Page 13 of Moretti Blood Brothers: Vol. One Books #1-4

B rayden gripped his cock tight.

His girl was getting brave, and he had a whole bunch of mixed feelings about it, especially as they were leaving in just over six days. And yeah, he’d be spending those days with her, no matter their one-week agreement.

His girl.

He chose to ignore that and carried on.

Throwing his black jacket over the chair, he eyed his bed. He needed to get a few hours’ sleep after running an intense security session with the SLCs and Craig.

He’d also had a big walk through the facility. Spotting Thomas, he’d wandered up to the vampire and his friends.

“Officer.”

In comparison to them, Brayden was big. Really fucking big. At six foot four, he was taller, broader, and his royal blood pumped out a potent and powerful essence.

The guy bowed low. Really low. “My lord.”

The slight tremor in his voice was all he needed to hear. He gave the guy a nod and wandered off, confident no gossip would leave his young lips.

He didn’t care about royal gossip; it was part of being a Moretti brother. But drawing attention to Willow was another thing—keeping her safe was becoming a top priority for him.

A knock at the door snapped him out of his thoughts. He reached out with his energy and felt the queen’s.

“Kate, come in,” he called out and telepathically unlocked the door. He turned and narrowed his eyes at her upon hearing the speed of her heart rate. “Is everything okay?”

She stepped in and closed the door. Looking as graceful as any queen in a flowing, knee-length navy dress, she sat in the chair he’d dropped his jacket on. “We need to talk.”

Shit.

He stood up. “What’s happened? Is he dead? Do I need to...?” He started for the door, but she held up a hand to stop him.

“No. Brayden, stop. I need to speak with you privately.”

He froze.

“Sit.”

Kate had no authority over him, even in her role as queen, but this wasn’t royal protocol they were following here. She looked sober, serious, and scared.

“What is it?” He sat in the chair opposite her, the table in between them. It felt awkward. He wasn’t sure why.

Kate clenched her jaw. “This has to remain between us. Confidential.”

He frowned. He was a Moretti; his brother was king. They had no secrets—of great importance—between them, not to mention it was illegal. “Kate, you know I can’t do it.”

“But you will,” she said. “If you agree. If not, you will still never repeat this.”

The hair on the back of his neck prickled. “You need to tell me what is going on right fucking now,” he said darkly.

She squeezed her eyes shut, took a deep breath, and opened them, giving him a piercing stare. She stood from her seat and began pacing. “What you said, about the baby.”

“You’re pregnant?” He stood, hopeful.

She shook her head. “No, but I could be.”

“Then fucking do it.”

Kate looked down for a second and back up at him. A chill ran up his spine.

“It’s been one hundred and thirty years, Brayden. Perhaps it’s the disease or whatever is wrong with him,” she said, a mix of sadness and fury in her voice. “Or it could be me. We don’t know.”

He stared at her.

“You are right. If there was a baby, I would have something to live for. A child would relieve you of responsibility, in time, and I would be queen mother.”

He continued staring.

“It must have royal blood.”

More staring and the start of a stomach ulcer.

“Brayden...”

“Oh, fuck no. No, no, no, fucking no.” He stepped away.

“It solves both our problems, you know it does,” she said, waving a hand. “It would just be sex. Once. Then...then we just forget it happened, and everyone will think it’s Vincent’s. My cycle, it’s...”

He stopped listening as she talked about how the window to procreate was open. He didn’t know where to look. The bed? Fuck no. Her? Nope. The door? Yes, a better option.

“I think you need to leave. You’re right; we will never talk of this again. Ever.”

She took a step toward him. “Brayden, listen to me. Think of the bigger picture here. Don’t you want to be free? You hate the idea of being king, and we both know he’s weakening.”

She was right about one thing. If their enemies, the Russo’s, got wind of the king’s illness, it would make them incredibly vulnerable to a coup.

Every day the rebellion grew louder, demanding a democracy. He had no idea why, when they only had to look around them and see the shit storm that looked like among humans.

The truth was, the rebellion was being driven by Stefano Russo, who desired nothing more than to replace Vincent on the throne. Democracy my ass. The guy was a psychopath.

He growled.

“He could still recover, and if I need to step up and become king, you know I will. I’m not an asshole.”

She winced.

“God, I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re right. We’ve been hard on you. I know you’ll do the right thing when the time comes.”

She walked across the room and laid a hand on his arm. “We have this window of opportunity before his illness becomes more widely known and a pregnancy questioned.”

He shook his head.

“As if anyone would ever dream this possible. Shit, Kate, I can’t believe you’re asking me to do this.”

“For us both, Brayden. For the family, for the race.”

His mind filled with images of lying to his brother, bedding the queen, and impregnating her. While it was unthinkable, he understood why she was asking.

Coming to terms with it was another thing altogether.

“It would be my daughter or son.”

She nodded.

“I would never be able to claim it as my own.”

She shook her head. “No.”

“We’d be lying to everyone, as well as committing treason.” Brayden ran a hand through his hair, disgusted with himself for even having this conversation.

“Think on it. We only have a few days.”

They’d never be questioned. Spending time with the king and queen was something he did every day, though Kate didn’t visit his quarters or his rooms at the palace very often.

Kate was a beautiful female, without a doubt. Tall, graceful, with luscious breasts and curves any male would love to sweep his hands over. She was, however, his brother’s mate, his queen and... ugh, as the thought entered his head, he flung his head back. She wasn’t Willow.

Fucking fuck, fuck, fuck.

Was she his mate?

“God, Kate, this is insane,” he cried. “I understand why, but I need to think on it. Go, please. Let me freak out in peace.”

She turned to leave. With her hand on the door handle, she said quietly, “Don’t take too long.”