Chosen by Sin by Virna Depaul

Old.
    She dampened a towel and pressed it against her face, closing her eyes
when another wave of nausea swept over her. Shakily, she clung to the edge of
the sink and locked her knees.
    What was going on?
    She was never sick. The only times she’d ever been sick was when she’d
been pregnant.
    Pregnant.
    With Dex’s child?
    Instantly, she remembered the trickle of moisture on her thigh, proof
the condom he’d used had broken.
    Her shocked gaze stared back at her from the mirror, her silver pupils
expanding.
    Impossible. Not because it was so soon for her to know she’d
conceived—fertilization occurred almost instantly. Moreover, vampires
were extremely connected to their bodies and could almost always sense the
moment a sperm fertilized an egg.
    But she hadn’t. And she wasn’t supposed to be able to conceive at all.
That’s what the doctors had told her.
    Impossible.
    It was the same thing she’d thought as she’d stared at Dex’s blood
results. And as those proved, nature loved a good laugh.

     

CHAPTER
ELEVEN
    FBI BUILDING
    LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA
     
    “Remember, Dex,” Mahone said during their final briefing on Dex’s
assignment. “Flying to Paris is about gathering intel only. The shape-shifters
aren’t exactly a group the Bureau is prepared to trust. Still, reliable sources
overseas tell us there’s more infighting than ever.”
    “You’ve reminded me of this every hour on the hour. I’ve made several
good connections over the past few days. I’m not stupid, Mahone.”
    “But you do have a problem blending in, even when you’re in the States.
You’ll stand out even more in France, where Otherborn aren’t even publicly
acknowledged.”
    It didn’t matter where they were—none of the Para-Ops team
blended in. But Dex just shrugged.
    He got what Mahone was saying loud and clear.
    Forget that the team’s leader, Knox Devereaux, had a vampire’s silver
hair and pupils, that Wraith had once had blue skin and hazed-over eyes, or
that O’Flare was an “11” on a scale of one to ten for sexual appeal. Dex was
the team’s problem child. That’s what Mahone meant, and that suited Dex just
fine.
    “Usually,” Dex pointed out, “I have no reason to blend in. Besides, I
told you I have another motive for going to Paris now. Once I get you the
information you want, I’m going to take some time off. Establishing my presence
overseas will allow the agency to deny my involvement in the imminent murder of
a certain U.S. were leader. As such, blending in isn’t what I’m looking to do.”
    Mahone narrowed his eyes in warning, causing Dex to blow out an
impatient breath. Yeah, okay fine. To get him to join the Para-Ops team, Mahone
had agreed to look the other way when Dex exacted revenge against his
grandfather, but such things were normally kept on the hush hush. It was yet
another example of Dex’s inability to blend, he supposed, but whatever. He’d
get the job done. Both jobs. He always did.
    “Your international travels will provide you some kind of alibi,”
Mahone confirmed. “At least one the Bureau can use publicly. But that’s a
secondary goal. We still need you to exercise restraint with the
shape-shifters. And that’s even assuming they’ll talk to you.”
    “Don’t worry. They’ll talk to me. I’ve already made contact with a
shape-shifter in France and he’s assured me he has influence with the locals
there.”
    “I’m sure you’ll wield your considerable powers of persuasion. Then you
can tackle your sudden need to deal with personal business.”
    Dex’s mouth tightened. “Wanting to avenge my mother’s death isn’t
sudden. I’ve put it off for far too long.” He might have momentarily put the
task aside, but after the close call Wraith had suffered, Dex had been reminded
that even an immortal, let alone a half-breed were, had limited time on Earth.
Rurik’s appearance in his dream had merely reinforced the thought. Vengeance
had to be swift or it grew cold,