Eternal Beast: Mark of the Vampire (23 page)

She made a sound that resembled a small explosion. “Will you just have some blood? It’s way faster and less work.”

He looked directly at her. “No, it’s not.”

She growled at him.

Or he thought it was her. Until she uttered the word “Shit” and began to back up from the river, her eyes wide with fear.

Gray turned and spotted a large shape on the bank across the water. His skin jerked and he eased his pole to the ground.

“Don’t move,” he whispered, knowing exactly what that shape was. “And don’t make eye contact.”

“Can’t. Help. It.”

Gasping for air, Dillon began to shift into her jaguar state, and Gray knew this wasn’t going to end well. Sensing danger, a threat, the bear cocked its head and sniffed the air. With one massive growl, the black bundle of fur, teeth, and claws came barreling out of the woods toward them.

It had its front paws in the water when Dillon’s jaguar attacked. She jumped on the bear’s back and tried to sink her teeth in its neck. It was a crash of fur and
fury, and at first, Dillon seemed to have the upper hand. But the bear quickly recovered and shook her off, then started pounding on her cat’s head.

Adrenaline rushed through Gray’s veins. He looked around for anything he could use as a weapon. Goddamn blades still rooted in the heads of those Purebloods. Shit. What was he going to use? He stooped and grabbed some rocks. He started chucking them at the bear’s body—anything to distract it. And for a moment it did. Then Dillon’s jaguar reared up and ripped into the side of the bear with her teeth and claws. Furious, the massive black bear howled and slapped her back. With a yelp, the jaguar went flying a few feet, landing on a rock, still and bleeding.

The sound that erupted from Gray as he saw her go down made the bear freeze. Gray moved based on instinct and possessiveness, because no sensible Impure would’ve taken on a snarling black bear if they’d wanted to get out of the situation alive.

As the scent of Dillon’s blood wafted into his nostrils, Gray let loose a series of terrible howls, and going completely mad, he took off. Fangs down and flashing, he ran at top speed toward the bear, no care for his own life.

Only for hers.

L
ucy Roman was the perfect
balas
. She was soft, sweet, and scented of heaven, and as Sara cradled her in her arms and rocked her slow and steady, she wondered what her own little bundle would look like, sound like, smell like.

It would be only seven months until she knew, but that seemed like a lifetime away.

Especially when she hadn’t had the guts to tell the baby’s father yet.

“You look good with her. Natural.”

Sara glanced up and smiled at Bronwyn as the dark-haired beauty came out of the bathroom, showered and looking as radiant as ever.

“I can take her if it’s getting to be too much,” Bronwyn said.

“No,” Sara assured her. “I love it. She’s sweet. You’re so lucky.”

Brushing out her wet hair, Bronwyn sat on the edge of the bed. “I know. Times have changed—and become wonderful.” She shook her head. “Seems like yesterday I was going into labor, scared, totally alone.”

“Not totally alone,” Sara reminded her with a gentle smile.

A smile Bronwyn returned. “I didn’t mean that. I was incredibly thankful you were there. I just mean without Lucian seeing…”

“I know. I get it.” And she truly did.

“He’ll be there for the next one though,” Bronwyn said, placing her brush down on the bed.

Sara’s eyes widened. “You’re not…”

Bron laughed. “No! God, no. Not now. But someday, I hope. And he’ll be there.” Her eyes held a gentle melancholy. “I know it really bothers him that he wasn’t there to see her enter the world.”

Maybe it was the smell of the baby or the intimacy of the conversation; maybe it was the sad fact that after overhearing Gray and their mother earlier, Sara felt more alone and in need of a friend than she ever had before. Suddenly she found herself blurting out her secret. “I’m pregnant.”

“What?” Bron stared at her; then a brilliant smile crossed her face. “Oh my goodness, Sara. Congratulations!”

“Thanks.” God, it felt good to say it out loud, tell someone.

“Alexander must be over the moon.”

And then again, maybe not. Sara’s heart dipped. “I haven’t told him.”

“What? Why?”

She sighed, shook her head. “I want to tell him. I want to tell him so badly, but…”

Bronwyn leaned forward. “What’s wrong?”

Yes, what was wrong? She struggled for the right words. “I think I’m afraid he won’t be excited about it.”

“Oh, Sara, that’s impossible,” Bronwyn assured her.

