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His other brow raises. “Less than a 10 percent chance of conception, then only a 3 percent chance of it being viable beyond four weeks.”
There’s a chance I could have this man’s child, as impossible as it sounds. Yet, the idea of being filled with his seed, claiming me as his own in all ways?
Landon’s pupils widen and his nostrils flare when I grow even wetter. I drop my hand between us, gripping his cock and lining it up. Then he lets me drag his mouth to mine as he slides in with a purely masculine sound. Against his lips, I smile between kisses. “Apparently I have another kink,” I say.
“I can work with that,” he says, and starts to thrust.
* * *
To my surprise, dinner with the Nightshade vampires is an entirely comfortable affair. Given my experience with high society, and the rumors surrounding the vampires at the table—I expected it to be formal and boring. The dining table was grand, equally as large as any my father had in our many homes over the years, and while the men and Joséphine wore their suits, the two mortal women were dressed decidedly more casually. In fact, if it weren’t for Deidre wearing black pencil pants and a vibrant orange silk blouse, I’d have felt overdressed. Eloise did not look as informal as she had when I’d first arrived, but she’d only swapped out pajama shorts for black leggings and her oversized sweatshirt for a black cashmere sweater large enough to hang off of one shoulder. From the heated looks Ambrose gives her, I can only surmise that the sweater belongs to the vampire king.
Ambrose and his enforcer, Kasar, speak quietly where they sit at the end of the table. Ambrose is all sharp lines and regal strength, with his suave black hair artfully slicked back, his cheekbones high over his brutally hard jaw. His golden eyes are framed by thick black lashes, and his eyebrows seem to be fixed permanently in a judgmental position. His black suit, an Armani if I had to guess, is tailored perfectly to him, and even without a tie, his white crisp shirt unbuttoned at the neck, he looks like the indisputable leader of this clan. The glimpse of black tattoos only adds depth to his seat of power. A warlord confident on his throne, his victories recorded on his body for only his queen to see.
Kasar, the infamous Nightshade enforcer, sits at Ambrose’s left. Where Ambrose has sharp beauty, Kasar is beautiful the same way a black panther stalking prey in the jungle is beautiful. His long hair is as black as shadows, falling past his shoulders, like a shield for his always searching gaze. He’s olive skinned and every movement is filled with purpose, and when he glances my way, I look away first and reach for my glass. I never want to find myself as his target.
Deidre, his mate, sits beside him and says my name.
“Yes?” I ask, settling into the same personality I show when in Newgate. I cut another bite of the seared pork chop, swirling it through apple cranberry chutney before bringing it to my mouth. Whoever Ambrose employs in his kitchen is a master chef because I don’t think I’ve ever had anything that’s tasted so good. Even the roasted Brussels sprouts and wild rice pilaf are done to perfection. This meal is the same caliber I expect at charity galas and exclusive restaurants.
“You can totally keep that dress,” she says, waving her fork towards me. “It looks much better on you than me. Try as I might, I can never pull off that color. So, have you learned Lan’s greatest secret yet?”
Deidre has a mischievous smile on her face and Lan stills beside me, and I swallow down the bite of food, it sinking into my stomach. I look at him, searching for any sign, but his impervious mask is firmly in place. Joséphine, his mother sits across from me and she’s frowning, looking between her son and myself. When I don’t answer immediately, everyone else looks towards us, including the two other vampires in attendance: Malachi and Ashe. Eris didn’t show, and I’m glad because I don’t think Lan would be very civil towards her right now.
“That he planned to get close to me so he could kill my father?” I hazard a guess, looking at her then back to Lan. Deidre barks out a laugh and the vampire named Malachi snorts, almost choking on the wine he’d been drinking. At least, I assume it’s wine. It is rather dark red and thick.
Deidre dismisses my answer with a wave of her fork. “No, he told you that,” she says, her expression like a cat who’s caught the canary.
I set the fork down and dab my mouth with the cloth napkin before crossing my hands in my lap.
“Deidre.”
