“Awww,” she said with heavy sarcasm, her head cocked to the side. “You’re still such a sweet-talker.”

Feeling his blood heat to a dangerous, energy-stealing level, Cruen ripped his gaze from the female and turned back to face Feeyan. “What of the other Pureblood? Has he professed his wish to remain as well?”

“Why is this any of your business?” Dillon continued brusquely. “Why are you even here? Because we all know altruism is not your thing.”

His fangs started to descend. He should’ve drowned her when he’d had the chance. “So the Order is now being run by not only its newest member, but a mutore.” He spoke to Feeyan, and liked the flash of embarrassment and unease he saw in her eyes. “How far we have fallen.”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you,” Dillon snapped back. “You who created us.”

This time, he did turn to look at her. “Mistakes are part of any experiment.”

She hissed at him, pushed away the gentle, calming hand of the Order member beside her. “Calling yourself a mistake, huh, Pops? How many species are you now?”

“I was born a Pureblood, mongrel.” He sneered, but inside, the weight of his physical and emotional exhaustion threatened to fell him. “What I did to myself, how I used my own flesh, my own blood to test the DNA of other species, was for the good of our race, to better our race. My sacrifice makes me a hero. But your birth will always make you trash.”

“Fuck you.”

“That’s quite enough,” Feeyan interrupted smoothly.

“Look how he speaks to a member of the Order,” Dillon said hotly. “You know he doesn’t give a shit about the Eternal Breed.” Her eyes narrowed on Cruen. “Do you have a personal reason for wanting us to infiltrate the Rain Forest shifters, Daddy Dipstick?”

Growing weaker by the second, Cruen was doing his very best not to collapse, drop like a stone—his backside into the sand. “Do you have a personal reason for keeping the Order out, mongrel daughter?”

She leaned forward on the table and grinned broadly. “Shall we talk daughters?”

“Enough!” Feeyan cried, standing, her hands outstretched.

Cruen eyeballed Dillon with new interest. The mutore female clearly knew about his connection to Petra and the balas. She knew Petra was his daughter. But why wasn’t she revealing it? Why wasn’t she using it against him?

Why didn’t she want the Order to know about the relationship?

“Synjon Wise has not been in contact,” Dillon told the others with forced calm.

“What does that mean?” Looming above them all, Feeyan turned to look at her. “He’s no longer there?”

“He’s there. But we haven’t been given access to him.”

“Haven’t been given?” Cruen repeated with a painfully forced laugh. “A Pureblood is being held captive and the Order remains silent.”

“He is not captive,” Dillon returned hotly. “He is there feeding his unborn balas.”

Feeyan was silent for a moment, closing her eyes and muttering incantations under her breath. Exhausted, both mentally and physically, Cruen watched her. He knew this game. He’d played it many times. Gathering silence, gathering attention, showing his power. He wondered why the new leader of the Order hadn’t developed her own tricks of the trade.

When she opened her eyes again, they were a stark and shocking white, and her voice boomed when she spoke. “I want the Purebloods brought here, Dillon. If what you say is true, they need only claim their situation and I will return them.”

“But,” Dillon began, looking more nervous than Cruen had ever seen her, “the veana is late in her swell.”

“Flash does not impact swell in a Pureblood veana.” Feeyan lifted her chin and added imperiously, “But that is not something you would know, is it?”

Dillon’s nostrils flared, and her jaw went tight, but she said nothing.

“You have twenty-four hours to bring them before me, or the Order will see this as a true Pureblood abduction, even an act of war by the shifter breed.”

“Perhaps I can help this situation along,” Cruen offered. “Go with Dillon to speak to the shifters.”

Feeyan turned her attention on him.

“No way,” Dillon said quickly before the leader could answer. “I don’t want him there. The shifters won’t want him there. Not after he revealed them, betrayed them. I’m trying to do this with diplomacy.”

“Don’t you think your presence there will cause more pushback?” Feeyan asked Cruen. “Better to let the Order handle things.”

“The Order,” he began in a calm voice, “specifically one Order member, Dillon, tried to handle things and failed. I care about the Purebloods held hostage not only because they are Eternal Breed but because one of them carries my blood.”