Her heart clenched. Her eyes lifted to meet her sister-in-law’s. “He didn’t want to be a father. With how he was brought up, he’s afraid. He agreed to try, but…I don’t know…” She stilled at Bronwyn’s concerned gaze. “The thing is, I don’t want him to feel like Luca and regret not seeing his
balas
enter the world.”

Bronwyn smiled gently. “Look at the males we have chosen, my sister. Look where they’ve come from and what they’ve endured. It is little wonder they feel as they do and fear as they do.”

The bedroom door shot open then, and decked out in fighting gear, looking fierce and deadly, his left eye black-and-blue from his practice bout with Alexander earlier, Lucian entered. First he went to his
veana
and planted a devilishly passionate kiss on her mouth; then he lifted his head and sniffed the air.

“Where is my little bloodsucker?” he snarled playfully.

“Lucian,” Bronwyn chided, though her eyes were lit with overwhelming love. “You know I don’t like when you call her that.”

He growled and kissed her again. “She loves it,
Veana
. Laughs every bloody time.” He turned toward Sara, spotted the wee babe in her arms, and grinned. “Damn fine specimen of a she-
balas
, isn’t she, Doc?”

Sara grinned and repeated, “Damn fine.”

Bronwyn rolled her eyes. “Don’t encourage him, my sister.”

“Not as beautiful as her mama, but close.” Lucian scooped up the baby from Sara’s arms and started for the door.

Bronwyn called after him, “Where are you taking her?”

“Helo believes he saw some moths by the light at the back door. I want to show her before we head out to hunt and decapitate that bastard Cruen.”

Bronwyn shook her head as he left the room. “Lovely.”

Sara laughed, and after a moment Bronwyn joined in.

“So you see,” Bronwyn said, her eyes bright. “They may start out as
paven
s who believe themselves incapable of fatherhood. But they soon become the very ones who rush in to get their wee beloveds just to show them a creepy white bug in the lamplight.”

When Dillon woke, she knew she was in her jaguar state, but she had no idea what cage she had ended up in this time. She lifted her head, narrowed her eyes at the stone surrounding her and at the condensation dripping down the boulder to her right. Then the ground moved beneath her, and she realized she was resting on someone’s lap. Gray’s lap.

She sat up, and after a moment of dizziness, took in the cave that sheltered them and the small curved doorway several feet away that opened to the black woods outside.

“What happened?” she asked, her head heavy.

“The bear,” Gray said. “Do you remember?”

Her mind shuffled through thoughts and images. “A bear came out of the woods…attacked us…”

“Technically, you attacked it first.”

She turned, narrowed her cat eyes on him. “You know how much I love it when you get technical.”

One tawny eyebrow lifted. “Gets you hot?”

“It’s like an oven inside here, baby,” she growled back.

He smiled, but his gray eyes moved over her, every inch of her fur, her muzzle, as though he were looking for anything out of place. It was so strange to have a male, have anyone, look at her jaguar and see the
veana
inside. Know the
veana
inside.

“Are you all right?” he asked, the humor no longer apparent in his gaze. “That animal was pretty brutal.”

“Which animal?” she asked, trying to bring it back. “Me or the bear?”

He laughed softly. And she felt better.

“Anything broken?” he asked. “Eyesight okay? Memories intact?”

She nodded. She was okay, nothing felt broken. Maybe just a little banged up. And the memories, well, they would always remain intact no matter what massive creature tried to shake them out of her.

“A good night’s rest will help,” he said. “We’ll head out first thing in the morning.”

She nodded, then noticed the drawn look on his face. “You didn’t get any fish.”

He shook his head. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” she said with sudden determination. He had helped her, fought for her, taken care of her.
“You’re hungry and you’ll have my blood.” She closed her eyes and concentrated on shifting back to a
veana
.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said.

“Why not?”

“I don’t think we should get any more bonded than we already are.”

Her eyes opened. Not because of what he’d said, but because of something she felt—or didn’t feel. That easy shift she’d been enjoying lately was gone, access denied. Panic bubbled within her.

Gray’s eyes narrowed on her. “What is it?”

