Page 65 of Sinful Mates

No. I didn’t want to hear this. Couldn’t. I fought his grasp but that only made his fingers tighten on me.

Hot coals burned my throat as I argued, “No, Alaric.”

“Don’t argue, angel.” He gripped my chin between his fingers, forcing me to look at him. “I’m not leaving you both on the streets with nothing.”

Pride swelled in me that he factoredourfuture into his decision. Always protecting us. Always altruistic. Godammit. I lost my battle with my tears, and my wet cheek stuck to his shirt.

“I can’t lose you.” I almost tore his shirt from fisting the cotton.

“It’s a possibility we must address, angel.” Dread squeezed the air from me at his realism.

Anger spiked in my veins at the peril threatening to tear my men from me. Red-hot fury that burned away my resolve to never harm. Those police were going to pay. Every. Last. One. Of. Them.

Sparks flashed inside me as I kissed him with everything I had, clashing with the pain tearing me apart. I twined my tongue with his, exchanging silent promises I couldn’t bring myself to utter. This man was ingrained in my soul. Imprinted on my heart. I wouldn’t part with him for anything.

Wet patches darkened his light grey shirt when we split apart. Grey, like his beautiful smoky eyes. The one staring at me like I was the most precious thing in his world.

Fuck. I just wanted to breathe him in. Enjoy the hard planes of his body. The rise and fall of his chest. Reverent strokes on my hair, shoulders and back. His scent. Pine, loam, and everything natural.

But all indications suggested my men were going to be put away and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

I killed the last man who threatened my daughter. Pushed to breaking point, I wondered what I would be willing to do to save my men. To embrace the sinner in me or walk away to be the angel I tried to be and failed.

Tick tock.Time wasn’t on our side.

CHAPTER22

Castor

Everything was setup and ready to go. Tapes. Evidence. Reputations on the line. Retribution tingled beneath my skin, seeking an outlet. Eight damn months since I last punished lawbreakers, and it made me edgy and unsettled.

Thoth lit up within me.Commence, my son.

Reckoning must be delivered, and always with his blessing.

Slade cracked his neck, the prickle of magick thick in the room, driving his war god to bloodlust, the roar and fire hitting the bond.

Stony faced, never reveling his hand, Zethan rolled his shoulders. He might as well have been a sandstone statue for his stillness and calm.

Brothers in arms. Brothers in war. Brothers in death. And we would fight this to the end.

I called to their power to simultaneously hack into and connect to every broadcasting news channel in the world, uploading the footage, the news story I concocted. Ties linking Danny’s porn studio to powerful, prestigious, and prominent customers worldwide. Names that would shock the world. CEOs, celebrities, politicians, scientists, and more. Not one person would escape their sick perversions.

Punishment came to me in a tidal wave that flooded broadcasters, social media networks, blogs, newsletter services, the dark web. Every possible channel of communication. Stories lined up and ready to air on Australian primetime news, then blasting across the globe on morning television, saturating it.

Slade cracked his knuckles, a cruel, taunting smile stretching his mouth.

The quantity of reports and the level of security I built into them made it virtually impossible for our enemies and their brethren to cut the story before it went to air. That didn’t mean the media in the police’s pocket wouldn’t try to wipe the story from the internet, fact check, and issue denials. To keep the story trending on social media, getting it shared, repeating the reports on breakfast, lunch, and evening TV for a forty-eight-hour period required assistance. Calling in a huge favor and tapping into the power of another pantheon.

I retrieved my phone from my cut, scrambled the signal so no one could listen in or record the communication, and dialed the number. I set the call to speaker, set the device on the desk, and sat on the edge of it.

Zethan took a seat in the two-seater lounge on the far wall, kicking his boots up on the coffee table.

“How’s the cooperative, friendly Egyptian pantheon doing today?” Mads drawled.

I snorted. “You know that’s not our style. We’re vicious, vengeful, and out for blood.”

Mads gave a dark laugh. “Zeus should have been born in your pantheon. He makes the rest of us look like innocent virgins.”

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