Текст книги "Sin undone"

Автор книги: Ларисса Йон (Айон)

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 22 страниц)

But instead of terror, he saw only defiance as she ground out, “Do it, asshole. Bite me. What are you fucking waiting for?”

Con slammed her against the wall and bit into her neck. She gasped, but the sound was followed by a low moan. As her honeyed blood poured down his throat, his libido went berserk, the way it had in Eidolon’s office, except multiplied by a hundred. Maybe it was because they were alone. Maybe it was because they had full body contact and his anger had shot all his common sense through the roof.

Maybe it was because with each feeding, the addiction was building.

“Con…” His name came out on a whisper of breath against his ear, and it was his turn to moan. Especially when her legs came up and hooked around his waist, putting his aching shaft in contact with her core.

Her nails dug into his shoulders. “Fuck me,” she murmured.

For most dhampires—and vampires—feeding went hand in hand with sex, which was why he preferred to take his blood from females. Few of his kind were picky about the sex of their bed and blood mates, but Con had long ago determined that a soft, sweet female was the best fit for him.

Except there was nothing soft or sweet about Sin, and for some reason, that fact had a far more powerful effect on him. The fight, the intensity… it rocked him like nothing—and no one—else.

Yes. No. Ah, damn, his body was screaming for her, but his mind swirled with doubts. Deeper involvement with her would be a bad thing on so many levels. He’d keep her safe because he owed her brothers and because she could be key in finding an answer to the epidemic, but that was as far as the relationship between Sin and Con could go.

“Con.” Her satiny lips brushed his cheek, and the raw desire in her voice pummeled his resolve. “I need it.”

Right. Duh. Succubi. He had to keep her safe andhealthy. Justifying sex had never been so easy.

He couldn’t tear open his fly fast enough.

Sin wrapped one arm around his neck and dropped her other between them so she could rip open her own pants. Not gently, he shoved her up on the counter, disengaged his fangs, and jerked off her pants and thong. They caught on her boots, and he growled with impatience, tearing her pants as he yanked them off.

“Hurry,” she breathed.

Now was definitely not the time for finesse, and he didn’t spare her as he gripped her thighs, spread them, and plunged deep into her satin core. Her cry of passion joined his. He felt her everywhere—on his skin, in his blood. It was like drowning in ecstasy, and he could no longer remember why he’d resisted her.

“Harder,” she moaned, and holy hell, she was a fucking dream come true.

He planted his palms on the wall above her head, and she leaned back, bracing herself on her arms behind her, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist in that way all males loved. A trickle of blood ran down her throat from the punctures in her neck, and he dipped his head to swipe his tongue over it. The flavor nearly had him coming.

“I love how you taste,” he growled against her throat. “I want to taste you everywhere.” He wanted to get her naked and then spend hours kissing her all over. Licking and nibbling and sucking every inch of skin, with a heavy emphasis on that succulent place between her legs.

“Yes.” The word came out on a harsh whisper. “Come, Con. Now.”

Since semen was the trigger for her, the idea of torturing her by withholding for a little while was appealing as hell, but he was too far gone to scrounge up that kind of control, not when her sex was like a glove, squeezing and massaging until he was on the verge.

He pumped into her, hard and fast, so much more wild than they’d been in the supply closet, when they’d been virtual strangers sneaking a quickie before her brothers caught them and castrated his ass.

His hip rubbed on her thigh holster, a strangely erotic sensation, and when she flexed her muscles, the sheath dug into his flesh, catapulting him to climax. It hit him like a searing wave of lava, spreading up his spine and into every limb. He spilled into Sin, and her core clenched around him as she joined him in a blatantly silent release. She was holding back, just as she had the first time.

When it was over, he collapsed onto his elbows against the wall and braced his forehead on hers in a desperate attempt to catch his breath. She was breathing hard, too, her sex still contracting and taking every last drop.

She shifted, sitting up, and he slid out of her. She gripped his biceps, and for a second he thought she was preventing him from leaving, but her dermoirelit up, and he realized she was checking for the virus. When she swore, he knew the news was not good.

“You didn’t take enough blood. It’s almost gone. Just another sip, maybe…”

“No.” He stepped back and tucked himself into his pants. “We’ll give you a day to recover.”

“A day could get the virus back up to unmanageable levels.”

