Eternal Demon: Mark of the Vampire (6 page)

“Maybe later,” she told Sara, who looked as though she were waiting for the right answer but had just gotten the wrong one.

“He’s your friend, Bron.”

Yes, exactly
. Gods, Sara couldn’t possibly understand this. Synjon Wise was her friend, had been her best friend, and she’d taken advantage of that friendship, betrayed him in every way possible.

No doubt seeing her internal struggle, Sara put her hand on Bron’s shoulder and softened her tone. “You look miserable. What’s wrong?”

She glanced up into her sister-in-law’s gentle, encouraging face and crumpled. “All he went through, all that I put him through, and then the
veana
who died in Cruen’s compound . . .”

“Synjon’s
veana
,” Sara finished for her, knowing the story. “The female he was in love with, thought he’d lost, thought was dead.”

Bronwyn nodded. “It’s my fault.”

“Okay. Come here.” Sara took her hand and led her down the hallway, away from the library and the
paven
s. “What you just said.” She shook her head. “No, Bron. Not true.”

“If I hadn’t brought him into my drama, asked him to mate with me, he would never have known the truth.” Tears pricked behind her eyes. “Juliet would still be alive.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know that, Sara. Just like I know he looks that way because he’s consumed with hatred, is desperate for revenge. And maybe after he gets it he’ll want to follow his
veana
into death.”

Sara looked horrified. “Bron . . .”

Bronwyn couldn’t stay under that microscope of shame. She didn’t want to talk anymore. She turned away from Sara and ran down the hall toward the stairs. She needed her baby, needed to see Lucy, smell her hair, bury her face in the tiny one’s neck, know that the one thing she’d created in this world was right and good and worth everything—even the slow death of the
paven
who at that very moment was standing in the Romans’ library with the
paven
she’d left him for.

•   •   •

Day began in shards of pale light through the window across from her. In those first moments of dawn, Hellen didn’t question how the glass she’d shattered so thoroughly the night before had been repaired or when. No. As she took in her first golden sunrise aboveground, she could think only about the heat that had been coming on slowly and continuously over the past several hours. It was a heat she hadn’t felt in years, prayed she would never feel again, and it was going to ruin her if left unchecked.

At that moment, it remained focused on her feet and calves, but soon—very soon—it would travel upward. And once it hit her inner thighs, she would be a slave to it.

Terror filled her as she pulled against the chains that held her. Where was Cruen? Why hadn’t he come for her? She was in such desperate trouble. The draft that had kept her cool, kept her chaste for so long, was bleeding out of her. She didn’t know how to handle the shock of need that would hit her. Her body was used to the steady, even coldness the draft gave her. Relied on its protection from the insatiable need for sex, the sexual heat of the Underworld. This need was only one of the things her mother had called Unfortunate Gifts or Unwanted Inheritances for the Devil’s firstborn. But the loving female had always made sure Hellen knew how to handle each one, while keeping Abbadon in the dark.

Through the window, the sky lightened to a pale blue. The true dawning of a new day.

If Cruen didn’t come for her soon, bring her to his lair, where her draft sat cushioned within her clothing bags, she would need sexual gratification just as she needed air—and, gods help her, she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from begging for it.

As a bubble of sweat trailed from her forehead down to her cheek, her lip curled. She would die before she was forced to ask that male—that strange, mixed-up bloodsucker who could see demon fire—for help.

She would beg him to kill her first.

She heard a door open and movement on the stairs. Her eyes instantly followed the sound and saw a male guard descending. He wasn’t the same one she’d unleashed her fighting skills on the night before. No doubt the bloodsucker had requested a more powerful, less timorous guard to attend her. And this one certainly fit the bill. Tall, skull shaved, and bulging with muscle and a cocky attitude, he was the very model of intimidation.

As he neared, Hellen caught sight of the tray he carried and the scent of food within.

Her stomach lurched. It was the last thing she wanted—the last thing she wanted to fill her.

“Get out,” she uttered without care. “And take that slop with you.”

The guard didn’t pause, didn’t look wary in the least. Instead he kept coming, his gaze raking over her as he sauntered forward.

Hellen despised her body for reacting even in the slightest to his obvious and offensive perusal.

“You will eat,” the male insisted, placing the tray on the floor beside her feet. “The master has given me strict instructions.”

The master
. That bloodsucker was one arrogant bastard. He’d get along with her father swimmingly. She tipped up her chin. “And did your master tell you how I am to consume this meal?”

The male appeared momentarily confused. It wasn’t a good look for him.

A low growl escaped her lips. “No? That would be far too logical.”

