Secret Unleashed (Secret McQueen #6)

Secret Unleashed (Secret McQueen #6) Page 17

“Daddy issues?” Holden’s fingers kneaded my knotted muscles in a most delectable fashion.

“Do you remember how you couldn’t figure out why Sig was always able to find me, even though he and I hadn’t shared blood? How he could get into my dreams?”

One of his fingers prodded me too sharply, and I gasped in pain. “You didn’t tell me he was in your dreams.”

Ignoring the obvious jealousy in his voice, I powered on, the ache of his touch still radiating over my collarbone. “As it turns out, I might have a little of his blood in me after all.”

I thought he might choke me, his hands clenched so hard.

“What does that mean?”

“In biblical terms?” Maybe not the best word choice since getting biblical was a euphemism for sex he was probably familiar with. “I don’t mean like that,” I quickly added.

“Secret, just tell me what you’re talking about.”

“Sig begat Theo.” I held up one finger then lifted a second. “Theo begat Sutherland.” Raising a third and final finger, I concluded, “Sutherland begat Secret.” Letting my hand drop, I angled my head back to look up at him. “Get it?”

“Let me get this straight…you and Sig are related.”

“Not related. We share a bloodline.”

“Which is literally the definition of being related.”

“Okay, maybe, but we’re not related the way Sutherland and I are. Or the way Mercy and I are.”

“But still related.” He looked downright gleeful.

I propped myself up on one elbow and stared at him. “You seem awfully happy about this.”

“You have no idea.” He leaned in and planted a kiss on my lips. It was brief, not passionate, and when he pulled back, he was still beaming like a Cheshire cat. “This is great news.”

“I’ve been lied to about my entire lineage, and that’s a positive thing?”

“Not for you, maybe. But for me.”

I scrunched my face up, getting into a cross-legged position and sitting so I faced him. When I figured out what he was giddy about, my gut response was to slap him, but I held back. “Oh God, Holden. Are you seriously grinning like an idiot because you think this takes Sig out of the running for a place in my bed?”

“Yes,” he replied without hesitation. I reconsidered my restraint and smacked him hard upside the head, but it didn’t rattle his smile.

“Sig has never been in my bed.”

“You’ve been in bed with Sig.”

“Ugh, that’s a gross use of semantics.” Since I couldn’t say I’ve never slept with him, I added, “I’ve never had sex with Sig.”

“Doesn’t mean he wasn’t trying.”

“You mean like you were trying?”

“I tried for seven years. I got there eventually.” He winked, like I’d find it charming.

“You’re lucky I love you, you stupid pervert.” I whacked him in the arm. “But you had nothing to worry about with Sig.”

“Sig gets what he wants. He wanted you.”

“Did it ever occur to you I didn’t want to be with him?”

“No. I’ve met him. I know him. At some point you would have wanted to be with him.”

I didn’t deny it outright because there’d been a time when I had wondered what it would be like to be with the Tribunal Leader. He did have an undeniable appeal to him. But above and beyond any attraction was my deep-seated terror of him. Whether or not we were related, my reasons for not sleeping with him existed long before. Sex was about trust, and though I trusted Sig as a leader, I wouldn’t leave my throat exposed to him in a dark alley.

And if I wouldn’t expose my throat, I sure as hell wouldn’t hike my skirt up for him.

Especially not now. Which seemed to be all Holden cared about right then.

“You thought I was going to sleep with him?”

He raised a shoulder, the smirking expression gone, replaced with something more apprehensive. I suspected he was realizing how his excitement might be interpreted from my side. Badly.

“Just because I slept with you and with Desmond doesn’t mean I’ll sleep with anyone.” I was unable to keep the hurt tone out of my voice.

“I’m sorry.”

“You really thought that?”

“I don’t know what to think. You keep me on the same leash as the dog. Neither of us know what you’re thinking, or who you’re choosing. If you won’t choose one of us, what’s to keep you from choosing someone else?”

I scrambled off the bed and put the full distance of the room between us. I didn’t want to be within arm’s reach because the urge to deck him was one thing, but I also had a habit of tangling limbs with him whenever I got mad.

“I thought you loved me,” I said quietly.

