CONCEPTION (The Others) (4 page)

The baby cried again, drawing his attention. The faintest
tickle of its scent touched his nose. Female and…familiar? He frowned as the
cry warbled higher. There was more anger in the cry, but its timbre was weaker,
as if the little one also suffered. It was not the way of his people to harm
children. As much as he resented what this child represented, he could not
resist the high-pitched plea. With a thought, he sent the zipper of Eden’s
yellow parka down just enough to slide his finger through. All he could see was
a round head covered in delicate blonde peach fuzz. The touch to the baby was
meant to be soothing, calming, but as soon as his finger connected with the
downy cheek, all hell broke loose inside him.

Pain. Hunger. Loneliness.

The torrent poured over him in an unrelenting wave. The
depth of the rage that swelled in response shocked him. His fangs exploded into
his mouth as the child’s scent encompassed him. His grip on Eden tightened to
the point that she grunted in protest. He closed his eyes and summoned the calm
he normally took for granted. He turned to Harley who watched him in wary
confusion, all indolence gone from his posture, no doubt scenting his loss of
control.

With a jerk of his chin, Deuce directed Harley’s attention
to the broken path in the snow. “Remove all traces of her approach.”

Harley pulled to his full six-foot-three-inches of height
beside the snowmobile. He was one of the few Others tall enough to look Deuce
in the eye. “Are we expecting company?”

“Yes,” Deuce responded, touching his mind to the baby’s,
soothing her tears with a thought, struggling to cope with the emotions
overwhelming him. “But no harm will come to my daughter.”

He ignored the wolf’s shock along with Eden’s startled
protest, and launched into the air. As soon as he had his mate and daughter to
safety, he would have answers.

Chapter Three

“Are you feeling better?”

Eden bit her tongue on a “Hell no” and ignored both Deuce’s
question and the imperious knock on the bathroom door that followed it. She
pulled up from leaning over the toilet, and rested her cheek on the cool
porcelain tank. She’d just been picked up by a man who leapt into the air,
seemed to change into a giant bird with a flex of muscle, swooped her over hill
and dale before landing in front of a brick monstrosity of a house, whereupon
he pronounced them home. The memory alone made her stomach roil with a new set
of dry heaves. She rolled her forehead against the cool porcelain. She’d
thought she was immune to everything, but this was going to take some getting
used to.

The knock came on the door again. It wasn’t hesitant. How
had she ever thought Deuce anything but arrogant?

“Do you need assistance?”

“No thank you. I can handle vomiting all by myself.”

There was a pause, as if he were circling her answer. “I
would help you.”

He’d said that before and she was just as vehemently opposed
now as she had been ten minutes ago. “Sorry, Deuce, but there are just some
things a woman insists on doing for herself.”

The door swung open as if she hadn’t locked it firmly behind
her.

She put as much effort as she could into her glare. “I
locked the door.”

He shrugged uncaringly, the baby snuggled in the crook of
his arm. “It was necessary to see to you.” He stood huge and tall in the
doorway, a mouth-watering vision of aggressive masculinity holding his child
tenderly in his big arms. The baby contentedly stared up at his face, as if
fascinated by the way all those planes and angles came together in such a
compelling package. She knew exactly how her daughter felt. She’d reacted the
same way when she’d first seen him. Deuce was strong, fascinating, dangerous
and gentle. Everything she’d ever dreamed of, but he was no longer for her.

She had to remember that. As soon as she assured herself
that the baby was safe, she was going back. And she was going to make sure that
her grandfather was never a threat to anyone again. She shoved to her feet,
bumped her shoulder on the edge of the sink, and fell back to her knees.

Deuce came forward, his shadow gliding over her. “If you had
waited, I would have helped you.”

“Thank you.”

“You are weak.”

Eden waved away his concern. “It’s a temporary thing.”

She didn’t look at the baby again. It was too bittersweet to
see them together, knowing she wasn’t going to be part of their future. Her
stomach lurched. She refused, absolutely refused, to get sick in front of
Deuce. “Go away.”

He held out his hand. “It is my duty to care for you.”

