Eternal Blood: The Mark of the Vampire
Page 5
But they came anyway.
How long had Lucian Roman been watching her? How long had he been perched on her roof? Just today? Tonight? Or for many days? Lord, how many times had he seen her tears, her worry—her hands travel south to her core?
Groaning, she turned and faced the wall as her parents had forced her to do many times as a balas when she was a disagreeable force in their home. The coolness of the plaster felt good against her cheek and yet it did nothing to cleanse her fear.
Though the wound registered most unpleasantly, she didn’t want to look at it. She didn’t want to look down, at her hand—where that menacing vampire, that terrifying angel, had bit into her flesh.
She shut her eyes and prayed, as if those two actions could will away the crisis before her. This was truly her nightmare come to life. Lucian’s fangs inside her skin, inside the mark of another.
Tears pricked her eyes, but she dismissed them and pushed away from the wall. She went over to the bedside and lit her lamp. Slowly, she sank onto the mattress. Where moments ago she was writhing in a state of frustrated, hopeful pleasure, now there was only pain. Deep, aching pain running through her river-quick. What was Lucian trying to do? Bleed her? Drink from her?
Punish her.
With a deep breath, she dropped her gaze to her hand. Blinking, she studied the white skin, the dark mark. The animal brand on her thumb, the one that marked her as taken, as the property of her true mate appeared uninjured. Yes, Lucian’s fangs had ruptured the skin, but there seemed to be no permanent damage done to the brand itself.
Her sigh of relief was so strident she nearly laughed.
She hated the effect this paven had on her—hated that even after weeks away from him, she could still taste his blood—not on the tip of her tongue where she might get rid of it with rations, but at the back of her throat. The sweetest blood she’d ever had, and god help her, the only blood she wanted in her veins now. She hated that ever since she’d drunk from him in his bedroom in the house in Soho, she could never make it to orgasm. No matter how long and how hard she tried. It was deeply frustrating, not to mention humiliating. It was as if he’d granted her his blood, and had broken her in return.
His words, his accusations—his declaration of hatred as he’d hovered menacingly above her minutes ago—echoed in her mind . . .
Perhaps they’d broken each other.
As the snow began to fall in the darkness outside her window, Bron prayed that her mating would kill this bond, this need, this ache between them. Because if it didn’t, she had an eternity of misery, regret and unclaimed passion to look forward to.
She lifted her thumb to her lips and was just about to blow on her skin, use her powerful veana’s breath to heal her wound, when her hopes were utterly destroyed before her eyes. Was it an omen? she wondered, sickly. Or the beautiful Albino mocking her from wherever he was perched now? She didn’t know, and really, did it even matter? There, on her thumb, the ink that had been implanted under her skin to fool her parents and the Order was bubbling to the surface, inching toward the two pinprick holes, then slowly leaking out like oil from the ground.
Panic swelled within her, ballooning in her chest. Forget Lucian Roman and her unending need for his blood. She had a far greater problem.
She jumped up and scurried over to her desk, grabbed her cell phone and dialed. She had to get to Synjon before the next eve’s Veracou Ceremony—their ceremony. She needed to get beneath his needle once again, and let him carve his mark into her skin before anyone discovered the truth.
Synjon Wise came out of hiding for no one. Nicknamed the ghost, the only vampire paven to ever serve as both an elite Special Forces officer in his native Britain and as an American Navy SEAL, regarded his current existence as a spy, an assassin and bounty hunter for the Eternal Order as bloody perfection. No family, no mates, no strings of any kind, he received his orders and carried them out without any chink in the reserved amour of the Breed. It was a simple and satisfying existence to one who craved danger—an existence he could sustain for many centuries.
That is, if he’d chosen to ignore the call of one very surprising voice from the past.
Gunfire erupted below. Nothing sinister—not yet. Just the target practice of four human males who foolishly prided themselves on being amateur vampire trackers, irritating buggers and credenti infiltrators. The pulse-bearing pack stood side by side on the ground, shoulder to shoulder over their low flamed desert campfire, argy-bargy, knocking off shots into the black night. Less than three miles away was the Southwest Texas credenti, their target. Synjon had been following them for two nights through the Chihuahuan Desert, and he listened now as in between quick bouts of gunfire they decided on the best way inside the secret compound.
On top of a small desert hill, tucked behind a thick grove of Ocotillo plants, Synjon silently checked his weapon supply. His orders were to interfere only if the four wankers attempted entrance into the credenti, but he wasn’t keen on letting them get that far with the amount of weapons they had on them.
His cell pulsed against his leg, announcing a new text message, but he made no move to get it. In fact, as he watched the group below stamp out their fire, his instinct was to ignore the call completely. In the past, he’d carried only weapons, no communication devices. He liked it that way. Brilliant, old school, warrior mentality, that was. Once he received his orders, he took off, became invisible, unreachable. But things had changed since the phone call, since she had come into his life.
Yes, she was an exception to all his bloody rules. Beautiful, brave and unflinchingly moral, Bronwyn Kettler had saved his sorry life, and his soul once upon a time. Granted, he had known her only one summer when his family came to stay with relatives in her Boston credenti—but one summer had been enough to alter him completely. Synjon had been one sorry bloke back then, thin as a Bowie blade with a head far too large for his frame. And the lisp . . . shite, the lisp that had nearly ended him before his time. The torture, the beastly knocks from the other balas had been unrelenting and unbearable—until Brownyn Kettler had stepped in front of him and taken on each ugly jab with her own brand of brilliant weaponry.
