Eternal Beast: Mark of the Vampire (32 page)

“Please,” the male begged. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” Gray uttered. In one rush of movement, he reached for the blade at his back, slammed it through the bars, and sliced the
paven
’s neck.

When he tossed the body to the ground and stepped
back, he found a
veana
in Order robes standing right behind the dead
paven
, a black circle around her narrowed left eye.

“Thank you,” she said with a false smile, her long white hair in two neat plaits behind her back. “Saved us the trouble of doing it. He has betrayed us many times.”

Gray wasn’t interested. “Where is she?”

The
veana
pretended to look surprised, her clay-colored eyes wide. “You came to find someone? I thought you were here because you finally realized what a bad little Impure you’ve been and were ready to accept your punishment.”

“Where is she?” he repeated, cold violence in his tone.

The smile faded and she walked toward him, the body of the
paven
disappearing with one wave of her hand. “You and your brethren have been trying to break into our frequency for some time. We have felt your push.”

Trying
to break in. Gray sneered. Who was this
veana
kidding? “And you will continue to feel our push until we have what we want.”

Her lip curled. “And what is that?”

“Ending castrations, choice within the Impure breed, equal rights.”

A soft, gentle laugh escaped her throat. “The problem, my heart-beating friend, is that Impures are not equal and they never will be.”

Gray reached out and grabbed her by the throat with one hand. Had his blade pressed into her temple with the other. Her eyes filled with amusement, and she
placed her hand over his and squeezed. Gray felt an electric current run through him, but nothing more severe than that. His surprise was echoed in the
veana
’s eyes, now completely stripped of her easy confidence and mirth.

She stared at him as though she were seeing him for the first time. Her eyes narrowed and he pressed the blade a millimeter deeper into her temple.

“Ending my long life won’t get you what you’re after
.”

“It’s a start,” he said aloud.

“It’s a start to war
.”

Just as Dillon had said. He twisted the blade. “We’re prepared for that.”

“No you’re not.” She studied him, her gaze serious. “You will never have the army of Impures you’d need for an uprising. Not when they rely on the Order to survive.”

The arrogance of that statement, of this
veana
and all who thought like her, made Gray’s insides shatter. He was nothing; his father was nothing, Sara…No matter what happened to him, he was going down fighting for all of them.

“Impure slaves for eternity—is that it?” he said.

“It is what they excel at.” Her eyes connected with his. “Most of them, anyway. Now, you are different. You have gifts, Gray Donohue. Unlike your father.”

Gray pressed the blade into her skin. A trickle of blood snaked down the side of her face. “Don’t speak of my father, or the rock at your feet will run slick with your blood.”

But she didn’t heed him. Her gaze traveled down the arm that held her—an Order member. “He was
like-minded, yes, but he didn’t have your mental gifts. Or this unusual strength you seem to possess.” Her eyes lifted, locked with his. “He cried on the table, you know.”

Every cell in Gray’s body screamed at him to drill his blade deep within her skull and get rid of one more Order member. But his mind flared with warning and with the voices of the cell mates on the floor, some who were overhearing his conversation.

With sharp hatred, Gray drew back his blade and released her. “You want me to attack you.”

She grinned broadly. “Not only do you have mental gifts and curious strength, but you have restraint as well.”

“I’m done playing with you,” Gray uttered. “Come back when you have something interesting to say.”

“Like a bargain?” she whispered. “The Order stops the castrations of Impures, gives you equal footing as the Purebloods, equal rule, equal life?”

He sneered. “Yeah, something like that.”

“I cannot.”

“Then fuck off.” He turned and started to walk away, back into the darkness of the cell.

“But
you
can.”

Her words stilled him. And even though he knew he was dealing with the devil here, those words she’d just uttered were far too tempting to ignore. He glanced over his shoulder and caught her smug gaze.

She inhaled deeply. “Well, you can try.”

“I believe I already am.”

Her eyes narrowed and her fangs elongated. “We have a vacant chair on the Order.”

His pulse jumped in his veins; his nostrils flared. “And?”

