Thane kept his hands on her face as his eyes tracked the tiny drifting lights. “I still don’t know what they are.”
“Have you seen them since . . . you know, since the other day?”
He shook his head. “No. They only seem to appear when I’m . . .” He returned his attention to her. “. . . when I’m with you.” The golden flecks in his eyes glowed brighter just as the dancing lights in her periphery became more radiant. He heaved a deep breath. “Violet, I . . . I know you’ve had a rough day, and I don’t want you to feel like I’m taking advantage of you, so it’s okay to say no. I just . . . can I . . . kiss you?”
Her eyebrows inched up. The last time they’d kissed he hadn’t asked her permission; there was no need.
Instead of saying anything, she raised up on her toes and pressed her lips to his. Every trace of embarrassment and uncertainty melted away as she wrapped her arms around his waist.
His response was instantaneous. He took a step closer—eliminating the gap between them—and cupped one hand around the back of her neck. Shivers ran up her spine as he deepened the kiss. His tongue traced her bottom lip, then the top, before reaching inside to find her own tongue.
Violet moaned and her knees buckled. She leaned into him, clutching at the fabric of his shirt as his hands trailed down her back. He took hold of her waist and lifted her onto the island, and she eagerly hugged her legs around his hips. Her skin tingled where his lips brushed against her cheek, teased along her jaw. She tilted her head and arched back, inviting him farther down. The feather kisses traced her collarbone, lingered at the hollow of her neck, followed an achingly slow path back up to her throat.
Violet tangled her fingers in Thane’s hair as his lips found hers again. The scent of sandalwood, cedar, and mint engulfed her with each breath. His defined muscles were evident even through the barrier of his shirt, and she ran her hands over his chest until she found and unhitched a button. She moved on to the next, and then the next, inch by inch revealing his toned body. Their kiss grew more fervent as she explored his perfect contours.
He reached under the hem of her shirt, and shivers raced along her spine as he stroked his hands over her ribs and back. He paused when he reached her bra strap, resting his forehead against hers, his eyes closed. His heavy breaths mingled with her own. For a few heartbeats, he just held her.
“What’s wrong?” Violet asked.
“Nothing’s wrong. Everything’s perfect.” He took a few more breaths before continuing. “I just . . . I want to make sure . . . I don’t . . . want to do anything you don’t want to do.”
“I want what you want,” she said after a few ragged pants. “I want you.”
“Are you sure?”
She placed her hands on his cheeks and stroked his closed eyelids, just as he’d done to her moments ago. “I’m sure.”
He smiled. When he opened his eyes, they were more golden than brown. He lifted her from the bench and carried her into the bedroom, leaving a trail of dazzling lights behind them.
A gentle caress against Violet’s cheek brought her out of the realm of sleep. It continued over her jaw and lips, up over her cheekbone and brow, then down her nose. The light touch feathered over the lashes of one closed eye and then over the other.
Thane.
At the thought of his name, her soul sang with an echo of last night’s euphoria.
His fingers brushed over her lips, then pulled away all too soon. She opened her eyes just as Thane shifted off the bed and headed into the en suite, closing the door behind him. A few seconds later the shower turned on.
Violet rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling, her fingers retracing Thane’s gentle caress over her lips. She smiled. The memories of last night lingered against her skin: the feel of his hands, his mouth, his body. What it had been like to fall asleep locked in his embrace.
She’d never expected to experience such a profound connection—with anyone.
Her whole life had proven she couldn’t trust anyone but herself, especially not at the level an intimate relationship required. Long ago, she’d decided love wasn’t for her. It only ever exposed your heart to abuse, betrayal, and deep, deep loss, as it did for every bickering foster parent who couldn’t figure out how to love their own flesh and blood, let alone an orphan left at their doorstep by child services.
But Thane was different.
He knew how to reach her, on her level. To unravel her layer by layer, exposing feelings, dreams, and desires she’d never known. With him, she felt . . . complete. How was that even possible for someone as broken as her?
