Page 73 of His Eternal Temptation

His mind sharpened, clarity cutting through his shock like a razor’s edge. “The Hillmans must be working with the ferals’ sire. This was their plot against you.”

Rowan nodded firmly. “I bet the sire sent those two into my building to find Caden and kill him so we couldn’t use his blood.”

“Very good,” said a deep, rasping voice, tone dripping with condescension.

Rowan paled, naked terror like Lane had never seen contorting his features. Lane’s heart rate spiked, and he whirled around.

A tall man in a workman’s jumpsuit approached at a casual pace. “Miss me, Rowan? It’s so good to see my favorite creation.”

TWENTY

ROWAN

“Cris.” Rowan wasn’t even sure if the word was audible. His sire was here. How? He’d burned the man a century ago.

Rowan hadn’t cut him open to check his heart, but the entire manor had burned to the ground around him. There was no way he hadn’t been completely charred. Except here he stood, the same as ever, beautiful and cruel, no emotion on his face, his golden brown skin flawless and hair styled, regal even in grimy clothes.

The modern garb was disorienting, but of course, Cris would be dressed to blend in. He’d always been exceptional at fooling everyone around him. Rowan had been thoroughly taken in at first.

“Wondering where I’ve been?” Cris moved closer at a lazy pace, like he had all the time in the world.

Where were the others? Rowan should grab Lane and run, but he didn’t move. Why had Cris waited so long to make his survival known?

Lane’s magic flared, catching Cris’s attention.

He cocked his head in Lane’s direction, his eyes cold and calculated. “A pet witch? You killed one of mine. Tsk, tsk. Upsetting me as you always have—Stop it!” The last words were a shout, sudden and violent. “Cast that spell, and I’ll have them all killed.”

“Who?” Lane demanded, much surer than he’d been facing the Hillman witch.

“All Rowan’s lackeys.” Cris waved a flippant hand.

Lane turned in the direction indicated, but Rowan couldn’t look away from his sire. It was never smart to let his attention wander when Cris was in a killing mood.

Lane’s muttered curse didn’t bode well. Rowan only had to wait a beat until Cecile was dragged into view, unmoving in the arms of a damned Orlov vampire whom he’d sent packing nearly a year ago.

Cold rage broke Rowan from his stupor. What was that human-trafficking piece of trash doing in his city? He must be the sole survivor after the cursed coven’s last attempted resurgence failed.

“F-Father?” Lane’s voice broke.

At the sound of his distress, Rowan whipped around. There was Marshall Blackburn, staring dumbstruck at Lane. He held Jack, limp and unconscious, between himself and a man Rowan didn’t recognize.

“Get moving!” Cris shouted.

The unfamiliar man dragged Jack forward in a rush, jolting Marshall into action. He stumbled forward, moving like someone had knocked him over the head, his eyes locked on his son.

Lane had said Marshall hadn’t known he’d tracked the Hillmans to Shearwater Landing. Had Lane’s mere presence shocked him? He better not have known about the plan Lane nearly died to uncover, or worked alongside these men, thinking they’d killed his son.

Cris’s voice boomed. “No spells, witch, or we’ll rip out Rowan’s vampire-grunts’ hearts. Temporarily dead is better than the alternative, eh, Rowan?”

His attention returned to the greatest threat. The times Cris had killed him temporarily flashed across his mind. His fits of rage. The pain and soul-deep betrayal.

“What do you want?” Rowan ground out, fearing the answer was obvious. Cris wanted him, and Rowan might have to let him win. If he could get Cris to believe he’d given in, let the monster take him away, it would put Lane and the others out of danger.

“What do you care about what I want?” Cris scoffed. “I don’t need you, Rowan. I’ll get what I want without you. Well. Not completely. You, broken and dying, is part of it. Will you give it to me?”

Worthless, good for nothing. Cris’s voice echoed in Rowan’s mind, a combination of countless memories. You’re lucky I keep you alive. You’re a⁠—

Rowan shut his mind to the onslaught of old abuse, his heart hardening. He didn’t believe the awful things Cris said about him and didn’t care if Cris wanted him dead. The feeling was mutual.