Syn grinned at the memory. That veana was a brick, wielding words with the same deadly accuracy as he used to shoot cherries from a tree at a hundred paces. Just thinking about her censure, her dressing down of those who had sought to injure what little was left of his boyhood pride, made him want to love her in the way a veana should be loved, deserved to be loved—in a way he would never love again.
She had remained by his side all summer long, just as she had remained in his heart—not as a lover, but as the truest of friends . . . forever. Synjon had grown to appreciate her, rely on her over the many years into his pavenhood, most especially when the woman he loved, the one who had slept by his side and was his true partner, though not his true mate, was killed, her body stolen before he’d ever had a chance to give her over to the sun.
It had been Bronwyn who had comforted him, who had helped him to grieve. She was the only vampire he trusted, and when she had come to him requesting a favor, he hadn’t even blinked before agreeing.
Movement below caught his attention once again and he watched as the four human males shouldered their weapons and set out across the desert for their three-mile trek to the credenti. Again, the cell at his boot pulsed. This time he snatched it up. No matter what his position, he couldn’t ignore it. He wasn’t a ghost anymore, and if it were her, she may have need of him.
His eyes dropped, roamed over her text. Bullocks . . . That albino paven again. Syn’s fangs dropped. Lucian Roman would leave her be. After tomorrow, he would leave her be or find himself good and wasted.
Sudden gunfire stuttered the still night air and Synjon’s chin jacked up. He replaced the cell back in its case on his bootstrap and leapt off the bluff onto the smoking fire. As a morphed paven, he could be there for her in an instant, but tonight she would have to wait a moment longer. Fifte
en minutes perhaps. He suspected that would be sufficient time to halt, question and dispose of the four human donkeys before they ever reached the credenti walls, he thought, flashing from the smoke of the fire in the soft silence that was his trademark.
Praise for Laura Wright and the Mark of the Vampire Series
ETERNAL KISS
“Complex and riveting!”
—Romantic Times (4 stars)
“A super urban romantic fantasy due to the powerful Wright mythos that makes the realm of the Eternal Order seem genuine and ergo readers will believe vampires exist.... This author clearly has the Wright stuff with the complicated world of the Roman vampire brothers.”
—The Merry Genre Go Round Reviews
“I fell in love with book one in this series, but this second addition moved me from innocent love to full blown love addiction.... [I] could not put it down.”
—Shameless Romance Reviews (5 stars)
“The romance is rich in emotion and the plot infuses dangers and nail biting action. The journey was so exciting! It was rife with chills and thrills and altogether it never failed to keep my attention.... [This] was a great ride where a sweep-off-your-feet romance ignites within a high-risk plot. Laura Wright has found her niche in the paranormal romance genre with her larger-than-life Roman brothers!”
—Leontine’s Book Realm
ETERNAL HUNGER
“Dark, delicious, and sinfully good, Eternal Hunger is a stunning start to what promises to be an addictive new series. I can’t wait for more from Laura Wright.”
—Nalini Singh, New York Times bestselling author of Bonds of Justice
“Dark, sexy vampires with an urban bite make Eternal Hunger a must read.”
—Jessica Andersen, author of Demonkeepers
“Action, passion, and dark suspense launch a riveting new series. Laura Wright knows how to lure you in and hold you captive until the last page.”
—Larissa Ione, New York Times bestselling author of Ecstasy Unveiled
“Paranormal fans with a penchant for vamps will find Eternal Hunger a must read, but be warned: You will quickly become hooked!”
—The Romance Readers Connection (4½ stars)
“Eternal Hunger is deliciously dark while making you believe in the concept of soul mates.”
—Fresh Fiction
“An exhilarating vampire romance . . . dark, passionate, and utterly intoxicating!”
—Reader to Reader Reviews
“In a field brimming with rehashes of the same theme, Wright has managed to create a sound, believable vampire culture with plenty of tension and interesting plot points. The pacing is smooth with well-developed characters and the satisfying conclusion leaves ample room for more from this strong new series.”
—Monsters and Critics
“A bold new voice in vampire romance.”
—Romantic Times (4 stars)
“Wright does an incredible job in wrapping everything up in a deeply satisfying conclusion, while enticing readers to continue on. I know I’m looking forward to the next in the Mark of the Vampire series.”
—Sacramento Book Review
“Wright has taken a common theme and transformed it into her own creation, a unique and intriguing world that stands out from the pack. A captivating take, Eternal Hunger is certain to make it onto your list of favorite books and will live you thirsty for more.”
—Romance Reviews Today
“If you like testosterone-heavy man candy and sex scenes hot enough to curl your toes, you are going to kick yourself for not reading Eternal Hunger!”
—Bitten by Books
“In Eternal Hunger, classic paranormal romance elements mesh with a fresh and exciting plot and characters.... [Wright] sure made an unforgettable impression with her storytelling.”
—Leontine’s Book Realm
“Just when it seems every possible vampire twist has been turned, Wright launches a powerful series with a rich mythology, page-turning tension, and blistering sensuality.”
—Publishers Weekly (starred review)
Other Titles by Laura Wright
Eternal Hunger
Eternal Kiss
Eternal Captive
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
One
Two
Three
The Leader of the Impures
Teaser chapter
Praise
Other Titles by Laura Wright