Her brow creased. Clearly there were a lot of things she had yet to understand about herself, about Thane and this relationship with him. She still didn’t know what to think about what he’d said on the balcony. What was with that pledging stuff—blood and breath and . . . bones? It was a little weird, and yet it was the most sincerely anyone had ever spoken to her.
A sudden stab of grief pierced through her thoughts, followed by a rush of guilt. Bessie. Her eyes squinted shut. Her friend had been killed just over twenty-four hours ago, and here she was having the time of her life with Thane.
No. She couldn’t stand to dwell on that. Not yet.
Hissing out a sigh, she flopped onto her belly and snuggled closer into the pillows. A smudge of makeup stained the pristine white pillowcase in front of her face. With a frown, she propped her head up to get a better look. Damn it! It hadn’t even crossed her mind to wash off her makeup before falling asleep, but how had she managed to get so much of it on Thane’s pillow? Ugh! She’d just have to apologize and try to clean it later.
The shower turned off. Rolling out of bed, Violet got dressed in one of Thane’s white button-up shirts. The en suite door was slightly ajar, and she nudged it open, revealing Thane standing at the vanity wrapped in a towel.
“Morning,” she said. “For breakfast, I was thinking—”
Thane spun, knocking items from the vanity onto the floor.
“Oops! I didn’t mean to scare you,” Violet said, covering her grin with her hand. She bent down to pick up a tube that had rolled up to her foot.
Thane gave a lopsided grin. “It’s all good.” He picked his way over the scattered items to wrap his arms around Violet’s waist and kiss her. “I just can’t believe you’re really here.”
Tingles rippled through Violet’s core, spreading through the rest of her body. She circled her own arms around Thane’s neck and tilted her chin up for a deeper kiss, losing her breath when he responded by pinning her body against the door frame. For a few seconds, or perhaps an eternity, Thane’s hands moved over her, reexploring her curves.
Just when Violet was sure the events of last night were about to be reenacted, her stomach made a very loud grumble.
Thane smiled against her mouth. “I’m sorry, you were saying something about breakfast?”
“Nope. Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Another audible growl. Curse you, stomach.
Thane raised an amused eyebrow. “How about we get some breakfast first, and then we can pick up where we left off.”
She heaved an overly dramatic sigh. “Fine. If you and my stomach are going to gang up on me, then I’d like to suggest we go to that little café I saw down the road.”
“Sounds like a plan. And sounds like we’ll need clothes.” He eyed his shirt, the only covering Violet had on at the moment.
Violet pouted. “Fine. But only because I don’t want to be arrested for indecent exposure.”
He chuckled.
She remembered the tube in her hand. “Here’s your . . . makeup?” Squinting at the label, she read: Movie Magic Concealer, Great for covering birthmarks, scars, and tattoos. Lasts for twelve hours. Confused, she looked up. “Why do you have . . . ?”
Then she noticed his neck. A tattoo that hadn’t been there the night before. A tattoo that had haunted her every day since she was sixteen. A tattoo of a crystal scorpion.
>
Where the hell was her switchblade?
20
I’m Very Pervable
All too soon, Sagan announced it was time to start driving again. Nathan groaned, unsure whether he’d managed to sleep at all.
The young hunter navigated the Defender through the forest like an expert rally driver, only slowing down when they reached the mountain pass. It became clear why Sagan had insisted on journeying up the range by daylight. Many sections of the dirt road had washouts and fallen boulders, and in places, the road was barely wide enough for the Defender. Nathan gripped the door handle tight, trying his best to avoid looking down the sheer drop outside his window. He only relaxed once the Defender left the mountain pass and was back on asphalt, winding through another forest.
Nathan gave a slight shake of his head. How had he ended up here, riding shotgun with a hunter who had rescued him—from the kid’s own father, no less? He leaned his elbow on the door and rested his chin on his hand, scanning the trees as they whipped past.
