Chosen by Sin

by Virna DePaul

  “That’s easy for you to say, now that you’ve discovered your traitor father wasn’t a traitor after all. But that’s not gonna happen with me. My grandfather is a son of a bitch who deserves everything he’s got coming.”

  “Fine. Just think about what I said. And I still want your promise.”

  “You’d trust my promise?”

  “Yes.”

  Dex hesitated for a few seconds, thinking of Lucy. Of the promise he’d already made her. Since when had protecting women become a pastime for him? Next thing he knew, O’Flare would be extracting a promise from him to care for Wraith. And there was no doubt in his mind that despite his reluctance to label his team friends, he would agree. Why waste any more time, Knox’s or his, by denying what Knox already knew Dex would agree to? “I promise.”

  They stared at each other with mutual understanding and—again, it couldn’t be denied—respect. They’d come a long way since trying to kill each other at the Para-Ops team’s first meeting. As Knox turned away, Dex stopped him.

  “Wait. I have a question for you. Can vampires manipulate dreams?”

  Knox frowned. “I’ve heard it’s possible, though I’m not sure how.”

  “Have you heard of a female vampire with scars on one arm? Like she’d put her arm through a sheet of glass when she was young?”

  “Is this about the vamp you met at the club?”

  Of course Knox would have heard about Dex’s encounter with Jesmina from the others, but Dex still didn’t like Knox knowing his business. He supposed it was the price he paid for working on a team, but even when he’d been with the Ferals he hadn’t let anyone that close. Not like this.

  “I can put feelers out for you,” Knox offered.

  “She might have something to do with a recent visit from an old friend. One I wasn’t particularly keen on seeing.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes. You want a favor from me?”

  Leave it to the vamp to push the matter. “Yes,” Dex gritted out. What he really wanted was to question Jes himself. Ask her why she’d left so suddenly. Why she hadn’t bitten him. But anything Knox found out would be better than what Dex knew now—zilch.

  Knox chuckled. “See you soon, Dex.”

  After Knox left, Dex returned to his pacing. Within minutes, however, the surgery doors opened and a tired-looking human in scrubs walked up to him.

  “Mr. Hunt?”

  “Yes?”

  “I was told you were waiting to question my patient. The shape-shifter that was brought in? I’m sorry to tell you he didn’t make it. His wounds were too serious. We tried, but…”

  With a sigh and a shrug, the doctor turned away.

  Dex cursed. Mahone had the police reports from the responding officers, but Dex had been banking on getting information from the victim himself. Obviously that wasn’t going to happen now.

  He left to report to Mahone. On his way, he thought about his conversation with Knox. Not the conversation about Felicia, but about Dex’s plan for revenge against his grandfather.

  What was it Knox had said? Hell, Dex, you’ve got a good life now. Don’t you think you should forget about the past? Move on?

  But Knox didn’t get it. Knox’s brother Zeph might have kept secrets from him, but that was hardly the same thing as sending your grandson off to be abused or causing your own daughter to kill herself. Avenging himself and his mother was the only way Dex was ever going to be able to move on. The real problem was that he’d gotten sidetracked.

  By the team. The missions. Jes.

  That had to stop.

  No matter what Knox found out for him, Rurik’s appearance in his dream had been a sign that Dex needed to concentrate on his own future.

  He was going to kill Bodin of Hammersham. Soon.

  But first he had to keep his word to Mahone and figure out why shape-shifters were killing each other.

  Since he hadn’t been able to question the shape-shifter who’d just died in the operating room, maybe he could question another one. Why not the shape-shifter who’d drugged Lucy at the same bar in which he’d met Jesmina? He’d clued them in to Maddox and his sterilizations, even as Lucy was rifling through the guy’s safe. If Dex was lucky, the shape-shifter was still being held in L.A. And if Dex was really lucky, the shape-shifter would know something about these recent murders.

