Eternal Beast: Mark of the Vampire (20 page)

“It’s not a Pureblood’s main concern,” Dillon said, shoving a massive desk back toward the wall. “Impures serve the Pureblood communities. They don’t need their sex drive to do that.”

“Christ, D,” Gray uttered blackly.

She hated that tone on him, hated it directed straight at her. “I’m not saying it’s right or that I agree with it,” she returned defensively. “In fact, I think it’s total
bullshit and another tool by the Order to control anything and anyone.” She pulled back the rug that had lain beneath the desk, and a massive dust cloud shot into the air. “Come on; help me with the trapdoor.”

“But you don’t push to stop it,” Uma said, crouching down, ready.

Dillon glanced up and snarled at the female who thought it was in any way okay to lecture her. “Hey—I’m here tonight, aren’t I? That’s doing something to stop it.”

Gray yanked up the thick trapdoor. “Let’s go. We’re wasting time.” He shot her a fierce look. “We don’t have all night to listen to you defend the indefensible.”

“I don’t need to defend anything, Gray,” Dillon said caustically, jumping onto the ladder and beginning her decent. “Now, you on the other hand…”

“Christ,” he hissed, helping Uma onto the ladder, then jumping on it himself. “This is going to be a long goddamn night.”

Uma snorted softly. “You two are like an old mated couple.”

“One that continually wants to off each other,” Dillon said.

“How much farther?” Gray asked as they jumped down to the dirt floor beneath.

“Just a few floors,” Dillon said, flicking on her flashlight and leading them to an elevator. The thing was old, metal, and had strange purple markings on the doors. She pressed the button marked “down.”

When the doors opened and they were all inside, Gray said, “How long has this secret passage been here? It’s so calculated.”

“I have no idea,” Dillon returned. Irritation snaked through her veins. How was what the breed and the Order did for kicks suddenly all her fault? If they kept this up, she was going to give them exactly what they seemed to expect from her. Zero help and a whole lot of not-my-problem.

When they hit bottom and the doors opened, all three took their positions. Gray went first. On the alert, his blades out, he searched the long corridor for any sign of life.

“I hear heartbeats, and they’re not yours,” Dillon said, coming up beside him, Glock in hand. “Maybe a few yards up.”

“Remember,” Gray reminded them. “Goal is to get as many out as we can without endangering their lives.”

“Or ours,” Dillon added.

Gray ignored her. “This tunnel seems to drag out farther than we had anticipated,” he said, moving quickly down the dark corridor.

“You still think this tunnel comes out between two cages, right?” Uma asked, taking up the rear with two small pistols.

Jogging beside them both, Dillon said, “That’s what I remember hearing, but like I told you—it was at a club a hundred years ago, and I haven’t made this trip myself. At some point, we’ll just have to man up and take it as it comes.”

“I see a door up ahead,” Gray whispered, and they quickened their pace. “Weapons ready, eyes vigilant.”

“There’s something,” Dillon whispered, her nostrils flaring as she tried to figure out what she was sensing,
hearing. Gray had to hear it too. What the hell? “Massive heartbeats…Something’s wrong—”

But if Gray heard something, he didn’t hesitate, his need to rescue driving him to open the door. The sounds of a full-blown riot met their ears, while the intense metallic scent of blood flooded their nostrils.

Gray pulled back, grabbed Uma, motioned for Dillon, and they all moved into the shadows away from the arena. They’d come out between two massive cells just like Dillon’s memory had recalled, cells that housed at least fifty Impures each. Hiding behind a stone pylon, they assessed the situation.

“This is out of control,” Dillon whispered loudly over the din. “We’ve got to go back.”

“No,” Gray said, his gaze watchful.

“Gray, there’s no order here—and I’m not talking about the nine idiots who try to rule us all.” She nodded to the cells surrounding the Paleo, where males and females were screaming and banging things on the bars caging them.

“Oh God,” Uma cried, her eyes wide and horror filled.

Dillon followed her gaze. In the center of the arena, all eight stone tables were occupied with bound and writhing Impures.

“Look at the ground,” Uma said.

Like puzzle pieces, ten or so Impures lay at different angles on the ground surrounding the stone tables. They were moaning, crying as though they’d already felt the fangs of the Order.

