Balas.
Something about the word scratched at Synjon’s insides, but he quickly shoved back the sensation. The truth in the male cats’ words, the need Petra might have of him, meant nothing to the ultimate goal of vengeance that was nearly within his grasp. A vengeance that could finally be carried out without the inconvenient second-guessing and guilt that had once plagued him.
“Why are you hesitating, Pets?” It was the female hawk shifter again. Dani. Synjon knew he’d failed on that account. How had he not seen through that blue-balled facade of his to what truly stood before him? What had tricked him?
“It’s clear you want to tap that, Pets,” Dani continued with an almost audible sneer. One of the males laughed, and the sneer quickly became a growl. “Shut up, Val.”
“You’re just such a guy sometimes, Dani,” he remarked with another low chuckle.
But Dani was all about Petra. “I want you to take stock, Pets. You’re losing your freaking mind. Your emotions are out of control. You can’t eat or sleep.” She sniffed. “I mean, the vampire’s right here for the taking. I say drain him dry and leave his shell in the sun.”
“You have no idea what you’ve done,” Petra said in a pained voice.
“Hell, yes, I do,” Dani returned. “And if you don’t want to do it for yourself, then do it for the baby.”
Balas.
The correction came swiftly to Syn’s mind. He wondered why that would be.
“He’ll fight me,” Petra said.
“So what?” Dani returned. “Fight him back. You’re ridiculously strong. I’ve never seen anything like it. Is that like a pregnant vampire thing or something?”
“I have no idea. I don’t know anything about being a veana in swell. Or being a veana who hasn’t gone through Meta.”
“Well, whatever the cause, it’s kick-ass and you need to use it.”
“Even when he does wake up.” The male spoke again. Petra’s brother. Sasha. “He can’t leave this room. It’s morning now. Sun’s bright and hot and ready to soak up some male vampire skin, so you have a good amount of time to get what you need.”
Synjon kept his body ice-still. These shifters were in for a rude awakening if they believed a veana could hold a paven like him hostage.
“What’s your plan?” Petra asked, her voice heavy with intensity, need, hunger.
“We’re going to lock you both in the cabin,” Dani said.
“Oh, gods,” Petra uttered. “This is insane.”
Synjon’s mouth twitched. He agreed with that assessment. Locked in. Did they not know what world he came from? What profession? The disaster he could create with just a twig and a firecracker? Petra’s brothers had gotten lucky back at his flat in Manhattan. That wouldn’t happen again.
“But if you need us, if you need anything,” Dani continued, “there’s a two-way radio in the bathroom. We’ll be here in seconds.”
“Except for this room,” Sasha added, “there’s sunlight all over the cabin. After you take what you need, leave him in here. He can’t follow you. We’ll be back to get you before the sun sets.”
“Get me?” Petra repeated, slightly panicked. “What do you mean?”
“You’re not staying here with him at night,” Sasha said tightly. “Soon as the sun goes down, he’ll try to escape. Val and I will be here to make sure he doesn’t. Although with what you’ve become, I’m pretty sure you could tame his vampire ass.”
Synjon heard retreating footsteps, then Petra’s voice outside the door. “This is crazy. We can’t just take a member of the Eternal Breed.”
“We already did, Pets.”
Synjon fought the instinct to crack a lid and see where he was and if anyone remained in the room. And he was glad he did. He heard a door close several feet away, then locks bolted into place, then after a few long moments, movement near the bed.
His entire body flared with warning.
The mattress dipped on his left side and the scent of something floral mixed with female sweat entered his nostrils. His cock stirred. He, however, did not. He felt a breeze move over his face, then warm breath and the tip of a nose against his neck.
“Should I tame your vampire ass, Synjon Wise?” she whispered. “Or just go straight for the jugular?”
He moved with the speed and grace of a trained killer. He had her pinned beneath him in under five seconds. “You won’t touch me, love. Unless I wish it.”
Black hair spread out wild against the pillow, nostrils flared with contempt, arms trapped above her head and belly exposed, she stared murderously up at him. He’d seen her only a week ago, in the dungeon of the mutore Erion. She’d come to rescue her father, Cruen, soon to be caged and tortured, and had ended up hearing the terrible and undeniable truth about him. And she’d felt Synjon’s hatred, rage, contempt, and lust for vengeance. Then she’d witnessed the Romans holding him down while her father took his emotions.
Syn’s gaze moved over her. Taking in each feature, each change. She was physically extraordinary-looking. Far more beautiful, far more desirable than any of the other females he came in contact with. And the fact that she was in swell made her even more attractive. He wasn’t sure why. He wasn’t sure why his dick was so smitten, filling with blood, pressing against his zipper, trying to get at her.
Maybe his body was remembering their night together. Her mouth on his. His fangs inside her vein. Her skin smooth and hot under his palm. Her tight pussy squeezing his cock until his body refused the comfortable existence of control.
It was a memory he normally chose to ignore. But with her beneath him, with her scent wafting into his lungs, it couldn’t be helped. Or stopped.
“I was told you wouldn’t come here even when you knew how bad off I was,” she whispered, her eyes narrowed, her body shaking beneath his.
Syn’s gaze rested on her upper lip and the tips of her fangs. “True.”
“Or how the life of this balas was in danger.”
His gaze traveled down her neck and breasts to the rise of her belly.
“Your balas,” she added with a hiss.
That thing, that something strange he’d felt before at the mention of the balas, moved through him once again. The physical sensation was almost like desire, but stronger. Without his consent, his hand reached for the base of her abdomen and remained there.
“What are you doing?” she said, a low growl ending the query as she shifted beneath him, trying to get free.
He didn’t answer her because at that very moment, he felt something press against the center of his palm, then retreat. His brows drew together. What the bloody hell was that? He waited a few seconds for it to return, but when it didn’t he moved his hand just a little to the right. His breath hitched, held in his lungs. He wanted it again. Whatever it was.
“Get off me!”
Sudden, shocking pain accompanied her cry, and Synjon gasped, falling to the right, falling off her. For the second time in twenty-four hours, he saw stars. Foolish prat, he scolded himself, his cock screaming, heat shuddering in his groin. Paying more attention to the swell of this veana’s belly than to planning your escape.
The breath completely yanked from his body, his balls on fire, Synjon coiled into himself and cursed. The pussy brothers and the hawk shifter were right; Petra had some serious strength. Far greater than any veana he’d ever heard of or encountered. Was such a thing normal in swell? Or was she somehow different?