Eternal Beast: Mark of the Vampire, page 7
Gray Donohue harbors a mutore. The Order requests the assistance of not only his mother but a very talented spy to bring them both out of hiding and safely into the hands of justice.
Her insides quaked at the thought, at the demands before her. Was this possible? she wondered. Gray being involved with a mutore? A thing, a being so rare she hadn’t come across one in all her years, both as a spy and a “human woman.” And yet her son spoke to her so little, so rarely, and lately with such frigidity, that she really didn’t know what was happening in his world. Ever since Alexander had healed his mind and Gray had found out the truth about his Impure side, he’d seemed to want nothing to do with her. His anger wasn’t surprising, and she’d thought to give him time before she offered him the reasons that she and his father had for what they had done.
As the words, the threat of the Order, began to blur, drip down the glass, mere water droplets now, Celestine realized that time was up. There was no more waiting for his call anymore, or his forgiveness. She supposed the Order had seen to that.
Retreating from the warmth of the greenhouse and stepping out into the cold Minnesota night air of her backyard, Celestine headed up to the house. Her latest assignment would have to wait. She would flash to New York this evening and see if her son needed her protection and her counsel.
The cold cage with the bars and the stone had been replaced by a massive bedroom with a fireplace, bookshelves heavy with books, and exceptional views out the wall-to-wall windows. It was pretty damn lovely.
But it was still a cage.
Dillon stood at the entrance to Gray’s room. No matter how much of a choice the Impure had felt he’d given her, there had really been no choice at all. She wasn’t remaining a jaguar forever, and if she had to kiss ass and play the submissive, she would. For as long as it took to get the control back, get the power over her shift back. Hell, she was great at playing a part she despised—especially to get what she wanted in the end.
She just hoped she could do it with this one, this male. Things were never completely simple and easy with him. No matter how hard she’d tried, she’d never been able to drop his ass—forget about his eyes, pretend her blood wasn’t inside his veins. From the moment she’d rescued him from Sara’s stalker—hell, from the moment she’d seen him in that hospital, she’d found him compelling.
She walked past him into the bedroom—the same one she’d snuck into earlier when she’d found him passed out on the bed. She walked all the way to the fireplace—which was sporting an easy blaze—before she realized he wasn’t following her. She glanced back over her shoulder and saw him still standing near the door watching her.
“You’re not coming in?” she asked.
“I have something to do,” he said. “But I’ll be back in a few hours.”
“You’re kidding me, right? I want to start this thing. We didn’t have time before with the entire Roman–mutore clan waiting on us, but now we do. Get your hands on me and let’s see what happens.” Her breath jumped in her lungs as her words fell rapidly from her lips. She knew she sounded manic as hell, but she didn’t care. “Where are you going?”
“As I said, I’ll be back soon. Make yourself comfortable. I’m having one of the staff bring you something to eat.” He glanced down at his phone, his brow wrinkled. When he looked up again, he gave her a stern expression. “Don’t scare them, snap at them, or berate them. I would suggest getting some rest.” He gestured to the foot of the bed, where a thick, oval rug sat. “You can have that whole space to yourself.”
“The floor?” Anger made her fur bristle. She padded toward him, almost stalking him. “I get a kitty pad to sleep on?”
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Until the shift from Beast to veana is complete. Then we’ll decide where to put you.”
“You’re going to drag this out, aren’t you?” she accused. “Keep me here on a leash, waiting with bated breath for that next stroke?”
“Keep talking; you’re making me hard.” He sounded bored.
Her nostrils flared as she came to stand before him. “Who are you? And what have you done with Gray Donohue?”
“You mean that Impure who took you in a few months ago, tried to heal your wounds? That weak male who did nothing but lick your boots before you kicked him in the balls and told him to fuck off?”
“Yes,” she purred, though she recalled no ball kicking, just a necessary reminder that she would never be the veana he wanted her to be. “Where is he?”
