Eternal Demon: Mark of the Vampire (13 page)

Finally, she could breathe again without moaning in desire-filled agony. She could sit down, as she was now, without wishing there was a male beneath her.

She placed the empty vial back in her drawer and locked it with the key she had hidden in her mattress, the key her mother had given her so long ago after hours of explaining what would most likely befall her in the future and how she must secretly care for it. There wasn’t a great deal of the potion remaining; it was only her reserve supply. She would need to obtain more before she left with Cruen.

She shifted on the chair. Cruen. Just his name made her snarl. He was not only mating her to gain power, but he had actually abducted an innocent child. In any sane, rational situation, either one of these truths should’ve made a female promised to him run in the other direction.

But here she was, ready to leave with him when he called for her.

Clearly she was neither sane nor rational.

As the second vial of draft spread through her like cold water inside her veins, she closed her eyes and sighed. The magical potion was attacking every aching muscle, every desperate nerve, every inch that had played host to Erion’s wicked, skilled mouth, and yet . . .

She opened her eyes.

It wasn’t attacking them fast enough. Or strong enough.

It wasn’t like before.

Though her body was cooling down, her breathing remained slightly labored. And her mouth filled with saliva at the very thought of a male’s kiss. She touched her breasts. They were sensitive, beaded. What was going on?

She slipped her hand down between her legs and felt heat. Panic slowly licked at the edges of her mind. This was impossible. She hadn’t just taken one vial; she’d taken two. She should be stone-cold inside. Was it because she’d gone so long without the draft? Her body had to grow accustomed to it again?
Or,
she thought weakly,
has my experience with Erion altered me somehow?

Erion . . .

She’d promised herself she wasn’t going to think of him—for her own good and for his. Her father had met her as she’d fallen into the Underworld, told her he’d taken and housed Erion, warned her to leave the male alone and not go searching for him if she valued his life and the life of his son.

Her father’s threats were always promises.

She got up from her desk and grabbed her sweater. She shivered both on the inside and the outside now. Whatever the reason for this change in the draft’s power, she had to remain the same Hellen before her family. Her father could never suspect she’d been touched by Erion. She had to protect him and the boy.

The
balas
.

Her sisters were watching over Erion’s son, and the agreement was that he would be released into Erion’s custody as soon as Hellen’s mating ritual to Cruen was over.

As the draft made her stomach curl with momentary nausea, she left her room and made her way through the tunnels. Their compound sat ten feet below the ground. Hell itself hadn’t been deep enough for Abbadon. He’d had his home constructed at the Underworld’s lowest point. Hellen had never minded the molelike existence. She and her sisters had always had fun, invented games, and hid from one another, then used magic and projection to find one another again. It had been a good growing period, and frankly all she knew. She’d never yearned for the sunshine she’d experienced aboveground. In fact, she’d never allowed herself to yearn, period.

Until that demon vampire male had touched her.

Looked at her and called her beautiful.

Broke her resolve and made her yearn for more of something she could never have again.

A deep, woeful frown threatened, but she forced herself to smile as she entered a large, rectangular room. Her sisters, Levia and Polly, stood before a wall of glass surrounded by gray stone, laughing and gesturing.

“Is he all right?” Hellen asked as she walked over to stand beside them.

“We have made sure of it,” Levia told her.

Polly nodded, her smile broad and appreciative. “He is so sweet, sister. Such a charming boy.”

Turning to face the glass, Hellen saw the setup of Ladd’s chamber for the first time. It was a good-sized room, and her sisters had clearly designed and furnished it so the boy would feel at home. There were pictures on the pale-blue-painted walls of fierce dragons and bumbling dinosaurs. An armoire stood open in one corner of the room, several pieces of clothing inside, while a small yellow desk sat opposite. The stone floors were covered by brightly colored rugs, and the bed the boy was now sleeping on had coverings that looked new and fresh and young. Toys littered the floor.

“Is he scared?” Hellen asked, her concerned tone obvious.

Levia touched her shoulder. “There are times, but we have comforted him.”

“We aren’t sure if Father would allow it,” Polly added demurely.

“We forgot to ask,” Levia said, her gaze flicking downward. “Is that wrong?”

Hellen couldn’t help smiling at the pair.

“He did say we could keep watch over the boy,” Polly said. “That is the same. Is it not, Hellen?”

“I think you are both good and fine, and he is lucky to have you.” Hellen glanced back at the world beyond the glass and sighed. “But he needs to go home.”

The boy stirred, rustling his covers.

He needs to go home with his father.

Suddenly the boy sat up and his eyes opened. Sleep weary, he glanced around the room, no doubt wondering where he was. Hellen moved closer to the glass. She was about to ask her sisters something when the boy looked up, straight at the glass—and directly at her. Hellen’s breath caught in her throat. She’d never seen the boy before, but as she stared into his beautiful, strong, angled face, she realized just how much of Erion was within him.

Their eyes remained locked on each other until the boy did the strangest thing. He grinned. Wide. At her. And his eyes—his diamond eyes—flashed with happy recognition.

