Their blood, his and hers, ran an unending race inside Kate's veins as she switched her hand position and pressed down into another set of twenty push-ups. It was how she'd coped inside Mondrar for so long-switching off the brain and turning up the volume of her body.
"How many can you do?" Ladd asked her, lying on his bel y, palms on his chin as he watched her.
After an entire morning cooped up inside their rooms, she and Ladd had escaped downstairs. Exploring the various rooms on the main floor had gotten pretty dul until they'd come across a door leading down another set of stairs to what Kate had thought would be a basement or cel ar. But instead, there had been tunnels, several of them, running in al directions. She was dying to know what they were used for. However, she'd wait on asking the master of the house. For now.
"I can handle about seventy-five before I shut down," she told him in between breaths. "But I did a hundred once."
"Wow," he said, his eyes huge. "Can I try?"
"Sure." Kate sat up and helped him into a basic position, knees on the stone floor, palms even with his shoulders.
"You want me to help you?"
"I can do it myself."
"Oh, sure you can."
"I have extra-big beeceps."
Kate bit her lip to keep from laughing. "I bet you do."
"My father has big beeceps, too."
"Does he?"
"Sure. Haven't you looked?"
Jeez, kid, she thought. Didn't he know she was trying her damnedest not to bring up images of that paven and his extraordinary physical gifts? Not that her trying was working al that well. She'd spent thirty minutes in the shower this morning with a loofah, trying to scrub away the scent of him on her skin.
No dice. He was in her blood now.
"Come on," she said to Ladd. "Let's see what you got."
She watched him as he grunted his way down on his first push-up, then grunted his way back up. Bending and straightening like a real champ.
Four push-ups in, he settled back on his feet and announced, "That's hard."
"Takes some practice," she said, then wondered if maybe she ought to add a little encouragement to the statement. "But you did pretty damn well."
He looked at her with reproving eyes. "That's not a nice word, Kate."
She nodded grimly. "You're right. Sorry."
"It's okay." Suddenly, his face lit up like twin stars and he jumped to his feet. "I know what I'm real y good at. Racing.
Do you want to race me? I have very fast legs."
"Let's do it." She stood too. "But I need to warn you, I have pretty fast legs, too."
He smiled real wide, real sweet, and she kind of felt like He smiled real wide, real sweet, and she kind of felt like maybe she'd won a prize or something.
They walked down the center tunnel together, stopping once they'd reached a decent enough racing distance.
Kate sank into a starter position. Ladd fol owed.
"To the stairs?" she asked him.
He nodded.
"On your mark," she cal ed out, her gaze shifting to the finish line, "get set-GO!"
Ladd took off like a bul et, al arms and legs pumping, and Kate fol owed at half speed, feeling lighter than she had in days.
"I'm going to beat you," Ladd shouted back, making Kate laugh as she sped up after him.
"No, you're not! I'm coming for you! I'm going to beat-"
Ladd hit the bottom step of the finish line just as Nicholas Roman did. The paven stood there, arms crossed over his chest, looking furious.
"Ah, shit," Kate muttered to herself as she came to a stop in front of him.
But Ladd had bat ears and made a face at her. "That's not a nice word, Kate."
"You're right. Sorry."
"I won, right? I won?"
"You did. Congratulations."
Clearly having little patience for their post-chase chat, Nicholas got to barking. "What are you doing down here?"
Kate shrugged. "Racing."
"You're not supposed to be here. This section of the house is off-limits."
"Says who?"
Nicholas inhaled deeply, then spoke calmly. "Ladd, Sara's waiting for you upstairs. She has a game she wants to show you."
The boy glanced over at Kate. She nodded. Fine, he didn't need to be around when his potential father was bawling her out.
She waited for the boy to head up the stairs and out of sight before throwing her hands up and asking the black-eyed paven, "What's your damage?"
"I instructed you to stay in your room," he said, coming to stand before her.
