Eternal Beast: Mark of the Vampire (30 page)

She didn’t go back on her word.

She wasn’t that
veana
anymore.

It was dark inside the cottage when Gray burst through the double door, but the half dozen skylights in the ceiling welcomed the twilight inside. Gray didn’t slow. He moved through the main room and into a bedroom that was utterly beautiful and all him. White, gray, and black, uncluttered and clean lines. Dillon couldn’t help but smile.

Under the pale light of the young moon streaming in through another set of six wide skylights, Gray placed
her on the large bed and crawled in with her. He covered them both with sheets and blankets, then gathered her close and kissed her until her skin warmed and dried.

“I want this,” he whispered close to her ear. “Not just you, but this.”

Dillon couldn’t help herself. She wrapped her leg around his waist and squeezed. “Me too.” God, more than anything.

“Then I need you to tell me, D.”

Her throat tightened painfully, and a current of unease moved through her. She didn’t need to ask him what he meant.

“Just me, okay?”

She released her hold on him and rolled onto her back.

Gray lifted his head. His eyes were gentle, but firm. “Remember the love thing.”

“Don’t remind me of that,” she said drily.

“Fuck you, D. I’m going to remind you of it every goddamn second until you tell me what happened that turned you inside out and backward.”

He stared down at her, waiting. Only Gray Donohue. No one ever spoke to her the way he did. No anger, but the fierce heat of love and care. Was it possible to have a relationship, the real kind, when one person kept a part of herself hidden? She’d never even thought about it until this male dropped into her life. She’d never wanted to think about it until he’d placed her down on his cock, forced her to look at him, deep inside him, and made love to her.

What was she so afraid of? she wondered. That he
would be disgusted by her, ashamed of her—that he’d think she brought it on herself? No. That wasn’t Gray.

She took a deep breath and a huge leap of faith, then reached up and brought his mouth to her temple. “Do it.”

“Like this? Through the blood?” His breath was warm on her skin.

“Yes,” she whispered, her muscles tensing, her head dizzy. She couldn’t say the words…all those words. It was too much. “But you have to promise me something, Gray.”

“Anything, D.”

She swallowed. This was it. No going back. “No matter what you see, how it makes you feel, you won’t go after anyone.”

He sighed.

“Promise me,” she said.

“All right.”

She braced herself, fisting the sheets at her sides, and whispered, “Go.”

Gray bit hard into Dillon’s temple and, with the confidence of someone who had accrued much experience navigating memories, he fast-forwarded through the near present, through the past several decades, slowing down only when he started to see a younger and younger
veana
. Then he stopped altogether when he saw her surrounded by her young Beast brothers and a face Gray recognized as the vile demon among vampires, Cruen.

For the briefest of moments Gray just stared at the face of a young Dillon as she kicked a blue ball back and
forth with her brothers in what looked to be a basement. No windows, cement floor, brick on the walls. But they didn’t seem to mind the lack of light and decor. In fact, they were all laughing, enjoying themselves, but none more than her. Gray’s heart pinged with longing. That long tawny hair swinging around near her waist, those bright and happy hazel eyes, and that smile. When had he ever seen her smile like that?

He heard her moan softly, and the sound kick-started him into action. He propelled himself forward, clip after clip, image after image. Fight training, blood samples, more play, less play, a swim in the river—

He stopped. He’d nearly run over it. It was the swim that made him slam on the brakes. Fear, shame, and unimaginable pain clung to this memory as it hadn’t with any of the others. In fact, the memory almost resisted his call to view it. Gray had never experienced such a thing, such a brick wall.

Fighting to keep the swell of anger that was threatening to rise further, he pushed back hard, a few frames at a time, until he had the beginning of the scene.

Which, no doubt, was the beginning of the end for a happy, laughing young
veana
.

Dillon was inside a room, a laboratory. There were no windows, so he couldn’t tell if it was day or night—just that the room was empty, save for her. She was standing over a metal table, looking into a microscope. She appeared to be around fifteen, and the way she was handling the placement and care of the slides she was observing made Gray think she was far more serious at this age than she had been as a carefree
balas
playing with her brothers.

