Calm, calculated ice-blue fire.
“The balas likes your blood.” Her tone was as cool as her stare, and in one swift movement she brought his hand to her belly. “Feel. If you can.”
The sensation lasted only a second—from inside her body, through her skin and into his palm—but Syn could not deny its impact.
Was that a shock of emotion?
From a small, satiated being?
He ripped his hand from Petra’s belly and stated flatly, “We’re done here.”
Petra didn’t move. In fact, she was so still, it was almost eerie. Then she grinned. “I don’t think so.” Blood stained her teeth. “I think we’re just getting started.”
5
Euphoria had claimed Petra. She leaned back against the doorframe and sighed.
After months of insecurity and fear, and a week of utter insanity and raging hunger, she could finally breathe without pain and sadness, move without tears.
“I want more,” she uttered, her eyelids lifting to find Synjon several feet away, deep in the bedroom, nearly plunged in darkness except for his arm, the one that had just fed her.
“You’ve had enough,” he said, his tone even but resolute.
Petra barely heard him. She couldn’t stop staring at his wrist, illuminated by the sunshine at her back, and the gaping twin wounds that called to her like a lover. The anger and emotional pain had subsided, but now something new and strange had taken its place.
Possessiveness. Over his blood.
No.
My blood now.
“I didn’t know it could be like that, taste like that,” she said, sounding deliciously drugged even to her own ears. “I must have more.”
Synjon pulled his wrist from the light. “Greedy veanas don’t prosper, love.”
“And selfish paven must pay for their mistakes,” she returned.
“Are you calling your balas a mistake?”
She grinned, feeling absolutely no anger. Only calm seas and ocean breezes. He was trying to bait her into rejecting him. And that may have worked a few minutes ago. But times had changed. She could never reject him now. Even with all she knew about him, all she’d experienced. He had the blood. He had what she craved, the magic elixir that could keep her sane and satiated.
She shook her head drowsily. “No, Mr. Wise. The only mistake I made was pulling you into that cave, saving your life.”
“On that we can agree,” he replied.
Like the cat she’d always wished she could be, Petra slid away from the doorway and stalked into the room. Her insides completely relaxed, she moved toward Syn until she could see him clearly, until her eyes adjusted to the dim light. He stood beside the bed, feet apart, arms at his sides, ready to spring, his eyes narrowed. She couldn’t help herself. Her gaze followed the ridges of muscle in his abdomen up to both the hard planes of his chest and the well-sculpted breadth of his shoulders until she reached what truly interested her. What made her mouth water. What made a guttural moan of need escape her lips.
His neck.
And the long, thick line of pulsing vein beneath.
“You owe me, Synjon,” she said softly. “You owe us.”
“I gave you the blood you require.”
She nodded. “True. You gave me blood.”
“But it’s not enough.”
She shook her head, her lips twitching into another satisfied smile.
“You will break our bargain, then?” he asked, every muscle in his extraordinary body tensing.
“My loyalty is here.” She stopped before him and placed her hand on her belly. “Will always be here.”
His gaze dropped and his nostrils flared. “I suppose I cannot fault you for that.”
His vein called to her. A siren song she could never refuse. Didn’t want to refuse. Saliva filled her mouth in anticipation. She would feed again. Soon. “Until the balas is born, you will remain here.”
“As your prisoner?”
Her eyes lifted to meet his. “No. As our food source.”
Though his expression was as calm as the river outside, something flashed in his gaze. But it was gone in an instant. He shook his head slowly. “I won’t allow it, love. I cannot.”
“We’ll see.” Breaking into a broad grin, she turned and walked away, out of the room, down the hall, and into the sunlight, feeling—for the first time in months—fucking fantastic.
The moon was obstructed by heavy clouds as Phane landed on his perch on the roof of the warehouse in SoHo. It had taken several months, but he’d built the thing himself. Not your ordinary two-by-two redwood block, the massive perch was erected out of steel and sported a feeding station, an all-weather leather nest, and a high-tech sound system. Nearly fifteen feet in the air, it overlooked the city, and the long, heated swimming pool that was Helo’s sanctuary.
Still in his hawk form, Phane blinked, his beak twitching as he watched the water beast move back and forth along the brightly lit bottom. They had created a world for themselves here. He and Helo and Ly. An existence. Granted, it wasn’t perfect, but at least it was on their terms, and that was all that mattered in the end.
As if his thoughts had summoned the lone wolf, the roof door burst open, and the large, shaggy gray male stalked out. His eyes trained on the water, he went directly for the pool, then when he reached the edge, tilted his head back and howled.
The sound was purposeful, and caused Phane to screech in return, his feathers rustling. In seconds, he broke from his perch, and took off. He didn’t bother circling, trying for a gentle landing. He dove low and quick, touching down a little too roughly near an unlit torch just as Helo emerged from the steaming water. They all shifted at once in the cold night air.
“Button up, Beasts,” Lycos said, grabbing a pair of jeans off one of the deck chairs and yanking them on. “We’ve got company.”
Helo followed suit, pulling on his own dark blue denim. “Is that what your howl was about, Ly? Are we having a party tonight? I could use some female company, but that call of the wild you just released is supposed to be reserved for dire circumstances.”
“This is dire,” Lycos said. “In my opinion anyway.”
Helo snorted.
“And there will be females, yes,” Lycos added with a smirk. “But they’ll all be mated.”
“Well, what’s the point of that?” Helo said, turning to Phane as the door to the roof opened once again.
“Gotta love family,” Dillon said, walking out onto the deck. The jaguar shifter and new Order member was followed by her mate, Gray, and most of the Roman clan. “They really know how to make a person feel loved,” she added.
“Oh, it’s you,” Helo said with a disappointed chuckle.
Snarling halfheartedly at the water beast, Gray pulled out a chair for Dillon to sit in. “Don’t worry, baby. Later on tonight I’ll make you feel real loved.”
“Okay,” said Lucian, who was the last to enter the rooftop oasis. “Let’s not start down that road. I might lose my dinner.”
His mate, Bronwyn, welcomed him on the chaise where she was already seated, then cuddled up next to him. “You used to be such a romantic, Luca.”
“That’s right,” Nicholas agreed with a wide grin as he stood behind his mate, Kate. “Sweet, romantic, lovable Luca.”
While Kate bit her lip to keep from laughing, Lucian flashed his fangs at his older brother. “You. Shut it.” Then he turned back to Bronwyn. “And you, my beautiful raven-haired vixen,” he said in a far gentler tone, nuzzling her neck. “Don’t pretend you like all that sappy shit. When I know the truth. When I know exactly what you prefer.”