Chosen by Sin (12 page)

“I’m a federal agent, Knox—”

“I don’t care if you’re the President of the United States. Nothing is
as important as your life. The Quorum tried to have you killed.”

“I haven’t forgotten—”

“But you’ve obviously forgotten who you’re married to. Because I won’t
allow you to place yourself in jeopardy, Felicia. Even if you hate me…”

He’s so scared, she thought even as he kept talking. And she understood
the feeling. She’d be terrified if she thought too much about all the people
who wanted him dead, the Quorum least of all. And she certainly didn’t want to
die. She wanted to enjoy the life she’d finally managed to attain—with
him, the children, and the rest of the vampire clan. The last month had been a
dream come true for her. She’d never been happier. Until she’d started to feel
unhappy, of course. Confined. Restricted.

Protected, yes, but also smothered.

And she knew that in order to safeguard the love she and Knox had
always felt for each other, she had to force him to let her breathe, even if it
meant she wouldn’t be quite as safe as she was now.

“…you insist on leaving, tell me where you want to go. I can teleport
you almost anywhere in the world. Somewhere you haven’t been. I know you must
be getting bored, but—”

She sighed. “This isn’t about being bored and you can’t accompany me
everywhere I go. We can rejoin the team together, but—”

“Fuck the team,” he growled.

His bald statement simply made her smile. She knew this male inside and
out, and she knew how much the Para-Ops team and every one of its
members—even the were, Dex Hunt—had come to mean to him.

“Honestly, I’m not sure you could handle that,” she said lightly. She
cupped Knox’s face in her hands and rose on tiptoe to give him a light kiss.
Despite the scowl on his face, his lips immediately returned the gesture. When
she backed away, she sighed regretfully at the sheer terror on Knox’s face.

She’d known all she would get was resistance. But she’d paved the way
and she was going to continue doing so. Right now, she was going to wipe that
expression of fear off her husband’s face and replace it with pleasure.

PALADINE ABBEY

AUVERGNE REGION, FRANCE

Jes lay in bed listening to the sound of rain patter against the
window. The tinny beats beckoned to her, urging her to stand, but she didn’t
move. She hadn’t been able to move for days.

The sheets that had always felt luxurious against her skin were a heavy
weight. She hadn’t changed the bed linens, hadn’t been able to get out of bed
at all. She’d been too afraid of what might happen.

She curled her knees tighter to her chest, as if that action would
protect the tiny life inside her. She didn’t look pregnant, of course. Not yet.
A vampire pregnancy lasted only a month, and the fetus didn’t grow large enough
to show until almost two weeks. Her baby was just a week old. But even though
no one else could see it, her baby was there, inside her, a part of her.

Even now, it struggled to hang on. Her baby—Dex Hunt’s
baby—was dying, and there was nothing she could do. She couldn’t help
wondering if she was being punished. Again.

She shouldn’t have been able to get pregnant. The doctors had told her
that after the last miscarriage. When she’d found out her night with Dex had
led to a miracle, she’d convinced herself things would be different this time.
That unlike the others, this baby would flourish with the strength and vitality
he’d inherited from his father. After all, if Dex possessed the gift of
immortality, wouldn’t he naturally have passed along his health and well-being
to his child? But it wasn’t as if he could actually control that type of thing
even if he’d known one of the condoms he’d worn wouldn’t block a life
determined to be created.

No, Dex Hunt hadn’t known he was blessing her with something so
precious. Just like he hadn’t known she’d taken his blood in order to save the
werewolf he wanted to kill.

Due to Jes’s weakness, Jes had barely managed to visit Bodin since her
return. When she had, the old werewolf had looked horribly gaunt. His hair and
beard, once a dark, lustrous black, had turned a shocking white in her absence.
He could barely get out of bed now, but still he’d noticed Jes’s own weakness
and called her on it.

“You need to rest. Go now,” he’d commanded.

And Jes had retreated to her bedroom and had been there ever since. Not
even the lure of Dex’s blood and the experiments she’d planned to perform on it
were enough to raise her. As a result, Amanda had once again taken over caring
for Jes’s patients, including Amanda’s own grandfather, and to Jes’s surprise,
the female was far more nurturing and skilled than she’d ever expected her to
be.