“It’s late.”

Gray’s heart stuttered as Dillon glanced up and smiled at the guard in the doorway. He was built like a short linebacker, with round, dark eyes that seemed to take in everything. It was clear that Dillon knew him well, that he was one of Cruen’s best and most loyal sentries.

“I’ll be done in a few minutes,” she told him. “Just checking a blood sample of mine.”

He walked into the room, came to stand beside her. “Can I see?”

“Sure.” Dillon felt no fear, no strangeness at this action. She trusted him. She had no reason not to.

He looked up, grinned at her. “Pretty blood for a pretty female.”

Something quick and strange moved within her, but she cast it aside. “Thanks. I can turn it off now. I should be done for the night.”

“I wish I could turn it off,” he said, his gaze moving over her face, then down her neck to her chest.

Dillon stepped back. She wasn’t a fool. She was a virgin and trustworthy, but she wasn’t a fool. “I’m going now. My brothers are expecting me.”

He grabbed her arm, and when he did, Gray felt Dillon—the one beside him in the bed—grab his arm too.

“Your brothers are tearing into a deer carcass right now, sweetheart,” he hissed, his fangs descending as he yanked her to him. “I can’t stop myself. You are just too sweet, too damn ripe.”

Terrified now, Dillon tried to push him away. “Let me go.”

The male grinned, reached for the split in her blouse and tore it all the way to her navel. “Fight me all you want. You haven’t the strength to deny me yet.”

She kicked at him, tried to get her knee up between his legs, but he squeezed her too tight. Panic blurred her vision, and she forced herself to breathe, forced herself to think. Begging didn’t work, strength—she did have enough—maybe if she acted above him, reminded him of who he was hurting.

“You dare touch a
veana
, Impure,” she rasped, flashing her own set of fangs and lunging for him. “The Order will cage you for just looking at me wrong.”

“A
veana
.” He laughed as he hauled her up and tossed her on the metal table. “You are a
mutore
, sweetheart—a Beast, little better than an animal.”

“You’re the only animal in this room!”

He hit her hard across the face. So hard she passed out for a moment. When she came to, her pants were off, her underwear was ripped and hanging at her waist, and the guard was pushing into her. Blinding pain stabbed at her lower half, and she tried to get up, tried to slap and push and get away, but he slammed her back down. Her head hit the metal table and one second after it did, she shifted into her jaguar form.

Gray pulled out of her temple as gently as he could manage, but not before he saw what her tear-heavy cat eyes did: Cruen, standing at the entrance to the laboratory, watching—curious, clinical, as though she were nothing more than a scientific experiment.

His rage barely contained, he gathered Dillon up in his arms and rocked her.

“Baby…” he uttered, the urge to kill so ripe within him he could hardly breathe.

“You promised me,” she whispered.

Oh, fuck, I don’t know if I can keep that promise,
he heard his mind scream as his hand burned with the need to hold a blade—the very hand that held her mark.
I don’t think the jaguar within us both will let me.

Blood ran from Alexander’s wrist as he moved through the gates of his old
credenti
and headed down the path toward town. He wondered if his blood would still be welcome in this place if the community members had decided to station guards at the entrance.

He imagined not. His mother and her mate had a shitload of pull in here, and there was nothing they despised more than seeing him—being reminded that a son of the Breeding Male had once been forced upon them all.

Darkness ate up the pathway inside the forest, but it was a good thing. Most members of the
credenti
would be inside at blood meal and family reflection.

The scent of the village pushed into his nostrils, and he growled in disgust. “I shouldn’t have come,” he grumbled. “With Cellie locked up and Sara—”

“Nicky swore he’d contact us the second he has a way in,” Lucian said, keeping pace beside him, his white-blond hair reflecting the light of the moon overhead.

“Yeah, I know.”

“And with the Eyes doing that bullshit avoidance dance, it could be a while.”

“I know,” Alex snarled.

Lucian turned to glare at him. “Then stop being a pussy and let’s get this done.”

“Maybe I misspoke,” Alex said, sidestepping a fallen tree. “What I meant to say is, I should’ve come alone.”

