Eternal Captive: Mark of the Vampire Read Online Free PDF Page A

only knew a lie had been constructed—a fabrication—all to avoid the one primal fear that Bronwyn had lived with, worked to stop, and prayed would never befall her.
    The rape of the Breeding Male.
    His seed forced inside her womb.
    His
balas
growing within her.
    And like her sister’s fate, more
balas
than her body could contain without giving out, giving up—her blood unable to cease flowing until she no longer breathed.
    Just as the guests were doing, the Order sat as still as the stone walls. They were waiting for the final agreement to be given. They were waiting for Bronwyn to say her final word—the one word that would bind her to this
paven
who stood beside her at the podium, his hands clasping hers, his ocean blue eyes fierce but steady.
    Bronwyn gazed up into the face of her dear friend. Movie-star handsome, with an athlete’s body and the loyalty of a gracious god, Synjon Wise had grown from an awkward
balas
into the six-foot-six, broad-shouldered
paven
of every
veana
’s fantasy. He had been her friend longer than any other, and she loved him—could want him if they took it slow. Not in the way her body craved another, like air to her lungs—not in the way he had cared for his deceased lover—but in the ancient way of long years and care and commitment.
    Synjon said nothing as he stared down at her, but raised one black eyebrow. Not in censure, but in concern. He knew the truth of her heart just as she knew the truth and tragedy of his, and as the friend he was, deep and unbending, he would protect her, even in this—even if it meant his own ruin and embarrassment.
    He was the eternal catch, this male, and with that one word uttered, he would belong to her forever. God, it was so simple, Bron thought, and yet all she wanted to do was break from his hold and run from the Veracou Hall, to the blood that called to hers.
    She blinked, her breathing shallow in her lungs andthroat. She knew he was out there, waiting. The pale one, the one that had given her his blood. Every instinct she possessed warned her that he would not leave her alone until he saw that she belonged to another—that she had given herself to another.
    Squeezing her hands gently, Syn smiled down at her.
Get a grip then, love
, he was saying in that gravelly British accent of his, his eyes wicked with humor, but also filled with understanding.
    Bronwyn opened her mouth, and in that second her gaze caught on her mother and her father. They were seated just behind Synjon. Pure love fairly burst from them both. They were so happy, so relieved she had found her true mate, and yet Bronwyn knew without a doubt that if she hadn’t found Synjon, even with all of that love in their eyes, her parents would have gone to the Order. It was said by the Order, and by many, that all the Breeding Males had died out over two decades ago, but Bronwyn knew better. Though they were a very rare entity, not every son was being tracked or watched for signs of Breeding Male status. And Bronwyn had current DNA samples from vampires in the western United States that proved a Breeding Male had sired within the past two years. It was only a matter of time before the Order found this information, if they truly didn’t have it already, and she couldn’t take the chance of her parents discovering it too. Because if they did, they would have her taken to him before the month was up, just as they had done with her sister many years ago. Her beloved sister, who had died with the Breeding Male’s twin
balas
in her tired body just six months into her
swell
.
    Jerking her gaze back to Synjon, to the safety of her friend, she did what she had to. “Given.”
    The word exited her mouth loud and clear and committed, and for one second, silence hovered in the air. Then the room seemed to expand, explode with cheers and laughter, and the hoods of the Order, save one, were tossed back and the brick-red fangs that demonstrated each member’s completion with the act of drinking