by Laura Wright
“You want Cruen,” Lucian said, then sent his cue into the ball, dropping a solid in the right side pocket. “We want Cruen.”
“What?” Syn glanced at the other two pavens. “What are you talking about?”
“That stupid piece-of-shit paven,” Alexander said. “As usual, he’s made a mess of things. This time in the shifter community.”
“He’s still there?” Syn said before leaning down and sending a striped ball into the far left corner pocket.
“Still?” Nicholas said, his sharp eyes locking with Syn’s. “How did you know he was there at all?”
Bloody brilliant, Mr. Wise. Get your head out of your arse and think before you speak. “Petra made a phone call home, remember? Now. Is he being hunted or made a guest?”
Though his gaze remained curious, Nicholas shrugged. “Not sure. Helo, Phane, and Dillon are speaking with the leaders of the factions now, trying to persuade them to go on a little search and capture.”
Syn didn’t mind the search. It was the capture he was worried about. If the shifters, the Romans, the pussy brothers, or whoever caught Cruen, that would mean a different plan. One that utilized his past skills as a spy.
“And what?” Synjon began. “You’re here to ask for my help in tracking him.”
“No,” Alex said, his cue aloft, his focus no longer on the game. “We need you and Petra to go before the Order—”
“Petra’s not going anywhere.” The words were far too quick exiting his mouth. He’d have to watch that.
All three Roman brothers stared at him, studied him.
“We need you to tell them you were never held against your will,” Nicholas said.
“You want me to lie?”
“Fuck, yeah,” Lucian snorted, leaning over the table to try a difficult shot. He was the only one still in the game. “Unless you want a war brought to the Rain Forest.”
Synjon once again ventured a glance at the hallway leading to the spare bedroom. “Why would you think I’d care about the Rain Forest and its occupants?”
Alexander eyed him, the corners of his mouth kicking up. “I don’t know. Maybe because that’s the home of the pregnant veana you stole and brought here because you’re feeling . . . ?”
A curl of annoyance went through Syn, but he kept it in check, kept it hidden. For all the things they thought they knew or had noticed about him, they didn’t know shit about what was going on inside him, or with him and Petra, or with him and the balas. Or how he couldn’t stop thinking about her, wanting her, wanting the balas, and how with each passing minute he grew more and more protective of them both.
“So?” Lucian said, after sending two balls into the left side pocket. “You gonna be a help? Or are you gonna be a total dickhead with no conscience?”
Without even looking at the table, Synjon smacked his cue into the ball. But instead of hitting one of his own, he sent the eight ball into the far right pocket. “That’s a knobhead with no conscience, Frosty.”
Luca grinned, broad and excited. “I’ve missed you, Brit Boy.”
* * *
Cruen stared at the pale gray flesh and sneered. “What do you call this exactly?”
“Cacuba,” said the young water shifter. “It’s a type of eel.”
They sat in the low rock caves near a waterfall spring. Several water shifters swam or sunbathed on the rocks like mermaids, while Robes, the young water shifter, and his older sister, Nore, cut up pieces of what they claimed to be magic-infused flesh.
“And why do you believe this gives one power?” Cruen asked, wondering if he’d made a grave mistake in remaining in the Rain Forest, expending his last shreds of mental and physical strength on a hope.
“We have used it,” Nore said, her dark eyes wide with excitement. “In hunting. In our rituals.”
Cruen took stock of his surroundings. He’d been to this very spot many moons ago, had taken samples from this same species, and yet, as he turned back to the plate of rotting gray flesh that was to make him powerful again, he felt no delight in being here once again. If this was a mistake, if nothing came of it, how could he return to the gathering rocks? Have the strength to return? His guard hadn’t been allowed to follow, and was waiting for him there. To flash him home, or to the table of the Order.
Flash him.
Oh, gods, the humiliation at his loss of power grew worse with every breath.
“Go ahead,” urged Robes, pushing the plate closer to Cruen. “You will see.”
He had fallen. Far and painfully. He grabbed the slimy eel flesh and stuffed it in his mouth. The taste was one of the most vile he’d ever experienced, and instead of chewing, he swallowed it whole.
“Now you will see,” Nore said, clasping her hands together.
Yes, Cruen thought, but will I feel? Will I feel power racing through my veins, my blood? Will I be able to flash to the balcony of one Synjon Wise and force him to remove his emotions from my mind?
Or will I be walking back to the gathering stones, searching, praying to all who will listen that I don’t lose my mind or my breath before I get there?
* * *
Petra sat cross-legged on the bed, picking at the imaginary lint on the new sage green comforter Synjon had insisted on buying her. Across from her, a plush striped green pillow separating them, was Dani.
It was like old times.
Except for the digs.
“There’s only one answer,” Petra said in what she hoped was a firm voice, because Dani rarely responded to anything less.
“So.” Dani cocked her head to the side. “You’re saying this is really about the baby?”
“Of course it’s about the baby.”
The hawk shifter shook her head, disbelieving. “You need to do your repeats.”
“Dani—”
“Here, let me go over them with you.”
“No, thanks.”
“Synjon Wise is a complete ass-cake.”