Lucian smirked. “Yeah, right. What fun would that be?”

“You keep your nose clean, Luca, seriously.”

“Sure, sure.” He pointed his chin in the direction of the town, which was only a few yards away now. “Think we’ll run into that winner set of parents of yours? I’d love to introduce myself, then introduce them to my fangs.”

“We’re not here for a reunion,” Alex said, though the idea wasn’t half bad.

Lucian shrugged. “Just sayin’. If it comes to that.”

“If it comes to that,” Alex said in a low voice as they maneuvered to the back of one of the shops, “you can’t do anything, especially draw blood. Not with how close to the change you are and will always be.”

“Shit, Alex,” he hissed, annoyed. “It’s not menopause.”

“No, it’s a thousand times worse. Bronwyn’s blood inside you keeps you sane and moderately calm, but there’s no way of knowing if something could set you off. And she isn’t here to haul you back.” He shrugged. “I’m just sayin’, be careful.”

A sound drifted over to them then, a soft whistle that could’ve been a bird in one of the trees overhead if they hadn’t planned the signal themselves.

“Over here,” came a sharp whisper.

Alexander and Lucian followed the sound and the scent and found the Impure female they’d been told
would be meeting them behind a small, dark house a couple of yards down.

When they approached, she retreated from the shadows and met them solidly, her chin raised. She was little more than a girl, maybe nine or ten, and Alexander felt a pinch in his side.

“You’re the Roman brothers,” she said, her dark eyes large and curious. “Sons of the Breeding Male.” She looked at Alex. “I wasn’t yet born when you lived here.”

Good thing. She would’ve been visiting him in a cage, not under a star-clad sky. “What can you tell us?” he asked, trying to keep his tone gentle, though he was pretty sure a trace of impatience needled through.

“There is a structure far out in the old pastures,” she said, pointing to the right. “It’s very hard to get to, and it’s abandoned.” She paused, chewed her lower lip. “Or they think it is.”

Alexander wasn’t altogether convinced that Cruen had a hideout here. It was just too irrational, too arrogant. Then again, both attributes ran thickly within that
paven
’s veins.

“You’ll show us,” Lucian said, no question in his tone.

She nodded. “But payment first.”

Alexander took out a small bag. It was filled with
credenti
gold. “Here you are.”

She looked at the bag of coins and frowned. “I don’t want that.”

“Why not?” asked Lucian, confused.

Her voice dropped even lower. “The elders here will know I’ve done something bad to get that gold. I won’t be able to spend it on the one thing I want.”

“And what is that?” Alexander asked.

Her large eyes met his. “Blood. Pure blood.”

“You get that from the Order. Why would you—”

“Not enough,” she interrupted, a sudden passion in her voice. “Never enough. And it has been worse lately. More work, less blood—more being rounded up and taken to the Paleo.”

Alexander glanced at Luca, who shook his head and cursed under his breath.

“Take it, whatever you need.”

As Alexander put his wrist before the
veana
, felt the unremarkable prick of her young and unsteady fangs, he thought of all that was collapsing within their breed.

Gray Donohue’s fight didn’t seem trivial anymore. This inequality, overly strict rule, and forced sterilization within the Eternal Breed was wrong and vile, and something Alexander was determined to see changed before his own little Impure entered the world.

T
he small wound in her temple stung, but the one that had just been unleashed inside her threatened to crush her flat. As she stood at the edge of the bed, the darkness of night still coating the room and the scent of sea, blood, and climax in the air, she watched her true mate sleep.

This wasn’t running.

She was going to get his mother and bring her back to him. She knew Mondrar well. She could take the risks. As a Pureblood, she wouldn’t be detected by the Order.

He shifted his weight, one heavily muscled arm reaching for something across the bed. Her skin prickled. Her mind whispered for her to take off her clothes and get back in bed.

But instead she crept out of the cottage and into the deep night.

This wasn’t running, she told herself again as she
flashed away. This was proving that she understood Gray’s purpose and that his fights were now hers.

He was weak, so weak that when Cruen called for him, he came without a second thought.