Eternal Beauty: Mark of the Vampire (A Penguin Special from Signet Eclipse)

by Wright, Laura

  After a few minutes of searching, he found a window on the far side of the house that was unlatched. The entry point was barely a foot and a half around, but he managed to get through. Once inside, he went low and silent. He followed his nose from room to room until he caught the thick scent of the one he sought. His skin vibrated with need and his fangs dropped heavy and hungry as he pulled back the door. His eyes cut instantly to the bed, the white sheet, the shape beneath, and he moved quickly, ready to strike. He was coiled over her, saliva pooling in his mouth, when he heard the thick pounding of a heartbeat in his ears.

  Then a fist in his face and the bone-shattering slam of his body hitting the wall.

  * * *

  The irritating, rhythmic pounding woke Petra, and she jacked up in her chair with a soft curse. Her neck was stiff and the right side of her face felt numb. What the hell? She squinted in the semi-darkness, trying to pull her mind out of her ass. Dammit. She’d fallen asleep at her desk again. The pounding continued and she pushed herself up out of her chair. Rubbing her eyes, she padded across her office floor, which consisted of several dozen sanded branches from the tree her office resided in. During one of her work sessions in the Avian district the previous year, she’d come across the most amazing tree, a massive thing that she’d fallen deeply in love with. One of her transition families had built the office as a surprise, and as a thank you for helping their daughter through an incredibly difficult month-long transition process.

  “Oh my gods, enough with the pounding,” she called out, yanking the door open.

  “Took you long enough,” the blond male growled with deep irritation. “I almost knocked the fucking thing down.”

  Petra leaned against the doorjamb, moonlight filtering down through the trees overhead. “Sasha, it’s the middle of the night. What are you doing here?”

  “Checking on you.”

  “Why?”

  That made him pause. His gaze checked left and stayed there like he was debating what to say.

  “Come on, Sash,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “If you were going to lie to me, you should’ve come up with it on the way over here. Now, what the hell is going on?

  His blue eyes shifted back to meet hers. “There’s been a break-in at the house.”

  “What?” An invisible fist squeezed her gut. “Is everyone all right? Did you catch them? Which faction did they come out of? It better not be Water—they’ve got a good half dozen rebirths coming up and the last thing they should be doing is screwing with my family—”

  “He’s not from a faction, Pets.”

  Petra’s breath froze in her lungs. “I don’t understand.” Please let me not understand. Please—

  Sasha interrupted her silent begging with even worse news. “A male attacked Valentin.”

  “Val—”

  He put a hand up. “He’s fine. But, sis . . .” He cut himself off this time.

  “What?” She pushed away from the doorjamb and went out onto the porch with him. “Dammit, Sasha, what?”

  His pale blue eyes locked with hers. “The male didn’t have a heartbeat.”

  Though her insides were shooting off panicked firecrackers, she held herself together. She could forget the begging, hoping. She knew exactly who had broken into her house and attacked her brother. “Did you notify anyone?”

  He shook his head.

  “Is the male contained at the house?”

  He shook his head again.

  Firecrackers turned to a churning sick feeling. “He got away?”

  “Yes.”

  Oh, gods. The male could be anywhere, or he could be gone. She didn’t know what she feared more; him coming after her or never seeing him again.

  Could a bigger fool than her exist?

  How the hell had he escaped the hospital? And where was Brodan? Did she get rid of her brother and go find him, or ask him to help her search? After all, the male was still injured.

  Behind Sasha, the massive hawk who had brought her to the office several hours ago touched down and instantly shifted into a gorgeous pale blond female with a nose ring. She gave Petra a grin, then turned to Sasha. “Ready to go?”

  Petra stared at the female. “What’re you doing here, Dani?”

  The blond female nodded in Sasha’s direction. “Your half-wit brother begged me for a ride.”

  “And your perpetually pissed best friend charged me for it,” he returned with a sneer.

  “I was in my freaking bed!”

  Sasha’s mood changed in an instant. He grinned wickedly at her, his cat shifting in and out of his face. “And I promise I’ll put you right back in it.”

  She glared at him. “You put me to bed and I’ll put you in the clinic for a week.”

  Sasha’s sensual purr echoed throughout the dark forest. “Damn, Female. You’ve been invading my dreams again.”

  She snorted. “You couldn’t handle this, Feline.”

  “Cats eat birds, Dani, or haven’t you heard? It’s nature at its best and most delic—”

  “Okay!” Petra said, holding up both hands. “I am officially grossed out.”

  Dani pointed at Sasha. “He started it.”

  Sasha winked at her. “And I’ll finish it, not a problem.”

  Turning around, Petra uttered brusquely, “Going back inside now. Night night, you two.”

  “Wait, Pets.”

  She glanced over her shoulder at Sasha. “What?”

  Playful flirtation no longer glittered in his eyes. He stepped forward and released a weighty breath. “Listen, Mom and Dad want you to stay here. Don’t come to the house. We’re not sure what this bastard was after, but we don’t want you getting in the middle of it.”

  She had a pretty good guess as to what the male was after, but she wasn’t about to discuss it with her brother. “Got it.”

