lowering, in deep pain—his cock harder than it had ever been, his balls twin rocks of misery.
He heard her sit up beside him, the scent of arousal encapsulating them, making it nearly impossible to breathe.
He uttered a pained, “I’m sorry, Princess.”
“I shouldn’t have run,” she said, her own pain evident in her raspy tone.
“I may be an asshole of epic proportion, but I’m no rapist.”
“Oh, God, Lucian.” Taking a deep breath, she said softly, “I wouldn’t have resisted.”
He turned to her, saw her cheeks flushed. “Don’t say that.”
“Why not? It’s true.” She shook her head miserably. “My body wanted it. Still does.”
Her words tore at him, dug into his need to makeher his. Every second, every moment they remained on this island was borrowed time.
“You know it and I know it,” she said. “We’re never getting out of here unless…”
“Don’t say it, goddamn it!” he begged harshly.
But she didn’t have to. As they each took their next breath, the truth was carved in the rock before them.
No way out for the Breeding Male but to breed
.
11
B ronwyn’s blood pounded the beat of destruction and desperation inside her veins as she stared at the rock. But her blood also pounded for the one beside her, the one whose life force kept her mind clear and her body sated. He had sustained her—twice now—when she’d thought she would go mad from hunger. He was the
paven
she had desired since the first time she’d plunged her fangs into his skin when she’d come to the Roman brothers’ house in SoHo.
As the heat of the sun abandoned the forest floor and the island was overtaken by clouds and stormy skies, Bronwyn knew they had lost the battle. Problem was, even though she desired Lucian, this wasn’t how she wanted to surrender herself to him.
“Why does the Order want this?” she said out loud, more to herself, not expecting an answer. Almost not wanting one.
But Lucian spoke swiftly and with an almost eerie calm. “It’s not the Order.”
“Of course it is. Look at that.” She gestured to words carved into the rock. “Only they can manifest their will in such a way.”
Lucian’s gaze was filled with regret. “It’s Cruen.”
At first she wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly. “The rogue member of the Order?”
He nodded. “He’s ex-Order now, mastermind of the premorph of all Roman brothers, and the one who is clearly plotting our downfall.”
His words sank in slowly, and she looked down at her hands. They were shaking. “But why?”
“He wants me morphed.”
She looked up at him, but said nothing.
“He wants my Breeding Male gene to kick in.” Lucian’s pale eyes flashed with heat. “And if you and I have sex, it will.”
Like a battering ram to the brain, everything became crystal clear. She saw her room in the Boston
credenti
, her office, her work—all the e-mails from that private client who had never revealed himself but had hired her to research Breeding Male lineage, Breeding Male descendants and their possible true mates. Her hands went to her face and she shook her head.
Lucian moved in closer, touched her hair. “What? What’s wrong?” A low, fierce growl erupted from his throat. “Did that cat touch you, hurt you?”
Her eyes lifted to his, her head just kept shaking—she couldn’t stop it. She was horrified. “This is because of me.” Cruen was her private client—had to be. She found the Roman brothers for him. This male before her had risked himself, his future, his captivity for herhunger, and
she
had outed his genetic structure to the monster who wished to destroy him.
“Hey—”
She moved away from him, stood up. “Oh, God.”
“Don’t—”
“I started this!” she cried, turning and heading over to the rock that bore their fate. She couldn’t tell him, couldn’t tell him she’d been the cause of all of this. First with her research, then with her blood.
“Come on, now.” Lucian was
He heard her sit up beside him, the scent of arousal encapsulating them, making it nearly impossible to breathe.
He uttered a pained, “I’m sorry, Princess.”
“I shouldn’t have run,” she said, her own pain evident in her raspy tone.
“I may be an asshole of epic proportion, but I’m no rapist.”
“Oh, God, Lucian.” Taking a deep breath, she said softly, “I wouldn’t have resisted.”
He turned to her, saw her cheeks flushed. “Don’t say that.”
“Why not? It’s true.” She shook her head miserably. “My body wanted it. Still does.”
Her words tore at him, dug into his need to makeher his. Every second, every moment they remained on this island was borrowed time.
“You know it and I know it,” she said. “We’re never getting out of here unless…”
“Don’t say it, goddamn it!” he begged harshly.
But she didn’t have to. As they each took their next breath, the truth was carved in the rock before them.
No way out for the Breeding Male but to breed
.
11
B ronwyn’s blood pounded the beat of destruction and desperation inside her veins as she stared at the rock. But her blood also pounded for the one beside her, the one whose life force kept her mind clear and her body sated. He had sustained her—twice now—when she’d thought she would go mad from hunger. He was the
paven
she had desired since the first time she’d plunged her fangs into his skin when she’d come to the Roman brothers’ house in SoHo.
As the heat of the sun abandoned the forest floor and the island was overtaken by clouds and stormy skies, Bronwyn knew they had lost the battle. Problem was, even though she desired Lucian, this wasn’t how she wanted to surrender herself to him.
“Why does the Order want this?” she said out loud, more to herself, not expecting an answer. Almost not wanting one.
But Lucian spoke swiftly and with an almost eerie calm. “It’s not the Order.”
“Of course it is. Look at that.” She gestured to words carved into the rock. “Only they can manifest their will in such a way.”
Lucian’s gaze was filled with regret. “It’s Cruen.”
At first she wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly. “The rogue member of the Order?”
He nodded. “He’s ex-Order now, mastermind of the premorph of all Roman brothers, and the one who is clearly plotting our downfall.”
His words sank in slowly, and she looked down at her hands. They were shaking. “But why?”
“He wants me morphed.”
She looked up at him, but said nothing.
“He wants my Breeding Male gene to kick in.” Lucian’s pale eyes flashed with heat. “And if you and I have sex, it will.”
Like a battering ram to the brain, everything became crystal clear. She saw her room in the Boston
credenti
, her office, her work—all the e-mails from that private client who had never revealed himself but had hired her to research Breeding Male lineage, Breeding Male descendants and their possible true mates. Her hands went to her face and she shook her head.
Lucian moved in closer, touched her hair. “What? What’s wrong?” A low, fierce growl erupted from his throat. “Did that cat touch you, hurt you?”
Her eyes lifted to his, her head just kept shaking—she couldn’t stop it. She was horrified. “This is because of me.” Cruen was her private client—had to be. She found the Roman brothers for him. This male before her had risked himself, his future, his captivity for herhunger, and
she
had outed his genetic structure to the monster who wished to destroy him.
“Hey—”
She moved away from him, stood up. “Oh, God.”
“Don’t—”
“I started this!” she cried, turning and heading over to the rock that bore their fate. She couldn’t tell him, couldn’t tell him she’d been the cause of all of this. First with her research, then with her blood.
“Come on, now.” Lucian was
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