Eternal Demon: Mark of the Vampire (14 page)

“What are you doing?” he demanded just as the familiar click echoed through the fake dungeon’s air when the key turned the lock.

She stood, went for one wrist with her ready key. “Freeing you.”

“Why?”

With the click of the last lock, she flung the keys at the wall and held out her hand to him.

He just stared at it, his thickly muscled arms slowly lowering to his sides.

“Come with me,” she said.

His nostrils flared and he looked as though he’d like to do anything but take her hand. Not because she repelled him, but because she knew he didn’t trust her.

“Dammit, Erion,” she said, reaching out and grabbing his hand. “I’m trying to do something nice here. I could get in trouble. I could get myself killed, and you too, for that matter.”

He grunted and kept his hand in hers, but moved past her. “You, demon girl, are the very definition of trouble.”

“And if I wasn’t, you’d still be chained to that wall.”

“Good point.” He flicked his chin toward the door. “What’s out there, waiting? Because I know it isn’t freedom.”

“No. It’s not freedom. But it’s Ladd.”

He growled at her. “It had better be.” Then he turned and walked out of the Devil’s version of his dungeon.

•   •   •

“I want him out now!”

His breath coming fast, Erion leaned on the glass and pounded his fists like an animal, a madman.

“Stop it, Erion.” Hellen sounded panicked as she looked behind her at the two closed doors that led into hallways and tunnels in her father’s labyrinth. “It won’t break. You can’t get to him.”

Fuck that!
Ladd was inside, on a bed, asleep.
Shit. He had better be asleep,
Erion thought with a snarl.
If they’d drugged him, hurt him—

“He is sleeping,” Hellen hissed, as though she’d heard his thoughts. “My sisters read to him, sang to him until he drifted off.”

But Erion couldn’t be reached. He was way too pissed, too predatory. He kept on slamming his fists into the glass. His mind had shut down and all that was left were his instincts, which screamed louder than the demon girl. They screamed for him to get to his blood, his child.

“Please, Erion,” she begged. “Stop.” She grabbed his wrist, held him firmly. “You’re going to bring my father’s henchmen.”

He whirled on her, roared. “Let them come! I will slit the throat of each one in turn.”

She didn’t back down. Instead her grip on him tightened almost painfully. “And you will get your son killed in the process.”

He stared at her, his nostrils flaring.

“You don’t want that,” she said, her gaze grave. “Right?”

The anger inside him slowly began to flow out, while fear oozed into his veins.

“He’s fine,” she continued. “As long as he remains in there. My sisters adore him. They dote on him. Nothing will happen to him.” He tried to look away, back at the boy, but Hellen grabbed his face and turned him to look at her again. “The magic surrounding this room is impenetrable, Erion—even to me. If someone other than my sisters enters the room, if the boy crosses the threshold—” She hesitated.

“What?” he demanded harshly, grabbing the hand that held his face and crushing it against his palm. “What happens?”

“He’s dead.”

The reality of what she was saying felt impossible, and Erion wanted to fight against it. But the strain of logic that still worked inside his brain warned him that if he did, he would be risking Ladd’s life by attempting to free him. He could not do that—would not do that. Instead he must force himself to cool down, play this game out, follow the Devil’s rules as much as he despised them and take what he could get. If he were alone, if he were fighting his own battle for life and freedom, he would be taking a different, far riskier tack. But he would never risk Ladd.

The hand that he was gripping so tightly rotated in his grasp. He tried to release it. But she held fast to him. His gaze shifted back to hers.

“He is well,” she said, her face tired, anxious. “He will be ready for you to take him home when the time comes. Just focus on that.”

Erion glanced to the right, through the glass to the same figure sleeping on the bed. His growl gentled almost to a purr.

Hellen squeezed his hand. “You don’t want him to see you like this. You don’t want him to see your fear.”

Damn woman.
“No,” he uttered bitterly.

“Come away, then. Come with me.”

“I don’t think I like following your lead, Hellen.” He said the words and meant them, and yet he left the room with her.

