Page 6 of His Eternal Temptation

Lane’s lips turned up at the corner as if he’d sensed Rowan’s pleasure despite his attempt to hide it. The expression was far too endearing, his crooked smile accentuated by his mustache. “Were you feeding on me?”

“I was sucking the curse out after giving you blood.”

“You gave me your…” Lane’s cheeks flushed with beautiful evidence of life.

Rowan ignored a sudden tightening in his chest. This was not the time to get sentimental over biting or blood sharing. “I’m glad you’re more yourself. You said something strange before you passed out. What did you mean?”

Lane shifted in his chair, seeming uncomfortable. He shivered, and Rowan realized his clothes were damp. With a flare of magic, Lane dried himself, but he looked no more comfortable as he said, “The Hillman Coven is coming for you. Why’s that strange?”

“I’ve never heard of them. Care to elaborate?” Rowan’s tone hardened to the point of discourteous, but anything else was ill-advised after Lane’s blush.

Lane swallowed. “I overheard the Hillmans say they want you out of the way so they can take the city.”

Rowan’s attention sharpened. “Overheard how? When?”

Lane’s gaze flicked to Hunter, but the doctor didn’t butt in. Why did Lane care if he was listening? Unease crowded against Rowan’s relief.

“I heard it earlier tonight, before they caught me. I suspected the Hillmans were up to some dodgy shit and was looking into it.” Lane averted his gaze once more.

Looking into it? Why did he seem guilty admitting it? Hot embarrassment flared within Rowan, his heart sinking. He scrounged enough self-control to prevent his dismay from showing. “Spying again. Why am I not surprised?”

Lane’s jaw worked, his expression defiant. “I wasn’t spying on you before.”

Seriously? It had been proven. Lane was still nothing but a liar. “We’ll have to agree to disagree. Why should I trust anything you say?”

Now that Lane was able to hold a conversation, his “warning” felt flimsy at best. But what was the point of the lie? Surely the Blackburns realized a vague tip-off wouldn’t ingratiate them with the Valeros. Not after what they’d done. They had to be up to something else.

Rowan’s initial reaction no longer seemed off base.

Lane sat straighter and winced. “I risked my life coming here when I didn’t have to. The least you could do is believe me.”

“Risked your life or were already dying?” Rowan was privately mortified he’d cared so deeply whether Lane lived such a short time ago. He was scheming. Of course he was. Pointing out how he’d risked his life proved all he was after was Rowan’s gratitude. He wanted Rowan to feel indebted. “Was the curse even real?”

Lane looked like he’d been slapped.

“I’d say so,” Hunter put in.

“Yeah, what the fuck?” Lane seethed. “The Hillmans caught me, cursed to kill, and I wasted my last moments dragging my ass across the Banks to the damn Business District. To find you.”

Still stuck on the lack of gratitude for a useless warning, was he? This was all a waste of time and feeling. Maybe Lane was dumb enough to risk his life to manipulate Rowan into trusting him. Maybe he hoped Rowan would be too distracted by emotion to see the obvious play. And Rowan had been, even when suspicion was his first instinct.

Lane played him so easily. This time and last.

“Luckily, they weren’t your last moments. You’ll live another day, Lane, but don’t think it matters to me.” Rowan turned and retrieved his suit jacket, slipping it on to cover his ripped sleeve, not daring to dwell on how he’d shredded his clothes to save someone so treacherous.

“Why would the Hillmans kill you for discovering they had it out for my coven? It makes no sense. You shouldn’t even be in this city. That right there proves you’re up to something.”

“I wasn’t planning on coming to Shearwater Landing.” Lane’s cheeks reddened in anger. “I followed the Hillmans. Look, my dad’s gotten himself caught in a bad deal again. I was trying to figure out what was happening so I could warn him off. He wouldn’t believe me without anything solid.”

Marshall Blackburn scheming again was no surprise. The man had led his coven against the Valeros alongside another group of witches ten years ago, posing as allies. People like Marshall didn’t spend nearly a year playing nice with the intent to double-cross, then give up treachery for good. They regrouped and did it again. But Marshall’s future schemes hadn’t been Rowan’s concern. The Blackburns had been banned from Shearwater Landing, and Rowan hadn’t thought Marshall was stupid enough to return.

His son, either.

“Well, thank you for the warning, Lane. Rest assured, the Valeros will prevail against this coven of—are they witches or vampires?”

“Witches.”

Right, so the Hillmans couldn’t even be behind the feral vampire, if they existed at all.