Read Online Eternal Captive: Mark of the Vampire by Laura Wright - Free Book Online
Authors: Laura Wright
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this reality—and prayed that was true.
She would not give her body to a Breeding Male, no matter who he was.
And yet her core trembled.
6
L ucian and Alexander hit the ground near the Hollow of Shadows with more weight than they’d started with.
“You jackass.” Lucian pushed the unwanted
paven
off of him. “You piggyback on me again and you’ll be lying on a platter with your eyeballs gone and an apple in your mouth.”
Synjon looked unfazed at the threat as he processed his surroundings: the lush green forest, the rocky caves, the deep, rich scent of earth that always permeated the air in the Hollow. “Save your threats for the Order,” he said evenly. “This is my right, my claim on my mate.”
“Your mate,” Lucian scoffed with an edge of suspicion. What the hell was going on here? he mused, his gaze as challenging as his tone had been. What was he missing? “Why is it you have no sense of where she is? It’s impossible.”
Squaring his shoulders, Synjon leveled a brick-wall stare at Lucian. “We won’t be connected until she’s inside me, and I haven’t taken her blood or her body.” He raised a brow and tipped his chin up. “Yet.”
Lucian’s growl was fierce and feral. Hot coils of possession unraveled in his gut, and the need to rip this male apart, then find and take his mate, was unrelenting inside him. He didn’t know what to do with these feelings, and goddamn—he refused to name them, but if the
paven
before him wanted to live, he’d better shut the fuck up about Bronwyn’s blood and body.
“Luca has a point,” Alexander said, stepping between the two
pavens
, his tone the very essence of calm as he eyeballed Synjon. “The true mate bond is impenetrable and uncomplicated. Whether you’ve taken her blood or not, you should know where she is. Unless—”
“Unless by taking her blood
you
screwed something up,” Synjon accused him severely.
Alexander snorted. “Get serious.”
“This whole thing is screwed up,” Lucian stated with ire, stalking around Alex and getting in Synjon’s air space once again. “You’re hiding something, Brit Boy. I can scent it, along with that cheap cologne you’re wearing. What is it?”
Quick as an intake of breath, Synjon reached out and grabbed Lucian’s gun, but just as the weapon slipped from the holster, Lucian was flashed from the Hollow and away from both
pavens
. In seconds, he felt both heat and sand, and even though he knew exactly where he was, he stumbled for a second to find his balance.
“Goddamn Order,” Lucian muttered as he righted himself and slid his gaze over the table in front of him.
As usual, the ten ancient ones were dressed for success—otherwise known as “Please, assholes, be intimidated by us.” Each wore a red monklike robe, had a black circle, a perfect O, branded around their left eye, and each
paven
had a full beard. But—he squinted, there seemed to be a robe missing. His eyes searched the line of bodies, landing on his father at the end, head covered with his red hood. Only nine accounted for.
Cruen
.
The mastermind, the evil one among all the other evil ones who had defected to places unknown. Sounded like a good trick. Maybe the others would follow his lead. Lucian sniffed at that. Maybe not. The Order had yet to find Cruen and bring him to justice for what he had done with Ethan Dare and all those Impure fools who had been destroyed and manipulated in the name of progress, but no doubt they were working their own schemes to find him.
Of the three
veana
members, the one with skin the color of clay and waist-length hair the color of snow spoke first. “Good evening, Lucian Roman.”
Lucian didn’t have time for making nicey-nice—even if he thought the old assholes before him worthy of it. “Where is she?” he said with undisguised menace.
The
veana
looked confused, the skin between her brows wrinkling. “Who do you seek, Son of the Breeding Male?”
Oh joy
. He cocked his
She would not give her body to a Breeding Male, no matter who he was.
And yet her core trembled.
6
L ucian and Alexander hit the ground near the Hollow of Shadows with more weight than they’d started with.
“You jackass.” Lucian pushed the unwanted
paven
off of him. “You piggyback on me again and you’ll be lying on a platter with your eyeballs gone and an apple in your mouth.”
Synjon looked unfazed at the threat as he processed his surroundings: the lush green forest, the rocky caves, the deep, rich scent of earth that always permeated the air in the Hollow. “Save your threats for the Order,” he said evenly. “This is my right, my claim on my mate.”
“Your mate,” Lucian scoffed with an edge of suspicion. What the hell was going on here? he mused, his gaze as challenging as his tone had been. What was he missing? “Why is it you have no sense of where she is? It’s impossible.”
Squaring his shoulders, Synjon leveled a brick-wall stare at Lucian. “We won’t be connected until she’s inside me, and I haven’t taken her blood or her body.” He raised a brow and tipped his chin up. “Yet.”
Lucian’s growl was fierce and feral. Hot coils of possession unraveled in his gut, and the need to rip this male apart, then find and take his mate, was unrelenting inside him. He didn’t know what to do with these feelings, and goddamn—he refused to name them, but if the
paven
before him wanted to live, he’d better shut the fuck up about Bronwyn’s blood and body.
“Luca has a point,” Alexander said, stepping between the two
pavens
, his tone the very essence of calm as he eyeballed Synjon. “The true mate bond is impenetrable and uncomplicated. Whether you’ve taken her blood or not, you should know where she is. Unless—”
“Unless by taking her blood
you
screwed something up,” Synjon accused him severely.
Alexander snorted. “Get serious.”
“This whole thing is screwed up,” Lucian stated with ire, stalking around Alex and getting in Synjon’s air space once again. “You’re hiding something, Brit Boy. I can scent it, along with that cheap cologne you’re wearing. What is it?”
Quick as an intake of breath, Synjon reached out and grabbed Lucian’s gun, but just as the weapon slipped from the holster, Lucian was flashed from the Hollow and away from both
pavens
. In seconds, he felt both heat and sand, and even though he knew exactly where he was, he stumbled for a second to find his balance.
“Goddamn Order,” Lucian muttered as he righted himself and slid his gaze over the table in front of him.
As usual, the ten ancient ones were dressed for success—otherwise known as “Please, assholes, be intimidated by us.” Each wore a red monklike robe, had a black circle, a perfect O, branded around their left eye, and each
paven
had a full beard. But—he squinted, there seemed to be a robe missing. His eyes searched the line of bodies, landing on his father at the end, head covered with his red hood. Only nine accounted for.
Cruen
.
The mastermind, the evil one among all the other evil ones who had defected to places unknown. Sounded like a good trick. Maybe the others would follow his lead. Lucian sniffed at that. Maybe not. The Order had yet to find Cruen and bring him to justice for what he had done with Ethan Dare and all those Impure fools who had been destroyed and manipulated in the name of progress, but no doubt they were working their own schemes to find him.
Of the three
veana
members, the one with skin the color of clay and waist-length hair the color of snow spoke first. “Good evening, Lucian Roman.”
Lucian didn’t have time for making nicey-nice—even if he thought the old assholes before him worthy of it. “Where is she?” he said with undisguised menace.
The
veana
looked confused, the skin between her brows wrinkling. “Who do you seek, Son of the Breeding Male?”
Oh joy
. He cocked his
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