Unfortunately, the guard understood sarcasm, and he didn’t appreciate it. “You would be wise to not insult Master Erion, female.”

ERION
. She perked up. Finally, a name.
It suits the bloodsucker,
she thought. Overpowering, dictatorial, and mysterious—the name of a male who lived by his own code of conduct. The heat licking at her toes and ankles seemed to flare in agreement. She pressed against the cool metal chains, trying to get some relief.

“Perhaps you could go and ask him,” she said in a pained voice. “Maybe grab a knife and fork while you’re at it.”

“Master Erion is not at home.” The male was staring at her intently, his nostrils flared.

A slow stream of unease went through Hellen. His master was gone, leaving him in charge of a creature who would tempt him in ways he couldn’t possibly understand. His eyes raked her and he was sniffing.

“We don’t need any help or implements,” the guard said, a grin forming on his thin lips. He moved a foot closer, continuing to inhale. “I could feed it to you.”

Panic prickled her skin. Was she really going to have to deal with this right now? With every guard her jailer would send her way?

She steadied her gaze and her breathing and recalled everything her mother had told her, taught her, begged her to use if she had no other choice. “Or you could just untie me.”

The male’s grin widened to the point of maniacal. “That would be the illogical choice. Don’t you think?”

“So you wish to feed me like an infant?” she said quietly.

He chuckled. “You are far from an infant.”

You have no idea how far.

His gaze pinned to her breasts, which were barely contained by the ravaged wedding gown, the guard moved closer, the tray at her feet all but forgotten.

E
rion
was Pureblood vampire, but he was also a
mutore
. And while that moniker took away many of his rights, stripped him of all respect, it had granted him the ability to live in sunlight—unlike his Roman brothers.

He flashed into the alley across from the Roman and Beast compounds, which were situated next to each other on the moderately quiet SoHo street, and if all went according to the construction plans they’d devised, would be one massive home in just a few months.

Erion liked the idea of the entire clan living together, but it hadn’t stopped him from wanting his own space as well, something that was just his—something he could pass down to a future generation.

He bypassed a decent amount of daytime traffic and headed for the
mutore
compound first. Getting through his own enchantments was simple and quick, and when he entered the house, he was glad he’d chosen this side of the lawn first. Devoid of any of the afternoon’s sunlight, the main living space was lit with lamps and the flickering glow of the fireplace, and it was packed with the entire Roman and Beast crew. Erion heard them before he saw them—male and female, serious and aggressive—but Lycos, with that damn nose of his, was on Erion before he even crossed the threshold into the huge circular space.

“Where the hell have you been?”

“I’m well. Thank you, Lycos.” Erion gave the wolf beast a surly glare as he walked into the room.

“Well, shit. I’m glad to hear it,” Lycos said, his eyes ripe with irritation. “But I want to know where you were. You can’t be out of communication. We need to be able to reach you.”

Erion cared deeply for his
mutore
brothers and had grown fond of his Roman brothers as well, but right now all he cared about was his boy.

“Have you found Cruen’s whereabouts?” He addressed the query to the room, to all who sat and stood and stared at him.

“Not yet,” Nicholas told him, his expression grim.

Erion noticed Kate wasn’t in the room. A soft ping registered in his chest. The
veana
was like a surrogate mother to Ladd. She loved and cared for him deeply, and was no doubt hurting, fearful.

“Nothing on the walls?” he asked, his gaze still on Nicholas.

“The Order hasn’t contacted us,” Nicholas said quietly. “There’s been nothing.”

Phane stood up, anger flaring in his mismatched eyes. “You’re just going to ignore Ly’s question?”

“I’ve been searching for the boy,” Erion said on a growl. He hadn’t told anyone about the house he’d purchased. It was his private business. He didn’t want questions, didn’t want to have to explain why he’d bought it, his hope for who he might give it to someday.

“You’ve been gone twenty-four hours, Erion,” Helo said calmly, though with marked pointedness. The water beast was perched on the edge of a chair. “We have enough to worry about without having to send a search party out for you.”

Erion knew they meant well and that everyone was jacked up on worry for the boy, but Helo’s last words really pissed him off. “I will be gone for as long as I wish it, brothers. I am no
balas
; I need no
tegga
. I came here only to see what information you have gleaned.” He looked around the room and snarled. “Which seems to be nothing. Christ, have you even moved since I was here last—since the boy was stolen?”

Alexander and Lucian cursed, Phane and Helo stood, growling, Sara tried to speak civilly to him, but Lycos got in his face and pushed.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he shouted.

“Just don’t appreciate doing the work of ten.”