She drew closer to the bars until it almost appeared as though she were a part of them. “If you were to take that chair, you would speak for all Impures.”

His heart slammed against the ribs that housed it. In his mind, the very logical place that knew this was at the very least a bluff, thoughts were forming. And possibilities, possibilities he desperately wanted to jump on at the very remote chance she was actually offering something real.

“The Order would never allow an Impure at its table,” he said with a grunt of forced humor.

“Not just any Impure,” she agreed. “No. But an Impure with gifts? Possible. Granted, solutions to issues raised must be fought for and agreed on by all.” She tilted her head and sighed. “But it is a…voice.”

This was madness. Complete and total insanity, and yet he was hooked like a fucking fish with a worm before him.

Thing was, the worm wanted something too. What was it?

She grinned, knowing exactly where his mind was headed. “Though we don’t believe the Impures could manage to win a war against us, the Order does not wish to incur one. There is already enough discord and unrest in the breed.” Her brows lifted. “With all these
mutore
s on the loose.”

As anger, sudden and deadly, burned within him, Gray feigned ignorance. “What’s a
mutore
?”

Her snow-white eyebrows lifted in surprise. “A Beast, a shape-shifting vampire who has no place in
this world, in our breed. They are a bad omen, a mistake against nature, and they bring bad luck to anyone who comes in contact with them.” The smile that spread on her face was primitively devious. “With the Pureblood circles your sister runs in, I’m surprised you haven’t heard of them before.”

The true price of a seat on the Order was becoming clear.

Her eyes flashed. “I want the
mutore
you harbor. This animal.
Dillon
.”

The way the
veana
said his mate’s name nearly sent Gray over the edge. His fingers itched to toss the blade he still held in his hand straight at her head. But that would be foolish.

Instead he wrinkled his brow, shook his head, and said, “Who?”

“Meow.” She laughed, her eyes bright. “It is funny that you should protect the very one who has betrayed you.”

Something moved inside him, near his heart, but he ignored it. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but clearly you love hearing yourself attempt to be cryptic.”

“Why did you come to Mondrar, Gray? Did someone tell you there was something here you might be interested in?”

His entire body flooded with heat, and the true mate mark on his hand burned.

The
veana
looked sympathetic. “Clearly your gifts have not extended into seeing the truth in those you love. Are you so disbelieving that someone like her
would sell you out, and the four other
mutore
s she is in contact with, just to pay for her freedom?”

No. Gray’s nostrils flared. Not possible. She was a nightmare, a hellion, a ruin, and a bolter, but she wouldn’t dive that deep into the soul-sucking pool of betrayal.

Even for freedom.

And yet a faint trace of doubt snaked through him.

“No, I see you’re not.” She reached up to her temple and smoothed the skin with her fingers. The nick, the drops of blood, gone in a heartbeat. “Think of what you could do for ‘your’ kind with a seat on the Order.” Her chin dropped. “You father would be so proud, Gray.”

He stood there, still as stone, legs apart like a gunslinger, and just let the chaos inside him reign.

“Think about it: Order Member Gray Donohue,” she said. “I will return in an hour for your decision.”

She flashed, as he suspected she’d been capable of doing all along—even in his grasp.

Alexander and Lucian arrived at the back door of the house in SoHo just as the sun was coming up. They’d narrowly escaped being seen by the female’s father, who had been so surprised to see his daughter there he’d made a thorough sweep of the compound. The poor female had been so shaken up, Alexander had wished for the sun to heel and remain hidden for another few minutes so he could’ve offered the girl another meal of his blood.

But she’d had to make do with the bag of gold coins
he’d forced into her small hands before they’d raced away.

Alexander heard his family before he saw them. Lucian too, and they both followed the din to the library, where the Romans and the Beasts were congregating. The massive pile of Roman brothers within the bookshelf-lined walls had become a custom as of late, and normally Alexander would’ve appreciated the warmth of the sight before him. But after being in his
credenti
, after seeing the painting of Celestine, he felt decidedly confused and shaken.