The world around him fell into utter silence. The Order members sat up straighter, all of their eyes on him as they waited for him to reveal more. For one moment it felt like old times to Cruen. He was all-powerful. Their leader. He captured their attention and respect, then used it to further his cause.

Perhaps he would have that again someday.

Feeyan didn’t seem to possess it.

For now, though, he needed access, a valid reason, and a ride into the Rain Forest community.

His gaze connected only with Feeyan. “The Pureblood veana in swell happens to be my daughter.” Through his emotional pain and physical exhaustion, he lifted his chin and smiled. “I will make sure she and the paven held captive are returned.”

• • •

Petra dove under the water and swam downriver a few yards. The sun was sinking, staining the sky a beautiful ripe mango color. Sasha and Valentin had arrived at the cabin a little while ago for their evening shift. Confident almost to the point of cocky, they’d told Petra all was handled and she didn’t need to return until morning.

For breakfast, they’d added with sneers in Synjon’s direction. A dig that Syn completely ignored.

Right before she’d walked out the door, she’d pulled Sasha aside and warned him that arrogance was a dangerous mind-set to be in with someone as experienced and cunning as Synjon Wise. But Sasha had only reminded her that he and Val had already bested the cunning Brit, and on the paven’s home turf no less. Containing him would be far less complicated.

They were tying Syn up as she closed the door and headed for her parents’ home.

A loud roar met her ears as she broke the surface of the water. Shifting from bear to male on the bank, Brodan gave her a grin, then dove in beside her. They’d seen each other naked for years. It was just part of the shifter way. But there was something different about it now, and Petra wasn’t sure why. Without making a big deal about it, she floated back a few inches, keeping space between them.

“Where’s blood boy?”

His hair wet, and his eyes flashing in the dying rays of the sun, Brodan looked incredibly handsome.

“Back at the house.”

“You tie him up?”

She shook her head. “Sasha and Val took care of it.”

Brodan’s sharp eyes narrowed. “I hate that you need him.”

“Me too,” she said, though the words weren’t as quick to leave her tongue as they should’ve been. “But it won’t be much longer.”

He splashed water on his face. “It should’ve been me.”

His words stilled her. “What do you mean?”

“I should’ve been the one to help you.”

“Brodan—”

“I know. I know. I get the biological connection.” He took a deep breath and blew it out. “I just wish . . . shit . . .”

“What?”

His eyes came up and locked on hers. “I just wish it could’ve been me.”

Her insides tightened. It wasn’t a surprise to hear, and in fact she’d thought the same thing a million times over the past few months. Brodan would be an incredible father. Loyal and loving. Fun and generous with his time and attention.

“Hey,” he said, dropping his chin, giving her a soft look.

“What?”

“I didn’t say that to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“I know. And I’m not.” She gave him a small smile. “You’ll be an incredible father. And mate.”

“To some lucky shifter female?” he said with a grin. “Is that where you’re going, Pets? Because if you are, I’m not sure I’m ready to hear it.”

She shook her head. “No, that’s not where I was going.”

His brows lifted. “Interesting.” His eyes warmed. “So, have you decided what you’re going to do after the baby is born? Where you want to be? And with whom?” His eyes roamed her face. “What would be best for the cub?”

“Vampire,” came a male voice behind her.

Petra gasped, her gaze flying to the bank, her hands flying to her chest as she scrambled to cover herself. What the hell?

Backlit by the intense white moonlight was Synjon Wise. “Not cub,” he said. His arms were crossed over his chest, his broad, heavily muscled chest.

“Syn—,” she breathed.

“You remember my name, love,” he remarked dryly. “Even as you float around naked with the doctor here. Well, I suppose that’s something.”

“How did you . . . ?” She glanced past him to the house in the distance. Panic bubbled within her. “Where are they? Sasha and Val? What did you do to them?”

He shrugged. “I told you, as I told them, that I’m expecting guests this evening.”

Brodan, who had been farther away from the shore, was hauling ass out of the water, nearly in midshift.

“No!” Petra called out to him. “Brodan, wait.”

The male paused and looked back at her, gave her a quick growl.

She shook her head at him. “No. Please. I don’t want anyone hurt.”