Great. Just what she wanted—to be someone’s duty.

“I don’t need to be cared for.” She struggled to stand, but
she was so wedged between the wall and the basin that she couldn’t get
leverage.

The quirk of his brow was the only indication that he knew
her for a liar. His fingers slid under her arm, sending goose bumps down her
spine despite the barrier of her heavy coat. She’d always been way too
sensitive to his touch. “I think, maybe this time, I could be of assistance.”

She didn’t say a word, but allowed his much greater strength
to free her.

He kept his hand under her arm as she attained her feet,
steadying her. In his other arm, the baby dozed, contented as she’d never been
content with her. She blinked back a surge of tears. She’d made the right
decision bringing her here. Still staring at that sweet face, with its pale
cheeks, tiny mouth and button nose, she whispered, “Thank you.”

“You are welcome.”

Water suddenly poured into the sink, making her jump.
Deuce’s grip on her arm tightened briefly, and then he released her to reach
for one of the thick blue washcloths. Water droplets bounced off the dry
material in a desperate bid for freedom, only to splatter pointlessly against
the side of the sink. Her chances of escape were about as good. There was no
way out except the window above the toilet or the door directly behind Deuce.
And no way to avoid him unless she wanted to step into that huge, totally
decadent shower with its multiple heads and unexpected seats.

Deuce placed the cool damp cloth against her cheeks, gently
wiping away her sweat and stress. She made the mistake of looking into his face
as the cloth curved beneath her chin. His expression was intent, mesmerizing.
She found herself wanting to lean into him, to give him what he wanted—her
heart, her soul, her body. Her pussy clenched and wept in hope. Her nipples
beaded and ached. The fact that she was feeling this way in the shape she was
in was a definite heads-up.

“Stop it,” she hissed, pulling her gaze from his with
tremendous effort. Both she and her hormones needed to get a grip. Falling
under his spell was not going to save her daughter. This time both brows lifted
above his wickedly sexy dark eyes, sending her pulse tripping along with her
hormones, which had long since bolted from the starting gate.

“I am doing nothing.”

She took the cloth out of his hand, making sure their
fingers didn’t touch. “Right.”

He paused, a slight smile on his lips. “You cannot be upset
because my body calls to yours?”

“Want to bet?” She scrubbed at her face with the now warm
cloth.

The smile deepened to real amusement. “That is not logical.”

“Logical or not, that’s the way it’s going to be. Your body
can call all it wants. Mine’s not answering.”

Deuce’s slight smile deepened to real amusement. “I can
smell your arousal, Eden.”

Mortification started at her toes and just kept climbing
until she was choking on it. “You’re making that up.”

He took the cloth from her frozen fingers and ran it under
the cold water again. He handed it back. “I have a very acute sense of smell.”

No matter what angle she tried, there wasn’t a good way to
respond. She was trapped. By her past, her body, and her plan. She looked at
the baby again. She had to remember her purpose. And to keep her distance.

“Well, good for you.” She tossed the cloth into the sink.
Keeping her distance was going to be easier said than done. She had to be
insane to think the attraction wouldn’t be there anymore. To assume Deuce’s
anger would be a barrier she could count on. “Excuse me.”

He stepped aside, letting her pass. She could feel his eyes
upon her, feel the questions he wanted to ask. In his way, Deuce was as
relentless as her grandfather. She needed a moment to regroup and rebuild her
defenses.

“Has your nausea passed?” a deep voice asked out of the
darkness of the bedroom. She spun around, searching for the source.

The stranger sat to the left, dominating the upholstered
chair he occupied. He was a big man, impressively built with muscles that
strained the civility of his cotton shirt and jeans. The angles of his face had
been cut with a ruthless hand, emphasizing the raw power that burned in his
slanted black eyes. His lips were set in the same uncompromising line as his
expression. He was unrelentingly masculine. And scary. Definitely scary. She
backed up. Right into Dusan. She immediately took a step forward, and then,
realizing she had nowhere to go, braced herself for the confrontation.

