Eternal Beast: Mark of the Vampire (18 page)

“Hey, you volunteered.” He lifted his brow. “Which surprised me, you know. Since you don’t really give a shit about the Impures.”

“That’s true,” she said, all heat, all irritation—all D. “But I give a shit about you.”

He grabbed her hand, threaded his fingers through hers. “Awww, baby, that’s so sweet.”

“Shut up,” she snarled.

Grinning, he pulled her toward him. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

“Thanks for the warning.” She lifted her chin.

“Hard, wet, and lots of tongue.”

“And for the play-by-play.”

“Stop talking.” His hand cupped the back of her head. “Or I’ll put more than my tongue in your mouth.”

“Promises, promises,” she drawled, closing her eyes.

He chuckled as he captured her mouth. Groaned when she wrapped her arms around his neck and captured his mouth right back.

Goddamn, there was nothing in the world like Dillon’s
mouth. It could spew angry words, snap you in half with its sarcasm, suck you in and make you come—make you fly to the fucking moon and back—and kiss you like it was desperate to know every inch of you.

Kind of like now.

His fingers gripped her, and he growled as he sucked her tongue into his mouth. Dillon cocked her head, letting him take her deeper, then biting at his lower lip when he released her. Fuck, she tasted good. He went for a deeper angle and she followed him. Hot and heavy, they kissed, teeth knocking,
his
heart pounding,
her
fingers digging into his skin, their moans escaping hungry mouths.

When their lips parted, when she was breathing every bit as hard as he was, Gray found her gaze and whispered against her mouth, “Are we going to talk about what’s happened, why you feel like you do—the memories you won’t let me see?”

“No.”

“Not today or ever?”

She drew back. “Why are you pushing me?”

He released a frustrated breath. “Shit,
Veana
. You know why.”

Her eyes looked bruised, or maybe that was her expression, and she sat up again.

Gray stared at her back, released a frustrated breath. Why the hell couldn’t he just leave this alone? Forget the pain and vulnerability he saw in her eyes every goddamn time he touched her? Maybe because he wasn’t a dickhead—or maybe it was just simply that he cared way too damn much. Whatever had happened to
her was brutal, something she couldn’t control—no doubt sexual—and he was determined to find out what it was.

And who it involved.

Rage like he’d never felt before moved over him like a mudslide, threatening to consume him whole. He closed his eyes and inhaled—real fucking deep until there was no more air left in the room. His hand itched to hold his blades, to sharpen them until they cut pipe as if it were butter. Until they cut the skin off the one or ones who had hurt this
veana
, then the muscles, bones…His lip curled and his fangs descended. He’d ended the life of one male who’d thought he could touch this
veana
. Another death on his hands was nothing.

“We have work to do,” he said, pushing that bloody fantasy into the back of his mind. For now. Struggling to keep the death march out of his tone, he added, “We need to go meet with Uma. Get a plan together for tonight.”

“We don’t need her,” Dillon said with sudden heat, glancing over her shoulder. This was heat of a different variety.

Gray pulled back the sheets and got out of bed. “She’s great in the field. Quick, smart, and has a killer rapport with the Impures.” He tossed her a look that said no negotiation here. “
I
need her.”

Dillon leaped to all fours on the rumpled bedding, growled at him.

Gray’s cock twitched. Damn
veana
. Did she have to go there? Right now when he was barely able to stand up with the shaft of granite in his jeans? When she was
all
veana
again, he lifted an eyebrow. “Was that your cat?”

“Yes,” she hissed. “And totally controlled by me.”

“Well, put it away before I strip, climb back in that bed, and teach it some manners.”

Again, she flashed him her jaguar’s face. Again, she growled.

“I’m not joking around here, D,” he warned, knowing his eyes were as fierce as his face now. “A male can take only so much—Impure though he is.”

For a moment she just stared at him, and though Gray couldn’t hear her thoughts, he could see her thinking behind those eyes—no doubt wondering how far she could truly push him. Then she sat back on her haunches and sniffed, mewed. “My blood runs too wild through your veins, I think.”

Damn right. Gray leaned on the bed, got in the cat’s face. “There’s no reason to be jealous, D.”

She turned back into a
veana
in under a second. “You didn’t just say that.”

