Eternal Sin (24 page)

The climax rippled through her and she heard Syn curse. He gripped her hips tightly and remained deep inside her as she trembled and saw stars and creamed against his steely cock.

“Move,” she whispered, her head shifting from side to side as she tried to get her bearings. “Fuck me, Syn. Hard. Deep. Fast. It feels so good.
You
feel so good.”

The sound their bodies made, the slap of his sex thrusting in and out of her wet core, was the ultimate music to Petra. The only thing she wanted to hear. For hours, days, months. Even after the
balas
 . . . She gasped, her mind falling apart as her body took over. She cried out and swung her hips to meet him.

It was carnal.

There was no other word for it.

Hunger drove them, over and over and to the edge of madness and perfection, and when Syn coiled over her, resting his cheek on her back as he took both her breasts in his hands, Petra felt tears behind her eyes. They were one. Maybe it was a strange and immoral thought to have in the middle of a deep, mind-bending fuck, but she and Syn and
balas
were completely and totally one.

Tears rained down her cheeks, and as Syn pummeled her with deep thrusts and light tugs to her nipples, she came again. Heat and electric currents battered her cunt, and she turned wild, bucking and crying out as Synjon’s thrusts turned manic. Hot seed surged into her sex, making them both so wet her pussy couldn’t contain the onslaught. Seed and cream flooded her legs, and Synjon cursed and pulled out of her.

For a moment Petra wasn’t sure what was happening, where he was going. If he was leaving her. Then he flipped her gently to her back, spread her thighs, and settled between them.

Her blurry gaze widened.

But Syn only grinned and lowered his head. When he touched her, when his hot, thick tongue made contact with her sensitive flesh, a moan of absolute ecstasy tore from her throat, and she fell back on the pillows. He was licking her. Not just her sex, but her lips and her thighs. Cleaning her, tasting her—eating her. Gods, she was going to die from it.

“Drink from me, Syn,” she called out, her head thrashing from side to side against the pillow.

“I am, love,” he whispered, his breath tickling her skin. “Your pussy just keeps quenching my unending thirst.”

Her legs shook. “No. Not that,” she muttered as she felt his teeth nibble at the lips of her sex.

“How about this, then, m’dear, m’darling?” He plunged his tongue deep inside her cunt, then retreated.

“Oh, fuck,” she gasped. “No, Syn. Gods, I love it, but no. My blood. Christ. Drink my blood.”

He stilled, his body, his mouth, and his breath, coming quick against the entrance to her sex. “Petra . . .”

“It’s okay,” she said. “I promise you. I swear. I know it.” She came up on her elbows, locked eyes with him. “I think this is how it’s supposed to be, Syn. With . . . a couple.”

His eyes darkened, and though he kept his gaze on her, he ran his tongue up her slit.

She cried out.

“Mates, Petra?”

Yes. Yes.
“Bite me,” she commanded. “Drink from me.”

He growled, his fangs dropping.

“Do you want to feed from anyone else?” she said with almost sexual menace.

“Fuck, no, love. You know that.”

“Then do it.”

She saw the struggle in his eyes, but the hunger was there too, and thank the gods it was the stronger of the two. He pulled back from her sex but remained between her legs. His hands rested on her hot core, while his head turned and his tongue flicked out to lap at the skin of her inner thigh. Petra watched him, her breath tightly caught in her lungs. She remembered how it felt to be bitten by him, but this time was so different—this time hunger was caged in a haze of erotic compulsion.

She felt his fingers part her sex, felt the pad of his thumb move impossibly lightly down her lips.

“Please, Syn,” she begged.

He nuzzled her skin, then scraped his fangs over the spot he wanted to bite.

Best. Feeling. Ever.

Her eyes slammed shut.

Except for maybe this feeling.

She fell back on the pillows, her mouth forming a small O as Syn’s fangs pressed deeper and deeper into her flesh. And then he was drinking. Her blood. Taking it in big gulps as he followed the seam of her pussy with his thumb, all the way to the opening of her sex, clearly determined to make her come again. The most perfect shared ecstasy.