They had come this far through a secret passage that Hellen had admitted to knowing as a child. A place she’d used to hide from her father when he was displeased with her. Erion wondered if that happened more often than not. He didn’t like the twist of sympathy he felt for her in that moment and shoved it away.

“Perhaps this was a bad idea. I was trying to help you,” she was saying as they ducked their heads and entered a low portion of the tunnel. “Ease your mind. You were so worried.”

“Are you looking for a thank-you, Hellen?” he spit out.

“No, of course. But maybe an understanding or, I don’t know, a momentary belief that I’m not out to hurt anyone, screw anyone.” She made a frustrated sound. “I wanted you to see Ladd, see that he was all right.”

As much as he wanted to soften at her words, at her impassioned tone, all he could think about was Ladd, caged and scared and without him.

“Is that what you call all right, Hellen?” he asked. “He is held, jailed like a convict. He is just a
balas
.”

“I know. I hate it—hate the monster who . . .”

She broke from her thought, but Erion would not let her get off so easily. “Your lover is that kind of monster.”

Hellen whirled on him, her eyes flashing. “Don’t call him my lover!”

“Why not?” Erion asked. “Christ! I am to witness that fact firsthand.”

“You will not see us wed, Erion. It will be a private ceremony—”

“Private?” he repeated, then broke into bitter laughter. “Not only am I to witness your mating ceremony, demon girl, but I am to watch your lovemaking as well.”

“What?” Her face went ashen. “You lie.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know this,” he warned.

She started to back away, her eyes widening with horror. “You lie!”

“I wish I were lying.”

Her shoulders hit the stone wall, and she reached back with her palms to steady herself. She looked terrified, and she couldn’t seem to stop shaking her head. “I helped you. I risked . . . just to show you that your son was all right, and you say something like this to me.”

Erion cooled his verbal attack. His gaze moved over her, his nostrils flared with the scent of fear. There was nothing about her in that moment that even whispered at a deception.

He studied her. Yes, she’d taken a grave risk to show him Ladd and ease his mind. Why? Did she really care? Did she actually have feelings for him that weren’t manipulative or false? He fought the strange new layer of hope that moved him and the desire to comfort that went with it as he watched her face crumble with shock and fear.

Her eyes implored him. “Why would you do that? Say something like that? It’s disgusting.”

“It’s true, Hellen. Your father—”

“No.” Her voice was hard now, determined. “Even my father in the most vile and cruel and contemptible state of mind wouldn’t—”

“Stop, Hellen!” Erion stalked toward her, his shoulders curled, his lip too. “Christ. He is that vile. He is that cruel. Not just to his beautiful daughter, but to me. I am to sit there and watch while that piece of shit mates with you for life, then mounts you, takes you like . . .” He snarled. “Fuck!”

Hellen’s eyes suddenly lost their fight, and her voice dropped to a whisper. “Truly, Erion? And please don’t lie to me. My father told you this was his plan?”

Erion didn’t know what else to do but nod. “It is to be my punishment for stealing you.” Her whimper, her utterly destroyed expression, had him growling with anger. He took her shoulders and squeezed. “And for tasting you.”

“What?” She shook her head. “No. He wouldn’t know that. He couldn’t . . .”

“You told him.”

“Never!”

Damned if he didn’t want to believe her. “Then how?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t know. But it wasn’t me, I swear.”

Erion couldn’t help himself. He leaned in, pressed his forehead against hers. “Oh, demon girl, I tasted you, the forbidden fruit I couldn’t deny myself, and now I will pay with having to watch the one I despise most in the world take the female I . . .” He clamped his mouth closed on the words.

“The female you what?” she asked, her breath fanning his face.

He closed his eyes, so amped up on anger and desire and hate and lust he could barely hold himself back from howling.

“Dammit, Erion,” she cried, pressing his face back so she could look him in the eyes again. “The female you what? Say it!” She bit her lip. “Please.”

With a ferocious growl, he shoved his thigh between her legs. “The female I want.”

“Oh, gods,” she whispered. “Oh, Erion . . .”

He lowered his head like he was going to kiss her, then pulled back with a frustrated snarl. “I took you. I stole you away. You belong to me.” He ground his hips against her belly. “Do you feel that, Hellen?”