“So, I’ve been meaning to ask,” said Sagan, cutting through Nathan’s thoughts, “what’s so special about Violet?”
Nathan glanced over at him.
“I mean,” Sagan hastily added, “why is the queen trying to kill her?”
Nathan shifted in his seat. “Well, that’s a bit of a long story.”
“We’ve got two hours until we reach the next town.”
“Oh.” Nathan turned his attention back to the forest, contemplating whether to respond or not. “How about this? I’ll answer your questions if you answer mine.”
“Fine, but that depends on the questions.”
“Okay, what about this one: why are you trying to help Violet? I thought you hunters were all about spilling blood to fill the vials in your amulets, not rescuing people.”
“Because I . . .” Sagan let a few moments pass before continuing. “Because I owe it to Violet for being there for my sister, when I . . . I wasn’t there for her.”
“Oh,” Nathan said, a little taken aback. He tried to come up with something better to say, but thankfully, Sagan kept going.
“Lyla was bullied in high school, and as much as I tried to be there for her, my father kept dragging me along on all his hunting missions. When Violet befriended her, it was like her whole world changed. She was happy, confident. I’ll always be grateful to Violet for that.
“When they were kidnapped, my father and I were out of town. I was sent home early, and when I found out what happened, I immediately searched for Lyla. But . . . I was too late.” Sagan’s quiet voice turned sour. “Your queen sent those Veniri slavers to snatch my sister, and I’m going to make her pay for it.”
“Hmm” was all Nathan managed to say. He’d fully expected Sagan to hedge around any question he asked, not answer with his heart on his sleeve.
“So, why does the queen want Violet?” Sagan asked. “I’ve spent enough time with Violet to know she’s not Veniri, and the queen wouldn’t hire my father to track down a simple human girl if something else wasn’t going on.”
Nathan quirked an eyebrow. “Pretty sharp.” He blew out a heavy sigh. “You’re right, there is something else going on, but it’s not Violet the queen wants. Violet is just a means to an end. She’s the key in tracking down her mother and sister.”
“What?” Sagan’s head snapped to him. “Her mother and sister?”
“Yeah.” Nathan had never expected he’d be having this conversation with anyone. He’d meant to take the secret to his grave, to ensure not only Violet’s safety but also her mother’s and younger sister’s. If he was to spill this to anyone, an Erathi hunter should’ve been at the bottom of the list. Even so, a deal was a deal.
Plus, he’d kept all this pent up for so many years. Maybe this was an aftereffect of opening up about the Veniri funeral rites last night. If so, the floodgates were truly open now.
“Violet’s mother was kidnapped from the hospital right after Violet was born. She was taken by the Veniri and enslaved as a breeder.”
“A breeder? Is that . . . what I think it is?”
“It’s precisely what you think it is.”
Nathan ignored Sagan’s snort of disgust and continued. “Over the last century, there’s been a rapid decline in the birth of Veniri females. No one knows why, but it’s gotten to the point where only one female is born for every one hundred males.
“Long before I was born, one of the early queens decided something drastic needed to be done to avoid our race’s extinction, so she introduced the breeding program, where young Erathi females were kidnapped and forced to breed with our males. It was meant to be temporary, but unfortunately, the program hasn’t helped much.”
Sagan shook his head. “Surely there’s got to be a better way to preserve your race than kidnapping our kind.”
“Like what?” Nathan put on a pompous accent. “Excuse me, Mr. President, our shifter race is dying. Please give us your females to make more shifter babies.”
Sagan rolled his eyes. “Point taken. But what about the forced breeding stuff? I highly doubt your elitist males would be over the moon about shacking up with Erathi girls.”
“Yes, the breeding program is vulgar for Erathi and Veniri alike, but the Veniri are aware it’s a necessary evil.”
“Definitely evil,” sneered Sagan. “So what about the babies then? I’m assuming you’re a product of an Erathi-Veniri combo? Is that why you guys can shift?”
“As far as I know, our race has always been shifters.”