  He nodded. “You have enough in the way of supplies for a few days?”

  “’Course. That’s me. Always prepared.”

  “Good. I’ll check in tomorrow.” Sasha shifted his focus to the blond female who was in that very moment shifting into her hawk form. “All right, Dani. I’m ready for my ride.”

  With a wry smile, the hawk turned to look at Petra. “Will I be endangering our friendship if I fly over the lake and let him slip off my back?”

  “Do what you gotta do, Dani.” Laughing, Petra closed the door on the sound of her best friend taking flight. But it was the sound that met her ears when she walked back into the dimly lit room that had her belly coiling with tension.

  “Evening, Love.”

  In the light of the dying moon streaming in through the windows to his left, Petra saw the male she had rescued, the male who had bitten her, the male she couldn’t stop thinking about no matter how hard she tried.

  “I’ve come for more of your rich veana’s blood.” He grinned, his dark eyes moving down her face, stopping just below her jawline. “Think you can spare a pint or two?”

  Six

  He’d thought her beautiful asleep, but awake, she was a goddess. Tall, with long ink black hair, an athlete’s body, and a face that exuded strength, she commanded his gaze. Not to her curves, which were pretty bloody fantastic, but to her eyes. They were the palest of blue and sharp as shite.

  He tracked her as she went over to the dining table, lit a match, and touched the flame to each of the four candles huddled in the center. The combination of her scent growing ever closer and the hit of sulfur made his gut scream with hunger. He wanted more of that rich blood on his tongue, in his veins.

  “Who are you?” she asked softly.

  Her voice had an affect on him, reminding him of his days in the medical facility and how she’d fought for him. “My name or my species?”

  She pulled out a chair at the table and sat down. “Let’s start with the name.�
�

  “Synjon Wise.” He saw no reason to lie.

  “And what species do you belong to, Mr. Wise?”

  “Same one as you, Petra.”

  He saw the vein at the base of her throat pulse. Yes, I know your name.

  “You’re not a Shifter,” she said, doing her very best to act impassive.

  “Bloody hell.” He chuckled softly. “No. I belong to an ancient, respected, deadly species. As do you.”

  Her nostrils flared. “What I am hasn’t been determined yet.”

  “I’ve determined it. The moment I scented you.”

  “What am I then, Mr. Wise?” Her pale blue eyes flashed with fire-fueled curiosity. “And where is your proof?”

  Synjon brought a hand up and cupped his ear, pretended to listen. “I hear nothing.”

  “It’s night,” she said dismissively. “The Avians don’t wake until—”

  “No,” he interrupted almost caustically. He was growing tired of playing games. There was work to be done outside this strange oasis, but he needed the veana’s blood first. “What I am listening for is a heart that doesn’t beat.” He raised an eyebrow. “Your heart is dead, Veana, just like mine. It’s the first and best way to identify our species.”

  Her mouth dropped open and her eyes went wide.

  Irritated, Synjon pushed away from the wall and strode toward the table. “Is this an act, or do you truly not know what you are?”

  She closed her mouth then, not answering him.

  He stopped inches away and coiled over her. “Why are you here? In this land, in this place?” His head cocked to one side, and he knew he must look hideous, his burns beside her beauty, but he didn’t give a shite. “Our kind doesn’t belong here. You don’t belong here.”

  “My family is here,” she retorted. “My family whom you attacked.”

  “Bullocks,” he mumbled, yanking back a chair and sitting down beside the raven-haired veana. “I didn’t mean to get into it with your family, or whatever you believe them to be. I was looking for you.”

  “For my blood,” she corrected, her wary gaze searching his. “Right?”

  He shrugged. “They’re a package deal, really.”

  “Well, you already have my blood—taken without asking, I might add.” One black eyebrow lifted. “You won’t be doing that again.”

  His lips thinned. He didn’t envy the male who took on this steely firecracker of a package. He liked his females like he liked his blood; warm, soft, and uncomplicatingly sweet. Like Juliet.

  His gut clenched with pain. With hunger. With grief . . .

  He had to get out of here. Find the murderer Cruen and let him feel the unrelenting pain of the sun’s justice.

  “Does my face look different to you, Petra?” he asked, moving closer to the candlelight.

  “You’ve healed some,” she acknowledged.

  He nodded. “That’s right. But there is more work to be done.”

  “Then why are you here? Why are you wasting time seeking me out? Not just because you’re still thirsty. Or is it hungry?”

  “You tell me. It’s different for every one of us.”

  She jerked back in response, but continued as if he hadn’t said a word. “Why don’t you go back to the medical facility, let Brodan continue the treatment—”

  Synjon’s laughter brought her suggestion to a halt. “This wasn’t in reaction to anything your lover gave me or did to me, Veana.”

  Her jaw tightened. “Brodan is not my lover.”

  “He’s working his way there. Give him another couple of weeks, and those capable hands will be looking to heal the most intimate parts of you, Veana.”

  She looked horrified. “All right, that’s it.” She stood and pointed toward the door. “You need to leave. Go back to the medical facility or return to whatever rock you crawled out from under.”