“What’s happened?” Uma said, shaking her head, the noise nearly deafening now. “I’ve never seen it like this. It’s chaos.”

“They’re speeding up castrations,” Gray shouted over the madness with blatant bitterness. “Fucking Order. We need to get to the ones on the table before the Order members return.”

Dillon grabbed his arm. “You’ve lost your mind. You’ll be a dead male the moment you step foot in there. You think they’re not watching, not waiting for you?”

He turned, his eyes blazing. “I don’t care.”

She saw the passion burning there, the blind determination. Christ, he wasn’t kidding. He would die for this cause. How could he think that was how this war would be won? She had to reach him. “That’s not strategy, Gray—that’s suicide. You need to think.”

Uma laid her hand on his other arm. “I’ll go with you.”

Dillon fought down her jaguar’s growl and held on to her
veana
common sense—because truly, she appeared to be the only one with a functioning brain here. “I’m not watching you die.”

He jerked his arm from her, his eyes flashing with a fire Dillon wondered if she’d ever understand. Or ever want to. “Then go and wait for us near the exit.”

He turned away from her and took off, down the rest of the corridor, then out of sight, Uma after him. Dillon left the shadows of the pylon and stalked back to the door. Goddamn stupid, motherfucking Impures. This wasn’t bravery—this was just plain stupid.

She paced by the door, not ready to walk through it, every second ticking off in her head.

Goddamn it! She couldn’t just stand here doing nothing while Gray was being captured or killed. Not
happy about it, but her decision made, she whipped around and headed back in the direction of the pylon, but she got only five steps when the pair came running at her with two Impures.

“Go!” Gray called out harshly.

No one spoke as they broke through the door and hauled ass down the tunnel. No one looked at one another as they piled in the elevator and shot upward. It was only when they were out of the metal box and hustling down the second tunnel heading for the club that Gray let loose.

“You just don’t get it,” he said with deep menace as they crawled up through the trapdoor. “What we’re doing here.”

“I was just supposed to be your ride,” Dillon returned sharply.

“Bullshit.” He slammed the trapdoor shut and kicked the rug into place. “You wanted in on this job and you choked.”

Dillon glared at him. “Because I didn’t want to embark on a suicide mission?”

“We’re still alive.”

“Then you’re damn lucky.”

His nostrils flared, Gray glanced down at his hands, then back up at her with eyes frozen over with ire. “Yeah, D. Luck and me? We’re tight.”

“No pity parties, all right?” Dillon snarled. “Everyone’s got one to go to. This was stupid and fruitless. What did you manage? A couple bodies. You could’ve put together something that would’ve removed a dozen or more.”

“With what army?” he yelled back. “We’re just lowly
Impures, remember? And if we can out one or two, we’ve done something.” Gray turned away from her and led the terrified Impures out of the office and through the nightclub. He burst out of the back door and into the cold night air. “You and me.” He shook his head at her. “We’re from two different sides of the street.”

“Try two different worlds,” she bit back.

Barely noticing that there were others present, Gray descended on her, his fangs dropping. “You don’t care about anyone but yourself.”

“Not true and you know it.”

“Right. You care about me.”

She stuck a finger in his chest. “That’s something.”

“That’s not enough.”

Dillon froze, his words moving like ice water through her veins.

“All right,” Uma said behind them. “Easy now. Both of you.”

Ignoring her, Gray shook his head, his eyes blazing into Dillon’s. “I’m such a fucking fool. Thinking there was something there.”

“Like what?” Dillon shot back. “A relationship? Do you not know me at all?” She threw up her hands. “I’m the witch in those fairy tales, Gray—not the princess. There’s no happily ever after, no Prince Charming, no true mate lover for life coming for me.”

“Well, she’s right about that.”

Both Gray and Dillon whirled to face Uma. The female stood beside both Impures, who looked confused and exhausted and ready to get the hell out of there. She took a step forward, grabbed Gray’s hand and rubbed her thumb over the top.

He hissed.

Dillon snarled. “Touch him again and die.”

Uma dropped Gray’s hand but didn’t step back. Her gaze found Dillon’s, and she said with complete calm, “Your true mate’s not coming for you,
Veana
. Because he’s already here.” She clicked on her flashlight and positioned it over the top of Gray’s hand. “I wondered about this, thought I had seen something within your scars. But tonight I saw it flicker under the lights of the Paleo when you were cutting one of the Impures free.”