Lan’s warning earns a pointed glare from Kasar. Deidre laughs, pats her mate and steals a quick kiss when Kasar turns towards her. She looks back at me, and once again I look across the table to Joséphine, who has Ashe’s mouth near her ear. The woman snorts and rolls her eyes, fighting a smile. Ashe straightens, not bothering to hide his grin and Lan tenses beside me. On instinct, I put my hand on his thigh and in a moment, most of the tension slips from him.
“Then, no,” I answer, chin high, “I don’t know it.”
Deidre, sharp and clever-eyed and gorgeous, points her finger at Lan. “Your man may be a centuries old vampire, but his favorite food is Count Chocula cereal. He’s extremely possessive of it and if you ever need to get back at him, do what Malachi here does, and eat all of it.”
Blinking rapidly, I try to process the unexpected words. The entire table is silent for a long heartbeat and then Malachi, sitting on the other side of Lan, finally breaks and howls with laughter, reaching over to slap Lan’s back. Eloise and Deidre join him, Ashe and Joséphine laughing quieter. Even Ambrose looks amused, the vampire king shaking his head and going back to his dinner.
Lan is still stiff beside me, and a fierce wave of protectiveness comes over me. I have no doubt Deidre and the others are not laughing at him in mockery; it sounds like the same banter my team at work has after years of working together. But Lan doesn’t like being the object of amusement, and I want it to stop. The conversation Lan and I had at my apartment after the troll jumped me comes back and I smirk, reaching for my water again while their laughter dies down.
“Is that so?” I ask before taking a sip and setting the glass back down. I lean forward enough to lock eyes onto Malachi. He’s likely what every woman pictures a mafia hero as—dark hair and skin from what I suspect is Italian heritage and a finely sculpted face that suggests Eastern European. He sits relaxed in his chair, his suit coat unbuttoned as he toys with the wine glass, a veritable vampire Don Giovanni. His thick brows raise in silent question when I meet his golden gaze.
“I suggest being careful about that,” I warn him, squeezing Lan’s thigh in solidarity. “You may find your recordings of Married At First Sight mysteriously deleted.”
The table is shocked silent, and everyone’s attention is on me. I refuse to look away from Malachi’s stunned gaze. Then the man breaks, his head thrown back again with laughter before everyone else joins in. Lan relaxes beside me and I go back to my dinner, smiling to myself as I take another bite of the pork chop. Malachi tosses back the remains of his drink before shaking a finger at Lan.
“Don’t you fucking dare mess with my episodes,” he says, humor in his voice. “I’m not caught up yet and they took down two seasons!”
That sets everyone off again, even Kasar and Ambrose this time. Conversations start up again and I feel the weight of a stare and find myself looking at Joséphine. She’s beaming at me and mouths a silent thank you. I dip my head, my cheeks red at the approval. Deidre and Eloise are debating couples featured on Malachi’s show, and even Ashe has opinions when they move to another relationship reality show.
Looking around, I realize how content I am. This, right here around me, is what I never had with my father. A family. Even if Lan doesn’t feel it, these people care about him, and they’ve brought me into their fold without hesitation.
I’m dragged back into the conversation and slowly I lose the sophisticated charm I employ as armor. It’s when I’m breathless with laughter, Joséphine wiping away tears of happiness, and Malachi and Ashe arguing about the particulars of a mission gone horribly, hilariously wrong, when all the vampires and Deidre go quiet. Their heads snap towards the doorway, and Lan practically growls as he grips my thigh. It’s unnerving. It’s like when a cat suddenly is staring at something with intense focus but you can’t see anything. A chill creeps down my nape and a sense of foreboding grows in my stomach.
The harsh click of high heels on wooden floors comes a moment before Eris storms in, her eyes entirely black and fury radiating off of her. She stops just inside the doorway and no one moves. She has a bloody blade in one hand and it’s only then I see the blood splattered across her. No one moves.
Her eyes lock onto mine, and it’s as if the world falls out from under me, the only thing anchoring me in place is Lan’s grip.
