He stared at her. “You’re pregnant?”
“Yes.”
She must have gone into a breeding heat just days after he’d been with her. Thank God he hadn’t sensed it coming on. He’d have been compelled to stay and fight any other males who showed up to claim her. The winner would have mated with her over the three days and nights of the full moon, both in human and beast form, and if she became pregnant during that time, their bond would be permanent.
“Where’s your mate?”
“Dead.” Her eyes were still closed, and he wished she’d open them so he could get a read on her.
“Did The Aegis kill him?”
“Yeah.”
“Was he born or turned?”
“Turned,” she said softly.
A chill bit all the way to his marrow. “The cub could be born human.”
She finally opened her eyes. “I’m aware of that.”
“Will you kill it?” Born warg laws were harsh in regard to human infants; they were to be destroyed at birth. Though Luc had heard of a few mothers who had left the babies at human hospitals or fire stations so the children could be adopted.
She hesitated, and for a moment, he thought she’d say yes. But then her eyes flashed, the steely glint in them hinting at what kind of mother she’d be. Fierce. Loving. “I will protect my baby with my life. That’s why I’m here. The virus…”
“What about it?”
“I’m scared. You know what’s going on—you have an inside track—”
He snorted. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m holed up in the middle of nowhere. But I do know that it affects only turned wargs, so you’re safe.” For some reason, she didn’t appear to be relieved, but then, she was as ill with her injuries and silver poisoning as she would be with SF. He palmed her forehead again, knowing damned good and well that the fever wouldn’t have eased. “So that’s why you’re here? The only reason?”
She shifted her gaze to the fireplace, stared into it blankly. “I didn’t have any place else to go once The Aegis found out about my secret.”
“You shouldn’t have come here.” It was an asshole thing to say, but then, he was an asshole. Since the day he was attacked by a werewolf, he’d been all about taking care of himself and not giving a crap about anyone else.
“Clearly, it was a mistake.” Her voice was so soft it was nearly drowned out by the crackle of the fire.
“Yeah, it was.” He stood, tossed another log on the fire with a little more force than was needed, and sparks flew up, snapping angrily. “The last thing I need is to take care of a breeding female who has slayers on her tail. How’d they find out what you are anyway?” When she didn’t answer, he turned around. Her eyes were closed, her breathing even. She was out again.
And he was in one hell of a mess.
Seven
They rode in silence for a good thirty minutes. Sin was grateful for the quiet at first, until her thoughts started swirling around and she realized how much trouble she was truly in. Lycus, that slimy, double-crossing dickwad. She’d known she couldn’t trust him, but she’d hoped he’d use some of his considerable influence to keep most of her assassins off her back—without her swearing to become his mate.
And he was wrong; she wasn’t weakening. As nice as it would be to share the burdens of being an assassin master, she couldn’t bond herself to anyone, especially not a pisshead like Lycus.
Dammit. Between her own assassins wanting her head on a platter and the Carceris wanting her strung up in a cell, she was starting to feel like a deer during hunting season. So when her cell phone began to ring incessantly—calls and texts from Lore, Eidolon, Shade, and even one from Wraith—her last nerve frayed like the end of a snapped rope and she turned the phone off.
“They’re worried about you.” Con slid a glance at the BlackBerry. “You should answer.”
“I don’t need their concern.”
His reply was sharp. “Selfish much?”
Okay, yeah, she was selfish. Since the day she and Lore had gone through the transition that had given them tattoos, uncontrollable sexual needs, and killing abilities, she’d been forced to leave the human world behind. Which meant leaving softness, compassion, and love in a place where it wouldn’t hurt her. The world she’d been whisked into by a demon slave trader just days after Lore abandoned her had toughened her up, real fast.
She’d spent a century with demons who breathed cruelty like air, and the buildup of scar tissue, both physical and emotional, had been the only reason she’d survived. Then, thirty years ago, she’d found Lore, and his devotion had chipped away, just a little, at her shield. And now, her reason for not responding to her brothers wasn’t because she didn’t need their concern—though she didn’t. It was because no matter how much she hated it, she found herself worrying about Wraith and Eidolon’s punishment for helping her.
But she wasn’t going to tell Con that. Voicing it made it real and invited pity and useless phrases like “I’m sorry.” And “It’ll be okay.”
Goose bumps prickled her skin. Her grandma, who had raised Sin and Lore from the day they were born, used to say that a lot. “It’ll be okay, Sinead. Your mama loves you. She’s troubled, that’s all.”And “It’ll be okay. People can be cruel, but you’ll always have me.”
Grandma had lied. Mama hadn’t loved her, Sin hadn’t always had Grandma, and it had definitely not been okay.
The ambulance’s radio squawked, and Eidolon’s strained voice pierced the silence. “Con. Pick up.”
Con punched a button on the dash. “E. We’re safe.”
“Thank gods.” Eidolon’s relief transmitted over the airwaves. “Don’t tell me where you’re going. This frequency might be monitored. Sin, stay away from every place you’ve ever been.”
“Yeah. Will do.” An unfamiliar flare of guilt sparked in her belly, and she cleared her throat. “Hey, uh… are you and Wraith… I mean… did you—”
“Don’t worry about us,” Eidolon said. “Just get where you’re going and we’ll talk later.” He disconnected, leaving Sin and Con in tense silence again.
For another long-ass hour. She spent the time gazing out the window at the passing cars, wishing she could be in one of them, behind the wheel and driving to a destiny of her choosing instead of being chauffeured to one she didn’t want by an arrogant dhampire.
An arrogant dhampire whose long, muscular legs flexed as he worked the gas and brake pedals. Whose thick biceps rolled and bunched as he steered. Broad shoulders filled the driver’s space, and images of her hands clinging to them as he pumped between her thighs filled her head. She was so acutely aware of him, so hypersensitive to his heat, his scent, even the sound of his breathing, that no matter how many times she averted her gaze back to the outside world, she found her eyes drifting back to him. Felt her body leaning toward him.
He was such a pain in the ass.
Finally, as the suburbs turned into pastures and farmland, Con pulled the ambulance off the main road and onto a gravel one lined by rows of trees.
“I’m guessing you don’t drive to work very often,” she mused.
“There’s a Harrowgate less than a quarter mile away in the woods, so no, I don’t drive often. A two-hour commute would be a killer.”
The ambulance crunched over gravel for maybe half a mile before Con pulled into the driveway of an old but well-kept ranch-style house set against a hill and cut deeply into a forest that appeared to have been cultivated for privacy. She got out and did a sweep of the perimeter while he moved his black GTO out of the garage to make room for the ambulance. He also had a motorcycle, a snowmobile, and an ATV. The guy liked his toys with engines.