Amanda had even shown a modicum of tenderness and affection when she’d
come to visit Jes. She and the rest of Jes’s makeshift family had rallied
around her, but it didn’t matter. None of them knew Jes was pregnant. Even if
they did, none of them could stop Jes’s body from doing what it had always
done—losing a baby she so desperately wanted to keep.

Someone knocked on the door. She said nothing, barely stopped herself
from hiding beneath the sheets, but Giselle, her feline housekeeper and friend,
came bustling in anyway. “I’ve brought you your favorite breakfast. Morning
buns and fresh fruit.” She set the tray down on the table next to the bed.

Jes closed her eyes as a wave of nausea rolled through her.
“Per—perhaps later, Giselle.”

“Cy’s downstairs. He wants to see you.”

Cyrus Mead was Jes’s adoptive Draci brother, one of the males she was
closest to, but she didn’t want to see him. She didn’t want to see anyone.
“Please tell him I’m not feeling up to company.”

“I’ve been telling him that for days, but he says he doesn’t care
anymore. He’s worried, Jes. We all are.”

“I know, but—” She froze as awareness swept through her. She felt
the knowledge in the sudden flutter of movement inside her. More vigorous than
ever. Jess sucked in air as an irrevocable yet impossible certainty flooded
her. She sat up.

Dex was here. In France. She didn’t know how she knew it, but she did.
And so did her baby.

Joy and hope infused her, and not just her own.

Somehow her baby had connected with his father, almost as if Dex’s
proximity had infused its small body with strength.

Energy zipped through her veins, compelling her to move. She reached
out and grabbed Giselle’s arm. “Giselle, please tell Cy I need to see him.
Now.”

PARIS, FRANCE

Trosseau, the shape-shifter Dex was supposed to meet in the French
market, had said he’d be identifiable by his red hair and matching glasses. Of
course, he’d be in disguise, taking the form of some human or Otherborn instead
of traveling in his true state—smooth translucent skin, large dark eyes
with no whites to them, no hair, and a flat nose. He wasn’t simply trying to
avoid the same staring or even abuse he might encounter in the United States,
but because in Europe, Otherborn were still in hiding, hoping to avoid
detection given what had happened to their kind when the United States had
attempted to integrate them into their population. As it was, even Dex got
looks as he traveled from the airport to the heart of Paris. Looks that
suggested that people knew his stocky build, hazel eyes, and tawny hair made
him part were. Granted, his neatly trimmed soul patch was particularly favored
by weres, but still …

Many of those who gave him a second look took care to move out of his
way. Any other time, he’d have called them on it. Picked a fight. But he wasn’t
here for that. He was here for the team and that meant he had to put his own
tendencies aside and do the job. Besides, ever since he’d landed in Paris, his
beast had been getting more and more restless. His mind more distracted. His
senses were filled with the scent of Jesmina. His fingers tickled with the
memory of how soft and wet she’d been. His ears echoed with the cries of her
passion, each climax seeming to take her by surprise.

He hadn’t understood it then and he didn’t now. He’d explained away her
fear, but not her surprise. She wasn’t innocent. She’d told him herself she’d
had many lovers. Yet that hesitance he’d sensed when he’d first kissed her had
reared its head throughout the night, and no matter how much he tried telling
himself it was due to were prejudice, he just couldn’t seem to let it go.

Fuck, this was bad. He was distracted. Even if all he was supposed to
do was gather intel, he couldn’t let his guard down. Enemies could be anywhere.
He shouldn’t let a piece of vamp ass make any difference, but it did, which was
why he wanted to meet the shape-shifter, get the info he needed, and get the
hell back to the States.

Of course, also in the back of his mind was the fact Lucy had to be
suffering. Before he’d left, he’d tried to talk her into letting him give her
sexual release, but she’d completely frozen him out. She’d emphatically told
him she wasn’t sleeping with him again. And while part of him had been
relieved, he’d pushed things the way he always did.

“Yeah?” he’d taunted. “So you’ve found another male to give you what
you need?”