“We’ll see.” He glanced down at her creamy, spread thighs, at the glistening juncture between them, and unbelievably, his cock swelled again. Quickly, he jerked his gaze away. “I’m going to shower and change. You can use the guest bathroom if you want. If not, why don’t you log in to the hospital’s records and get a map of the viral outbreaks. Computer’s in my office. We’ll head out after that.” He walked away without waiting for an answer.

After showering, he dressed in jeans and a plain white T-shirt. He found her in his office, hair wet and dressed in the leather pants and short-sleeved black button-down Eidolon had brought.

“I’ve printed out the locations of all known infected wargs,” she said, not bothering to turn away from the computer screen. The printer spit out a couple of pages.

“Excellent.” He jammed his feet into his boots, grabbed the papers, and considered whipping up a quick meal. He made a killer southwestern omelet.

Sin came up behind him while he was shuffling through the fridge. “Do you feel that?”

“Feel what…” The hairs on the back of his neck prickled.

“Get down!” Sin dove at him, took him to the floor in a tangle of limbs as the entire world exploded. A massive boom shattered his ears, and a whoosh of searing flame blasted his skin. Rolling, he covered her body with his, clenching his teeth against the torrent of wood and plaster that rained down on his back. Another explosion sent a shock wave of heat and pressure into them both, and almost as if they’d been picked up by a giant, invisible hand, they were lifted and hurled against the stove. Pain wrenched through his shoulder, but he ignored it as he grasped Sin’s hand and dragged her, on his hands and knees, toward the garage.

“I have an escape tunnel,” he shouted, and then hacked up a freaking lung as black smoke filled his chest.

Somewhere in the house, glass shattered, and the rapid pop of automatic gunfire pierced the roar of flames. Someone was very serious about making sure they were dead.

The garage was already burning, but Con shielded his face from the flames as he made his way to the rig. Coughing, he climbed inside and grabbed a jump bag. He leaped out and caught a glimpse of the blackened vehicle through the billowing smoke. Shade was going to be fucking pissed about the brand-new ambulance. It hadn’t even gone on a dozen runs yet.

Sin was crouching where he’d left her, at the fridge-sized gun safe near the back wall. Quickly, he punched in the security code and spun the wheel to open the door. There were no weapons inside, but the bottom was a concealed hatch, which he tugged open.

“Cool,” Sin said between coughs.

“Hurry.” He nudged her to the opening. “There’s a ladder down.”

He cast one last, longing look at his house burning down around him. He’d liked this place, but he supposed there was no sense in mourning, since he would have had to give it all up to join the clan in Scotland anyway. He just hoped he had time to help with the warg disease situation first.

Flames in the shape of a giant hand shot out of the wall, and Con reared back as a piercing, chilling shriek froze the marrow in his bones. “What the fuck is that?”

“Not good, whatever it is!” Sin yelled. “Come on!”

He started down the tunnel, but as he did, something outside the shattered window caught his eye. He blinked, and it was gone.

“Con? What are you doing?”

He shook his head. “I could have sworn I saw a big dude on a horse. And he was wearing a fucking suit of armor.”

Eight

Sin scaled the ladder, her skin feeling singed and sunburned. At the bottom, darkness closed in on her, becoming complete blackness when Con closed the door to the gun safe and the hatch over the hole. She heard his big feet hit the rungs, and then he bumped into her at the base, smelling of a weird combination of smoke, piney soap, and his own natural, dark scent. It was messed up that she noticed, and even more messed up that it stirred her even though they’d just taken the edge off her need.

But then, she’d always been turned on by danger, and they were in it up to their chins.

She heard some scritching noises, and a flashlight lit the darkness.

“Aren’t you the prepared little dhampire. Handy escape route you have here.”

He gestured down the tunnel with the Maglite. “You never know when you’ll need a quick getaway.”

“You make a lot of quick getaways?” She started moving, her feet barely making a whisper on the soft dirt floor.

“Probably no more than you do,” he said dryly.

“Probably.” She was always finagling her way out of tight scrapes. She took an S-curve well ahead of the circle of light behind her, and her handy-dandy demon night vision finally kicked in to help. “Where does it go?”

“Ends near the Harrowgate.” His voice, magnified by the narrow passage, sounded like it was next to her ear, even though he was a few feet behind.

“The gate will be guarded to prevent our escape.”

“No doubt.”

He said nothing more as they scurried like rats to the end of the tunnel, which was cleverly disguised by a large boulder in a tangle of bushes and trees. The sound of rushing water helped mask the noise of their exit as they belly-crawled to the edge of the thicket. They lay in silence for a few moments, feeling out their surroundings, listening for enemies. Sin sensed the Harrowgate to the south, very close.