  Synjon’s nostrils flared as he leaned back in his chair. Her blood grew hot with her anger. “I want to leave, Veana. I do. But I have the revenge job of a lifetime waiting for me outside your strange little paradise, and I can’t go looking like this. It’ll blow my cover.”

  “Not my problem.”

  “It’s more than your problem. You owe me.”

  She sniffed. “How do you figure that?”

  “The cave,” he said, his hands lifted. “You dragged me in there, out of the sun.”

  Hovering above him, she narrowed her eyes. “I saved your life.”

  “Precisely.”

  Her derision turned to quick laughter. “Wouldn’t that be you owing me?” she said.

  “I didn’t ask to be saved,” he said. “In fact, I believe I requested several times that you back the fuck off and let me bloody die.”

  The room fell silent. She blinked several times as she stared down at him. Then she said in a quiet voice, “If you truly want to die, do it. I won’t stop you this time. Sun’s up in a few hours.”

  Synjon’s chest squeezed with the pain of loss. “It’s too late,” he uttered.

  “It’s never too late,” she returned.

  He turned away. “Not in the way I wished it.”

  “Going with her,” Petra finished.

  Intense anger surged through him and he slammed his fist on the table. But when he spoke his tone was soft and deadly. “You took that from me, Veana.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Wise.”

  His gaze cut to her face. Her expression was anything but remorseful. “No, you’re not.”

  “Right.” She pushed away from the table and went to the small wood island in the kitchen, lighting more candles. “How dare I try and save someone’s life? How dare I give a shit about someone I’ve never met, whose skin in burning in the fucking sun? I should have walked away, right? Let you die, let you scream and writhe in agony? What kind of creature helps one who’s in pain!” She looked up, pinning him with her pale eyes. “I’m a monster!”

  “No, Female,” he said softly. “I’m the monster.” He watched as her gaze moved over his fire-ravaged face. He sighed, some of his ire falling away. “Look, you were caught up in something that had nothing to do with you, I get that. But you interfered, you changed the plan.”

  “Was that really your plan, Mr. Wise?” Her brows lifted and she shook her head. “Didn’t look like it.”

  His hands fisted around the wood chair. He didn’t answer her. Not right away, at any rate. Maybe because the question was one he never wanted to answer. Juliet was gone, she was dead, he’d done what he came to do—give her a proper burial, say goodbye when he’d never had the chance before.

  Now, his focus had to be on one thing and one thing only.

  Hunting and killing Cruen.

  “You want me to go, and I want to leave,” he began with as much control as he could wrangle. “But I can’t, not until I am healed. And you, tall drink of throat lashing whiskey, are the only one who can heal me.”

  Her hands went to her hips. “And how do you figure that?”

  “Because you already have.”

  The surprise he expected to see was right there. “What?”

  “The small amount of healing you see on my neck and face is because of you.”

  She shook her head, grinning like she wasn’t about to play along with his joke. “I’m not a magician, Mr. Wise.”

  “No. But you are a vampire. A Pureblooded female vampire. And as such, you have the power to heal me.”

  * * *

  Petra stared at him, this powerful, terrifying wreck of a male for a second or two, then turned back to the counter, picked up her paring knife, and began slicing fruit. Apple, pear, another apple.

  “Did you hear me, Veana?”

  He needed to stop calling her that. “I heard you.”

  “And yet you are not responding.”

  “Thi
s is how I respond to insanity.”

  “Cutting up fruit.”

  “That’s right.”

  He released a weighty breath and came over to stand on the opposite side of the counter.

  “Brave male, getting this close to my blade,” she remarked, glancing up, a nervous energy crackling in her blood.

  He didn’t respond. Instead he glared at the cutting board. “Do you eat that?” he asked with distaste in his tone. “Food that drops from a tree? Food an animal would eat?”

  “If I want to stay alive, yes.”

  He lifted his gaze. Dark as the night, and deeply intense. “But you aren’t alive, Petra. Well, not in the way you think or believe.”

  His words cut through her well-constructed protective exterior. The one she’d built over her twenty-four years. It wasn’t as though she didn’t know she was different or that she didn’t desire answers about who and what she was. She did. More than anything. But this male didn’t seem to genuinely care about offering her that information. He seemed to be baiting her, tossing out little blasts of non-specific information he knew would shock her. Even if he claimed he was telling her the truth—that he absolutely knew what she was—how could she trust him?

  She would find out what she was, but not this way.

  She tore her gaze from his intimidating face with its painful burn scars and haunting eyes and pointed her knife at the door. “You can leave now.”

  He sniffed with derision. “That’s the last thing you want me to do, Love.”

  To make her point, she turned the blade on him.

  His brows lifted. “Hotheaded, emotional, brave; your doctor is one fortunate bloke.”

  She couldn’t tell if he was serious or not, but she refused to bite. “I have work to do. If you still want to chat about what you believe my true species to be, come back later. Say, in three to four hours.”

  “The sun will be up, Petra.”

  “Exactly.”

  “You saw how that worked out the last time.”