His gaze gentled. “That’s not who you need, what you need.”
“You’re going to tell me what I need?”
“That is part of our agreement.”
“You say jump and I say how high?”
“No.” He reached down and placed a hand on her shoulder. The action screamed possession. “You say yes to everything I ask, and I say good little pussy cat.”
She wanted to turn and bite a chunk out of the hand that held her steady, but heat was rushing over and through her like an ocean in a thunderstorm. She couldn’t get her bearings, couldn’t collect her thoughts—shit, she could barely breathe—and the shift that happened externally, from cat to female, was met with a nearly debilitating one on the inside. Total virgin territory: real lust, real need, real emotion—true bullshit.
He released her then, left her breathing hard, mewling hungrily, and staring after him as he headed for the door. “Rest now,” he called back. “You’re going to need all your strength for the days and nights ahead.”
The moment he left the room, Dillon charged at the door. Leaping up, she used her mouth to crank open the handle. The wood dropped back easily. No lock, no key, no chains on this cage. She was free. She could leave at any time.
That fucker. Why did it have to be him…?
Defeat swam in her blood as she padded over to the oval rug, circled it twice, and lay down. The thing was soft, she’d give him that—sort of unbearably, wonderfully soft, and she cursed him again. Before her, the fire began to warm her angry thoughts and cold soul, and she put her head down on her paws and exhaled the strain of the night. She was truly caught and held by a ready and enthusiastic master.
The thought made her suddenly bone weary, and she closed her eyes. Within moments, she was asleep.
“Purebloods in our headquarters. Mutore in our headquarters.” In the warehouse’s main room near the Resistance symbol, Riordon James got in Gray’s path before he made it to the front door. He shook his head. “What makes you think that any of this is okay?”
“Easy, Rio,” Gray warned.
“Are you trying to get us found out?”
“Yes. That’s exactly what I’m doing.”
“Don’t be snide. I’m not busting your balls on this one. I’m trying to get you to see the potential problems in your choices.”
Gray exhaled. The Impure warriors had every right to be pissed at him for bringing Dillon here—and her entire family for that matter—but it was what it was. There was no going back now. The decision had been made. His decision. The moment he’d chosen to become leader of the Impures, his word was law. No matter how much his frenemy here hated it. “Return to whatever it is you were doing, Rio. I need to go see Uma about the run tonight.”
But the Impure didn’t move, his night-black eyes resolute. “When is the mutore leaving?” he demanded.
Gray shrugged. “When she’s ready.
“And when I’m ready to give her up.”
Nostrils flaring with impatience, Rio crossed his arms over his chest. “I heard that.”
“I know,” Gray said pointedly.
“That’s not a satisfactory answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting, Rio.” He pushed past the solid wall of male and headed for the door, but in seconds a slam of words—nasty and demanding—boomed inside his mind.
This wasn’t like when he and Rio had first met, when he was green and cocky and knew nothing of his own power, much less Rio’s. With a quick mental shake, he blocked the rest of the Impure’s rant, then turned around and shot forward. He got in Rio’s face so quickly the Impure barely had time to take a breath.
“I don’t need to ask your permission,” Gray warned with cool, black rage. “I’m the leader here, and I will keep whatever I want beside me: Impure, human, Pureblood or Beast.” He raised a brow. “And if anyone dares to speak their displeasure to her, in front of her or inside her mind, you will be finding yourself a threesome looking for that missing piece again.”
Unfazed by Gray’s pluck, and at the memory of the three Impure warriors’ insistence that Gray was the one, the only one, who would complete and exceed their power, make them a driving force with the Order, Rio lifted his chin and sniffed his disgust. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”
“I know.”
Hearing Gray’s thought, Rio snorted and took a step back. “I just hope when the time comes to choose between the Impure Resistance and a mutore who has rejected you at every turn, treated you like shit on a wet boot, you’ll choose wisely.”