Once Con was satisfied that they weren’t being watched, he crept out of the foliage and gestured to the stream that snaked through the forest. “The Harrowgate is just around the bend.”

Sin drew a throwing knife from her boot. “Want one?” she whispered.

“Nah. I’m good with my hands,” he said, and her body heated in enthusiastic agreement. “You can do the long-range shit.”

Using the trees and thorny brush as cover, they moved downriver. Near the narrows, where the rapids crashed with increasing violence, the Harrowgate entrance shimmered between two massive oaks. Nearby, partially concealed by shadows and a leafy hedge, was a blond lion-shifter—one of Sin’s own damned assassins.

“Mother. Fuck.” She started toward him, but Con grabbed her arm.

“Let me.”

“Go to hell. He’s mine.”

Con’s lips peeled back in a silent snarl. “Is he the one who wants you to be his mate?”

He’d heard that? “Nah, Marasco already has six females in his pride. He definitely doesn’t need another. Watch my back.” She shrugged out of Con’s grip and sent the throwing knife into the air. Her aim was deadly and perfect… but her assassins were well trained, and Marasco leaped out of the way as the blade zinged past his ear.

Smiling, the squat male wheeled around, drawing his signature weapon, a paralyzing dart, in his right hand and a pistol in his left. He carried the firearm because he hung out with human gangbangers, but few supernatural creatures actually used them. They couldn’t be fired in Sheoul, but more than that, guns were considered human weapons, and most demons despised them.

Also, most demons were no more affected by a bullet than most humans were by bee stings.

Sin was not one of those demons.

“Marasco,” she cooed, with a bat of lashes. “After all we’ve been through, you still want to kill me?”

His broad nose flared, probably seeking the scent of anyone accompanying her. Hopefully Con had gotten downwind. “Nothing personal, love. Though it’s always a pity when succubi die. They’re too rare as it is.”

Laughing, she eased to the right as he eased to the left so they were circling in the thinned-out area between the stream and the Harrowgate. “I’m the rarest of all. One of a kind. Would be a shame to kill me.”

He glanced at the ring on her finger. “I’m sure the trade-off will be worth it.”

“Not for me. I like breathing.” She maintained eye contact, but kept her peripheral vision on his hands. Wisely, he kept them wide apart and always moving, making it difficult to keep track of both at all times. “Who are you working with? I know you aren’t alone, and you haven’t been an assassin long enough to sense my presence.”

“Does it really matter? The entire den wants you dead.”

He lunged, and the silver tip of a dart glinted in the dappled sunlight. She hit the ground and rolled, slid her Gargantua-bone dagger from its sheath at her waist, and popped to her feet. The crack of gunfire deafened her as the whisper of a bullet brushed her shoulder. She slashed out with the dagger, knocking the pistol to the ground. Marasco snarled, and suddenly, a four-hundred-pound lion was coming at her. She blocked with one arm and buried the dagger in his side with the other, but she went down beneath the beast. Her spine cracked hard on a rock and his giant-ass paws pinned her shoulders.

Then, suddenly, he went airborne. Conall stood next to her, fists clenched, fangs elongated. He had a faint, satisfied smile on his face, and if she hadn’t been in so much pain, she’d have thought it was hot.

Marasco hit a tree with enough force to splinter the trunk, but he landed on all fours and charged again. Sin launched the dagger, which had tasted his blood and would now seek him out, and never miss. It struck his chest dead center. Shock flashed in Marasco’s eyes as he stumbled. He stayed on his feet, still pushing forward, but he’d lost his momentum and, staggering, he lost his hold on his lion form.

Now human, he collapsed, rolling to his side, blood gushing from his chest and his mouth. Dropping his medic bag, Con kneeled next to him. Sin cursed. Con was seriously going to pull some paramedic shit—

He twisted the knife. Marasco moaned through clenched teeth, too well trained and conditioned to react much to any kind of torture.

“Tell me who you’re working with,” Con said coldly, but Sin knew the lion wasn’t giving anything up, for the same reason he wasn’t screaming in agony.

“Go… to… hell.” Marasco’s golden eyes glazed over, and his chest stopped moving, and instantly, something popped painfully in her chest as the assassin bond with him broke.

Con yanked the blade out of the lion-shifter’s body. “We gotta go.”

