Hot seed coated her walls, and she whimpered. She loved that feeling, loved having him impaled inside her.
For several long moments, neither of them moved. As the water turned cool, and Syn’s fingers lightly brushed the skin of her back and buttocks, the only sound was heavy breathing diminishing into soft pants of satisfaction.
Exhaustion claimed her, and Petra barely noticed when Syn eased out of her, shut off the water, and wrapped her in a warm towel. She curled into him as he lifted her and carried her out of the bathroom.
“Sleepy, love?” he whispered.
“Hmmmm,” she answered, nodding her head against his chest, kissing his smooth, hard skin.
He chuckled as he placed her on the cool sheets. When he drew back to get the covers, Petra grabbed his arm.
“Don’t leave,” she whispered in a bleary tone.
The mattress dipped with his weight, and he moved in close behind her. “Never.” He pressed his body right up against hers and dropped a kiss to her shoulder. “Sleep now, m’dear, m’darling.”
Smiling to herself, she snuggled into the curve of his body, loving his words, loving his heat, loving his closeness.
Gods.
Loving him.
Synjon strode into the diner and headed for the back booth. Leaving Petra, all warm and wet and soft in his bed, was the hardest thing he’d ever done. And he wasn’t even going to think about how he was lying to her in more than a few ways. Prat. He was just fecking worthless, truly. But once again, Adrian’s text had drawn him out—out of what was so perfect and happy, and toward something dusty and vile-smelling that he just couldn’t seem to turn away from.
“I can’t be gone long,” he said, slipping into the red leather booth across from the badass, ginger-haired paven.
“Neither can I,” Adrian said, glancing around the diner before turning his eyes on Syn. “Cruen’s nearly ready to leave, and he’s gaining strength.”
A shot of unease moved through Syn’s gut. “How?”
“I don’t know.”
“You need to find out.” Syn leaned across the table, his voice low and calculating. “We can’t have the old Cruen on our hands. Not until he’s in chains and under lock and key—and the heat of the midday sun.” He said the words with such fury and conviction, he knew in that moment that letting go of his need for vengeance wouldn’t be nearly as simple as a promise made to the veana he wanted.
“Problem is,” Adrian said, “he won’t allow me to come with him. Whatever it is that’s filling him with new strength comes from the water shifters there.” He paused, thoughtful. “I say we move now. I’m ready. You’re ready. Right?”
Bloody hell, he’d been ready for so long he couldn’t remember what it felt like to be unburdened. Synjon stared at the paven before him. Juliet’s brother wanted this, needed this. Shite, deserved this. It was decision time. If he could just make this happen without Petra finding out . . . But that wasn’t possible, and he knew it.
“Syn?”
Syn’s eyes rose, locked with Adrian’s.
“Tomorrow?” asked the paven. “At first dark?”
A flash of Juliet’s face moved across Syn’s mind, and he winced. Her death, her murder, had to be avenged.
He gave the male a quick nod. His deal with the devil had been made a long time ago, his seat in Hell kept warm by just the idea of being the one who rid the world of that sodding bastard Cruen. It was time to end this—end him—once and for all.
21
“I think I’m set on onesies until the balas is in college.” Under the cool, crisp light of the midday sun, Sara tossed Petra an overwhelmed expression. “How about you?”
Petra couldn’t help but laugh as they walked down the busy street toward Syn’s apartment. “Not sure about the onesies, but I have diapers to last until then. Or for a month, depending on how many times I have to change him or her per day.”
“How many times you have to change . . .” Sara narrowed her eyes, but said playfully, “Come on now. You know that’s the dad’s job, don’t you?”
“Diaper duty?” Petra asked.
“Dealing with all the shit.” Sara’s face broke out in a wide grin.
Petra laughed again and sidestepped a mom and her stroller. When Sara had called this morning, Petra hadn’t been all that sure if the veana’s suggestion to do a little baby shopping was a good idea or not. For one thing, Petra had all those baby things that Syn had gotten her, but for another—and maybe this was what concerned her the most—she hadn’t had any true interaction with her half sister since she’d found out the truth about their mutual parent. She had no idea what to expect. Would the veana be outwardly friendly, but unable to mask a cool distrust behind her eyes? Of course, that worry couldn’t have been further from the truth. Sara was welcoming and kind and funny, and cool in a good way. And damn if they didn’t have several things in common besides their bellies.
The morning had been a mass of sunshine, but now gray clouds were starting to move in and it felt like snow was on the way. As they walked, and as the air grew colder and the holiday lights and decorations winked at them in their merry way, Petra felt a deep sense of connection move through her. And yet she didn’t want there to be any confusion about other members of the family. Particularly Sara’s mother.
“I’m really glad you called,” Petra said as they came to Syn’s building.
Sara’s smile was brilliant. “Me too.”
“But I need you to know, I’m just sort of coming to terms with where I came from and how. Being the offspring of blackmail, and all that.”
The truth in her words, and no doubt the memory of learning that her mother, Celestine, had gone to Cruen, slept with Cruen, only to get her mate released from imprisonment and impending castration, made Sara’s face fall a little.
“Petra, you don’t have to explain any of this to me,” she said sadly.
“No, I want to. I want to have a relationship with you. I’m just not ready to call anyone else mom. Don’t know if I’ll ever be.”
Sara nodded. “I totally understand.”
“Okay, good.” Petra nodded too and smiled. “Thank you.”
“But maybe we can bring Gray along next time?” Sara’s eyes, so similar to Petra’s, widened with hope. “I know he’d love it.”
“More baby shopping?”
Sara laughed. “Totally. He’s about to be an uncle to two balas, after all. We’ll make him try out toys and hold our breast pumps and carry stuff.”
“You’re kind of evil,” Petra said with a slow grin. “I love it.”
Still laughing, Sara embraced her. It was a nice feeling. All her life, she’d had brothers—and she completely adored them—but this . . . this was something special, female . . . And she wanted it to last.
“Hey,” Petra said, “are you getting nervous?”
“You mean, for the birth?”
Petra nodded.
“A little.” She shifted her bags to her other hand. “But I have Alexander. He’s going to get me through it, deal with my cursing and my death grip on his hands during contractions.”
Petra laughed.
“And you have Syn. Right?”
Her laughter softened, then downgraded to a tight-lipped smile. “Yeah. I guess I do.”
Above them the sun had been overtaken completely, and the world was suddenly plunged into a cold shade of gunmetal. “What is it?”