  Failing that, Dex would go to France. Hell, maybe he’d track down Jes while he was there. But after the time they’d spent together—after how much she’d affected him—he knew it was the last thing he should do.

  CHAPTER NINE

  To one who felt and feared, the approach of the end of a world might be experienced as a significant event. To Essenia, it was merely something to stop. A task to complete based on a niggling sense of injustice. If she succeeded, great. If she failed, so be it. Either way, the event would have minimal, if any, effect on her. She’d simply move on to the next task, the next compulsion, with a slightly better understanding of her place in things but no real emotion for the creatures that had come and gone.

  Emotion was a tricky concept for her. From what she knew, emotion came with a personal stake as well as fluctuation. Degrees of sensation. For her creatures, both human and Otherborn, anger and passion burned, joy expanded, grief constricted. What she felt, on the other hand, was an appropriate response to certain stimuli—responses that humans might describe as anger, amusement, or pleasure depending on her behavior—but each was felt equally and each was equally forgettable. Other than their ability to effectuate action in others, the feelings were nothing personal to her.

  Her beginning and her end were timeless, what happened in between meaningless. There was only her service to drive her.

  Until now.

  Now she felt something she’d never felt before. Something she hadn’t been able to anticipate with familiar detachment. Something quite unexpected.

  Hesitation.

  It had first hit her during her last visit with the human Kyle Mahone. At the end of his team’s last mission, instead of showing satisfaction at the outcome or sneering at her as he was sometimes inclined to do, Mahone had closed his eyes and uttered, “I’m tired.” With those words, just for one brief moment, Essenia had longed to close her eyes and whisper that she was tired, too.

  What she hadn’t known was why.

  As such, she’d played the role Mahone had come to expect.

  Goddess. Tyrant. Bitch.

  Yet, he knew. Knew she was trying to stop something far more powerful than herself from eradicating his world. That knowledge connected them. Made him the one creature that knew her better than any other.

  And now it was almost too late.

  Just months ago, she’d given him a task. Form a team of humans and Otherborn, and within one year prove her creatures were capable of changing their world for the better or face annihilation. He’d done the first and the team had made strides toward the latter. But things had changed.

  Through no fault of hers, he might not get the year she’d promised.

  The change of the seasons was upon them.

  The gates would soon widen, allowing that flash of simultaneous creation and destruction that had only occurred once before.

  Yes, Mahone had good instincts.

  He’d focused on the hotbed of activity among the shape-shifters in France. Had put his team on the task. But that didn’t mean they had any idea what they’d face. This time, their task wasn’t about recovering an antidote from hostile lands or even finding out who was drugging and raping members of the feline community. The danger, Mahone would discover, was one of unimaginable proportions.

  It would be, in human vernacular, an unfair fight.

  Perhaps giving up would be in everyone’s best interest. Accept the turn of the tides in lieu of fighting a losing battle. Once the danger was released, if Mahone and his team failed, then starting over might not be easy.

  Starting over couldn’t even be guaranteed.

  But there it w
as again. A beat of hesitation, like a blip in a hummingbird’s flight. The urge to turn away from what should have been an easy decision.

  The urge to mean something personal to someone, if only for a moment.

  ***

  Mahone knew he had to be dreaming, not because he was masturbating, but because he was actually feeling aroused while doing the deed.

  He hadn’t felt true desire in years, not since the War had started. Not since Bianca…

  Release had become about physical relief or relieving stress, but nothing more.

  He hadn’t been overly concerned. He didn’t have the time or energy to devote to any kind of sexual relationship let alone a romantic one, and he’d long ago given up any fantasies of finding love.

  All that mattered was his job. Helping his team. And appeasing the Goddess.

  If he could do that—

  He hissed as fingers—his own, yes, but also another’s—wrapped themselves around him.

  Pleasure pooled in the bottom of his spine then shot outward. Down his legs. Up his back and through his arms. Everywhere.

  Then the pleasure intensified. Thickened. Until his body could barely contain it.

  It was too much, even for a dream, he thought.