“I do.” He stayed sitting on the bed, but his gaze was locked on me, following as I paced the length of the room. “I’ve always loved you. I will love you as long as I live. That’s not the point. It’s not fair what you do to me and Desmond. I can’t speak for him, but I can tell you the last thing I want is more competition. A heart can only be divided so many times before the pieces stop feeling anything. How many times can yours be divided?”

I stopped pacing and stared at him. All the guilt that had come and gone like tides in the moonlight came swelling back over me now. I’d thought I was the only one feeling the burden of this three-way love affair, but now here was one point in the triangle telling me it injured him too.

“I don’t want to hurt either of you.”

“But you are. You’re hurting us, and you’re hurting yourself.”

There was a leather settee in one corner of the room, and I sat down, placing my face in my upturned palms. I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t choose between them, and I couldn’t give them up. I was stuck between having everything I wanted and having nothing at all, and I believed it was better to stay still than to take any risks.

“I can’t do this right now.”

“Fine.” He got to his feet and crouched in front of me, taking my hands in his so I had no choice but to look at him. “I’m not asking you to make a choice this second. I just want you to know why I’m relieved another option has been taken out of the running.”

Staring at him, I tried to decide if he was being cute or making a joke at my expense, but he seemed totally earnest. I let him hold my hands while he watched me. He had the eerie vampire ability to sit perfectly still, as if he’d been turned to stone, so sometimes it felt like I was looking at a statue version of Holden that didn’t breathe or move its eyes.

Not that Holden breathed on a normal day.

“Sig isn’t another option,” I assured him.

“Good.” He offered up a faint smile and squeezed my hands. “Good.”

“Are you really so unhappy?”

“It’s not that I’m unhappy. But I’d be much happier if I didn’t have to share you at all.”

“I imagine Desmond feels the same way.”

“Probably.”

I slid off the settee and straddled his lap, looping my arms lazily around his neck so I could get close enough to press my forehead against his. I liked the way his cool skin made my own seem warm by comparison. The way I felt when I was close to him was something I wouldn’t be able to give up easily. He made me believe I was safe even when I wasn’t. Like I could get through any situation.

Even this one.

“I promise you, when this is all over…Peyton, my mother, Sutherland…when it’s all done, we will talk. You, me and Desmond will sit down and figure this whole awful mess out. Okay?”

He supported my lower back with wide, strong palms, and leaned us towards the settee, his lips dangerously close to mine. “In the meantime, do you think you might relent on this silly celibacy mission you’re on?”

Given my position, it was impossible to ignore the rising presence of his erection, or the possessive way he tightened his hands into fists on my shirt. If I waited a few more seconds, he might shred the garment and have his way with me on the floor.

It wouldn’t be the first time we hadn’t made it to a bed.

I weighed the options in my head. On the one hand, I wanted to be thoroughly consumed by him. I craved his bite more than almost anything, longing for the intoxicating thrill it gave me. And he’d mentioned we would be better able to sell our story if we were heard by others.

That was what made me push myself off him. Not the notion of selling our relationship, but the idea other people could hear us. I had no interest in turning my bedroom sessions into an audience event. The members of the West Coast council had no place in my relationships.

No matter how badly I wanted to end my three sexless months and put Holden and me out of our misery, it wasn’t the right moment.

“I’m sorry. I want to, but it’s not—”

He lifted me off the floor and backed me into the wall, rattling the large mirror beside us. With barely any effort he hoisted me up with one hand so I was once again positioned over his hardness. Briefly his eyes fluttered closed, and he stilled the hand that had gone to my throat.

“Holden.”

His fingers grazed the thin skin of my neck, and when he reopened his eyes, they’d gone black. For a fleeting moment I wondered if I should be afraid of him. Years of training to kill vampires made me wary of their black-eyed state because it usually meant they were about to rip your carotid artery out.

Holden wasn’t interested in a traditional feed though. He might want to bite me—hell, I wanted him to bite me too—but his interest was carnal in a different way.

“You want to,” he said, his voice harsh and raspy. “You said you wanted to.” He kissed my collarbone, and he must have heard the loud thump of my heartbeat because he lowered his ear to my chest and listened for a long time.