“Hey, wait.” Petra pointed at her and scowled. “That’s a new one.”
Dani shrugged. “Well, you know, they’re all along the same lines.”
“Listen,” Petra said, eyeing her closest friend in the world. “I don’t need to do any of that shit. I’m a grown female with a balas on the way.”
“Right. And the father of that balas just happens to be the guy you’ve always had a huge thing for. The guy who has whisked you off to his cocksure penthouse on top of the world, Pretty Woman’d your ass, and once again tried to get up your skirt. Did I leave anything out?”
Petra leaned back against her pillows—her very pretty, very green pillows—and grinned. “Yes.”
Dani’s eyes widened. “Oh, that motherfucker! What more did he do?”
“The part you left out is me saying no to the up-your-skirt.”
She sniffed. “For now.”
Petra shook her head. “Don’t. Don’t do that. I’m not an idiot.”
“Of course you’re not. But you’re into that bastard. You may even be in love with him.”
Petra’s chest tightened, and the air inside her lungs released in a rush, but she still managed to push out a pretty convincing response. “Come on.”
“I’m eye-rolling right now in case you can’t tell.”
“My plan is to come home after I have the baby and start a life and a family with Brodan.”
Silence claimed the bedroom for a good ten seconds, and then Dani said, “Brodan, huh?”
“Yes.” That tightening in Petra’s chest upgraded to a rusty, painful vise.
“He’s a good male.”
Petra nodded. “He totally is.”
“The best.”
“Definitely.”
Again Dani paused. Then, “Yeah, that’ll never happen.”
Petra broke out laughing. “You asshole, Dani.”
Dani started laughing too.
“I love you—you know that?” Petra said, climbing off the bed.
The hawk shifter followed suit. “I love
you too.”
Petra linked arms with her as they walked out the door and down the hall. “Come on. I’ll take you to your launchpad.”
“Fine.” Dani gave her a warning look. “But you’ve got my number.”
“Damn right I do.” Petra gave her best friend a wry grin as they entered the living room.
First thing Petra noticed was that all three Roman brothers were gathered around the pool table talking. The second thing she noticed was that Synjon wasn’t among them.
She pushed past Dani and eyed the brothers. “Where is he?”
“Gone,” Alex said, placing his stick on the table.
Dani came to stand at her side. “No freaking way.”
Petra’s gut twisted, and she looked from Alex back to Dani. “What? What’s wrong? What did you do?”
Dani turned and gave her a mixture of a smirk and a sneer. “Yeah. You don’t dig his ass at all.” Shaking her head, she left Petra’s side and walked toward the sliding glass door. “That selfish paven has done something unselfish, that’s all.”
Confused and growing slightly concerned, Petra turned to Alex, Nicholas, and Lucian. “Where is he?”
Nicholas put his pool cue down next to Alex’s. “He’s going before the Order.”
Petra gasped. It was as if her unbeating heart had suddenly dropped to her feet. “What? Oh, my gods. Why?”
“To tell them the shifters are harmless,” Lucian answered. “And that he wasn’t taken or held there against his will.”
He was going to lie to the Order? “Why would he do that?”
Nicholas stared at her strangely. Lucian shook his head and placed his cue on the table with the rest of them.
“Perhaps he has some feeling after all, veana,” he said, his Merlot eyes soft as they swept over her belly.
“But that’s not possible,” she said. “Is it?”
Alex smiled. “Who’s to say what’s possible when it comes to matters of the heart? My mate is an Impure. We’re about to welcome a balas I was once terrified to even contemplate.” He raised one dark eyebrow. “Is it all that hard to believe that even if our old emotions are stripped away, we can’t grow new ones in their place?”
Petra felt tears behind her eyes. Tears that had nothing to do with her swell or hunger or the strange, overwhelming, and debilitating problem she’d been suffering from all week.
“We should get out of here,” Lucian said to Nicholas. “Grab Mr. Hallmark Card over there and let’s motor. I want to see my veanas. Lucy’s first fang is growing in.”
“You don’t know if that’s fang,” Nicholas retorted, heading for the sliding glass door.
Outside, Dani snorted again. “Don’t fall for it, Pets. Not for Alex’s pretty words or Wise’s pretty face.” Then she turned to the Roman brothers. “I’m assuming the three of you don’t need a ride.”
“Nope,” Lucian said. “We’re all good, shifter.”
Dani gave Petra one last grin before stripping down, shifting to her hawk, and taking off into the cold night air.
15
With the exception of the Impure, they were all as bloody arrogant and insufferable as they ever were.
Syn stood front and center at their table, feet in the sand. It was so predictable. Couldn’t they mix it up a bit? Change the climate, ditch the table?
“Synjon Wise.” It was Feeyan who addressed him first, because clearly she was now the leader in Cruen’s stead. He wondered if the veana admired or despised the ex-leader. He imagined a little of both. “What an unexpected pleasure.”
“It’s no pleasure of mine,” he said coolly. “And how unexpected could it be? You demanded I come before you.”
Her lip curled just a fraction. “So Dillon found you.”
“I was never lost.”
