on Cruen. “Do you have a personal reason for wanting us to infiltrate the Rain Forest shifters, Daddy Dipstick?”

  Growing weaker by the second, Cruen was doing his very best not to collapse, drop like a stone—his backside into the sand. “Do you have a personal reason for keeping the Order out, mongrel daughter?”

  She leaned forward on the table and grinned broadly. “Shall we talk daughters?”

  “Enough!” Feeyan cried, standing, her hands outstretched.

  Cruen eyeballed Dillon with new interest. The mutore female clearly knew about his connection to Petra and the balas. She knew Petra was his daughter. But why wasn’t she revealing it? Why wasn’t she using it against him?

  Why didn’t she want the Order to know about the relationship?

  “Synjon Wise has not been in contact,” Dillon told the others with forced calm.

  “What does that mean?” Looming above them all, Feeyan turned to look at her. “He’s no longer there?”

  “He’s there. But we haven’t been given access to him.”

  “Haven’t been given?” Cruen repeated with a painfully forced laugh. “A Pureblood is being held captive and the Order remains silent.”

  “He is not captive,” Dillon returned hotly. “He is there feeding his unborn balas.”

  Feeyan was silent for a moment, closing her eyes and muttering incantations under her breath. Exhausted, both mentally and physically, Cruen watched her. He knew this game. He’d played it many times. Gathering silence, gathering attention, showing his power. He wondered why the new leader of the Order hadn’t developed her own tricks of the trade.

  When she opened her eyes again, they were a stark and shocking white, and her voice boomed when she spoke. “I want the Purebloods brought here, Dillon. If what you say is true, they need only claim their situation and I will return them.”

  “But,” Dillon began, looking more nervous than Cruen had ever seen her, “the veana is late in her swell.”

  “Flash does not impact swell in a Pureblood veana.” Feeyan lifted her chin and added imperiously, “But that is not something you would know, is it?”

  Dillon’s nostrils flared, and her jaw went tight, but she said nothing.

  “You have twenty-four hours to bring them before me, or the Order will see this as a true Pureblood abduction, even an act of war by the shifter breed.”

  “Perhaps I can help this situation along,” Cruen offered. “Go with Dillon to speak to the shifters.”

  Feeyan turned her attention on him.

  “No way,” Dillon said quickly before the leader could answer. “I don’t want him there. The shifters won’t want him there. Not after he revealed them, betrayed them. I’m trying to do this with diplomacy.”

  “Don’t you think your presence there will cause more pushback?” Feeyan asked Cruen. “Better to let the Order handle things.”

  “The Order,” he began in a calm voice, “specifically one Order member, Dillon, tried to handle things and failed. I care about the Purebloods held hostage not only because they are Eternal Breed but because one of them carries my blood.”

  The world around him fell into utter silence. The Order members sat up straighter, all of their eyes on him as they waited for him to reveal more. For one moment it felt like old times to Cruen. He was all-powerful. Their leader. He captured their attention and respect, then used it to further his cause.

  Perhaps he would have that again someday.

  Feeyan didn’t seem to possess it.

  For now, though, he needed access, a valid reason, and a ride into the Rain Forest community.

  His gaze connected only with Feeyan. “The Pureblood veana in swell happens to be my daughter.” Through his emotional pain and physical exhaustion, he lifted his chin and smiled. “I will make sure she and the paven held captive are returned.”

  * * *

  Petra dove under the water and swam downriver a few yards. The sun was sinking, staining the sky a beautiful ripe mango color. Sasha and Valentin had arrived at the cabin a little while ago for their evening shift. Confident almost to the point of cocky, they’d told Petra all was handled and she didn’t need to return until morning.

  For breakfast, they’d added with sneers in Synjon’s direction. A dig that Syn completely ignored.

  Right before she’d walked out the door, she’d pulled Sasha aside and warned him that arrogance was a dangerous mind-set to be in with someone as experienced and cunning as Synjon Wise. But Sasha had only reminded her that he and Val had already bested the cunning Brit, and on the paven’s home turf no less. Containing him would be far less complicated.