Laughing, shaking his head, Gray stood up and buttoned his jeans, tucked in his shirt. “Come on now. Out of bed.”

She did as she was told, but the moment she stood up, her jeans—his jeans, fell to the floor and pooled around her ankles.

Gray stared at her legs—long, perfect, edible stems. Thank Christ his T-shirt covered her core or this would be done—he’d be done. They wouldn’t be going anywhere—not for at least an hour. He cursed. “Are you trying to give me the worst case of blue balls in history?”

She attempted to look innocent. Didn’t work on her. “They keep falling off. I need my own shit.”

“We’ll get that done. But in the meantime, I’m sure Uma has something she can loan you.”
Like, immediately.

She cocked her head. “Oh, now you’re just asking for it,” she growled, shifting into her jaguar state and leaping on him.

He went down with a thud. Cursing and laughing.

Twenty minutes later, dressed and back to her
veana
self, Dillon stood in Uma’s kitchen and watched the Impure female bang some pots and pans around.

Or as the humans called it, cooking.

Sitting on a stool beside her, Gray sampled some vegetable thing in a sauce and made a noise far too close to the one he’d made when they were lip-locking earlier.

Blue balls. He was going to know
black and blue
balls if he kept this up.

“You didn’t have to do this,” he said to the tall, blond creature at the stove.

“I know, but that was a tough go down in the Paleo last night, and then the memory bleed today.” She turned and gave him a brilliant smile.

Dillon sneered. It was like a freaking commercial for whitening toothpaste.

“With all the blood loss,” she continued, “you need to eat to get your full strength back.”

Oh, how Dillon would love to crush this female beneath her paws. Maybe rip out of few of those teeth with her claws. Didn’t this bitch know what stood before her?
Yes, a killer
mutore
, but more important, the one who had given this male her blood—marked him deep in his veins. Fed him in the only way that mattered.

Uma turned then, her blond ponytail sweeping against her face and all that creamy skin, and with quick confidence, ushered the steaming ingredients onto a waiting plate. “This recipe is guaranteed to get your blood pumping again.”

That’s it!
“Already taken care of, Female.”

Both of them turned and looked at Dillon. Gray’s eyes were glittering with twisted humor—
dickhead
—while the female had the balls to not appear scared, only strangely curious.

Maybe Dillon needed to snarl to get her to understand. One more time for the cheap seats.
Her
blood got his blood pumping. Not some freaking nasty-looking vegetable crap. She nearly said that aloud when the Impure decided to go all polite on her ass.

“Can I fix you a plate too, Dillon?” she asked, flashing that ten-watt again.

“I don’t eat,” she said.

“Oh, right; you’re a
veana
. So you consume nothing but blood, then?”

“Unless I’m a jaguar,” she returned. “Then I eat meat. Raw, and preferably still running away.”

Uma stared at her, something close to humor in her eyes. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good,” Dillon said. “And Gray’s right. You aren’t as dumb as you look.”

Uma’s eyes widened, and Gray turned to glare at Dillon. “Remember what we talked about earlier? About keeping your mouth shut?”

“Or you’d put something in it,” Dillon drawled, giving him an exaggerated wink. “Yeah, baby. I remember.”

“Impossible
veana
.” He narrowed his eyes, but Dillon saw the hitch in his chest, maybe even the pop of his zipper.

“Well, if you can’t keep it closed,” he said, “use it for something productive. Like telling us if you know of another way into the Paleo.”

Dillon crossed her arms over her chest. “I do.”

“Are you going to share it with us, or do we need to guess?” Gray asked, then quickly amended, “Don’t make us guess.”

“I’ve heard that there’s another entrance below one of the nightclubs in the town nearby.”

“And you can get us in there,” Uma asked.

Dillon turned on the female and hissed. “Yes. I can get you in there.”

“Very good.” She sat down beside Gray and picked up her fork, then smiled again. This time she upped the wattage to blinding. “Shall we eat?”

Yes, Dillon thought, glaring at the female. Oh, she’d eat all right. Blond ponytail and all.

“He went under the bridge,” Lucian called to Alex. “Fuck. Don’t let him get away.”

