Eternal Captive: Mark of the Vampire (6 page)

“You should know that,” he said, his diamond eyes flat, contained. “You were the one who discovered and announced my existence, were you not?”

How did he know that? Bronwyn wondered, her breath coming fast in and out of her lungs. How did he know what went on in the Romans’ home? Or hers? Her eyes moved over his face. “You are like your brother and yet…”

“There is no brotherhood,” the Beast interrupted. “The
paven
and I share DNA, nothing more.”

In her fear, Bronwyn fought for understanding, but there were so many questions in her mind, and none more important than this one: “What is this place?”

“A reality.”

Reality? Her mind spun back, gathering and circling information—things she remembered from her research, from all of her years of study. Realities were the territory of the Eternal Order. Were they behind this madness? What the hell was going on? “Why am I here? What do you want with me?” The panicked trill in her voice was evident and she hated it. It wouldn’t do to have a breakdown or show this animal her tears. She had to fight—fight her way off this reality and get back to her own.

“You have a purpose,
Veana
,” the Beast said to her, still holding on to her arms—not painfully, but solidly, resolutely. “You have been brought here to lay with the one who will be the next Breeding Male.”

Bronwyn’s face drained of blood. “What?”

She mentally shook her head against his words. She hadn’t heard him. Hadn’t heard him…This couldn’t be! She’d mated with Synjon! She belonged to him—only to him. Did her parents or the Order—someone in the
credenti
—find out that she’d tricked them? That Syn wasn’t her true mate?

She locked eyes with the Beast, and for one brief moment she swore she saw a trace of humanity in his gaze. But it was gone in an instant.

“The Breeding Male will come for you,” he said without a trace of emotion.

Air left Bronwyn’s lungs. She tasted bile in her throat, felt blood thunder in her ears. Pounding, pounding the march of terror and madness. This couldn’t be
true. Couldn’t be happening. She started to shake so violently that her knees suddenly lost their ability to remain solid and strong.

“You will be his way home,” the Beast continued, holding her steady as he described her nightmare come to life, “to his creator and the one who waits for him.”

She shook her head, tears burning her eyes, spilling down her cheeks—she couldn’t do a thing to stop them now. Just as she couldn’t seem to escape this nightmare. “I don’t understand any of this.”

He nodded. “You will.”

Then her adrenaline hit—flooding her body with the need to fight—and she struck out at him. Again and again, she struck, arms, fists, feet. Like an animal going to slaughter, she struggled. “I want off this beach, you bastard! I want off this reality! Let me go—NOW!”

The Beast held her without effort, his lips flickering up, showing off his long white fangs. “Not until you have done your duty.”

She wasn’t going out this way—going down this way. “I have a mate, you asshole! It—”

“It matters not,” he finished for her.

“I will not lay with anyone but my mate!” she screamed into the sea air, into his ravaged face. “No one will force me—”

“No.” Smug certainty coated his voice. “No one will force you.”

She stilled for just a moment, trying to process what he’d said.

But he was looking her over now, her Veracou costume, and his brow grew tight. He sneered. “No. This will not do. He would not find you appealing like
this.” Without another word, he released her. And with a wave of his hand, Bronwyn’s Veracou gown and everything beneath it disappeared. In a mere breath of time, she stood before the monster naked and vulnerable.

Gasping, she groped at herself, trying to cover her body.

The Beast’s diamond eyes leveled her. “Lucian Roman will be inside your tight cunt, Mistress Kettler. I suggest you prepare yourself for him.”

And with that, he flashed away.

A
s soon as they hit dirt, Lucian broke out of Synjon’s grip and starting running, hauling ass up the moonlit road, away from the village. His head was heavy, his chest constricted. Maybe it was the air, which was colder than it had been in Paris. Or maybe it was just that he despised himself—despised the fact that he couldn’t flash on his own—or maybe it was the fact that the
veana
he shouldn’t give two shits about was out there somewhere and he couldn’t get to her.

“Hey!” Synjon yelled after him.

Lucian kept eating up cold, wet ground. The
paven
behind him didn’t exist. It was only road and moonlight and heavy breathing, and the roofline of his brother’s villa in the distance.

“This is bollocks and a waste of time,” Synjon growled, flashing in front of him every other second. “Stop, you daft bastard! I’ll flash us to the front door.”