  They were tying Syn up as she closed the door and headed for her parents’ home.

  A loud roar met her ears as she broke the surface of the water. Shifting from bear to male on the bank, Brodan gave her a grin, then dove in beside her. They’d seen each other naked for years. It was just part of the shifter way. But there was something different about it now, and Petra wasn’t sure why. Without making a big deal about it, she floated back a few inches, keeping space between them.

  “Where’s blood boy?”

  His hair wet, and his eyes flashing in the dying rays of the sun, Brodan looked incredibly handsome.

  “Back at the house.”

  “You tie him up?”

  She shook her head. “Sasha and Val took care of it.”

  Brodan’s sharp eyes narrowed. “I hate that you need him.”

  “Me too,” she said, though the words weren’t as quick to leave her tongue as they should’ve been. “But it won’t be much longer.”

  He splashed water on his face. “It should’ve been me.”

  His words stilled her. “What do you mean?”

  “I should’ve been the one to help you.”

  “Brodan—”

  “I know. I know. I get the biological connection.” He took a deep breath and blew it out. “I just wish . . . shit . . .”

  “What?”

  His eyes came up and locked on hers. “I just wish it could’ve been me.”

  Her insides tightened. It wasn’t a surprise to hear, and in fact she’d thought the same thing a million times over the past few months. Brodan would be an incredible father. Loyal and loving. Fun and generous with his time and attention.

  “Hey,” he said, dropping his chin, giving her a soft look.

  “What?”

  “I didn’t say that to make you feel uncomfortable.”

  “I know. And I’m not.” She gave him a small smile. “You’ll be an inc
redible father. And mate.”

  “To some lucky shifter female?” he said with a grin. “Is that where you’re going, Pets? Because if you are, I’m not sure I’m ready to hear it.”

  She shook her head. “No, that’s not where I was going.”

  His brows lifted. “Interesting.” His eyes warmed. “So, have you decided what you’re going to do after the baby is born? Where you want to be? And with whom?” His eyes roamed her face. “What would be best for the cub?”

  “Vampire,” came a male voice behind her.

  Petra gasped, her gaze flying to the bank, her hands flying to her chest as she scrambled to cover herself. What the hell?

  Backlit by the intense white moonlight was Synjon Wise. “Not cub,” he said. His arms were crossed over his chest, his broad, heavily muscled chest.

  “Syn—,” she breathed.

  “You remember my name, love,” he remarked dryly. “Even as you float around naked with the doctor here. Well, I suppose that’s something.”

  “How did you . . . ?” She glanced past him to the house in the distance. Panic bubbled within her. “Where are they? Sasha and Val? What did you do to them?”

  He shrugged. “I told you, as I told them, that I’m expecting guests this evening.”

  Brodan, who had been farther away from the shore, was hauling ass out of the water, nearly in midshift.

  “No!” Petra called out to him. “Brodan, wait.”

  The male paused and looked back at her, gave her a quick growl.

  She shook her head at him. “No. Please. I don’t want anyone hurt.”

  Synjon nodded, his tone and manner utterly controlled, as emotionless as always. “She’s a wise one, Dr. Feelgood. The blood of a bear has always intrigued me.”

  Tearing his gaze from Petra, Brodan inched closer, growling with menace.

  “Syn,” Petra said warningly. “My brothers.”

  “Are fine. Just a bit tied up at the moment.” He shrugged at the easy joke, then pulled in a breath. “They really are decent blokes. Protective of their family. I respect that. But the jokes, love, and all that male braying. Gets tedious.”

  They weren’t hurt. Only tied up. Relief spilled through Petra and she sank an inch farther under the water. It wasn’t as though she was surprised. Somehow she’d known he would find a way out of his captivity. Somehow she’d known that even with that moment they’d had that afternoon, his hand to her belly, feeling the movement of the balas beneath his palm—even though she’d swear she saw a hint of emotion, connection, in his eyes—he wasn’t tied to her . . . to their balas. Not even by the thinnest of strings.