“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
“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
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