“Fuck you,” Gray said with a snarl, but as he turned and walked out the door, he couldn’t help but think, So do I.
He erased the thought before the male inside had a chance to hear it.
5
After flashing to the back door of the house in SoHo, the large party of Romans and Beasts filed into the house. With the not-so-gentle rumble of irritated voices, they headed straight for the library, where Nicholas and his true mate, Kate, were waiting.
Nicholas looked up expectantly. “Where is she? Back in the cage already?”
Erion gave his twin brother a frustrated sneer, then dropped into an armchair near the fire. “Not in our cage, no.”
Nicholas turned to Alex. “What is my not-so-identical brother talking about?”
While turning on a second laptop, Alexander answered. “She wanted to stay with Gray.”
Nicholas didn’t even try to hide his shock. “Why?”
“Who knows.”
“And you let her?”
“Let her?” Alex repeated with a snort, looking up from the computer screen. “We’re talking about Dillon here, not a rational veana.”
As Sara went to stand beside her mate, Nicholas’s brows drew together. “She keeps going back to that male. If I didn’t know Dillon, I’d say she was seriously into him.”
Lucian, who had been checking a text on his phone, glanced up at Helo and snorted. “Speaking of being into someone.”
Helo’s gaze flickered to Kate; then he growled at Lucian. “Shut up, dickhead.”
Lucian chuckled. “Touchy, touchy.”
“But we do know her,” Alexander said quickly, his gaze narrowing on both idiot pavens, damning Gray for not only harboring Dillon but letting the entire family know that Helo thought Kate was an attractive veana. “Dillon needs him for something, maybe thinks he can protect her. I don’t know.”
“That male cannot protect her,” Helo snarled, his eyes avoiding the couch and the true mate pair sitting on it. “He is an Impure.”
Sara lifted her chin and regarded him with a tight smile. “Don’t underestimate an Impure. Especially not that one.”
Helo glanced at Alexander, who chuckled softly and added, “You heard the woman. Gray is different. He has gifts, deep and powerful mental gifts.” He granted the paven a look that said, “You know what I’m talking about.” “And we didn’t just walk into his home earlier because we’re Purebloods. I felt heavy magic around that warehouse space, as I’m sure you all did. It’s as protected as this place, maybe more so.”
“But how?” Erion asked him. “How could Impures have that kind of power? It’s not possible.”
“We are learning that power is not black-and-white, Erion. Not confined to Purebloods.” He paused when Bronwyn walked into the library holding her infant daughter. Her face was flushed and her gaze went immediately to her mate, who jumped up to greet her. “And not defined by the old rules. Not anymore.”
“We must convince her to return,” Helo said, his tone no longer filled with ire but with the deep concern of a brother.
“Give her a few days,” Sara said calmly. “Alex is right. Dillon makes her own choices, regardless of the consequences. I know you care deeply for her, but how much of a fight are you willing to take on to pull her out of there?” She looked at each Beast in turn. “A fight that will only end with her escaping again.”
“The Order will find her there,” Lycos growled, standing near a shelf of books, his wolf features unnerving in the dim light and shadows. “No matter how many charms they have unleashed. And if they get her, they get us.”
Helo turned to the paven, said accusingly, “That’s what you’re really concerned with, aren’t you, Ly?”
“You bet your water-loving ass, I am,” he spat back. “I say we let Dillon be. She isn’t one of us, not really—never wanted to be. I don’t run after anything that doesn’t wish to be caught—unless it’s a food source.” He looked to each mutore in turn. “I say we leave this house and get lost, find our own life.”
Phane chuckled. “Shit, that sounds good.”
“Too good to be true or wise,” Erion finished. He looked at Alexander, then Nicholas. “Do you want us out?”
“Yes,” Lucian answered quickly, then looked up from his baby and nodded at Phane. “Especially that one. He snores. I can hear it all the way down the hall.”
Erion chuckled. Alexander too.