Hellen stepped back, her brow furrowed and her insides humming. She’d never seen the boy before, and yet he was looking at her as if they were old friends.

“How very odd,” Polly remarked.

“Have you ever seen him, sister?” Levia asked, glancing over her shoulder at Hellen.

“No,” Hellen breathed, not able to take her eyes off the small version of Erion.

The boy jumped to his feet on the bed and started waving at her.

“Well,” Levia said, her voice a thin strand of confusion. “It seems as though he has seen you.”

“H
e kept a woman here?”

“No
t a woman, exactly. A female . . . something . . .”

Taking a breath, Kate released it slowly in an attempt to remain calm. She and Nicholas had entered the castle gates fifteen minutes ago—courtesy of his matching blood—and while Nicky had followed his nose to the dungeons, Kate had remained in the foyer, interrogating the guards. Though surprised and wary of them at first, the guards inside Erion’s home became willing to talk after they’d heard about Ladd’s abduction. But they still carried the fear of their master’s punishment, and, it seemed, the female who was with him.

“What do you mean?” Kate asked the guard. The blond Impure had been the most helpful of the four who stood sentry in the dim foyer. “A female something?”

“She wasn’t like you or Master Erion.”

“Was she a vampire? An Impure? A
mutore
?”

The guard shook his head. “She was his prisoner. That is all I know.”

Prisoner? What the hell was Erion doing? And why hadn’t he let his family know about his plans? Kate knew the
mutore
’s actions had to be related to getting Ladd back . . . but how?

A scent glided into Kate’s nostrils, and she turned her attention back to the guard. “Why are you so afraid of this female?” she asked. “Did she hurt you? Did she threaten you? Did she hurt your master—”

“She ate one of the guards,” the male blurted out.

There was a soft curse behind her, and the sound of shifting feet on the stone floor. But Kate didn’t look away from the male in front of her. She truly hoped he wasn’t serious, that whatever he believed or thought he’d seen was a mistake.

“She drained one of them?” Kate prompted. “Killed them? Is that what you mean?”

The male’s gaze dropped. “No, that’s not what I mean.”

Kate’s patience was wearing thin. “I don’t understand. I need you to be clear. This whole thing is beyond strange. I just want to find the
balas
, and if Erion and this female know anything—”

“They went after the boy.”

Kate whirled around. The dark-skinned guard who had been silent as he’d stood sentry beside the front door and who hadn’t once glanced at her in all the time she’d been there stared at her intently. His eyes were nearly as dark as his skin, and when he opened his mouth she saw the tips of his snow-white fangs.

“The female Master Erion brought into this house devoured one of our own,” he said in a cool, even tone. “She caused the master to kill another whom she believed desired her.” He sneered. “She cast her thick scent of arousal into the air to make us all go mad. Finally, the master could take no more and released her.”

“Where did she go?” Kate asked him slowly, trying to process his words. This was about Ladd. Had the strange female gone after the
balas
? Did she know where Cruen’s compound was? Is that why Erion took her prisoner?

The male lifted his pointed chin. “Master Erion took her. He didn’t tell us where, didn’t tell us anything. But he has had several meetings with the one who owns the ancient furnishings shop in town. Perhaps he can help you further.”

Nicholas walked into the foyer then, his gaze instantly finding and locking with Kate’s. She lifted a brow at him.

“Did you hear?” she asked.

He nodded, his eyes grave. “You will fill me in on the details as we travel to Raine’s store.”

•   •   •

The risk was a great one, and yet she couldn’t stop herself. Not after her moment with the boy.

Hellen moved through the tunnels of her father’s compound with the ease of one who had run through them or hidden within them every day of her life. This time, however, she was not alone. She followed Eberny. The six-foot-tall male/female hybrid glided along the floor, white robes kissing the stone, gaze watchful, blade in hand. After seeing Ladd, after the connection he’d seem to have with her, Hellen had felt an irrepressible urge to find Erion. She knew he would be worried about the boy, and though the demon male’s feelings shouldn’t matter to her, when it came to the subject of his child, they did.

“I will keep the guards away for as long as I am able, but if you are caught . . .” Eberny said, rounding a curve in the tunnel and moving down a gentle slope.

“I know,” Hellen said, quickening her pace. “I forced you.”

“Yes,” Eberny agreed. “But how?”

Hellen searched her mind. It was an important question, one that needed just the right answer to be believable. “I threatened to cut out your tongue and eat it?” she offered.

“Yes. Good. He would be furious if I couldn’t speak.”

“Yes. How would he manage to order his family around if you weren’t available to do it for him?” Hellen uttered dryly.

“Do not speak ill of your father, Hellen,” Eberny warned.

“Why not?”

They were very deep within the bowels of the compound now, and Eberny slowed and turned to face Hellen. In the light of the lamp Hellen carried, the hybrid’s face was pulled into a mask of condescension.

“He is cruel, unfeeling, vile, and hideous.”

“Yes,” Hellen agreed.

A soft smile broke on Eberny’s face. “He is the Devil. How do you expect him to act?”