“Yes,” she hissed, her chin tipped, her breathing labored. She licked her lips.

“That is the only cock you will ever want, ever need. Mine!”

And to drive his point home, he crashed his mouth against hers and thrust his tongue between her lips in a violent display of unbridled possession.

H
ellen had given herself more orgasms than she could count, knew much about sex, sexual positions, and parts of the body that responded well to being touched, but she had never truly been kissed in her life. She was sure of it now. In school she had stolen a few pecks from a few brothers of her classmates, and it had been nice, though dry and altogether too quick. But nothing could have prepared her for the feeling of Erion’s kiss. He held her tightly, almost protectively, surely possessively, and seemed to make love to her mouth. A sensual drag of the lips, then a breath-stealing, full-bodied kiss, followed by a tug with his teeth.

And then there were his fangs.

She smiled against his mouth as he angled his head and lapped at her lower lip, groaning with a need she felt against her belly.

“Do you laugh at me, demon girl?” he uttered, his tone thick with passion.

She shook her head. “Just want to know what this feels like.”

“This feels fucking amazing.”

His growl made her laugh again. “No. This.” She ran her tongue over one fang, then the other. Smooth, sharp. The muscles between her legs clenched, and she was surprised by the intensity of her desire. Demons weren’t supposed to find fangs attractive. Those who knew of the bloodsucker race thought them animals—inferior, undesirable, worse than humans.

Those demons were fools.

“Have you ever bitten anyone?” she whispered against his mouth.

“Only when they deserved it,” he growled softly.

She felt the vibration through her chest, and her gaze lifted to meet his. “What do I have to do to deserve it?”

“Keep looking at me like that.”

“That’s all?” she asked, dark, wicked desire swirling inside her like a storm.

He grinned. “Unfortunately.”

She laughed. “How did we get here, Erion?”

“Through that door, demon girl.”

“No. Not here in the hallway. Here. You and me and the kisses, and your leg between mine, and me wanting so much more between my legs, and you threatening to bite me, and a feeling that was never supposed to surface . . .”

She stopped, knowing she sounded like a lunatic. She needed to cool this down and regain control of the situation before they were found in each other’s arms in the hallway of her father’s compound.

“What feeling do you have?” Erion asked, lowering his head and kissing her neck. “Because maybe I have it too.”

Hellen closed her eyes and sighed. His mouth. How could something be so soft yet so deadly?

They were in trouble if they continued this. She was in trouble. There was so much at stake here. Her sisters’ futures and Ladd’s safety.

Placing her hands on Erion’s chest, she pushed him away. It wasn’t a move of anger or protest, but one of regret and sadness and self-preservation. If she wanted to see things right in the future for those she cared about, she needed to break from his embrace, his hauntingly beautiful eyes, and his mind-shattering kisses.

“I want to take you somewhere,” she said, grabbing his hand.

Eyes hooded, mouth heavy and hungry, Erion still wore the look of a male who wanted desperately to fuck, but his body grew tense. “Back to the dungeon? Am I to be punished for feeling your mouth with my own? For wanting what I’ve already tasted, what belongs to me?” He cursed, ran a hand through his black hair. “Or what, gods help me, should never belong to me?”

Hellen’s body trembled at his words. “You’re not going back there,” she said. “Not yet. Not until you have to.”

“Your father.” A growl rumbled in his chest.

She shook her head, trying to ignore the heat that surged into her sex when he made that sound. “He’s not here. He’s gone aboveground. I’ll know it when he returns.” She tugged at his hand. “Come on. Please. I think you’ll like it.”

“Yes,” he uttered, his eyes moving over her. “That’s the problem.”

A hot shiver ran through her. From her earlobes down to the heels of her feet. It was sudden and intense, and with it came a shock of understanding. She hadn’t even thought about it before, certainly not while he was kissing her. Her insides were burning up with desire, with longing, and yet she’d taken two vials of cooling draft only an hour or so ago.

Panic flooded her. Had she grown immune to it? Was it an off batch? No, that couldn’t be right. She’d felt the cold numbness move through her, reveled in it as it coated the heat inside her. Not fully, but enough.