She didn’t answer; she couldn’t. She closed her eyes and again attempted to shift. Her breathing ticked away the seconds. Why was this happening? Her shift had been fixed. And one good swipe from a bear and she was—what? Locked up tight again. Fucking bear. Her eyes shot open and she jumped to all fours, into fighting stance. She was going hunting right now. Vengeance and a good meal for her Impure male here, and if she was lucky the battle would set her shift to rights again.

“Dillon.”

Gray’s harsh tone made her pause. She turned to look at him. And the moment she did, all the fight inside her dissolved.

He sat on his very fine ass before her, his handsome face a mask of sharp angles, his mouth parted and ready to speak. “You can’t shift back, can you?” he said.

Dillon felt tears behind her cat’s eyes, but there was no way she was allowing them to fall. She wouldn’t give him that, give anyone that. She lifted her massive head and said plainly, “I need you.”

His eyes darkened to near charcoal and the cords of muscle in his neck bulged. “With what?”

“I need your hands on my fur. Again.”

Gray sat there for a moment, surrounded by the stillness of the rock cave; in the distance, the many sounds of the night seeped into their cozy space. She wondered if he was going to deny her, allow her to remain as an animal—use it to keep her by his side as he returned to New York City.

But then he put his hand on her back, and Dillon forgot everything and just sighed with relief. The heat his touch provided was instantaneous. Standing before him like a blue ribbon feline, she purred as he stroked her from head to nape, shoulders to tail. Again and again, back and forth, down each leg until she felt herself shifting.

Her mind spun with questions and she tried to block them out, but it was impossible. What did this mean? she wondered as delicious shivers broke out on each square inch of skin his hands came in contact with. Was she forever stuck in this cycle? Jaguar to
veana
,
veana
to jaguar? And would she always need this male to use his damaged and utterly wonderful hands to bring her back to vampire life?

No answers came, only more questions. And she didn’t have time for them. The fur was gone and she was all feeling.
Veana
once again, naked and on all fours in front of this hungry-eyed male.

“You’re no longer a Beast,” he said, his hand stilling on her lower back.

She arched and purred. “Yes, I am.”

His curse echoed throughout the cave. “Oh, my impossible,
irresistible kitty cat,” he whispered, his tone heady with lust. “There is nothing I enjoy more than stroking you. Inside and out. If that’s what you want.”

His words made her skin tighten, made her breasts tingle, made her insides quake. Yes, she wanted him to touch her. Yes, she wanted him inside of her. But she was afraid of how badly she wanted it—the big, bad, biting jaguar was really just a helpless kitten crying out for affection and warmth.

“Tell me,” he said, moving his hand from her lower back down the curve of her buttocks.

“Tell you what?”

“If this is what you want.”

She hissed. “Why? Why do I have to say anything?”

“Because it’s good for you.” He gave her backside a gentle slap. “You need to learn that both taking and giving are important in a relationship.”

Dillon let her head drop. “We don’t have a relationship.” Her cunt was on fire, leaking moisture. “We have sex.”

“Bullshit.” Gray gave her another slap on the ass. “You won’t remain quiet on this subject, not when you have so much to say.” Again, he spanked her—harder this time. “Your body is speaking for you, D. Christ, my palm is nearly soaked.”

He gave her two hard slaps, and she cried out in ecstasy, her clit aching with sharp swirls of heat.
Don’t stop,
she wanted to scream at him.
Keep at it—keep at it until I burst. Because I will. Someday I won’t be able to keep it all locked inside.

But the words would not release from her throat. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she breathe,
speak, beg? It didn’t make her weak, goddamn it. It didn’t make him all-powerful either…

She shook her head because everything inside her warned her that giving in to him and to the pleasure of his touch would make him just that.

A power over her.

His other hand tunneled beneath her belly and moved up until he cupped her breast. “Still nothing to say to me, D?” he whispered as he began to play with her nipple. Light, teasing strokes as his other hand held firm, his fingers splayed on her tender buttocks.

She released a breath, nearly whimpered. “What do you want?”

“I want to hear you cry out, say what you want from me and where you want my hands to go. You’re going to be a part of this or it’s not going happen.” He moved his hand down her ass, one finger slipping between her cheeks and sliding down the damp pathway to the opening of her body. “I want to hear you say that this cunt I’m playing with is mine. That the hand tunneling through your slick and delectably hot lips, the hand hovering at the swollen and so-goddamn-pink entrance to your body bares the mark of your jaguar.”