The stranger rose to his feet, for a moment blending with
the gloom before shimmering into focus. She blinked, not sure she’d seen what
she thought she had.

“I startled you. I am sorry.”

He didn’t seem sorry. He was studying her like she was some
kind of bug under a microscope. His speech had the same cadence as Deuce’s, but
she didn’t need that to tell her he was another Chosen. He radiated that same
power, that same magnetism, and as she looked into his face, an aura of sadness
that struck straight to her core.

“It’s all right.”

He took another step forward, but when she instinctively
flinched back he stopped, his long black hair sliding forward. He quelled the
defiance with a sharp gesture. “I am not here to hurt you.”

“That’s good to know.” She’d form her own conclusion in
regard to his threat level later.

“The man before you is my brother, Bohdan,” Dusan said over
her shoulder. She glanced back. She could see the similarity now. Both had the
same golden coloring, same strength, same harsh edge to their features. Both
were incredibly handsome in a raw, masculine way. Both looked as dangerous as
hell. The baby hiccupped. He paused to murmur some nonsense into her tiny ear,
and then continued. “He is our healer.”

“You are tired.” Bohdan stepped to the side, motioning to
the chair he had vacated. “Please sit.”

Both men watched every nuance of her progress toward the
chair. Eden sat cautiously, keeping both of them in her line of sight. The way
they held themselves, as if only waiting for the right moment to pounce was not
making her comfortable. They wanted something from her. Something they thought
she wouldn’t give. The two men exchanged glances before Bohdan stepped forward.

“I would like to examine you.”

Panic ricocheted through her system. She couldn’t tell if it
came from within or without, whether it was hers or the strange woman’s who’d
helped her, but it didn’t matter. She grabbed the wooden arms of the chair.
“No.”

“You are injured.”

“I won’t die.”

“You have an infection,” Deuce countered quietly, as if
softening his speech was going to soften her resistance. “We cannot allow your
health to deteriorate.”

She wiped the perspiration from her face. It was hot in the
coat and the hat but as long as they were in the room, she couldn’t take it
off. If they touched her skin, her defenses would crumble. She couldn’t allow
the Coalition to find her before she was ready.

“I’m not comfortable with either of you touching me.”

Dusan handed the baby to his brother. Not for the first time
she marveled at the ease with which he moved, the way he seemed to glide rather
than walk. He was pure beauty and temptation. She sighed. And he was watching
her eat him up with her eyes. She dropped her gaze to the patterns in the
Oriental rug, too little too late, but it was all she had. She was so tired.

His boots came into her line of vision, the scuffed toes
surprising her. She remembered everything about him as being perfect. His thigh
muscles bunched, straining the fabric of his jeans as he squatted beside her
chair, his face tilting up to hers, his black eyes giving away nothing as he
said in that quiet voice, “You must be reasonable, Edie mine.”

And that fast, he shot past her guard, the old endearment
finding her vulnerable spot, the part of her that clung to the romance of his
old-fashioned courting, the part that wanted to believe nothing in the last
year mattered, that everything wasn’t different now, that her daughter’s future
didn’t rest solely in her hands. She blinked rapidly to dispel the memories and
the stupid “what-ifs” they conjured.

“I’m fine.” She had to be.

“Are you fine in the same way you are not hot?”

“Yes.
I mean no.” Damn it! How could he rattle her so easily?

“You came all this way to find me.” His head tilted ever so slightly
to the side, in one of his subtle gestures that said so much more than words.
“Would you not look at me now that you are here?”

“No.” She couldn’t. She couldn’t stand to see his face
without the love. She wasn’t strong enough for that. Not now. She kept her gaze
off to the side, over his shoulder.

She was not surprised he persisted. “Are we going to play
word games all night?”

She shot him a quick glance, finding nothing but calm,
gentleness, and concern in his expression. “Do you have to go into a hole come
morning?”

“I will sleep in my chamber, yes.”

“Then, absolutely.”

Bohdan’s laugh caught her by surprise. “You are stubborn.”

“And opinionated,” she added, not looking up. “It’s
considered a plus nowadays in a woman.”