“So, one thing I’ve always wanted to know, how did the Veniri originate on Earth?”
Nathan shrugged. “How did werewolves originate? How did the Yranum originate? Or the Djiovis and all the other shifters?” He shot a pointed look at Sagan. “How did the Erathi originate on Earth?”
“Hmm . . .”
“I don’t know, kid. I haven’t been schooled in the origins of the Veniri, but we tend to only shift when we leave our . . . ah, colony. There’s no need to be in human form otherwise.
“And yes, my mother was an Erathi breeder. Erathi DNA is more compatible with Veniri than that of any other shifter race. The Veniri gene is very dominant, and every baby born in the breeding program has been practically a full-blooded Veniri. However, there’s a tiny dilution with each generation, and I’ve been told that if the breeding program continues, within a millennium we’ll be virtually human.”
Sagan snorted. “And that would be a bad thing?”
Nathan shrugged. “Who knows? I won’t be around to find out.”
“Okay, so, what’s the deal with Violet? Why does the queen need her?”
“Idalia needs Violet, or even her mother, to track down her sister. Her sister is Veniri, which means she can one day challenge Idalia for the throne.
“The Veniri are matriarchal. We’re ultimately ruled by an empress, but every colony is led by a queen under the empress’s command. And because of their rarity, every female Veniri born becomes royalty by default. When a female comes of age, she can challenge the current queen for power.”
Nathan paused. As much as his mind kept shouting that he shouldn’t be sharing any of this, especially with the likes of an Erathi hunter, finally speaking the straight, untainted truth about himself and his race filled him with undeniable relief. But up to this point, the conversation had basically been a Veniri history lesson. The next part was where things became more personal.
“Unfortunately, because our culture holds our females in such high regard, bitter rivalries and resentment can form between the females. A queen’s law is ultimate—that is, until a new queen comes of age and challenges her.
“In my colony, Queen Idalia was the only female to be born in almost fifty years. At least, that’s what we’d all been led to believe. Just before I left, I found out Idalia was actually slaughtering any female babies being born. Once I found that out, I helped Violet’s mother and infant sister escape.”
“Hmm.” Sagan frowned. �
�But aren’t the Veniri the best trackers in the whole shifter kingdom? Won’t the queen just get one of her minions to track her down?”
“No. My father managed to put a shield on them before he—” Nathan cleared his throat. “They can’t be tracked with a shield. But unfortunately, there’s a loophole. If a Veniri can get a taste of a close family member’s scent, it reignites the shielded person’s scent, and the shield becomes void.”
“But I’m assuming you’ve already put a shield over Violet. In the forest, I saw you put some sort of bright light thing on her head. Was that the shield?”
Nathan gave him a sidelong glance. “Just how close to us were you that night? And how come I didn’t pick up your scent?”
Sagan’s features remained placid, not giving anything away. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“Well, yeah.” Nathan narrowed his eyes. “It’d be nice to know if a sneaky hunter was perving on me.”
Sagan scoffed. “Don’t think too highly of yourself.”
“Why not? Haven’t you noticed? I’m very pervable.”
Sagan just shook his head. “So was the light thing the shield or not?”
The subject change didn’t escape Nathan’s attention, but he had the feeling if he pressed, Sagan would clam up. Regardless of their tentative agreement to give answer for answer, Nathan had every right to clam up himself and cut the conversation short, but his instincts told him Sagan was worth allying with. And having another ally to back him up against Veniri and Erathi enemies certainly wouldn’t be a bad thing.
“Not,” said Nathan, deciding to keep up his end of the “honesty” bargain. He turned his attention to the scenery out the window. They’d passed through the forest a while ago. Lush greenery had been replaced by farmland—vast grassy fields for cattle and sheep, and crops in neat rows stretching to the horizon. Nathan recognized wheat, sugar cane, olive trees, and sorghum.
“The shield requires a gland implant in the subject’s back,” continued Nathan. “If you remove the glands, you remove the shield.”
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