Eternal Beast: Mark of the Vampire (25 page)

“Bullshit,” Lucian hissed, his face thick with shock.

“Like Luca said,” Helo growled. “That can’t be. We would’ve known. Right? We would’ve sensed it.”

Erion shrugged. He’d asked himself that a hundred times since leaving France. “Would we? That bastard kept everything real and true from us. How would this be any different?”

Phane, whose chiseled jaw looked tense as steel, said in a deathly whisper, “Does this
mutore
know where his uncle is hiding?”

“He said he has heard that Cruen retains multiple hideouts,” Erion answered. “He gave us the only location he knows.”

“Have either of you gone to check it out?” Helo asked them.

As the sea crashed against the rocks below them, Erion looked at Nicholas. “There’s a problem.”

“Another one?” Phane said drily.

“Or perhaps it is more of a challenge.”

“What?” Phane asked, his eyes narrowing.

“It’s inside a
credenti
,” Erion said.

Lucian placed Helo’s empty glass back in front of him with a little too much force. “That’s no challenge.”

Helo agreed. “That should be an easy task.”

Nicholas turned to Alexander, his face grave. “Your
credenti
.”

Hunger assaulted him, made his thinking unclear and his draws on her vein greedy. He pulled out of her wrist, then growled his way up to her neck and entered
the thin, succulent vein there too. Honey sweet and warm, the blood flowed down his throat. Fuck, there was nothing better in the world—nothing he wanted more on his tongue.

Except perhaps the ripe, pink cunt he’d played in earlier.

“Ah.” She sucked in air. “No smiling when you’re feeding, Gray Donohue.”

After three or four massive gulps, he pulled out. His grin was wide as he looked at her.

“Yes, like that.” She narrowed her eyes playfully. “Causes your fangs to open me wider.”

The heat of desire shred his body. “We’re talking about your vein, right?”

“For now,” she murmured.

Gray’s nostrils flared, and he watched her blow on her wrist—watched her mouth form a perfect O. “Hope I didn’t drain you.”

Her eyes flickered up. “Likewise.”

“Not possible,” he said, trying like hell not to stare at her naked frame, her shoulders, breasts, navel, legs, what was between her legs…

“Besides, you needed it,” she said, her voice calling him back from the edge of damn near hellish need. “We’ll be able to move much faster with pure blood in your veins.”

Her words halted him, reined in the lust and reminded him he needed to get his head out of this blood haze and into the trip home. The Impure warriors’ call last night concerned him; it hadn’t included any specifics on what was happening. Gray had tried to mentally connect with them, but there had been no answer. The
sooner he could return to New York, the better. He wished they could flash, but with the Order so closely monitoring Dillon, he wasn’t going to risk it. And it wasn’t just the threat of her getting nabbed by those bastards anymore—but him as well.

Dillon stood, her head just touching the ceiling of the cave. Gray couldn’t help but stare at that sweet perfection, those long limbs, that curved waist in the pale morning light filtering in through the small opening of the cave. But within seconds, Dillon had closed her eyes and shifted into her jaguar state.

“Moving faster with your blood in my veins and the jaguar’s fur on your back?” Gray asked.

“That’s right.”

His gaze moved over her, missing her
veana
form, and yet his hands itched to touch her sleek, golden coat. “Risky as hell running through the woods like that. Hope we don’t meet with a hunter. I’ll have to pretend you’re my pet.”

“You do, and I’ll be forced to bite the both of you,” she returned with a halfhearted snarl.

“Well, at least one of us will get to enjoy being blown afterward,” he said, then slipped out the hole in the rock.

She followed him, out of the cave and into the weak, early-morning sunshine. “Besides, what choice do I have? I’m not running through the woods naked.”

Gray stretched, feeling strong, nearly predatory. “I told you I wouldn’t have minded, that I’d carry you all the way home if you wanted me to.”

Her jaguar’s eyes glittered with heat. “‘Carry me.’ That’s a new name for it.”

Gray grunted, then turned toward the river. “I’ve got a hundred names for it, and we can discuss them all as we travel.”