She swept her arm down the table, indicating the others. “After we heard news of your abduction and imprisonment we were quite concerned.”
“Never happened.”
“Which one?” she asked. “The abduction or the imprisonment?”
“Both.”
Her flour white eyebrows lifted. “That is not the information I received.”
Syn’s gaze moved down the row of other Order members. They had to be getting tired of this act, this routine. The Impure male sure looked bored.
“And who gave you this information, then?” Syn asked, returning his attention to Feeyan.
She inclined her head. “That is confidential.”
He sniffed, laughed softly. “You’re dealing with Cruen again, aren’t you? After all he’s done. All he’s guilty of. The lies and the manipulations.”
“Your personal history colors your—”
“He murdered my veana.” He cut her off, but the words were no longer impassioned on his tongue. It was simply a fact. There was good in having his emotions bled, even if it kept him from the ability to love and care for others. “He stole her, kept her in a cage like an animal. Lucian Roman, too. These were Pureblood vampires. The ones you claim to care about, wish to fight an innocent group of shifters over.”
Feeyan didn’t like this line of conversation, and down the row of Order members there was a stirring, questions and chatter. Feeyan hissed at them, then tried to steer Syn in another direction. “You were instructed to bring the veana, Petra.”
Where there had been little emotion before, there was a small tidal wave now. “The mother of my balas is resting, as she should be.”
“Then you may tell me,” Feeyan said far too graciously. “Were you or were you not held by the shifters?”
“Not.”
“Do you consider them a threat?”
“Far from it. They seem a right peaceful lot. The opposite of us.”
She tossed him a death stare. “That’s enough. You may go, Mr. Wise.”
He grinned coldly. “Lovely. So you’ll leave the Rain Forest and its inhabitants alone.”
“Not yet.”
Synjon drew closer to the table, his eyes pinned on her frigid white orbs. The Order members around them started whispering. “I just told you—”
“You may be out, you may have been freed, but there is another there who has not.”
Shite. That bloody prat.
Syn eyed every member at that table, his tone ultraserious now. “If you allow Cruen to force you into a war with a peaceful tribe, you’ll regret it. The Breed will regret it.”
“No one forces me, Mr. Wise,” she practically snarled. “I am the leader of the Order. I make the decisions.”
“You sound as though you’re trying to convince yourself of that fact.” He cocked his head to one side. “Having a little trouble living up to the title?”
As the whispering intensified, Feeyan pushed to her feet, her eyes boring a hole in his head, and waved a hand at him, sending him back to the Hollow. She wanted him gone. She wanted his words, ideas, concerns, and truths cut off and buried before the other Order members started developing minds of their own.
And before they realized their leader was not as secure in her position as she wanted them to believe.
* * *
Petra paced back and forth before the glass doors, feeling like an asinine teenager. The Order was purported to be cruel, vindictive, and unpredictable. Which would they be with Synjon?
She heard Dani’s voice in her head. Her best friend’s warning was a completely legitimate one. Worrying about, caring about, maybe even falling for Synjon Wise might be the greatest mistake of her life. But she couldn’t help herself.
“Tearing up my rug, are you, love?”
She gasped and whirled around to see Synjon standing in the frame of the sliding glass door, snow dusting his clothes. “What did they say? What did you say?”
He stepped inside and closed the door. “Everything’s fine.”
“‘Fine,’” she repeated with mild irritation. “That’s all you’re giving me?”
He brushed the already melting flakes from his jacket. “You look worried.”
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“I am.”
“About the shifters?”
“Of course. And the Rain Forest. Is the Order still threatening to go there and make trouble, or are they satisfied that you’re no longer being held prisoner?”
“They are.” He walked past her over to the couch. “They have a new issue.”
She followed him. “What now?”
“Seems there’s a Pureblood paven still in the forest. His whereabouts are unaccounted for since he left the party he came there with.”
Her gut twisted. “Cruen.”
He nodded.
“Maybe he went there for me, to make sure I was okay. Maybe he heard about how I was feeling this past week and . . .” She stopped talking. Even as she said the words she didn’t believe them. She wondered why he was really there. Whether he was once again trying to get something from the shifter community—something more than their DNA this time.
She hung her head. Her father just continued to be a disappointment.
“And for a moment I thought some of that manic pacing might be for me.”
Her eyes came up, swept over the gorgeous male vampire sitting with cool casualness on the leather sofa. “You can handle yourself, Mr. Wise.” She itched to join him. Maybe snuggle up against his side while he whispered things in her ear. Dirty things. She mentally rolled her eyes. “You don’t need any help or worry from anyone.”
His gaze locked with her own. “I told the Order I went and stayed in the Rain Forest of my own free will.”
“Thank you.” She bit her tongue against asking him why. Who was that act of kindness for? What did he have to gain by helping the shifters?
“And if Cruen doesn’t fuck things up royally, you and the bear shifter can set up house without any fear of intrusion by the vicious and calculating vampires.”
“Vicious and calculating.” She grinned at him. “Are we talking about the Order or yourself, Mr. Wise?”
“The Order, of course. Why would I interfere in that budding romance?”