Eternal Captive: Mark of the Vampire Read Online Free PDF

blood were displayed in wide, delighted smiles.
    Another Pureblood true mate pairing had come to pass.
    The celebration had begun.
    Sensing her mood, Synjon led her out of the hall and into a quiet passageway, keeping her close to his side. To Bronwyn, every step was heavy, like walking in sand; every image in her head was still of him.
    Him
.
    It would go away…It would lessen in time.
    It must.
    “You all right, love?” Synjon asked once they were away from the crowd.
    “I’m fine,” she managed, licking her dry lips and forcing her gaze up to his.
    Though she wasn’t privy to the details, she knew what Syn was—that he worked undercover for the Order in all manner of dangerous and exotic. She knew what he was capable of, his talents with every kind of weaponry, how close to an assassin’s life he lived, but as he looked down at her, there was only softness in him. And perhaps a trace of sadness. He too had lost the promise and hope of love.
    “You had me wondering there for a moment, Bron,” he said with a gentle huskiness.
    She shook her head, fighting the heavy sense thatshe had made a mistake in all this. But she knew she hadn’t! She knew she had done the only thing she could. And, God, she’d be good to Syn; she’d help him forget as he would help her. “My nerves got the better of me for a moment. That’s all,” she said.
    His eyes homed in on her face, his hands warm with concern around her fingers. “That all it is?”
    She thought about lying, but this
paven
was trained to see all forms of deception—and truly, what was the point? They knew each other’s pasts, every painful bit. She released a weighty breath. “I feel him outside. I feel his blood. Still.”
    Synjon’s eyes turned from liquid to ice, and his tone was deadly as he spoke. “I’ll take care of it.”
    “No,” Bron said quickly, almost desperately. Foolish
veana
…
    “He has no right to be here, Bron—to be anywhere near you.”
    “Please, Syn. I don’t want a fight. Not today.” She lowered her chin, let her gaze speak to her intense feelings on the subject.
    After a moment, Synjon’s eyes softened and he grumbled, “All right. I’ll keep my fists to myself today. But only today.”
    Bronwyn nodded, gave him a smile. “Noted.”
    He chuckled softly, brought her hand to his mouth, and kissed it. There was no passion in the act, but Bronwyn was thankful for that. Thankful there was no pretense between them, no charade. It would’ve been impossible if he felt true love for her.
    “I’m not sure if I’ve told you this tonight, my dear,” he said, granting an easy smile. “But you look smashing.”
    She smiled, thankful once again for his control and patience. “Thank you,
Paven
.”
    His gaze tracked over her. “It’s a damn fine getup, that.”
    She dropped his hands and turned slowly in a circle. The dress was a deep merlot silk, as were the bands on her neck and wrists—all were tied securely, but ready for her
paven
to unwrap his gift.
    She stopped twirling at the thought, saw the night to come in her mind, and her belly grew tense. Her blood, her virtue was now Synjon’s, even if her unbeating heart belonged to another. Her breath hitched in her chest as she caught that last thought—that traitorous last thought.
    “I think I’d like one in my size if you can manage it,” Synjon was saying, pulling her back to him, to the present—what was real and true.
    She forced a smile. “You’d like a Veracou gown?”
    He nodded. “In blue, of course. To match my very fine eyes.”
    Bronwyn laughed at that, at him, so grateful for his lightness, for his teasing, for the fact that they were friends and she would always be safe with him.
    “I’ll get started first thing tomorrow,
Paven
,” she said, moving closer to him, ready to follow him into this land of light and easy.
    “Good,” he growled. “See that it’s done in time for tea.”
    Again she laughed and let him twirl her around, let him