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

continue to brighten her mood, let him take the memory of the one whose blood scent remained imprinted on her senses.
    It was on the third twirl, the third manic, crazy spinwhen she spotted something down the corridor. Not something, she realized when she came to a stop, but someone. Someone who made her insides jump and pulsate.
    Calm and immobile as a stone, the
paven
stood there watching them. Waiting.
    How long had he been here? she wondered. And—God help her—had he brought anyone else with him?
    Synjon had noticed the
paven
too and his mouth drew close to her ear. “Friend of yours, love?”
    She couldn’t help herself. It just came out quick and worried. “Nicholas Roman.”
    A growl unlike anything she’d ever heard before erupted from the
paven
beside her. The sound was otherworldly and terrible and she’d never want to be on the other side of it. “The Romans have no place here,” he said. “I will let him know this.”
    “No.”
    Syn paused at her fixed reply. “I brought no weapons, Bron. I promise I will only explain his unwelcome state with my fists.”
    “No, Syn.” Her eyes implored him. “He is a good
paven
, kind. The one Roman brother with tact and sense. Please. Let me talk to him.” With a quick breath, she moved past him.
    “I’ll come with you.”
    “No.” She touched his chest, hard as stone—just like his expression. “It’ll just take a minute—I swear it.”
    “Ever stubborn, Bronwyn.”
    The words were said to her back as she walked down the corridor toward Nicholas. She hated disregarding Synjon’s feelings just as she hated the deep curiosity that pulsed inside of her. What was Nicholasdoing here? Was this about Lucian? Was the albino
paven
outside waiting…or had he finally given up, gone away?
    Bronwyn approached Nicholas with a soft smile and a shrug. “If he asked you to stop the Veracou, you’re too late.”
    The
paven
moved deeper into the shadows. “I was asked nothing in regards to the Veracou,” he uttered, then glanced back at the open door he’d no doubt entered through moments ago and the dark landscape beyond.
    “Then why are you here, Nicholas?” she asked, noticing the snow melting off the eaves behind him.
    “Do not scream,
Veana
,” he said, reaching for her, pulling her out into the moonlit night. “It will only hurt more.”
    Bronwyn noticed the diamond eyes, the claws, and the lack of two circle brands on the
paven
’s cheeks too late. This wasn’t Nicholas at all. She screamed silently as she was flashed away.
    It was her captor.

3
     
    C ruen stared at the thing he’d created, had stolen, had harbored. He wanted to feel sorry for it—for her—but all he felt was appreciation for the beauty of suffering.
    The Order would think him cruel—a butcher, a sadist. They wouldn’t recognize the artistry at work. But then, they never had. It was well and good to be rid of them. As a whole, the ruling ten thought the Breeding Males were animals, uncontrollable and better left extinct. But to Cruen they were works of art—the perfect extension of Pureblood vampire. And with his assistance, guidance, and a thick leash to control their every movement, they would replace the Order as the ruling class.
    He moved closer to the cage. It was one of many in the secret laboratory he’d had built over seven centuries ago in the Sacri Monti—the Sacred Mountains of Italy. It was where he’d created the first Breeding Male,and the second and the third, and where he’d raised his own five
balas
—his Beasts.
    “Please…”
    Cruen smiled at her as she writhed in her cage, her skin glistening with sweat. For so many years, he had not believed in her existence. The rumors were strong, yes, but he knew—as their creator—that females rarely survived after their sixth year of life. It was an anomaly in their genetic structure he hadn’t been able to correct. But he would. With this female, and the Boston geneticist by his side, he would fix the