Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 54305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 272(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 272(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
“Oh shit,” Ethan whispered, seeming to sink behind the monitors on his desk.
Oh, shit is right. Marcus had found them. So much for their covert operation.
“You were going to keep this a secret from me,” he snapped, his eyes locked on his shrinking mate as he stepped farther into the room.
Ronan’s last hope shriveled up and died when Aiden strolled into the room behind him. His sharp eyes drifted over each of his children and their mates before finally coming to settle on Ronan. His expression was unreadable.
“This is entirely my fault,” Ronan claimed as he pushed away from the wall. “Not just the paintings and forgetting about them, but I was the one who went behind your back and asked for Winter’s help. None of them knew what they were getting into. They were just trying to protect—”
“You,” Aiden broke in, pointing at Ronan. “With me.”
The king of the American vampires turned on his heel and marched out of the room. That was a clear sign that he was truly pissed and needed to yell at Ronan, but he didn’t want to do it in front of his sons. Not that Ronan blamed him. He should have gone directly to Aiden, but he’d not wanted to worry him.
Okay, and maybe he hadn’t wanted Aiden to be disappointed in him. This was such a stupid, newbie vampire mistake to make. He should have known better. These paintings not only put Aiden at risk but all of the Variks. That was one thing that Aiden would not tolerate. He would not do anything that risked the lives of his family.
He walked behind Aiden like a man headed to the gallows. Would he lose Aiden over this? Probably not, but it could become a wedge between them that took years for Ronan to pry out. And he would. He would do anything to win back Aiden’s faith and trust.
His lover slipped into their bedroom and Ronan followed, closing the door behind them. He’d barely sucked in a breath when Aiden grabbed him and kissed him. For a second, Ronan could only stand there stunned, every muscle frozen.
Aiden wasn’t angry?
That thought was enough to get him moving. He pulled Aiden in even tighter and kissed him with everything he had. His heart felt like it was going to burst in his chest. So many centuries with his arms so empty without him. Now he couldn’t hold him often enough, or tight enough. The pressure of his lips, the slide of his tongue along Ronan’s. The kiss wasn’t hungry so much as desperate and maybe even tinged with sadness.
Aiden broke off the kiss and smiled up at Ronan.
“You’re not angry?” Ronan stated the obvious because it was all his poor brain was capable of. “Why aren’t you angry about this?”
The king lifted his hand and cupped Ronan’s cheek. “I knew about the paintings. I might be hated by the European Ministry, but I do have a few friends in London. In particular, I have one who works at Christie’s. She contacted me two days ago about a set of paintings that looked remarkably like me. She asked if I’d been crazy enough to do some modeling in my younger years. When she described where they were found and the signature, I guessed that you’d done them.”
“What?” Ronan released Aiden and stumbled back a couple of steps. “Two days? You’ve known for two days and didn’t say anything to me.”
Aiden blushed and dropped his gaze to the floor. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to worry you. I figured you’d forgotten all about them. I planned to tell you after she’d taken care of the troublesome paintings, which she did just a few minutes ago.”
“You arranged it already? Your portraits have been destroyed?”
His lover’s bright eyes rose to his face again. “There were sixteen portraits discovered in total. Not all of me. I told her to destroy all but one of the portraits of me.” His smile turned a little lopsided. “She’s stolen the surviving portrait as well as one of the landscapes. They’re being sent here for our private collection.”
“One of the landscapes…” he started to say but stopped when he realized which one Aiden had selected. “You told her to take the riverbank scene, didn’t you?”
The smile grew sweeter and a touch sadder. “How could I not want the painting of the riverbank we fished at when we were children? We spent so many lazy, happy afternoons there.”
Aiden closed the distance between them, and the longer he stared at Ronan, the sadder his expression grew.
“What’s wrong? What’s that face for?” he asked, pulling Aiden into his arms for comfort and protection.
“She sent me pictures of the portraits before they were destroyed,” Aiden replied, his voice growing rough. His molten gold eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “Not only are you an amazing artist, but you captured my likeness perfectly. How, my love? We hadn’t seen each other in over six hundred years. How were you able to do that?”