He felt ready to spring, knew he could be as fast as the Beast beside him, and his desire to get home to his warriors beat strong within him.

Without a word, he took off, sprinting toward the water and the forest beyond, Dillon keeping pace beside him.

“Do you wish for your son to remain alive after capture?”

“I wish for my son to never be captured.” Celestine stood before the Order’s long wooden table, her feet covered in sand, her body clad in a long, off-white jumpsuit. Moments ago, she’d been wearing black pants and a black jacket as she’d entered a shop called New Baby on Manhattan’s Upper West Side. Her daughter hadn’t revealed her pregnancy yet, but Celestine had scented the new life within her almost immediately—a scent only a mother could recognize. She’d wanted to pick out something special for when Sara announced her
swell
, but she’d never even touched the pale yellow chenille blanket.

The Order had pulled her out of one reality and into another, humbling her by stripping away her clothing mid-flash and replacing it with their own choice of dress. Celestine’s gaze moved down the line, from one Order member to the next. They all looked the same, cranberry-colored robes and a single black circle around their left eyes. They all felt the same too, one mind, a solitary ruling. She couldn’t believe how
brazen they had been. Grabbing and transporting her in broad daylight, in front of a small crowd of humans.

Her gaze fell on the
veana
leader, Feeyan, with her snow-white hair and skin the color of clay. The female’s eyes burned with impatience. Yes, Celestine thought, they were indeed desperate for information.

“Your son cannot avoid capture,” Feeyan said. “But he will live if you give us the location of the Impures’ safe house.”

Celestine held her ground, her tone as calm as she could make it. “What makes you think I would know it? My son does not confide in me. He never has.”

The
veana
’s eyes narrowed and her lips parted, revealing those bloodred fangs the Order was famous for—their united symbol that demonstrated they were beyond an earthly vampire’s needs, that they no longer needed to consume blood.

Celestine sniffed with irritation, felt a sudden understanding and kinship with her son and with his cause—the same one his father had fought for. No, the Order didn’t need blood to survive, but they certainly used it to control, to maim.

“Your son may not want you,
Veana
,” Feeyan said, her eyes intense. “But that hasn’t stopped you from trying to get to him.”

She knew, Celestine thought, her skin prickling with nerves now. Cellie didn’t know how this
veana
knew she’d found Gray’s safe house, but the knowledge was clear and threatening and hovered just behind the Order member’s eyes. And if Celestine planned to get out of this with her veins intact, she had to think, devise a
plan—utilize the skills that kept her protected in the field.

Adopting a melancholy facade, Cellie sighed. “Yes, I tried to get to him,” she said thickly and with the deep anguish of a foolish mother who was close to losing her child. And maybe she didn’t have to pretend that was true. “I just wanted to know if he was all right.”

Feeyan’s nostrils flared. “And was he?”

“I didn’t see him,” Cellie admitted. “I didn’t go inside.”

Her eyes narrowed venomously. “Tell us the location of this safe house and we will send you back to your shopping expedition.”

Celestine hesitated. She could think like a spy, give the truth, then get the hell out of there and try to get to Gray in time. Or she could think like a mother and say anything in that moment to protect her child. Just the thought brought up images of both her children as
balas
, the fire, the loss of Jeremy, Gray’s damaged hands—all those years Sara could see nothing more than healing Gray.

The ache inside her grew until it felt as though it would burst. She’d lost her son to the lies she’d told to protect him; perhaps now she’d be able to save him.

“It’s 2622 Herkimer Street,” she said quickly. “Remember your promise not to hurt him.”

Feeyan turned her head to look at her neighbor. The
paven
had his eyes closed. After a moment, he opened them, looked at Feeyan, and shook his head.

A low growl sounded in the
veana
’s throat as she turned back to face Celestine. “Foolish
veana
. We will
get all the information we seek, and you will go to Mondrar for lying to me.”

Celestine barely had time to blink before the
veana
flashed directly in front of her, grabbed her head, and plunged her brick-red fangs into Celestine’s temple.