“No, you won’t,” Lucian said, picking up his pace,
the world around him growing darker as he moved farther away from the lights of the town.

“What are you playing at, Frosty?” Synjon demanded, sprinting with him up a hill and into a grove of olive trees.

Lucian remained silent, focused, weaving in and out and around the barren trees. Once free of the grove, he sprinted forward, only about ten feet, then stopped abruptly. Synjon was right beside him, keeping pace, and without a warning, and with far too much momentum going, he hit hard—
smack
—right into the invisible fence the Roman brothers had magically installed around the perimeter of the villa.

Lucian saw the
paven
fly back, heard him land on his ass somewhere in the ice-cold grass. “I warned you not to call me that.” He bared his fangs and bit into his wrist. This was a Roman brothers’
credenti
, and Lucian let the blood run down for a moment before swiping it against the invisible lock.

He felt the heat, the vibrating energy of shifting powers, shoot through him as the concealed gate evaporated.

“Let’s go, Brit Boy,” Lucian uttered, coating the last two words with as much smugness as he could manage.

“Could’ve warned me, mate,” Synjon grumbled, coming up beside him.

“Now, why would I do that?”

“I dunno,” Syn said as they cleared the gate and headed toward the house. “Maybe you’re really a decent bloke under all that thin, pale skin.”

Lucian snorted. “Try again.”

“For Bronwyn, then.”

Lucian’s gaze snapped right and his lip curled with
irritation. “Not sure your life really means all that much to her.”

“You have no idea.”

The words died in the air, but were not forgotten as two massive
pavens
flashed directly in front of Lucian and Synjon. They both looked surprised, but not unhappy at the unexpected guests.

“It’s about time you came out of hiding.” Alexander Roman put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Good to see you,
Duro
.” Nicholas turned his attention on Synjon, one eyebrow raised in amused curiosity. “Interesting choice of playmate, Luca.”

“No playing here,” Synjon said blackly.

Lucian eyed Nicholas and nodded. “The
gemino
has taken Bronwyn Kettler.”

Perched on a hillside with fifty acres of beautiful grounds, olive trees, and no curious neighbors to deal with, the eighteenth-century villa that Nicholas had bought for his true mate and their nephew now catered to a group of angry, arguing male vampires and their eye-rolling true mates.

Though there were dozens of rooms to choose from, two kitchens, a cinema, and a gym, the three Roman brothers, their irritated British guest, and both Alex’s and Nicholas’s true mates had congregated in the massive dining room. All six coiled around the table like knights disagreeing on their plan of attack.

“Can we discuss this like civilized
veanas
and
pavens
?”

Sara Donohue Roman, the mate of Alexander, the eldest Roman brother, stood at the head of the table and called for calm among her family, and from the stranger who had blustered in, demanding information on the
whereabouts of his true mate. He was displaying the expected irrationality and dominant behavior of a true mate, Sara knew. Alexander, too, had been out of his mind when her life had been threatened by one of her patients several months back, so she sympathized with Synjon. And truly, they were all worried about Bronwyn. The beautiful
veana
had come to the SoHo house at the same time as Sara, and had thought herself Alexander’s mate until the truth had revealed itself to them all. She was a good, intelligent female, and Sara wanted nothing to befall her.

Sara felt Nicholas’s mate, Kate, sidle up next to her as the group of
pavens
continued to go at one another around the table.

Synjon leaned forward in his chair and snarled, “We’re wasting time.”

“Then, go,” Lucian said fiercely. “We don’t need your sorry British ass here. Or is it arse?”

“You look in the mirror and tell me,” Synjon returned, eyebrow raised.

Lucian growled at the
paven
, a warning, a promise.

“Easy, both of you,” Nicky began, though his eyes remained fixed on his little brother. “This back-and-forth bullshit isn’t helping.”

Synjon ground his molars. “All I want are answers; then I’ll be on my way.”

“Good!” Lucian uttered. “Can’t wait to show you the door all personal-like.”

“Hey!” Kate shouted, clapping her hands, her brown eyes fierce as she addressed each one in turn. “Zip the lips, boys, or lose them.”

All four male vampires froze and turned to look at the female, eyes wide with surprise.