He wanted Sara, in his bed, her arms around him. But it was Sara who needed the comfort now. Nicky hadn’t contacted them when they were inside the
credenti
, which meant no Titus, no Eyes, no way into Mondrar, and by the look on his true mate’s face, she hadn’t received any news either.

Kate and Bron bracketed her on the couch. “Nothing from Gray. Nothing from Dillon,” Sara told him, paler than he’d ever seen her.

Alexander crossed to her at once, took her hand and pulled her to him, gathered her in his arms. “If they’re not here by dark, I’ll go and find them all.”

“We will all go,” Erion said, and when Alexander glanced over at him and at the Beasts, each one nodded in turn.

“We will invade the Order if we have to,” Nicholas said, going to stand behind Kate.

“The Order,” Alexander snarled, though he held his mate with a gentle hand. “The puppet masters of us all. Even our father seems to have abandoned us again. I’m beginning to agree with Gray and his movement, this
Resistance. The Order’s one-size-fits all, dictatorial, thumb-in-every-bloody-pie rule needs to end.”

As the room erupted into a fit of opinions, facts, ideas, and strategy to deal with the Order, Alexander realized no one had asked him and Luca about the bunker, about Cruen. He glanced over at his brother, who at that moment had eyes only for Bronwyn and their child.

Perhaps he’d hold on to this news, he reasoned, tightening his hold on his beloved, especially the painting they’d seen, until he could question Cellie himself.

“You have a tracking device in your leg,” Dillon said, her fingers prodding the older
veana
’s skin behind her knee. “We need to remove it before I take you home.”

Just like she’d done with Gray, Dillon had flashed Celestine to several locations before sticking the landing. She wasn’t exactly sure what had made her choose the one she did. Maybe it gave her strength to sit beside the Eastern Vermont riverbank again; maybe she just wanted to feel close to Gray.

“You know how to do it?” Celestine asked, her eyes sharp as she straightened her leg.

Kneeling beside her, Dillon nodded as she retrieved one of the knives she’d taken from Gray’s stash in the cottage. “But you need to hold really still.”

She felt the
veana
’s nerves take hold for a moment, but as Dillon made a small incision in Cellestine’s skin, Cellie held firm.

“So you are the
mutore
the Order seeks?” she said, her tone a little breathless.

“Guess so.” Figures, she mused drily, locating the
small metal disk. Gray’s mother would hate her already.

“And your name is Dillon.” She jerked a little when she said the name.

“Please hold still,” Dillon warned. “I don’t want to catch a vein.”

She did as Dillon asked, kept quiet for a moment or two, but clearly it was all she could manage. “My son has strong feelings for you.”

Why did that statement sound as though it was the worst fate in the world for this
veana
?
Jeez, maybe get to know me, then hate me,
Dillon thought as she applied pressure under the disk, trying to gently pry it free.

“Strong feelings can make us do things,” Celestine said almost piously. “Make us choose things that aren’t in our best interest.”

Dillon popped out the tracking device, tossed it in the water, and blew on the wound. Then she stood up and gave the
veana
before her a dark glare. “You bet your Pureblood ass it does,” she snapped. “I should be a thousand miles away from here, from the Order, from Gray.” She reached down and grabbed Celestine’s hand, pulled her to stand. “But like you said, strong feelings can make us do things that aren’t in our best interests.”

Celestine’s gaze softened. “Like rescuing the mother of the male you care for?”

Dillon sighed and got ready to flash the
veana
home. “No. Like rescuing the mother of the male I love.”

G
ray paced inside the cell, so fucking frustrated he wanted to ram his fist through the brick wall. He couldn’t reach out to his warriors, and since the Order member had been there, the other inmates on his floor were suspiciously quiet. He wasn’t sure if the white-haired
veana
had shut down the frequency inside the walls of the prison or had just put the fear of the Order’s wrath into every one of the prisoners’ minds.

Whatever was making the world so soundless around him was also allowing for thoughts of Dillon and the “deal” the Order had made to come through loud and sickeningly clear.

The Impures would have a seat on the Order, a way to bring to light all the changes they wished to make and fight for without actually having to bleed. Seat, voice, issues heard—and all for the low, low price of his true mate.