"No, you didn't."
"Of course I did."
She wasn't about to keep that argument going-they'd be down here al day. "Listen, the kid and I got bored. We went in search of somewhere to hang out, let loose, and we found this. No harm done."
His eyes moved over her then, from bare feet to ripped jeans, to her soaking-wet tank top.
"What?" she said, unnerved by his leisurely perusal.
"You're wet."
"Sweaty," she corrected.
Again, his gaze moved over her arms, her stomach. "You work your body like an athlete."
"I do."
"Why?"
She shrugged. "Keeps the demons at bay."
"Not this demon," he growled, reaching out and brushing a bead of sweat off her temple.
She eased back. "What are you doing?"
"Foolish, foolish things," he uttered before bringing the fingertip to his lips, lapping at the minuscule drop of sweat with his tongue.
Kate's insides went liquid. "I thought we weren't going to do this again."
He lifted his black eyes to her. "What?"
"Taste each other."
"I never said that."
"Of course you did."
He grinned, nice and slow, showing off those spectacular ribbed fangs.
Asshole. She grinned, too.
"Come on, veana. We're going out tonight and you need a shower."
She sobered. "Bait and switch time?"
"Ticktock."
"I'll need something to wear, unless you don't mind these old things. I know I don't."
His eyes swept over her hungrily. "You and Sara wil go shopping."
"I hate shopping. You want me out there, why don't you find me something to wear?"
"I can't go until the sun's down, and if I did you'd probably end up with a lime green potato sack."
"Perfect. Sounds lovely."
He shook his head.
"Dare's not going to care what I have on."
"No, but I do."
"Fine." Kate raised a brow. "I'll race you to decide."
"What?"
"Down and back again. You make it to the steps first and I'll do the shopping thing. I make it to the steps first, you're heading to the women's department at BG."
"BG. Unless that stands for Blood Giver, I'm not interested."
"Bergdorf Goodman."
He looked down his nose at her. "Did you not hear the lime green potato sack example?"
"You afraid, paven?"
He grinned. "I'm a morphed male. You'l lose."
God, she'd never seen anyone so sexy. She hated herself for the thought, for wishing he would lay her down on the stone floor and lick the sweat off of every inch of her body. She pointed a finger at him. "There's no flashing."
"Not possible. We're inside."
"Right. Let's do this."
They walked al the way down the center tunnel, farther than she had with Ladd. When they turned and dropped into starting stance, Kate chided him. "Just so you know, I look terrible in green."
He shot her a half smile. "Yeah? Me too."
The older veana who led Lucian through the house with an irritated puss on her face was the very same one who'd been to his home in SoHo a few months back. Edel, the nursemaid, the tegga. Or who Lucian had assumed was Bronwyn's tegga at the time. Turned out she was just a business associate.
Business. How was Bronwyn running a business inside a credenti anyway? In the home she shared with her parents, no less. Parents who were thankful y not at home. No tel ing how two upstanding Purebloods would react to a Son of a Breeding Male visiting their home, and their very precious, very pure daughter.
Not that he cared. Just didn't need the drama and the bloodshed right now.
Edel kept glancing back at him as they climbed the stairs, shooting him looks of warning.
"Not to worry, love," he said casually. "Your mistress and her chastity are safe from me."
She turned around and muttered a terse, "Disgusting Breeding male witte."
The witte, the animal, in him snarled playfully. "You know I can hear you."
"Yes, I know!" she nearly shouted.
Lucian laughed.
When they reached the top of the stairs, Edel led him down a long corridor, then stopped in front of a white door.
She knocked once, then said, "Lucian Roman is here to see you. Shal I send him away?"
"No, Edel." Bronwyn's light, lovely voice. "Send him in."
"Subtle," Lucian said to the older veana as he walked past her.
She narrowed her eyes and kept her hand on the knob.
"The door remains open," she hissed.