Both Dillon and Gray looked up, confused.

“You’re both such idiots,” Uma said, shaking her head. “Look!”

Dillon narrowed her eyes on the skin of his hand. “Oh, shit. The mark.”

Gray looked up. “It looks like a jaguar.”

Uma snorted. “It looks like Dillon. Now can we get the hell out of here?”

G
ray couldn’t remain still. His mind or his body. He paced in the shadows of the car parked in the lot behind the club and wished for the first time since finding out his true vampire status that he was a Pureblood
paven
. Then he could flash. Like Dillon had a few moments ago. He could take the two Impures and Uma back to the warehouse so they could connect back with family, then get that hardheaded
veana
locked in a room and figure out what he’d just heard. Shit—what he’d just seen.

Cursing, he halted in a panel of cool moonlight and raised his hand into the light. He stared at the mark on top, squinted.

There was no mistaking it now. The outline of the jaguar was clearly stamped into the web of burn scars, even down to the rosette pattern on its fur. How hadn’t he seen this lurking beneath all that ravaged
skin? Maybe because the mark was the same color as his skin. Maybe because he so rarely looked at his scars—his deformity—at the ever-present reminder of the past? A past that was now called into question by what he’d learned in the Paleo from Samuel.

He ran his thumb over the mark, hissed at the strange sensation that ran through his body. Like feathers one moment and fingernails the next.

Around him, the air seemed to drop ten degrees in temperature, and when he opened his mouth he saw his breath. His pulse kicked up.

He and Dillon—true mates.

The idea was as improbable as it was unfortunate. Yes, he had a thing for Dillon. He wanted Dillon—wanted inside Dillon. But to be bound to her forever? That thought made his blood run as cold as the frigid air he existed within.

Dillon could never be anyone’s true mate. She trusted no one. And if Gray was honest with himself, he wasn’t completely convinced he could trust her either. After what had just happened in the Paleo—how she’d run in the other direction when lives were on the line. Run away instead of toward him, toward his cause.

That could never be the mate for him. For the leader of the Impure Resistance. If he ever wanted to get serious with a female, she would have to be a true partner, like-minded, someone who would allow him to see all of her, even the shit from her past, the scars that never healed.

There was a sudden flash in the center of the parking lot and Gray looked up. Dillon. As beautiful as ever. As impossible to love as ever. His heart stuttered, then
stalled. Something was wrong. Her eyes were wide and she was running—balls out—toward him.

“We have to go now!” she shouted.

“What the hell—”

Gray heard the sound of another flash. Then another.
Pop. Pop
. Instinct gripped him and he leaped onto the hood of the car in front of him. Drawing out his blades, he dropped into fighting stance.

“No!” Dillon screamed. In one lithe movement, she jumped up on the hood of the car to meet him and wrapped her arms around his waist just as two Pureblood males came barreling toward them.

Gray drew back and sent both knives straight at their heads.

The moment steel entered skull, Gray and Dillon flashed away.

The Order sat at their long table in their desert reality presiding over a case regarding the thievery of several Pureblood homesteads within a large
credenti
in Ann Arbor, Michigan. So when Feeyan raised her head and declared, “Damn those fools! We will see each one laid out in the sun and dried until they are nothing but dust!” both Pureblood
veana
s who stood before the table gasped, one clutching her neck, the other rendered completely immobile with panic.

Feeyan sneered at them. “I do not speak of you.” She sniffed. “Although the crimes with which you have been accused certainly could make you eligible for such a fate.”

One of the
veana
s began to cry. Feeyan lifted her
hand in one smooth arching movement, blocking the Pureblood
veana
s from hearing her next words.

“We have failed, Order members.”

The
paven
to her right looked confused. “The trap we set at the Paleo was a success, was it not? The
mutore
accompanied Gray Donohue to the raid, and two of the Impures we’re taken.”

Her nostrils flared as she pressed her bride-white hair behind her shoulders. “Yes, but when the
mutore
flashed them back to the Impure Resistance safe house, our guards could not get ahold of her mid-flight. Only when she flashed back alone, and even then she fought them off like a wildcat. They could not contain her, and she and Gray Donohue got away.”