Eternal Sin

upward, and his hand reached into his pocket and palmed the slimy flesh. “Be ready, male. We will be traveling soon.”

* * *

Syn had amassed his fortune by blowing up shit, protecting shit, rescuing shit, and keeping his nose out of shit that didn’t concern him. He’d been a ghost and an assassin. A lover and a bastard. A good Samaritan and a decent friend. But he believed that in all that time, all those years, he’d never experienced a moment that was perfectly and utterly fun.

Until now.

He leaned back against the club chair and watched Petra go through all the toys and books, baubles and clothing again, her face glowing like a bloody candle. Who would’ve thought that a soon-to-be-stack-of-firewood, some lights, and a few baby gifts would make a veana so happy?

He grinned.

He’d done this. And he was right bloody proud of himself, he was.

“Anything you don’t like, love?”

“Are you kidding? It’s all perfect. I don’t know how you managed it.”

“Could be because I myself am perfect.”

She glanced up, gave him a crooked smile. “Yeah, that must be it.”

He chuckled. “Well, it’s not over yet.”

“Oh, jeez,” She glanced around, “You don’t have a pony or something stashed somewhere, do you?”

Pony. Yes, all children liked to ride those small animals. He’d have to buy a house upstate. Somewhere with a lot of land, stables.

“Synjon.”

He looked up. “Yes, love?”

“I was kidding. No one needs anything else here.”

“Except you.” Grinning like a bloody fool, he reached behind himself, under the chair and took out a final gift. “Happy Christmas, Petra.”

She took the small box from him, then found his gaze and shook her head. “What is this?”

“Just a little something for you.”

“You’ve already done way too much.” Her shoulders slumped and she looked embarrassed. “And I don’t have anything for you.”

He leaned toward her, put a hand on her belly. “Yes, you do.”

He watched her eyes turn color. From the palest of blue to a rich, brilliant sapphire. And within those beautiful orbs, Syn saw something that equally pleased and terrified him. Love. Petra was in love with him.

Something gripped his heart muscle and squeezed the ruddy shite out of it. He thought it was probably his conscience, but he’d been under the impression it wasn’t working. Petra loved him. They had a balas on the way. And he was still intent on Cruen’s destruction. In this very fucking house, no less.

His mind hummed. Maybe Petra didn’t have to know anything. Maybe he could keep the fact that Cruen resided and suffered and died under this roof to himself.

His lip curled.

Was he truly that cold?

Christ, he used to be. Now things were different. So different. Because of her and the balas. They’d changed him somehow. They’d forced new and compelling emotions out of him. He didn’t know how that could be possible, but it was true.

She was still staring at him with unabashed affection.

He nodded at the box, commanded gently, “Open it.”

That seemed to pull her out of the trance she was in, and she shook her head and tugged the red ribbon off the box. Her hands shook slightly as she pried off the top.

“Oh . . . ,” she breathed, her fingers running over the small diamond key necklace. “It’s beautiful.”

“I want you to stay, Petra.”

She looked up. “What?”

“That key. It’s not a real key to the door, of course, but it means the same.” Christ, he sounded like a rambling idiot. Which made him realize how desperately he wanted her to say yes. “Will you think about it?”

She shook her head, her eyes filling with tears.

Synjon felt the first of many waves of excruciating pain wash over him. He started to get up, but Petra’s hand on his arm stopped him.

“I’m shaking my head, Mr. Wise,” she said, her mouth curving up into a brilliant smile, “not because I’m declining your offer, but because I don’t have to think about it.”

“Oh, bloody hell, veana. I nearly lost my mind there for a moment.”

She reached up and touched his cheek. “I’m willing to give up the Rain Forest, my family, all I’ve known for you.”

He grinned broadly.

Her eyes remained serious. “What will you give up for me?”

“Anything. Everything,” he said without hesitation.

“Will you give up my father?”

Synjon’s smile died a quick, disastrous death, and his gut tightened painfully. What she was saying . . . Christ, what she was asking . . . She didn’t know . . .

“Can you do that?” She swallowed, watching him carefully. “If you can’t, please tell me now. I promise there’ll be no hard feelings, no anger, no bitterness. I know how important the balas is to you, and I wouldn’t keep him or her from you. But I need to know for me.” She closed her eyes and took a quick breath, then opened them again. “I want to be with you more than anything. But if this is something you truly can’t let go of, you’re going to have to let go of me.”

Synjon stared into her eyes and searched for an answer. Within her, within himself. His chest was so bloody tight, he wondered if he’d be able to take another breath.

“Can you let this go?” she repeated, her voice completely resolute.

He didn’t know. Fuck, he didn’t know if he could. But the one thing he did know for certain was that there was no way he was letting this veana walk out of his life. And, bloody hell, into the arms of another male.

“Yes, veana,” he said without a blink, a breath, or a “but.” “I will give up my revenge.”

For several seconds she just stared at him, her eyes searching his. Maybe she was wondering if she’d heard him correctly, or if he was about to change his mind. But then her face broke into a smile so wide, so happy, so relieved, that his gut ached.

He was such a vile prat.

He didn’t deserve her.

Almost giggling, Petra took the necklace from the box and handed it to him. “Will you put it on me?”

His gaze dropped to the key. They key that meant a thousand things he couldn’t say. The thousand things he wished and wanted for them. He undid the clasp and fastened it around her neck.

It was what he so desperately wanted. She was his. Because she wanted to stay. Because she cared for him. Because she might even love him.

Because she believed the lie he’d just told her.

20

Feeyan didn’t glare at Dillon. She didn’t snarl or snip, make a rude comment about Beasts or mutores or gutter rats. She simply turned to the other Order members at the table and said, “A Pureblood vampire is missing in the Rain Forest. Shall we go and find him?”