Erion was watching her, studying her. He looked wary, sexy as the hell she was in both literally and figuratively.
Can one male,
she wondered,
in particular be so powerful?
Had Erion and his claiming touch set her ablaze again? And if so, had he ruined her frigidity forever?

“Second thoughts, demon girl?”

You have no idea, demon male
. Maybe it was the heat that was making her reckless. Maybe this was a bad idea—spending more time with him. It would certainly complicate things more for them both.

Her gaze traveled the ripped cords of muscle that were his belly and his chest, and the wide shoulders and thick arms that had wrapped around her in the most exquisite feeling of possession she’d ever experienced, up to his face, his beautiful face with its demon lurking just below the surface.

She had one night left before her mating with Cruen. “No second thoughts,” she said, flashing him a smile. “Let’s go.”

She moved swiftly through the tunnels, her heated body making her doubly aware of what was around her. It was a strange sensation. She had always been focused, cool in both body and mind, but now she was impassioned, vigilant, strangely impetuous. She couldn’t shake the thought that Erion had something to do with this change in her, but when the scent of ash grew heavy in the air around her, she released all thoughts and quickened her pace. She was close. Round a curve, then another. A sudden blast of warm, ashy wind, and she saw it: the archway of light ahead.

“What is it?” Erion called warily behind her.

“Freedom,” she called back. “As much as we’re going to get anyway.”

Hellen paused at the entrance, remaining in the shadow of the archway, Erion beside her. The landscape stretched out for miles, hills of black scorched earth, patches of blooming fireflower, massive crystallized rock that allowed for shade and, as she recalled from childhood, wondrous hiding spaces. It was the most beautiful sight.

For a few seconds, she tracked left to right for any sign of movement or body heat
. Could we be this lucky?
she thought. She detected no one.

She broke into a run and grinned as Erion came up alongside her, his black hair whipping back from his neck. He looked wild, a natural hunter, his demon pushing him as they rounded one massive gold crystal and broke into the pale lemon light of the Underworld.

“Are there guards patrolling the property?” he asked as they jogged up a black-earthed incline.

“Yes, but not here.” This was a fairly unused exit from the compound, had been her secret way out of the Underground for years. She’d never even shared it with her sisters.

But even so, Hellen remained cautious, using her senses to feel, smell, even taste anything that might alert her to a problem.

“I love this time of day,” she said as they ran side by side. “The scent of the fireflower recedes, and all I can smell is ash.”

He laughed.

She glanced over him. “What?”

“Women normally prefer the scent of flowers to the scent of cinders.”

“I keep telling you, I’m not a woman.”

“No, you’re not.” His mouth was tipped up at the corners and his eyes filled with sensual, appreciative heat. “You’re my demon girl.”

She may have actually blushed as they headed down a steep incline. “Not sure I like that name.”

“Oh, you like it,” he insisted, moving closer to her, his nostrils flaring. “Your body heats up every time I say it.”

“You’re very arrogant.”

“And you’re very beautiful.”

Without warning, Erion pulled her into the curve of a nearby crystal and had her pressed tightly against his chest as his narrowed gaze moved over the landscape.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, struggling in his grip.

“Quiet,” he whispered, his fangs descending and every muscle on his body flexing, preparing for a fight. “I heard something.”

“I didn’t,” she said, hating that their moment was being spoiled, while chastising herself for not being more vigilant. “I don’t scent anything either.”

For several moments, they remained still and quiet. Then Hellen broke from him, ignored his irritated grunt of protest as she moved through the hollows of the crystal to the other side. She wanted a better view. If there was really something, some
one
out there, she would see him first, take him down quickly.

She gripped the window within the rock and peered out. Suddenly, a smile broke on her features and she started to laugh.

“There had better be some cute, fuzzy creature out there,” Erion said blackly as he came up behind her. “Otherwise we have just been made.”

“Not cute,” she said. “And definitely not fuzzy. Let’s go!”

“Hellen!” Erion called after her tersely.

But Hellen was gone, leaping out of the window in the rock and barreling down the other side of the rise. She’d had no idea they were so close. How had she not sensed it?

