His mouth twitched. He would have this female. Nothing and no one would get in his way. And if they tried, he’d make sure to schedule a little blood taste test.
“Maybe I could show you sometime,” he said casually.
“Maybe. But right now I have plans.” She started walking away, down to a patch of flat ground.
“Hot date?” he called.
She stripped down, tossed her clothes into a tree, and shouted back, “Is there any other kind?” before she shifted into her hawk and spread her wings wide.
Phane watched her take off and sail into the air, his dick hardening with every beat of her incredible wings.
The alley stank of human food and human sex.
Two things that held absolutely no interest to Synjon.
“He still in the Rain Forest?”
Adrian nodded, his fangs a quarter inch lower than they should be in primarily human territory, even in the late hours of the night.
“Does he know I’m no longer there?”
Again Adrian nodded.
“Then why does he remain?” Synjon asked the male who had his sister’s eyes and burnt auburn hair. “Why isn’t he coming after me? And more important, as his very trusted guard, why aren’t you assisting him?”
Juliet’s brother, the only other male on earth who wanted Cruen to suffer more than Synjon, glanced down the alley and sighed. “He was on his way out, on his way to you, when some water shifters stopped him.”
“Water shifters?” Synjon narrowed his eyes. “What did they want?”
“They remembered him. From when he was there collecting samples.” Adrian laughed bitterly, his breath smoky in the frigid air. “They told him they had a power source of some kind.”
“Fuck me.”
“Yes, exactly.”
“What is it?” Synjon demanded.
“No idea. They wouldn’t let me go with him.”
“Go back, Adrian. Find out what it is, if it works, how it works. I need him as weak and defenseless as possible.”
The male nodded. “Is the plan still the same? His next flash is to you.”
A week ago, Syn would’ve given the paven before him, the paven who had the same eyes as the female Cruen had stolen, then killed, a rapid-fire affirmative, but tonight he hesitated. And bloody hell, he despised that hesitation. He wanted Cruen. He wanted to torture and maim and make that bastard beg, but right now Petra was asleep in his house, the balas sleeping with her. Was he truly bringing Cruen into the new, almost blissful world he’d just created?
“Syn.”
He looked up. “The room’s ready to go.”
Adrian reached out and the two clasped hands. “Juliet will finally be avenged,” he said with deep feeling.
A feeling that no longer existed within Synjon. “You’d better get back.”
The male nodded. “Later, brother.”
Adrian flashed from the alley, and Syn walked out, down a few side streets and onto Broadway, which was still sporting moderately heavy foot traffic, even at this hour. Christmas swag and lights shocked his senses at every turn as he moved through the crowds at a brisk pace. He could’ve flashed home when Adrian flashed back to the Rain Forest, but he needed some air, some time to get his head together. His emotions about Juliet and her death were gone, but not his commitment to bringing the male who killed her to justice.
Why couldn’t he stay the course on this?
He was just rounding the corner of Forty-fourth Street when something caught his eye in a brightly lit window of one of the shops. He slowed and went to check it out. The toy store was closed, but the front window was lit and dressed for the holidays. A large toddler-size bear sat on a small leather bench in front of a child-size Steinway, its fuzzy paws placed on the keyboard to look as though it was playing.
Petra’s incomplete query rolled through his mind. What would the balas inherit from him? His face? His sharpness? His hatred of his grandfather?
His gaze moved over the well-made instrument.
Would the balas have his abilities at the piano?
That unwelcome, though now strikingly familiar something pinged inside him. His desires had expanded beyond the simple two of physical release and unemotionally executed vengeance. Now they included a female he should never touch again, and the growing life inside her, which might very well sport his eyes.
He pulled out his cell phone, barked a quick order to the male on the other end of the line, then leaned back against the shop door and waited.
17
Petra woke to the scent of blood and instantly curled around it, her fangs descending. No doubt she was still dreaming, but it was the kind of dream she appreciated. Syn’s blood, Syn’s thick, masculine wrist. Her fingers pressed into the skin of his arm just as her fangs rested on top of the pinprick holes that had already been prepared for her. She made a keening sound, then thrust herself deep into his vein.
The moment the blood entered her mouth, she came awake. With a gulp and a sputter, she opened her eyes and pulled her fangs from Syn’s wrist.
“Oh, my gods, I’m so sorry.” She looked up, dazed and confused. Syn was propped up on a pillow beside her. She looked down at his wrist, then back up at him. “What are you doing here?”
“You were calling out in your sleep.”
“Calling out for what?” Or for whom? she thought with a groggy sense of embarrassment.
“Me, love.”
Her chest deflated. Great. Fabulous. Humiliating. It wasn’t enough that she made her desire, her need for him known in the waking hours. Now she was begging for it while she slept.
“And my wrist. And my neck.” His mouth twitched as he watched her cheeks grow hot. “And my blood.”
She made a groaning sound that was meant to convey how completely mortifying this was. But Syn just chuckled.
“Drink, veana.”
“I think I’m becoming an addict,” she muttered.
“Just as long as you keep coming to me for your fix.”
His dark eyes moved over her face. Why does he have to say shit like that? Petra wondered. It made her want him more than she already did. It made her want things, hope for things that were impossible when it came to this male.
Gods, this is going to end badly.
“I’m bloodying your sheets, veana,” he said.
With a slight growl, she dropped her head and sank her fangs in him again. Instantly the blood flowed. Hot and sweet and plentiful, into her mouth. Each drop she consumed was better than the last. As she sucked like the greedy wench she was, took his life force into her own, she wondered how she would survive without this when she left.
How she would survive without him.
Above her, she heard him groan, hiss, and she realized she’d gone a little deeper into his vein than she normally did. But that was how she was when she fed from him. Every millimeter tasted better, sweeter. Like liquid gold.
Finally, after several minutes of intense feeding, her belly was full, and she lifted her head and stared at the twin bite marks. With a quick inhale, she blew on them, slowly back and forth until they closed. Then she looked up. In the milky shadows of the moonlight streaming in behind her, she saw the strain on Synjon Wise’s gorgeous face.
Her brows knit together as her gaze moved over him, assessing. His eyes were narrowed and dilated to black. His skin looked paler than usual, his cheekbones were more pronounced, and his lips held a bluish tinge.