“We need to double back to the house.” She took the dagger from him and wiped it on the dead shifter’s jeans. “I want to see who he was working with—”

She leaped to her feet as the sound of… hoofbeats?… thundered in her ears.

Con cursed. “Now.”

He dragged her by the arm to the Harrowgate. She barely had time to steady herself before he threw her inside the capsule-like room and dove in after her. As the hazy curtain formed to seal them in, an arrow punched through the hardening veil, whispered across Sin’s cheek, and pierced the wall between Australia and New Zealand on the Earth map.

“Who the hell was that?” she yelled, as Con slapped his palm on the glowing map. It burst into a dozen neon-colored lines that were etched into all four of the obsidian walls.

“It’s not one of your guys?” He tapped Europe, and the continent grew larger as the others vanished. He kept tapping it out until he pinpointed somewhere in Romania. The door shimmered open, and she turned to grab the arrow—often weapons gave away clues as to their owners’ identities—but it was gone. Son of a bitch. Who the hell used dissolving arrows? She’d never even heard of them.

“None of my assassins shoot disappearing arrows from horseback.” Which could mean that good old King Arthur was from another assassin den. Dammit! She’d known there was a possibility that her guys would get others involved, but the reality… well, she hated to admit it, but their fierce desire to see her dead stung. And now she was truly fucked.

She stepped out of the Harrowgate and into a dismal, cold, gray day. She thought it might be afternoon, but it was hard to tell, since the sun was hidden behind the thick clouds and fog. “Where are we going?”

“A warg stronghold.” Con swung around. “Test my virus levels.”

She bristled. “A please would be nice.” At his glare, she huffed. “Fine.” She gripped his wrist, charged up her gift, and probed his blood. “You just fed, so levels are really low.”

“I’m still going to be careful.” His tone turned wry. “So no unnecessary biting, screwing, or bleeding on anyone.”

“Do you regularly bleed on people?”

He dropped his medic bag next to the Harrowgate. “You’re a ball of laughs, you know that?” He took off along a grassy, worn trail, leaving her to follow.

“Hey,” she called to him. “I’m known throughout the assassin community as a funny person.” Con missed a step. “See? That was funny.” Better if he’d fallen on his face, but she’d take what she could get.

He ignored her, kept walking, though they didn’t go far. They were, apparently, near the base of a mountain range and down in a fog-shrouded valley. Sin could make out a walled town where the mists thinned. From what she could see, only one poorly maintained road ran to and from the village. Clearly, no one came here who wasn’t either lost or actively seeking the town.

“What is this place?”

“We’re near Moldavia. The ancestral birthplace of born wargs.” Con’s long strides ate up the ground, one step for her two. “This village is the home of the largest pricolicipack in the world.”

“Bespelled?”

“Of course.”

Like many supernatural beings who lived in the human realm, the wargs had enchanted their city with the same type of magic that encased UG’s ambulances. Most humans would either pass by the town without noticing it, or they’d be repelled by a feeling of deep sadness. The few who made it inside probably wouldn’t be there for long.

“So, do only pricolicilive here?”

“Mostly. Varcolaccan come and go, but they can’t live in a pricolicitown unless they’re mated to a pack member.”

Sin and Con approached the main gate, an arched entrance in the wall, and Sin was not surprised to see a tall, broad-shouldered male standing just outside it, his stance casual, almost lethargic, but his shrewd eyes missed nothing. This would be a scout, a pack member assigned to alert others to an intruder. Though he wouldn’t stop Sin and Con, she knew he’d broadcast their arrival the moment they were out of sight—if he hadn’t already.

Before they reached the gate, Con halted. “Have you ever been inside a pricolicivillage?”

“No. Why?”

He glanced down what appeared to be the main street, which was mostly deserted. But Sin sensed activity all around, and she didn’t believe for a moment that the streets weren’t being watched. “Do you have any of the same limitations as male Sems? If you sense arousal in someone, are you compelled to relieve it?”

“No, thank God.” That had been an interesting revelation about her purebred brothers. Before they’d taken mates, they’d been slaves to sexual desire on a scale that made her issues seem minuscule. Like her, they needed sex to survive, but they’d also been forced to satisfy a female’s lust whenever they felt it, which meant that in public places like pubs, they could be trapped for days.

“Good. Then stay close and don’t make eye contact with anyone unless I’ve introduced you to them. No one, got it?”

“I can take care of myself.”

“No doubt about that. But I don’t think even you can fight off a pack of horny males, or females who would see you as a threat. And since they’ll be able to sense the demon in you, you’ll be fair game.”