B
y nightfall they had nearly reached the border. Dillon couldn’t believe Gray’s speed. His movements were light and quick and intense. It was Gray juiced up on pure blood, and she found it sexy as hell. She also found his obsessive drive to get home, back to New York City, admirable even though she didn’t share or understand it.

He was the leader of the Impure Resistance, and his first concern was protecting his own.

“We follow the highway now,” she said as they stopped beside a massive boulder overlooking the speeding cars, their lights flickering like oversized fireflies.

Gray turned to face her, his eyes near charcoal under the dome of sleepy sky. “We?”

As the wind blew her fur and coated the insides of her nostrils with the scent of small prey, Dillon knew the time had come for choices to become decisions. Her
mind had swirled with them for hours as she ran through the forest. She glanced to the west. One path would lead to the unknown, to an open field where she could run and continue running until she wished to stop and take a breath.

The other way was by this Impure’s side.

He moved then, and a shard of moonlight hit the back of his hand, illuminating the mark of the jaguar.

Her cat purred deep in its throat.

“Lead on,” she said, pressing her head into the small of his back. “I will follow.”

The moment the world had gone dark and the shades had lifted, the
paven
came out. Not to play, but to plan. They were gathered in the Romans’ library, some on computers, others kicking back on the couches and chairs, and one on the floor with Kate and Ladd playing a board game.

Sara stood near the fire, wishing her mother were back from her holiday shopping to see this family assembled here. It was a lovely sight, no matter what had brought them all together, and it made her feel nostalgic.

In a few short months, there would be another joining them.

The heat from the fire stroked her insides. She’d thought maybe she’d try and grab a few moments alone with her mate before she had to leave for the hospital in an hour. But that looked as though it wasn’t going to happen. The Romans and the Beasts had returned with some pretty staggering news and were trying to negotiate a plan of attack. Her announcement would have to wait.

She despised the thread of relief that played within her, evidence of her fear in Alex’s response. Because, in truth, no matter what he said aloud when she told him, she would know how he really felt inside. The true mate bond was a wonder and a curse.

“Alex is going to have to go first, since he can enter with his blood,” said Helo, who sat behind a computer screen.

“Right,” Alexander said with a dark chuckle. “Pretty amazing how one’s home
credenti
welcomes them and their blood, even though the vampires inside do not.”

Sara glanced at her mate, saw the fierce expression on his face as he continued to clean his gun and knew that the news of Cruen’s hideout had hit him hard and that he wanted nothing less than to return to that place of horrible abuse from his
balashood
.

Beside Helo, also engrossed in whatever was on his laptop, Nicholas said, “There has to be a way to know if Cruen is there without actually having to send anyone.”

“Does the
credenti
know he’s there?” Phane asked, sprawled out on the couch. “Do you think they allow it?”

“I can’t imagine that,” Sara said. “Can you, Alex?”

Continuing to polish his gun, Alexander spoke softly. “Anything can go on behind those walls. Good things can be celebrated; terrible things can be hidden.”

Sara’s heart squeezed painfully. She hated seeing him this way, wished she could do something for him—wished she could go instead of him. Maybe it was a blessing that she hadn’t told him about her
swell
. One less pressure for him to take on.

“Do you think he may be hidden within the
credenti
?” Helo asked, his brows coming together. “Do you think he may have created his own hidden compound within a protected one?”

“Only one way to know,” said Lucian, watching Ladd move his game piece five spaces past his own. “You’d better not be cheating, little
paven
.”

Ladd giggled.

“There may be someone who could find out,” Nicholas said, pressing the cover of his laptop down an inch or two so he could see Alex clearly. “Your sister. Any interest in contacting her? She may wish to help you.”

Even though Alexander was across the room, Sara could feel his anger pierce the air. “Never. She can never be brought into this mission.”

“What about me?” Ladd said, scrambling to his feet. “I could help. I want to go on a mission.”

Alex’s gaze rested on the boy, and instantly Sara felt his tension ease. “You are brave, young
balas
. And someday soon you will be out there with us.”

“But not tonight,” Erion said resolutely. The demon-eyed
paven
had remained quiet and thoughtful near the fire as he watched Lucian play a game with his son.