They ran through Central Park at top speed. That little bastard, Alexander thought. Even though it was night, he knew the brothers weren’t about to flash, not in this heavy foot traffic. Lucian obviously thought the same thing as he kept pace alongside Alex. Helo, on the other hand, clearly didn’t give a shit. Soon as water
was in sight, the
mutore
slipped away from Alex and Luca, dove under the murky surface, and didn’t come up again until Lucian and Alexander were around the corner.

And by then Helo had the Impure male by the back of his coat.

Impressive, Alexander mused as he eyed the dripping-wet
paven
with the sudden appearance of black lines, wavy tattoos shooting up his neck and spreading like tree limbs from beneath his shirt. Impressive, but not smart. If this member of the Eyes was even moderately intelligent, he was going to take one look at Helo, put two and two together, and come up
mutore
.

Deflecting attention, Alexander descended on the nervous-looking Eye. “What’s with the running, Whistler?”

“Yes, Impure,” Lucian added, his fangs dropping a threatening quarter inch. “You are never one to shy away from giving information for substantial monetary compensation.”

“I have nothing for the Romans,” he said quickly. “No news, no locations.”

Lucian growled. “We didn’t ask for locations. Hell, we haven’t asked you anything yet.”

Whistler looked at Lucian, then Helo. Something startled within him and he swallowed. “I don’t have anything for the Romans,” he repeated.

“Someone’s shut you down,” Alexander said, his eyes narrowing on the male. No question there.

Whistler didn’t confirm. Or deny. Just kept acting nervous as hell.

“Who is it?” Lucian demanded. “The Order?”

“You’re barking up the wrong tree here, fellas.”

“Your Eye colleagues?” Alexander asked, taking a step forward.

Whistler sniffed. “We’re done here. I have somewhere to be.”

“Cruen?” Helo said, tattoos now gone, disappeared, and both his clothing and skin dry as concrete in summertime.

Whistler’s gaze shot to the
paven
, his face ashen.

A cruel smile erupted on Helo’s face. “You lie, you die.”

Whistler’s eyes closed, and before them, in the crowded park, the Impure disappeared—leaving no doubt in the minds of the
paven
s who remained just who he was working for.

The city had gone dark ten minutes ago and the sky was littered with stars.

Not that Gray could see and enjoy anything but bodies occupying seats and poles. He was belowground, inside the metal bullet, racing toward a location that was becoming way too familiar lately.

The subway car jerked to a stop, and Gray barely allowed the doors to open before he jumped off and headed toward the tight gap in the wall. He was through it in seconds, and took the stairs down into the tunnels two at a time. When his sister’s message had found him, he’d been watching Vincent and Piper as they worked with the information they’d taken from his mind earlier—trying to sync up with the Order’s mainframe. He’d wanted to stick around and see if
they’d get anything, get anywhere, but family came before a mental exercise. He’d be a fool if he tried to pretend it didn’t.

Once inside the stairwell, he headed into the passageway underneath the Romans’ house. Before long, he saw her shadow in the distance and called out, “Hey, Sis. I can’t stay long.”

“I won’t keep you.”

Wasn’t Sara. Wasn’t someone he was expecting to see anytime soon. His guts twisted.
Family came first, eh?
Did that extend to this branch of family? After all he knew, all that Samuel had revealed to him?

With an irritated exhale, he came to stand before her in the torchlight of the Romans’ tunnels. She looked as she always looked. Too young for her age, too gentle and kind for what she’d kept hidden from him and Sara. “Hello, Mom.”

Celestine’s eyes moved over every inch of his face. “It’s so good to see you, Gray.”

“Yeah. You too.”

She smiled, and her eyes appeared hopeful. “That almost sounded like you meant it.”

He did mean it. He had deep anger and resentment for this
veana
, true, but it hadn’t killed the love. Not yet.

“Where’s Sara?” he asked.

“I asked her if I could have a moment alone with you.”

“Okay.” His brows lifted. Waiting. Why was she here? What did she want? And more important, would there be anything said about the past—from her or from him?

Her eyes softened as she took in his face, as if she
were having a memory. “You weren’t taking any of my calls. I got worried.”

“No need to worry,” he said simply.

She shrugged. “All right. I got offended, then.”

The warmth of her voice snaked through him, tugged at the boy within. After all, she had been a loving mother, no doubt about that. Did she not deserve a chance to earn back his trust? Come clean and explain her actions?