“I said—”

“Yeah, you said. But I’ve seen wargs rip others apart with their bare hands. You upset the pack, we’re both dead.”

* * *

So, Con turned out to be right.

The scent of sex entered Sin’s lungs like an aphrodisiac, warming her from the inside, while the feel of it in the air shimmered over her skin. She felt drugged, loose, completely dreamy. The tendrils of mist swirling around their feet as they walked up the center of the medieval-like town only added to the surreal texture of the world they’d entered.

“Con?” She brushed up against him, intentionally, and groaned at the feel of his hard body against hers. “Maybe I should wait outside the wall.” She’d been inside brothels, harems, and orgies and never had she encountered anything so raw, so intense. It was as if the village itself seethed with primal instincts and hungers that were never sated.

Con must have felt it, too—the evidence made an impressive bulge in the front of his jeans. “You’ll be vulnerable out there,” he muttered. “We’ll hurry.”

He took her hand and led her along the main thoroughfares, where a few people kept to the sidewalks and glass shop fronts revealed people inside the pubs, stores, and eateries. Oddly, Sin realized they’d been passed by only a couple of vehicles. Even odder, every now and then she caught sight of couples screwing in alleys and side streets. Some were clothed, some naked, some in various states of undress. And…

“Is this a gay village?”

“No.”

“Then why is most of the action male on male?”

“ Pricoliciare horny,” he said roughly, as he dragged her past a couple who seemed to be doing their best to prove Con’s point. “Especially during their teen-human-equivalent years, which extend into around their fiftieth year. You know how male dogs will hump anything?”

Right now she’dhump anything… She gulped. “Yeah.”

“It’s pretty much the same with young, unmated male wargs. The females are less insane with lust at that age, so the males burn off their excess testosterone with fights and sex. Usually both at the same time.”

“Which explains why a lot of them are bloody.”

“Winner does the loser.”

Speaking of which, she watched in morbid fascination as two young males beat the crap out of each other, until one knocked the other to the ground and mounted him. The loser immediately stopped fighting, and the sudden expression of pleasure on his face, as well as his stiff cock, said this wasn’t a rape situation at all.

“Are there any rules here?”

He tugged her to get her moving again. “Can’t fuck, fight, or walk naked on main roads or in places like restaurants, where humans might accidentally go if they find their way into the town.”

The human in her appreciated the need for rules, but the sex demon in her wanted to get down and dirty, right in the middle of the town square, just to cause a little trouble and shake things up. She shuddered at the thought, felt a wet rush between her legs, and started toward the fountain. As if Con knew what she was up to, he let out a low, erotic growl, squeezed her hand, and dragged her from the square.

They ducked down a side street—and ran into three fighting males. Fascinated and wondering how thatwas going to end, Sin stopped, digging in her heels when Con tried to force her away. She didn’t get a chance to see how the males were going to settle the battle and sex, because Con grabbed her by the waist and hauled her out of there. She’d have fought him, but… yeah, it just felt too good to have his arms around her.

She shivered with nearly uncontrollable desire as he put her down half a block away from the fighting trio, though for just a second he hesitated, his fingers digging into her hips, his panting breaths matching hers.

“Why are you affected so strongly by all of this?” She gripped his wrists, holding him there, wishing he’d come closer. “You’re… old.”

He laughed, a deep, clear note that rang through her in a pleasant wave. “I’m young by dhampire standards.” He sobered as he gazed at her, then took a deep breath and pulled away. “I’m not normally affected like this. It’s you. You’re putting off some hellacious fuck-me vibes.”

“Not enough, apparently,” she muttered.

He either ignored her or didn’t hear her, but he took her hand again and led her down a couple more cobblestone streets until they reached the outskirts of town and the narrowest road yet, which ran alongside the town wall.

Once again, she slowed as a distant, odd sound caught her attention. “What’s that? Sounds like a dogfight. Big one.”

Con nodded, but kept walking. “When aggression sparks in a large group of wargs, they shift, no matter what time of day or month, so they can battle in beast form.”

She whistled, low and long. “You wolfy people have turned fighting into an art form. Living with you must be loads of fun.”

For some reason, he tensed. “We ‘wolfy people’ can be very gentle with our families.”

True enough. From what Sin had seen, Runa was a perfect example.

At the end of the street was a cul-de-sac with four small, thatch-roofed houses, each separated by several yards of land and thick copses of trees. As they approached, a muscular male wearing nothing but jeans exited one of the houses, his gaze fixed on Con. Beside her, the scent of aggression wafted off Con.