•   •   •

Alex watched his mate very closely as Dillon paced the floor of the library in his house in SoHo. The entire family was gathered: Romans,
mutore
, Impure Resistance, Celestine, and Wen. And Alex was worried that Sara’s concern about Petra and the shifters was wearing on her. She was growing so close to her time, which made Alex all the more protective.

“Are you all right, my love?” he whispered in her ear while Dillon went on about the heavy search of the Rain Forest and how there had been absolutely no sign of Cruen.

Sara turned to him, her blue eyes beautiful as always, but tired. “I’m fine.” She touched his face. “You worry too much.”

He growled lovingly at her. “It’s never too much when it comes to you and our
balas
.”

She leaned in and kissed him. “Wait until after it’s born. There’ll be plenty to worry about then.”

“What does that mean? Do you foresee a problem?” His gaze moved over her. “Shall I call for Leza?”

She laughed softly. “You’re losing it, honey.”

Then she kissed him again, and Alex forgot all about his fears. Hell, he forgot his name. He reveled in the feel of her warm, soft mouth, and played with her tongue. He was about to wrap his arms around her and really start the tasting, when Dillon interrupted with a curse.

“Hey!” she shouted. “Lovebirds! Trying to stop a war over here.”

Alex eased back, but he didn’t take his eyes off his mate’s mouth. How was it possible that she tasted sweeter with every day that passed?

She grinned up at him. “We’d better listen to Dillon. You can ravish me later.”

“Oh, my god,” Dillon groaned. “Getting nauseated over here.”

Laughing, Sara turned back. “Sorry, D.”

“I’m not,” Alex said, curling his lip at the
veana
who was working his rug down to the fibers. “Okay, D. If Cruen’s so deeply hidden in the forest that even the shifters who live there can’t find him, what can we do?”

Dillon glanced around the room. “The Order will come and find him if we don’t.”

“That’s not the answer to the question I asked,” Alex said, dropping his arm around his mate’s shoulders.

“Fine. We have two options at this point. We can let the shifters deal with it on their own, and by ‘it’ I mean the Order coming into the forest, finding Cruen, and taking out anyone who gets in their way . . .”

“And what’s the other option?” Nicholas asked.

Phane sat forward and Helo too, but it was Lycos, who’d just shown up in the doorway after basically being a ghost for the past few days, who spoke.

“She wants us to stand with them and fight,” he said. His eyes cut to Dillon. “Right, sis? Protect and serve a race that’s not our own? Well, you can count me out.”

“Already had, brother dear. Already had.” Dillon barely spared him a glance. She was looking at the Romans, Helo and Phane, even Celestine. “I won’t pretend, unlike others, that I’m not connected to the shifters. That they’re not a part of my blood. Maybe even more so than the vampire in me. And if they need my help, I’m going to give it. You’ll all have to make that decision too. But make it quick.” She inhaled deeply. “Because I fear it’s only a matter of time before Feeyan feels the pressure to carry out her rash threat, and lands at the gathering stones, her power ratcheted up to high.”

•   •   •

He could worship at her temple forever.

His fangs pulled from her thigh, Syn licked and kissed the two pinprick holes until they started to close; then he rose above her. He felt like a new
paven
, impossibly strong, deeply possessive, achingly satisfied and . . . Bollocks, dare he say it? Happy?

He gazed down at her, black hair against the white pillow, cheeks and lips stained a deep pink, and those eyes . . . they killed him, stole his unbeating heart, reached inside his mind and emptied it of all thoughts but the ones that involved the two of them, naked.

“You sure you’re all right?” he asked.

She grinned and stretched around him. “Never felt better in my life.”

“Oh,
veana
, you know I can’t resist a challenge. Not when it comes to you . . .” He grinned. “Coming.”

“Then don’t.” She wrapped her legs around his waist and locked her ankles just above his ass.

He went hard instantly.

She glanced down and grinned. “Wow. My blood’s everywhere in you, it seems.”

“It’s bloody magic, love,” he growled. “Truly.”

“Then I must be a witch.”

He grinned. “A sorceress.”

“Able to cast spells on her enemies—”

“And her lovers.”

She laughed. “Of which she will have too many to count. One for each day of the week—”

Petra stopped talking when she felt Syn go rigid around her. His gaze dropped.