“You run off, don’t stay in contact, then presume once you deign to come back here that we’ve just been sitting on our asses all day drinking blood?”

“You have nothing!” Erion shouted. “No information, no trail to follow.”

“Neither do you, asshole!” He looked around, behind Erion. “You got the
balas
? You brought him home? Is he hiding under your fucking shirt or something?”

A fierce snarl escaped Erion’s throat, and he headed toward his wolf brother. “Screw you, Lycos.”

Phane stepped between them. “Ease up, Erion. You’re acting like a—”

“Nutcase!” Lycos called, his beast out and snarling.

“No, an idiot,” Phane said.

Lycos snorted. “Fuck, no! A—”

“A father.”

The air in the room seemed to flatten. All aggression and seething, testosterone-laden fire bled from each male, who a moment ago were ready to kick the shit out of one another.

“He’s acting like a father.”

All heads turned to Nicholas. The
paven
stood by the wall, alone, his eyes tired and sad as he watched Erion.

“You think you’re the only one feeling like this, brother?” he said.

“Like what?” Erion returned, not fierce but fearful. “Disappointed in the lack of work that’s being done to locate the boy.”

Nicholas shook his head. “You know that’s not true. You know every vampire in here is doing all he can to locate Ladd. What I mean is that you’re not the only one worrying about him, wondering if he’s hurt, if he’s scared.” Nicholas’s hands balled into fists and he slammed back at the wall that he was leaning on.

Erion didn’t want to see the
paven
emotional, afraid. He couldn’t afford to feel any of that. He had to stay detached and clearheaded and vicious.

“We’ve all been out searching, Erion,” Alex said, his tone as calm as he could make it. “Until the very last moments of night.”

“We all want the boy back,” Sara said, moving into the crook of her mate’s arm. “We must work together.”

“The Eyes are looking into Cruen’s whereabouts,” Lucian said. “But those fanged street rats aren’t being even remotely helpful. I swear Cruen has stolen their minds from them, made them think they are no longer informants for hire but his personal servants. We’ve offered them insane amounts of money, and they’re not even tempted.”

“Dillon is working with the Order now,” Sara added, “She’s trying to find out what they know, and Gray is seeing if the Impure warriors can obtain a mental link.”

Alexander turned to his brother. “How is Kate?”

Erion flinched, then hated himself for it. He didn’t want to fall into the sad warmth of their emotional connection. He watched as Nicholas shook his head, his eyes weary. “Frantic. She tried to go with Dillon to the Order.”

Alexander snorted. “Went over well, did it?”

Nicholas’s mouth lifted. “Like a jackhammer on a tin can.”

“Mating hasn’t mellowed that
veana
one bit.”

Erion’s skin tightened around his muscles and bones, and his chest rumbled with the beginnings of a growl. If he remained here, listening to this, he was going to explode.

“You can continue socializing,” he said. “I have work to do.” He turned on his heel and started for the door.

“Where?” Helo called after him. “What work is it? What’s your plan?”

“One of us will go with you,” Phane added. “Wait, brother.”

“No.” Erion didn’t slow.

“Goddamn you, Erion!”

Lycos’s frustrated outburst followed Erion out the living room door and into the hall, but the only one who actually followed him was his twin.

Nicholas caught up with him near the kitchen and blocked his way. The
paven
looked tired, older, but in his dark eyes a fire smoldered.

Erion bared his teeth, flashed his demon. “Move.”

“I don’t like this, Erion,” Nicholas said, undeterred by the show of brawn.

“Not my problem.”

“He is mine too, and Kate’s.”

Erion’s jaw worked, a quick and irrational anger surging within him. “You think that’s what this is? That I would steal him back only to keep him for myself? I am no father.” His eyes narrowed. “He is all yours, brother. I would never attempt to claim him.”

Nicholas’s dark gaze turned sympathetic. “You know what I mean. I respect the fact that he is your biological—”

“He is nothing but a missing
balas
!” The words were like cut glass in his mouth. “Now get out of my way before I help you.”

Nicholas didn’t move. “If you want to prove something, it would be better served to work together.”

“Not this time.”

“I know what you’re doing. You think you owe him, that you’re making up for not knowing about his existence.”

The rumbling in Erion’s chest exploded into a full-fledged growl of warning. “Don’t tell me what I’m feeling.”

“I know—”

“You know nothing,” Erion hissed, something tightening in his chest, something he wanted nothing to do with. “You and I have no understanding of each other, our histories, our perspectives.”

“Is this about the past? About our mother and what she did to you?” Nicholas shook his head. “If so, you have nothing to make up for. I truly believe you were better off.”