“I’m surprised you can hear anything over the crying of your balas,” Phane returned with a playful sneer. “What is that thing you have her in anyway?”
“Don’t be making fun of my sling, bitch,” Lucian countered.
“No,” Alexander said, still laughing. “We don’t want you to leave. Not when we’ve gotten so used to you being around.”
Nicholas nodded his agreement. “And not when we finally have someone for Lucian to verbally assault.”
Phane and Lucian started laughing first; then the others joined in. Lycos smirked. “You have a great risk with us being here—you know that.”
Alexander and Nicholas nodded. The Beasts turned to Lucian, who gave them each a vulgar glare, but in the end nodded as well.
“We give our sister a few days, and ourselves a few days, too,” Lycos said, pushing away from the bookcase and the shadows. “But then a decision must be made.”
“Agreed,” said Helo.
Erion nodded.
“In the meantime,” Phane said, his mismatched eyes suddenly bright, his tone heavy with sarcasm, “Lucian needs to decide if he’s going to change his balas’s diaper or let the rest of us pass out from the scent.”
Bronwyn burst out laughing, but a growl emanated from Lucian’s throat. “I’ll change her diaper after I change yours, little birdie.”
“My ‘little birdie’ isn’t so little,” Phane returned. “Want to see?”
Lucian sniffed. “And make my eyes bleed? Fuck no!”
The room exploded with laughter, male and female alike, and Alexander couldn’t help but note that his house had never been filled with such a sound before, and he didn’t want it changed. But that was a foolish wish. Lycos had been right when he said the Order would find Dillon, and in turn would find the Beasts, if they stuck around to watch. They were just biding time, all of them—waiting to see who was going to move the next chess piece and to where.
As if his very thoughts had commanded it, something flashed into the room.
A male.
Alex stared. Titus! The paven looked drawn, ill, ready to collapse, but purposeful as he searched the faces in the room until he found the one he sought.
His gaze pinned Sara where she stood. “Your brother is in grave danger.”
In the apartment on the first level of the three-story warehouse, Gray sat in the good-sized kitchen around a rustic pine table with the man his father had called his best friend. “The male we need to retrieve tonight used to be an Impure consultant for the Order. Until they felt he was getting too powerful within the communities.”
“Sounds about right. Not to mention familiar.” Samuel Kendrick wore a pair of dark blue jeans and a red striped button-down shirt. He looked to be in his late fifties now. He had started aging rapidly after being blood castrated several months ago. “Where do we think the Impure is being held?”
Gray sat back in his chair. “Our informant says he’s in the sixteenth cell, directly across from the secret entryway. It’ll be a rough grab, but—”
“We’ll get him out,” came a sharp, confident female voice.
Gray looked up to see Samuel’s daughter, Uma Kendrick, enter the room. As she walked over to the refrigerator, she tied her blond hair back into a ponytail at her nape.
“I’m starving,” she said, yanking the door open and grabbing a glass of blood. After kicking the thing shut with her foot, she came to sit beside them at the table.
“I can’t believe you drink that, Uma,” Gray said, remembering the once-timid creature he’d met when they were both being held in the Paleo and the less timid creature he’d met when he’d returned to get her and her family out. “The Order’s blood tastes like shit on a shingle.”
She laughed. “I love it. I stole this batch on my last run and it’s the best by far—like a really hard-core espresso to a human—that jolt gets me up and running.” She downed the entire thing while they watched. “Now,” she said when she’d finished. “I told Frankie to take the night off. I want to do this one alone. It’s easier, nothing to slow me down.”
Gray’s gaze moved over the female—long, lean, and tight. With a face like an angel and the strength and determination of a bull who constantly saw red. Shit, what was wrong with him? This was the kind of female he should be claiming—with his tongue and with his heart. Someone with purpose, someone with a drive like his to make things better for her kind.
Someone who ran into danger for the greater good, not away from it for her own selfish reasons.
This female would be a perfect mate.