"Yes, that wil stop me from ravaging her." Lucian walked into the room and found Bronwyn seated at her desk, her back to him, long silky black hair hanging down over the chair. His hands twitched at his sides. "I see you stil employ your tegga."
"And I see you're stil a gigantic ass." She turned around and gave him a wide, distrusting smile. He liked that she wasn't afraid of him. Too bad she lived in a credenti, had an interest in fol owing the rules of the Order, and was way too beautiful for her own good.
She would've been fun to play with.
Her leaf-green eyes appeared a bit more fatigued than usual, but her pale beauty remained constant. "Hel o, Lucian."
"Princess."
She rolled her eyes. She was dressed simply in a black sweater and a black skirt, but on that body nothing was simple and everything looked like lingerie.
She crossed her arms over her perfect chest and said,
"Not that having you here isn't an interesting turn of events, but I'm wil ing to bet you were coerced by one of your brothers into coming for a specific purpose."
Brains, beauty, and body-and only able to use one-
what a waste. "Nicholas may have a balas."
"May have?" This changed her mood altogether and she gestured to the chair opposite her.
"A veana," Lucian explained, dropping into the handmade leather armchair, "the mother of the boy, has claimed that Nicholas is the father. He needs to know if it's true." He leaned over and dropped the bag with Ladd's hair in it on her desk.
She barely glanced at it. "You are aware that I'm a genealogist, not a DNA lab tech?"
"But you have the equipment here to perform the testing, don't you?"
"Maybe." She picked up the bag, examined the sample.
"Sure this balas isn't yours, Lucian?"
"Never can be one hundred percent sure of anything. I do get around. Wouldn't know if I were going to town on top of one of Nicholas's castoffs or not."
"Delightful." She tossed the bag back on her desk. "I'm guessing he wants the results yesterday."
"You real y are bril iant."
"You had doubts?"
He grinned.
"Now," she said, sitting up straight, crossing her legs.
"Why should I help the Roman brothers? Seems to me I wasn't treated very wel in their household."
"Only by me." He had a hard time keeping his eyes up and off her legs. Pale and deliciously formed, they could be used as weapons, or at the very least, wrapped around a paven's waist, squeezing until he came. "Alexander and Nicholas were gracious as fuck to you, princess-especial y Nicky-and you know it."
She didn't disagree, just cocked her head to the side and watched him.
He growled at her. "You aren't doing me the favor."
"That does make it far more agreeable," she said. She inhaled deeply. "Al right. Give me a few days."
"You can't just knock it out right now? Few minutes'
work?"
"Oh, Lucian," she said with a sardonic smile. "This is science, not a female you're just-what was it again-lying on top of, going to town on?"
"Sometimes that's al it takes."
"A few days, paven," she said, turning her chair around and facing her desk again. "I'll send word."
"Peachy," he grumbled.
Edel poked her head in the open door. "Your client is here."
"Very good. Send him in, Edel." She glanced over her shoulder at Lucian. "We're done here, yes?"
"For now," he uttered.
A Pureblood and morphed paven stepped into the room, his blue eyes searching out the space until they landed on the veana he sought.
Standing, Bronwyn went over to him and shook his hand.
"Hel o, Mr. Wade, it's nice to see you."
He nodded. "Mistress Kettler."
"Bronwyn, please. You may have a seat . . . when Lucian Roman has dislodged his backside from it, of course."
Lucian stood. "Fine. I'm going." But as he passed her, he leaned into her ear and whispered, "Remember, princess, Roman work comes before this clown."
She moved away from him. "Goodbye, Lucian." He walked out, attempting to tune out her voice as she spoke to the credenti paven, pretty little tril s and fril s in her tone.
Maybe he'd wait outside and break the asshole's neck, he thought as he headed down the stairs and toward the door.
Or maybe he'd just get the fuck home and pray this was the last time he'd have to see Bronwyn Kettler's face, and eyes, and hair, and legs.