around for far too long, it seemed. It was something her mate had never wanted to admit to his brothers, especially to Lucian, but there was nothing for it, and by the look on Alexander’s face, he was thinking the same thing. Sara pressed harder. “Please, Alex.”
His merlot eyes lifted to hers.
“Tell them,” she urged with fierce determination when he appeared to resist. “It is time.”
“Tell us what?” Lucian said, fangs low and eyes on Synjon.
Nicholas’s brows drew together. “Alex, what’s going on?”
With a sigh, Alexander turned to both Lucian and Synjon. “Will you two be cool?”
“Cool about what?” Lucian said uneasily.
“I have drunk from Bronwyn.”
The room went silent, as if breath and time ceased to exist. A servant walked in, and no doubt sensing the rabid tension around the table, walked right back out again. Suddenly there was an audible snap, and both Lucian and Syn dove across the table at the eldest Roman brother, landing on top of him with a crash of heavy bodies.
Kate sighed. “Oh, God. Are we really going to do this
balas
at play thing,
gentlepaven
?”
“Stop it!” Sara yelled at the mosh pit of fists and furious curses. “Stop it right now. Goddamn idiots! Nicholas, stop them!”
But Nicholas wasn’t aware of her plea. He sat, unmoving,his gaze pinned on the wall behind the group of fighting
pavens
.
“The Order,” he uttered with pure hatred. “They have her…”
The
pavens
froze, bloody and bruised and with fangs extended, and turned to look at the message scrawled on the plaster.
Bronwyn Kettler will be given over to the sun unless Lucian Roman comes for her by daybreak.
“I’m going with you.”
As he strapped on a Glock and two blades, Lucian schooled the
paven
standing beside him in one of the villa bedrooms, which had been turned into a weapons hold when the Romans had moved in three weeks ago. “It says Lucian Roman on the wall out there. Not Lucian Roman and his punching bag.”
“I don’t give a right good shite what the Order wants,” Synjon sneered, helping himself to a few weapons.
“Did you not get the part about Bronwyn and the sun? Or do you not care about your mate’s longevity?”
“The Order is full of empty threats. Trust me—I know.”
All geared up, Lucian stepped into the
paven
’s eyeline. “And sometimes they’re not. Trust
me
.”
Alexander stuck his head in the doorway. “I’ve had no luck locating her through my blood—maybe it’s been too long.” He lifted his chin. “You’d better get yourself to the Hollow,
Duro
.”
Lucian gestured to his brother. “Look at those morph brands on my brother’s pretty, pretty face. The Order wasn’t blowing smoke up our asses with thosethreats. We didn’t get Ethan Dare first time around and Nicky got more of the same.”
For the first time since they’d met him, Synjon said nothing.
“Stay here and wait. I’ll bring her back.” Lucian followed Alexander out into the hallway, and was in the entryway and on his way outdoors when he felt the
paven
on his tail. Again.
He whirled on the Brit. “What the fuck don’t you get here? The Order wants
me
!”
Syn didn’t even blink. “And the
veana
wants me.”
Lucian’s nostrils flared, in fury, in disgust, in desire. A memory, quick and uninvited, jerked into his mind. Her touch on his arm, his wrist. Her mouth against his skin. His blood going into her, inside of her, where it belonged, where it thrived.
Synjon said simply, “She is mine to find and fight for.”
Lucian felt Alexander’s arm on him, pulling him outside, into the cold night air. Melancholy and pain rippled through him. The truth of this bullshit situation was that even though he could never have a
veana
of his own, he wasn’t about to let Bronwyn die—even if it meant bringing her back to the piece-of-British-shite in front of him. Bitterness rose up and threatened to choke him, but he plastered on his fighting face and said,
His merlot eyes lifted to hers.
“Tell them,” she urged with fierce determination when he appeared to resist. “It is time.”
“Tell us what?” Lucian said, fangs low and eyes on Synjon.
Nicholas’s brows drew together. “Alex, what’s going on?”
With a sigh, Alexander turned to both Lucian and Synjon. “Will you two be cool?”
“Cool about what?” Lucian said uneasily.
“I have drunk from Bronwyn.”
The room went silent, as if breath and time ceased to exist. A servant walked in, and no doubt sensing the rabid tension around the table, walked right back out again. Suddenly there was an audible snap, and both Lucian and Syn dove across the table at the eldest Roman brother, landing on top of him with a crash of heavy bodies.
Kate sighed. “Oh, God. Are we really going to do this
balas
at play thing,
gentlepaven
?”
“Stop it!” Sara yelled at the mosh pit of fists and furious curses. “Stop it right now. Goddamn idiots! Nicholas, stop them!”
But Nicholas wasn’t aware of her plea. He sat, unmoving,his gaze pinned on the wall behind the group of fighting
pavens
.
“The Order,” he uttered with pure hatred. “They have her…”
The
pavens
froze, bloody and bruised and with fangs extended, and turned to look at the message scrawled on the plaster.
Bronwyn Kettler will be given over to the sun unless Lucian Roman comes for her by daybreak.
“I’m going with you.”
As he strapped on a Glock and two blades, Lucian schooled the
paven
standing beside him in one of the villa bedrooms, which had been turned into a weapons hold when the Romans had moved in three weeks ago. “It says Lucian Roman on the wall out there. Not Lucian Roman and his punching bag.”
“I don’t give a right good shite what the Order wants,” Synjon sneered, helping himself to a few weapons.
“Did you not get the part about Bronwyn and the sun? Or do you not care about your mate’s longevity?”
“The Order is full of empty threats. Trust me—I know.”
All geared up, Lucian stepped into the
paven
’s eyeline. “And sometimes they’re not. Trust
me
.”
Alexander stuck his head in the doorway. “I’ve had no luck locating her through my blood—maybe it’s been too long.” He lifted his chin. “You’d better get yourself to the Hollow,
Duro
.”
Lucian gestured to his brother. “Look at those morph brands on my brother’s pretty, pretty face. The Order wasn’t blowing smoke up our asses with thosethreats. We didn’t get Ethan Dare first time around and Nicky got more of the same.”
For the first time since they’d met him, Synjon said nothing.
“Stay here and wait. I’ll bring her back.” Lucian followed Alexander out into the hallway, and was in the entryway and on his way outdoors when he felt the
paven
on his tail. Again.
He whirled on the Brit. “What the fuck don’t you get here? The Order wants
me
!”
Syn didn’t even blink. “And the
veana
wants me.”
Lucian’s nostrils flared, in fury, in disgust, in desire. A memory, quick and uninvited, jerked into his mind. Her touch on his arm, his wrist. Her mouth against his skin. His blood going into her, inside of her, where it belonged, where it thrived.
Synjon said simply, “She is mine to find and fight for.”
Lucian felt Alexander’s arm on him, pulling him outside, into the cold night air. Melancholy and pain rippled through him. The truth of this bullshit situation was that even though he could never have a
veana
of his own, he wasn’t about to let Bronwyn die—even if it meant bringing her back to the piece-of-British-shite in front of him. Bitterness rose up and threatened to choke him, but he plastered on his fighting face and said,
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