“That
veana
may have used you, brother, hurt you, but at least she wanted you.”

Nicholas laughed bitterly. “Oh, she wanted me. She wanted me for my mouth and my ass after she could no longer service those pieces of shit herself.” He turned away for a moment, his nostrils flaring, trying to catch his breath. “What does any of this have to do with Ladd?”

Erion could barely feel, barely think, he was so pumped up on adrenaline and anger and fear. “I cannot . . .”

“What? What, Erion?”

His gaze lifted and his eyes found his twin’s. He shook his head miserably. “The
balas
will not think, will not believe—
ever
—no matter where he ends up—that I did not want him.”

There was a moment of silence between them, and Nicholas’s eyes softened. “You don’t have to do this alone for him to know that.”

Erion straightened his shoulders, shoved away the sentiment and emotion. “I must find him.
I
. Must find him.”

“You are being irrational. And it’s dangerous for the boy.”

“My passion, my drive, will bring the boy home. You will see.”

Nicholas released a grave sigh. “God, I hope so.”

Erion bit into his wrist, then grabbed his brother’s and bit into his flesh too. Nicholas cursed, but he allowed Erion to press the two bloody gashes together.

“Now we are connected,” Erion said, his eyes locked on his twin. “Feel for me within yourself if Cruen contacts you.”

Without waiting for an answer, Erion ripped his arm away and pushed past Nicholas to the door. He had to get back to his search, to his prisoner. The moment he stepped out of the house, the moment he felt sun on his face, he flashed.

In seconds, he landed on another lawn, in another country. It was night and the rain had stopped. Erion ran his bloody wrist along the lock, then waited for the gate to draw back. It had barely swung two feet before he saw the front door to the castle burst open. One of his servants came running out, followed by the brown-and-white canine. Both barreled down the small incline and through the vines.

Breathless, the dog on his heels, the servant halted before Erion. “Your prisoner, sir.”

Instantly alert, Erion said, “What about her?”

The servant’s mouth formed a grim line and his eyes were wide with anxiety.

“What?” Erion demanded, a sudden caustic panic gripping him. “Has she escaped again?”

The male shook his head.

He grabbed the male by the collar and said in the deadliest of voices, “Tell me before I gut you.”

“She has eaten Timothy,” the male squeaked.

At first Erion didn’t believe he’d heard the servant correctly. But one look at the male’s utterly terrorized face and he knew it was true.

“Christ!” he uttered, tossing the male aside and immediately flashing up to the house.

Goddamn female
! What the hell had she done? And, more importantly, what the hell was she? Humans didn’t eat flesh, and vampires drank only blood.

He stalked into the house and down the many hallways that led to the door and the dungeon stairs. Whatever she was, he wouldn’t tolerate her making meals out of his staff.

•   •   •

Return . . .

Return her to me—

Cruen opened his eyes and snarled at the plants surrounding him in the rooftop greenhouse. He couldn’t even send a message to the walls of the Roman brothers’ compound. He couldn’t get through their enchantments.

He grabbed at a violet bloom and ripped it from its stem. For too many years to count he had been all-powerful, divine, feared, and formidable. Sending a message to anyone, anywhere, took only a brief thought, such little effort.

Now he was . . . what? Like all the other vampires? Limited powers. He didn’t know how to exist in the realm he now found himself in.

Erion had taken his key to continued power, his key to unlimited life, and to his work developing the ultimate vampire.

Erion had taken the key that would finally unlock the door to Cruen’s true love.

Celestine.

He had to find the female. But how was he to get to his
mutore
son? He couldn’t use any of his advanced magic. And he couldn’t go to the source of his power and ask for it.

He crushed the flower in his fist. He couldn’t bring Abbadon into this. The demon king would make Cruen pay, make him go without a feeding until Hellen was found. Abbadon would consider her abduction Cruen’s incompetence, but the fact that Cruen’s adopted son had done the deed . . . well, that might just make the Demon King forget their union altogether.

And Cruen couldn’t allow that.

Without Abbadon’s blood, he was a worthless
paven
.

“Gale!” he shouted.

The male came at once, had no doubt been hovering near the door. “Yes, my lord?”

“Are the Demon King’s daughters comfortable?”

“Yes, my lord.” The male cocked his head. “Should we continue to make them so?”

Cruen’s lip curled in pure menace and warning. “You will treat them as the royalty they are while I am away.”

The male nodded, his gaze sweeping low. “You are traveling, my lord?”

He tossed away the broken and battered bloom. “It seems I must.”

•   •   •

“I have tied you up! Is that not enough to contain your wickedness? Do you need a muzzle as well?”