But Sara had eyes only for Synjon Wise. “Our family has been in France for weeks now, Mr. Wise. If the vampire you saw—the vampire who took Bron—looked like Nicholas, then it had to be his twin.”

Synjon turned to glare at Nicholas. “Another sodding Roman brother. Perfect.”

“Watch yourself,” Alexander warned, running his hand over his shaved skull. “You’re in our home. Don’t make us forget you’re a guest.”

“I’ll forget,” Lucian growled. “Hell, I’d love to forget.”

“Hey,” Synjon began with irritation. “I wouldn’t be here at all if someone in your family hadn’t nicked my bride.”

“He’s not family, Brit Boy,” Lucian countered. “We barely even know the
paven
.”

“Well, let’s get to know him,” Syn said, his blue eyes wide with ferocity. “All of us. Let’s go have a bit of a chat with him.”

“Not that easy,” Nicholas said.

Synjon pushed back his chair and stood, frustration evident in his corded muscles. “And why the hell not? Bron is mine! She wears my mark!”

“This is going well,” Sara said, shaking her head.

Kate chuckled beside her. “I’d say so.”

“We’ve only just learned of his existence,” Nicholas said, his own frustration barely contained. “It’s why we came to France. To track him down.”

Through gritted teeth, Syn asked, “And have you?”

“Not yet.” Nicholas shook his head, his eyes dark with ire. “We’ve moved on every tip we’ve received, but the
paven
is…slippery.”

Synjon sneered. “Brilliant. And by that I mean, what
a sodding cock-up.” He glanced at Lucian. “Why did we come here, then? They have nothing to offer me.”

A hiss erupted from Lucian’s throat. “No one invited you anywhere. Screw this twin bastard brother of ours. We’ll find Bronwyn ourselves!”

“What do we know about this
paven
?” Syn said, ignoring Lucian as though he’d said nothing at all, and eyeing Nicholas again. “Why would he want Bronwyn?”

The dark-haired brother shook his head. “I don’t know. She’s Pureblood—she’s your true mate. Perhaps you should ask yourself the same question.” He narrowed his eyes. “Perhaps this is about you, your past—your enemies.”

Syn cocked his head. “Bugger off, all right, you stupid git. Bugger the fuck off.”

“Oh crap,” Kate uttered, turning to Sara. “Here they go again.”

“Would anyone like something to eat?” Sara asked, in a tone meant to gentle the air in the room. “Blood, perhaps. It may not be straight from the vein, but—”

“Blood!” Lucian said the word, rising from his seat and pointing at Synjon.

“What the hell are you doing?” Synjon asked. Shooting his gaze around the room, he demanded, “What the hell is he doing?”

Nicholas shrugged. “It’s not always clear.”

“You and Bronwyn have mated,” Lucian said, his tone threaded with disgust. “Have had your Veracou.”

“Yes. Do you have a point, or are you just reminding yourself that I am Bron’s mate?”

Lucian ignored the barb. “You should be able to find her, track her, know where her blood is. Isn’t that right, Alexander?”

Alexander nodded, his eyes suddenly graying over with thought. “It is.”

“There’s no need for any of this,” Lucian said, his voice rising, his fangs dropping. “Let’s go. Let’s go and get her.”

But Synjon didn’t move. “Stay where you are, Frosty. I haven’t taken her blood. She was nicked from me before we could have our consummation, both in blood and in body.”

Lucian growled fiercely.

“Chill out,
Duro
,” Alexander warned in an almost parental tone.

Sara felt for the youngest brother. Everyone knew that he was denying his feelings for Bronwyn, and she was pretty certain Synjon suspected the truth and was enjoying torturing the
paven
.

“The bond is unshakable,” Nicholas said quickly before another kind of blood was shed. He glanced up at Kate and gave her an easy, loving smile. “True mates should be able to find each other even if they haven’t—”

“Wait a moment,” Synjon interrupted, pointing at Lucian. “You’ve taken her blood, haven’t you?”

Everyone in the room turned to stare at Lucian.

“She drank from me,” he clarified, his chin lifting just a fraction. “Not the other way round.”

Synjon’s lip curled.

“And she drank quite a lot, as I recall,” Lucian said thoughtfully. “Nearly drained me dry.”

Synjon slammed his arm into his chair and sent the bit of wood flying across the room, his growl low and feral.