Ash billowed in the air as she jumped from the hill and landed a few feet below. The long steel trunk that held her equipment winked at her in the pale light, and she hurried over and yanked the top open.

“Dammit, demon,” Erion growled, coming up beside her. “Don’t make me haul you back to the compound and place you in that false dungeon.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

He grunted. “Wouldn’t I?”

She whirled on him, her bow drawn back. She smiled at him. “Not to worry. I sense no one. Most citizens don’t care to go out during the time of ash.”

He looked from her to the longbow. “Sexy.”

She grinned. “Thank you.” Then lowered the bow and tossed it at him.

He caught it with ease. His eyebrow lifted. “Where am I to use this?”

“In there,” Hellen said, gesturing to a stretch of land behind him. “What you sensed and heard hides within. Excess magical energy courtesy of my father.” She grinned wider. “Ready for some fun, demon?”

He turned to look, and she watched him take in her pride and joy.

“This is the Rain Fields,” she said. “The clouds that hang just feet off the ground give hot rain and also give rogue demons a place to hide.” She expected curiosity in his expression, perhaps even excitement, but found him looking strained. “What?”

He shook his head.

“Erion, what’s wrong?” His face had gone very pale.

“It’s not possible,” he said, his gaze fixed on her beautiful hunting grounds. “But I swear I’ve been here before.”

•   •   •

The power that surged through Cruen was a welcome friend. It had been so long since he’d felt this strong in mind and in body; he mourned the time he’d lost.

Unfortunately, it would have to be a short memorial.

“It is all you will get until my daughter is with child.”

Cruen inhaled deeply, then settled his keen gaze on his benefactor. “No. I don’t think so.”

Abbadon rose to his full height, his skin a deep and angry red, his eyes piercing. “You dare to speak to me this way?”

They stood outside under the white-tented succulent garden behind Cruen’s compound. It was Cruen’s feeding ground as well as his place of meditation. He would not have his servants or anyone in his employ seeing him take blood from the Demon King. They would not fear him as they should. Nor would they respect him. Granted, the former was more important to him, but one needed both to rule properly.

Cruen also rose to his full height, nearly ten feet, and when they were eye to eye, he said in a calm yet grave voice, “You want a secure foothold here, I will give it to you. But I have wants, needs—a future I will see. I won’t break our bargain, but I won’t go into it unprepared.”

“You want my power?”

“Yes.”

“And yet you insult me.”

“I won’t bow down to you, Abbadon. I respect you,” he added for good measure. “We have an agreement. You continue giving me your blood, and I will give your daughter a
balas
.”

“A demon.”

“Call it what you will,” Cruen said, returning to his natural height and going to sit at the table near his small stream.

Following his example, Abbadon retreated to a more forgiving size and joined him at the table. “Unfortunately, Cruen, that is not quite enough for me.”

“Your daughter’s demon
swell
is not enough? The child with the perfect magical DNA for you to extract? The DNA that will allow you to remain on Earth indefinitely?” Cruen sniffed. “That is quite a pretty package, unlike your daughter. Truthfully speaking, Abbadon, I don’t know many who would agree to take your female. Or have you not looked upon her face as of late?”

The Demon King lifted his chin. “She may not have beauty—”

“She is hideous.”

“She is a demon,” Abbadon snarled.

“To any vampire, she is ugly, undesirable. I don’t say this to be cruel; it is a fact I have accepted. But understand, no one of my rank would take her on. So when you ask me for more—”

“No vampire would take her?” Abbadon repeated, his white eyes glistening with mirth.

“If you feel you must explore that assessment, have at it.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary. Your former son has already tasted her.” He grinned wickedly. “And found her most pleasing.”

Cruen stilled. “My son?”

“The
mutore
.”

He sat up in his chair, grew a foot taller in his sudden apprehension. “Erion? How would you know such a thing? Where is he?”

The tension was not lost on Abbadon. His grin widened. “I have him contained in Hell.”

“You must release him,” Cruen said with too much passion. He knew it wasn’t wise to show his care, his concern, for the male. Abbadon would use it.

“After taking what didn’t belong to him, he must be punished.”

“The punishment was the boy. I gave you the boy.”