“What’s going on?” she asked under her breath.

Con didn’t answer right away, and as they got closer, the dark-haired male bowed his head, though with obvious reluctance.

“He’s an alpha,” Con finally replied. “But I’m older, stronger, and more alpha. We determined that a few years ago.”

So… Con had beaten the crap out of the guy. That must have been interesting. “Did you make wild, passionate love to him after you proved victorious?” She was only partly teasing, was imagining the fight, the sex, and again, a primal response rose up, and God, her bones were going to melt if she didn’t get Con between her legs. Soon.

One corner of Con’s lush, gorgeous mouth turned up. “I passed on that.” The male didn’t lift his head until Con stopped in front of him. “Dante. Good to see you.”

Dante gave a curt nod. “Sable is inside.” He shifted his gaze to Sin, his expression dark. Dangerous. “Who is the female? She is not warg.”

“She’s a colleague.”

Dante’s lip lifted in a silent snarl. Clearly, he didn’t want her anywhere near his family, but Con didn’t give him a chance to protest. Still holding her hand, he entered the house, where the scent of roast venison made Sin’s mouth water, and once the door closed, her lust eased so abruptly she sagged against Con. He caught her, held her steady until she could stand on her own again.

“You okay?”

She nodded, grateful for the temporary reprieve.

Children’s laughter came from somewhere in the house, and a tall, red-haired female wearing green sweats and a sweatshirt came around the corner, grinning when she saw Con.

“Father!” She hurried to him, but dropped to her knees at his feet. He lifted her into a huge hug.

“Father?” Sin asked, and he shrugged.

“Technically, I’m Sable’s great-great-great-great-grandfather, but we’ll pretend there aren’t so many greats in there.”

“What brings you here?” Sable gave Sin a warm smile before hugging Con again, giving his neck a little nuzzle and kiss, much the way pups greeted older canines. For some reason, the display of affection put an odd lump in Sin’s throat. “Would you like to stay for supper?”

“I’m here for only a minute,” he said. “No time to even sit.”

Frowning, Sable stepped back. “What is it?”

“You’ve heard of SF.”

“Of course.” She waved her hand dismissively. “We have guards at the gate to prevent foreign wargs who might be infected from entering.”

“You need to take your family somewhere else. Somewhere isolated.”

“But why, if—”

Con gripped Sable’s shoulders and forced her to look into his deadly serious eyes. “Because soon it’s going to become known that only turned wargs are susceptible, and security at your gate will no longer be needed.”

For a moment, confusion swirled in Sable’s eyes, surely matching Sin’s own, and then the blood in Sable’s already pale face drained, making her freckles stand out like a dalmation’s spots. “Oh, gods.”

“It’ll only be a matter of time before a warg civil war breaks out,” he said grimly. “Get your family to safety.”

She gave him a shaky nod. “Just a minute.” She darted out the door, leaving Sin and Con alone in the entryway.

“I don’t understand what just happened,” Sin said, still staring after the shaken female. “Why would the news about turned wargs be bad? Isn’t your… daughter… a dhampire?”

“Not even close.” A child squealed somewhere in the house, and Con smiled fondly. “Back when our numbers were far greater, female dhampires often mated with wargs. Eight hundred years ago, my only daughter did so. Her offspring followed suit, mostly breeding out the dhampire blood. Sable is pricolici, and her mate is as well.”

“Now I’m even more confused—”

“One of her cubs is varcolac.”

Oh, shit. “How did that happen?” She waited for a response. And waited. “Con?”

“It’s not important,” he said flatly, the dismissal just blatant enough to piss Sin off.

“If it’s not important, then it shouldn’t be a problem for you to tell me, right?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “And it’s not like we have anything better to do.”

“It’s a very dangerous secret, Sin. Something that could destroy my family.”

Her anger veered sharply to hurt, which made her ping right back to anger, because dammit, he shouldn’t be able to affect her like that. “Ah. So you think I would use the information to harm them. Nice. Must have been hell to stick your dick into someone so repugnant.”

Angry, guttural words fell from his lips. Good. He deserved to be as irked as she was. As the curses died down, he trained his laserlike gaze on her, his expression tight, shadowed with unmistakable warning. “When a born warg gives birth to a human baby, they are usually put down before they can utter a cry. But Sable couldn’t do that. She bit the infant and had the mark of a born warg tattooed onto him.”