  This is no dream, Human, a feminine voice whispered in his ear, and Mahone suddenly jerked to full awareness.

  He was lying in bed, his fingers wrapped around his shaft, his seed erupting from him in euphoric bursts in time with his jagged, almost sobbing breaths. Sweat covered his entire body, soaking the sheets beneath him and dripping in his eyes, nearly blinding him.

  What the fuck—

  He shouted as another spasm of pleasure shot through him. It was like getting stunned by a Taser, yet like nothing he’d ever experienced.

  The edges of his dream flickered in his awareness then disappeared until he didn’t even know the source of the mind-boggling wet dream. That wasn’t such a surprise. Ever since he’d been approached by the Goddess Essenia, any memories of his dreams vanished instantly upon waking.

  That had been fine with him. He’d been glad not to dream of Bianca Devereaux anymore. Glad that the image of her being reunited with her husband could no longer haunt him when his defenses were down. Tonight, as the painfully exquisite shudders still coursed through him, he was even happier not to know their source. Part of him couldn’t help wondering, however, if his subconscious had been fighting to let Bianca through.

  Only, he’d never felt anything like this, not in dreams about Bianca and not even when he’d been having sex with her.

  For a moment, he craved another dreamlike release, the skillful touch of his imaginary woman’s hands—

  “Human…” Essenia’s whisper in his head.

  What the fuck?

  He shook his head, then threw off his bed covers. Staggering a little, he headed to the bathroom where he splashed water on his face and cleaned up the proof of his release. He waited until the tremors faded and his breathing regulated. Then he carefully made his way back to bed. Hands clasped behind his head, he stared at the ceiling, waiting. Wondering.

  Why had he imagined Essenia lavishing pleasure on him, when all he’d known from her was pain?

  Yet he’d heard tenderness in her voice. Once.

  Just before she’d taunted him again.

  After Wraith had turned back into a human, the Goddess had finally visited him only to imply that one of his team was pregnant. So far Mahone hadn’t confirmed whether it was true. He figured the news would come to him when it was meant to. One thing was for sure—the pregnancy would mean something. For her to have mentioned it, it had to.

  His eyelids grew heavy. He’d been up later than usual, waiting for news on the wounded shape-shifter. By the time Dex had called, telling him the shape-shifter had died on the operating table, it had been nearing six a.m. Now it was almost noon and Mahone had slept the requisite four hours he needed to be in top form. But the dream had drained him in more ways than one, and waiting with bated breath for Essenia to make her next appearance had him on edge. He could use some extra rest.

  He let his lids fall completely. Tried, for the first time in a long time, to conjure memories of Bianca. To remember her as she’d been, before the War, before the vaccine had endangered her health, before her husband had risen from the dead. He tried to remember the way her eyes flashed when he was inside her and the way her body clasped his as if she’d never let him go. He tried to recall the feelings of power and pride and sheer joy she’d pulled from him.

  But he couldn’t.

  Instead, when he slipped into sleep, his arms held a woman he’d never seen before. A woman with long flowing hair and a kind, angelic face. A woman who sighed and called him “Human.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  PALADINE ABBEY

  AUVERGNE REGION, FRANCE

  “Dex was in good health then?”

  At Amanda Hammersham’s question, Jes’s fingers hovered above her keyboard. She was back in France, in the huge, cavernous abbey that she’d inherited from her second Draci family. After renovating and adding much-needed modern touches, the abbey now served as her home, laboratory, and medical clinic. The sprawling building and grounds ensured she and her patients had their privacy while also enabling her plenty of notice if an unwanted intruder approached.

  A few days had passed since she’d been in a position to evaluate Dex Hunt’s health. Of course, her position had been flat on her back, and despite her plan, the last thing she’d been doing was evaluating him—more like trying to cling to a fraction of her sanity even as he blew her mind.

