chapter Ten
Lying back on the soft floor mat, Synjon refused to think of anything more than what was before him, what was beside him, and what had been beneath him.
If he did, he’d be utterly lost to madness.
He covered Petra with the towel, wanting to make sure she kept warm as she snuggled against his side, her head on his chest.
For several long moments, neither one of the spoke. Outside the bathroom, the day was in full progression. No doubt there would be a knock on the door at any moment, disrupting their little oasis, their scared space where nothing was challenged or explained, justified or forgiven.
“Maybe it’s best for both of us,” she said, breaking the silence, her lips moving against his chest. “But I don’t know if I can forget this, Synjon.”
Her words made Syn’s gut constrict with too many emotions he refused to look at. He tipped her face up to his, then leaned down and kissed her. Soft at first, his lips moving over hers, brushing. Then stronger, his fangs nipping at her lower lip. “I don’t want to forget this, Petra.”
Her eyes implored him. “What do we do?”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “Do you want to stay here?”
“My family is here.”
“That doesn’t mean you must.” What was he saying? What was he asking in his sacred space that had no rules of regrets?
Her gaze warmed and her mouth lifted into a gentle smile.
“Come with me when I leave,” he said impetuously. No regrets. No looking back. “I’ll take you to the credentis. You can see how your kind lives.”
Her smile broadened and reached her pale blue eyes. “I would love to see that.”
“There is so much to show you.” The fantasy continued inside his head. “But first, I have I take care of some business. You can stay with my friends, the Romans. They are good pavens and veanas. Their mates will befriend you, tell you all about Meta—”
“Business?” she repeated, her brow furrowing and her eyes losing a touch of their happy glow. “You’re talking about revenge, aren’t you?”
He inhaled deeply. He didn’t want to go there, not now. That part of his life had no place in this fantasy. But he implored her. “It’s justice, Petra. And I will have it. I must have it.”
She will have it.
His gut aching, he eased Petra’s head to his chest again and pulled her closer. “Please understand. I must end it, end that bloody bastard to move on. You wouldn’t want to know me, be near me, if I didn’t.”
She was quiet for a moment, her hand brushing back and forth over his chest. “What if he gets to you first? What if he hurts you?”
Synjon sniffed his derision, the bitterness creeping in whether he wanted it to or not. “Cruen has already hurt me in the worst way imaginable. It is his turn now. His and any kin he may have sired.”
Synjon felt her go still against him, and her hand cease its soft caresses against his chest. He brushed her hair away from her shoulder and wondered if he should say anything more or just let her digest what was already given. No doubt she was exhausted. No rest the night before, feeding him her blood, passing out, the ice cold bath—and then their very lively mating.
Poor veana.
“Nothing needs to be decided now, Love,” he whispered against the top of her head. “Just close your eyes, and sleep.”
It was a long while before he felt her body relax and her breathing slow.
* * *
He was truly the most beautiful male she had ever seen. And it was going to destroy her to never see him again.
Tears pricked Petra’s eyes as she stared down at Synjon Wise, asleep on her bathroom floor. They had been through so much in such a short time, and she knew that never again would she feel such a connection, such a need, such a desire for anyone.
But she had to leave him, and the only home she had ever known.
Before walking out of the room, she gave him one last look, the male who had stolen her unbeating heart, then broke it into a thousand sharp pieces with just one word.
One terrible revelation.
Her bags were gathered at the front door and she moved toward them with the speed of a snail. She didn’t want to go. Everything inside of her pleaded with her mind, her reason, to reconsider. But she kept walking until her hand curled around the door handle.
Even if he woke now, he wouldn’t be able to go after her. The sun was high in the sky, and he wouldn’t harm himself.
Not for her.
Quick and quiet, she stepped outside to the porch of her treehouse and closed the door on her home and her life. A few feet away, Dani waited solemnly in her hawk form. They didn’t speak, they didn’t need to. Her best friend understood her plight and would keep her secret.
There was only one thing Petra knew about her birth family, and it was the name of her father. It was an unusual name, and she knew it as well as she knew her own. In all her years on this earth, that name had only been used by her mother.
Until today.
When the male who slept on her bathroom floor, the male she wanted more than anything, spoke of justice and killing.
She positioned herself on Dani’s back and the hawk kicked off the porch and exploded into the sky.
She had to find Cruen. She had to find her father before Synjon Wise did.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Laura Wright is passionate about romantic fiction. Though she has spent most of her life immersed in acting, singing, and competitive ballroom dancing, when she found the world of writing and books and endless cups of coffee she knew she was home. Laura lives in Los Angeles with her husband, two young children, and three lovable dogs.