“Syn. What is it?”

His eyes on her belly, he eased back, then thrust inside her hot, ready pussy. Petra gasped. Clung to him. Worried about him.

As her sex stretched to accommodate him, Syn’s eyes locked on hers. “No other male will play father to my
balas
.”

Petra swallowed tightly. “Syn . . .”

He eased out of her, then thrust back in possessively, making her gasp.

“No other male will linger above you. Waiting . . . just waiting for the chance . . .”

He started moving inside her.

His eyes, their black heat, bored a hole straight through to her soul. “No other male will lick you, drink from you, fuck you, or make you scream.”

She cried out as he pulled out of her, then slid all the way down to her sex and plunged his tongue into her cunt. For several mind-altering seconds he fucked her, speared her. Then just as quickly, he left, replaced his tongue with his cock again, and covered her mouth with his own.

Petra nearly climaxed right there.

She kissed him fiercely, tasting herself on his tongue. The combination of the two of them was shockingly heady, and she wanted more. She wanted everything. And Syn was determined to give it to her.

He tunneled under her body and lifted her hips. The harsh cry that escaped her lungs when he drew back and thrust into her rent the air around them. Slightly weak from a long night of lovemaking and Synjon’s intense blood drain, Petra could only hold on and take whatever he had to give her.

Syn gripped her ass cheeks and pummeled her with stroke after honeyed stroke until she was breathing heavy, moaning his name, and ratcheting up her hips for one last thrust as she came. One loud, raspy scream tore from her throat, and Syn followed her, draining his hot, creamy seed inside her sex.

Coated in a very sexy layer of sweat, Synjon eased out of her and collapsed to the side. Before she could even release the breath hovering inside her lungs, he caught her up in his arms and pulled her ass to his groin. Petra sighed and melted into his chest. And just when she thought it couldn’t get any better, any sweeter, he covered her—her and their
balas
—with the softest, thickest blanket in the world.

19

P
etra woke to near blackness, and it took her a moment, and a good glance around, to realize where she was.

Syn’s room.

Syn’s bed.

And it had to be morning because the skylight overhead was sealed.

She glanced over her shoulder. She was alone, though the impression of Syn’s body on the mattress remained. And, of course, his scent. It was everywhere. On the sheets, in the air, all over her naked body.

Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she spotted the robe she’d gotten on her shopping trip. It was laid out over the arms of an almond-colored leather chair against the wall. She smiled, knowing Syn had placed it there for her. In any other situation, at any other time, she would’ve let her mind run wild with that gesture. The implications, the potential outcomes. The hopes. But she wasn’t going to do that this time.

She got out of bed and scooped up the robe. She refused to ruin herself and the wonderful memories of the night before by overanalyzing. When reality settled in, whatever happened, happened. But right now she was going to live in bliss for however long that lasted.

After slipping the black silk robe on and tying the sash above her belly, she ventured out of the room. Clearly, it was full-on morning now, because every window was sealed and the house was lit by all things electric. As she walked down the hallway, past the teardrops of metal art on the wall, she wondered if Syn was even at home. It was so quiet. She also wondered what she was going to do today. She knew she needed to check in with her family and with Dani. The last thing she wanted was for them to worry about her and once again come to Manhattan to investigate.

Especially Dani. That female would force her to recite a virtual laundry list of affirmations about never sleeping with vampires named Synjon Wise and listening to genius best friends who were always right.

Petra laughed to herself at the thought, and didn’t see Synjon until she was nearly on top of him.

Well, Synjon and a . . . pine tree?

“Morning, darling,” he said, plugging something into the outlet behind him. “How did you sleep?”

“Good.” Lights erupted inside the pine tree. “Oh!” She looked from the tree to Synjon and back again. “What’s this?”

She stepped over a small pile of boxes, wrapped in beautiful silver-and-gold paper.

Synjon was looking at her like she had two heads. “Christmas. Don’t you know about that?”

Oh, right. She’d seen trees lit up when they were in the city. “We don’t celebrate it in the Rain Forest, but I’ve heard of it. Seen pictures. But”—she looked at him with a confused expression—“why are you doing it?”