  Memories of the were’s vigor and stamina flashed through her. Heat flared across her body, leaving pockets of searing warmth. The intensity of her response surprised her now just as much as it had last night. Deliberately, she kept her gaze on her computer monitor, not trusting her ability to control her expression.

  “He appeared to be in stellar health,” she said quietly. Thankfully, her voice was as cool and modulated as ever. “I still need to test the samples I took. If he has the gift, he certainly has no knowledge of it.”

  She still felt guilty for invading his mind. In doing so, she’d violated vampiric notions of honor and morality. Although she hadn’t been part of that society for decades, her parents had taught her the importance of honesty and ethics.

  In many ways, her actions shamed their memory.

  Even so, she should be long past caring now. Long past the need to explain, even to herself, that she read minds not for titillation or personal gain, but for a much greater purpose. Yet it didn’t matter. Each time she entered someone’s mind without his consent, her sense of identity became more and more lost to her.

  “But you really believe he carries the gift of immortality, don’t you? Based on a rumor about a werewolf legend? Based on the ravings of a werewolf who’s on the verge of senility and death?”

  The disdain in Amanda’s voice made Jes frown. Bodin of Hammersham deserved respect. He was the ruler of the werewolves, a descendant of the first werewolf to walk the earth. He’d also been Jes’s savior and benefactor. He was coming to the end of his life, his muscles withering with age just as much as his brain, but he had led his people for almost five centuries and still received their love and respect. For him to be so easily dismissed, especially by Amanda—his own granddaughter and Dex’s half sister—bothered Jes immensely.

  Amanda had been given love and support, and most of all, a place in Bodin’s life. Those were all things that Jes had craved from the werewolf leader ever since he’d saved her so long ago. Instead, to Jes he’d been a distant guardian. One who time was determined to take away from her. But not if she had anything to do about it. “Bodin must have been confident Dex had the gift. It’s the only reason he would have gone to such extreme lengths to keep him away from the pack. To disown him,” Jes said.

  “He says he disowned him because he was a half-breed bastard,” Amanda pointed out. “An embarrassment.”


  Jes immediately bristled at the unsavory description of Dex. Even Bodin, despite his dedication to Otherborn unity, still occasionally expressed disdain for half-breed werebeasts; his lingering bigotry had obviously influenced Amanda. Jes wanted to leap to Dex’s defense, tell Amanda she didn’t know what the hell she was talking about, but she didn’t. Instead of reacting with emotion, she tried logic instead. “A werewolf who’d save a vampire child, a stranger who meant nothing to him, isn’t a werewolf who would abandon his own grandson without a better reason than bigotry.”

  Amanda’s eyes narrowed at Jes’s subtle jab. “Fine. Even assuming you’re right, that means Bodin sent Dex away to protect him. To protect his destiny. Yet you’re willing to jeopardize Dex’s life for your own purposes.”

  Jes hesitated. It was a fair accusation, one she’d agonized over. It was why she’d done things the way she had. If she’d had any other choice, she wouldn’t have told even Mahone about her research, but she’d needed the money to purchase the high-tech equipment that now awaited her. Plus, there was always the chance something would prevent Jes from continuing her experiments before she could learn the truth. If that happened, she wanted someone else to carry on her research. Amanda had too much at stake, so Jes had chosen Mahone. It had been a calculated risk, but a good one, she’d reasoned. Dex worked for Mahone so on some level Jesmina had felt she could trust Mahone, too. Talking to him on the phone had merely confirmed that she could trust him.

  “Of course I don’t want to jeopardize your brother’s life,” Jes said. “What I meant was, I understand what Bodin was thinking. I understand the danger Dex would be in if others knew. Those who don’t understand the legend might even begin to hunt all werebeasts and werewolves in general, on the off chance they were similarly blessed, able to give others immortality. But I have no plans of exposing what I know. If it turns out the legend is true and that Dex is part of it, I have his blood. That’s all I wanted. It’s all I need. I won’t tell anyone about Dex.” She stared challengingly at Amanda. “Will you?”