The normally unflappable Lucy had actually sneered at him. “I don’t
need any male, Dex. I dealt with the heat for a helluva long time before you
came along, and I can do it again. Thank you, but your services are no longer
needed.”

His services.

Dex’s mouth tipped up at the memory of Lucy’s words.

If Lucy no longer needed
his services
, then that meant he was free to find his pleasure elsewhere. But
despite the number of beautiful females all over France, the only beautiful
female he was interested in was a vampire who’d vanished into thin air without
even bothering to say goodbye. She’d probably been so disgusted with herself
for sleeping with a lowly were that she’d run away in horror.

Whatever. He didn’t need her. She’d just be a distraction, and if he
was going to do his job and deal with his grandfather, Dex needed as few
distractions as possible.

He prowled the market, impatiently scanning for the shape-shifter.
Since it was past five in the afternoon, many of the merchants were packing up.
Almost all of them looked up as he passed. His scowl made them avert their gaze
pretty fast, which was why he was surprised when one female merchant stared at
him.

To his even greater shock, she motioned him over.

Cocking a brow and unable to resist the sense of intrigue she emitted,
Dex strode up to her. He stopped a few steps away, saying nothing. That’s when
he noticed she had artfully painted on brows. He studied her shiny blond hair,
perfectly coiffed, not a strand out of place.

“You’re wearing a wig.”

Statement, not question, but still she nodded.

“You’re a mage?” Mages were all bald, with no eyebrows or eyelashes.
Unless, of course, like Lucy, the mage was also part feline.

She looked around, eyes wide, as if she couldn’t believe he’d uttered the
words out loud. “You’re American?”

“What gave me away?”

“You’re friends with a mage?”

There was that word again. Friend. Yeah, okay. Why deny it? It was
true. “She’s a friend, yes.”

“A lover?”

“In a way,” he said.

“Ah, a mystery. I sensed it about you right away. You are not what you
appear. Not what you think yourself to be.”

He laughed at that. “I know exactly what I am. I’m a half-breed
werebeast on a mission.”

“What kind of mission?”

He shook his head, started to walk away, then stopped. He turned back
to her. Studied the flasks, herbs, and textiles she had on display. “Do you
cater to your kind? More than humans do, I mean?”

“I suppose it depends on what you’re looking for.”

“The mage I know…she’s not an herbalist. These potions. Is there
something that will help felines with the heat?”

“If I had that cure, I’d be far richer than I am. Far more popular, as
well.”

“What about birth control? Something for—for males?”

She frowned. “Afraid of reproducing a feline?”

“Not at all.” He stared at her. Let his message come through: Back off.

Only she didn’t quite do it. “Ah, afraid of reproducing yourself. I’m
surprised. Weres are generally so…proud.”

“Do you have anything or not?”

“I don’t.”

Not surprised, he nodded, then caught a flash of red out of the corner
of his eye. He turned. Bingo. Red hair. Red glasses. He caught Trosseau’s gaze,
but the shape-shifter kept moving.

Dex followed the shape-shifter into an alley straddled by shops, staying
several feet behind. The longer they traveled, the more deserted the street
became. The more penned in he felt. On either side of him, windowless, towering
walls provided little maneuverability.

Dex didn’t like it.

He stopped, and as he did, it was as if the shape-shifter immediately
sensed it, because he stopped, as well.

The shape-shifter turned to look at Dex. “Problem?”

“My only problem is that I’m here instead of Stateside. Where are we
going?”

“Somewhere we can be alone. To talk.”

“We are alone. Let’s talk here.”

“Your friend told me you wanted information about shape-shifters
killing shape-shifters.” Trosseau jiggled his leg and took a quick glance
around. “My informant, the one I’m protecting, the one who has personal
knowledge of the bridging, is in hiding. I’m sworn to protect him.”

“Bridging? What the hell is that?”

“Not here. I must ensure my informant is kept safe.”

“Yeah, so you said. Safe from whom? Other shape-shifters, right? Just
how do you plan to do that? By isolating him completely? What’s to stop a
shape-shifter coming for him in your form? How do you know I’m not a
shape-shifter myself?”