As a parent. Maybe just once in a while,
she thought, knowing she was reacting like a child. She was a grown demon female now who had made her own decisions based on the choices she had been given. This was the life she’d been dealt. Her gaze shifted to the door a few feet away. But it wasn’t the life Erion and Ladd belonged in.

Eberny followed her gaze. “Yes. He is there. But before I open the door, you must give me some evidence to use if your father returns.”

Hellen accepted the blade that was shoved into her hand. “Where?”

“My mouth, I believe,” said Eberny calmly.

Yes,
Hellen mused as she lifted the blade and aimed the tip at her governess’s lower lip. A clear message.
Take me to the demon male prisoner, or I won’t stop at your mouth.
And Abbadon would believe it. He knew her to be headstrong, impetuous, and, if she ever decided to act on the vile and hidden inheritance her firstborn status had placed within her, capable of being more ruthless than him.

With deft skill, she made a quick and shallow cut in the center on Eberny’s lower lip.

“How’s that?” she asked, stepping back, watching the blood rise to the surface.

“Stings, thank you.”

Hellen laughed softly as she handed back the blade. “I’m sorry.”

“No matter.” The hybrid turned and moved swiftly toward the door. In a series of strange hand gestures punctuated with softly uttered incantations, the door made a clicking sound and drew open a few inches.

Before Hellen could get past Eberny, the hybrid laid a hand on her shoulder. Eberny’s brown eyes were heavy with magic and with something else Hellen rarely saw in the typically logical, rational demon.

Concern.

“Tell me something,” Eberny said softly. “This male is worth your defiance?”

Poised on the tip of Hellen’s tongue was the excuse she’d given Eberny earlier when requesting the hybrid’s help, and the excuse she’d given herself. She was here to give Erion peace of mind about Ladd, let him know the boy was unharmed and being cared for by her sisters. That was it. That was all. There was nothing more, nothing between them that had caused her to take such a risk. No. She wasn’t here to see his face again, scent him. No. She wasn’t here to take that scent into her lungs, hear his voice, touch his skin.

That is what she told herself, what she wanted to believe.

Was Erion worth her defiance?

“I don’t know,” she said. The unsatisfactory and deficient answer made her feel silly, young—but weren’t all young, silly demon females risky and foolish when it came to romantic decisions? She was just playing to her demographic. “I need to find out, Eberny.”

The hybrid nodded solemnly. “Your father is aboveground. It is not much time to find out anything. But . . .” Eberny’s eyes warmed. “You will cut out my tongue if I do not let you pass. Yes?”

Hellen nodded, laughing softly. “You can count on it.”

Turning, Eberny grasped the door and opened it wide, allowing Hellen to enter. “You have until the fireflower blooms.”

“Got it.”

She knew that time of day. It was when everything slowed, the rain ceased in the Fields, the color of their sky lightened to an uncomfortable yellowish hue, and fireflower, whose petals remained locked up tight, suddenly opened and denied the Underworld its luscious scent.

“Demon girl.”

Hellen froze just inches past the door. She heard Eberny’s retreating footsteps behind her, but what truly stole her breath was the voice that called to her, the low, rough timbre that wrapped around her as she looked about the room.

The room.

Confusion gripped her. How was this possible? What had her father done? And how . . . ?

Hellen turned, rotating slowly like an animal on a spit until she was dizzy from the shock of what was before her and the questions that pinged inside her mind. Stone walls, circular room, three doors, a window . . . Her mouth felt dry, but she swallowed out of reflex. Her father had re-created the very room where she’d been held. Except now . . . Her eyes focused on the male affixed to the wall. He was tall, broad shouldered, and dangerously beautiful, his black hair licking the edges of his hard jawline. It was Erion—Erion, who had his wrists and ankles shackled, who strained against the metal, his gaze feral with rage.

“Look familiar?” he said in a voice that made her insides quiver with fear.

He was more than angry. He sounded betrayed.

She stepped toward him. She didn’t give in to fear. “My father did this.”

He nodded. “With a little help.”

“My father needs no help to torture others.” What had Abbadon done to find out this information? Had he gone to Erion’s home? Interrogated his guards? Consumed one or more of them whole until they told him everything they knew and had witnessed?

The fireflower doesn’t fall far from the fiery ash it grows from, does it?
she mused, ashamed.

“The
balas
?” he said, tightly, darkly. “Have you come to tell me about him?”

Her gaze lifted. It had been hovering somewhere between the many waves of muscle on Erion’s abdominals and his rock-hard chest. The query he’d just tossed her way still hung in the air unanswered, but the weight of it, the emotional pain of it, filled the room.
Ladd is a lucky child,
she thought. It was obvious that Erion loved him, worried for him, would even kill for him. His diamond gaze fairly bled with the desire to nurture and the pain of separation. It was something she’d never seen in the eyes of her own father.

“He is well,” she said, coming to stand within a few inches of him.

Erion’s eyes shuttered, and he tensed against his bindings. “You have seen him? You know this firsthand?”

She nodded.
I have seen him,
she thought,
and he has definitely seen me.

“If they hurt him . . .” Erion’s fangs descended.

“They won’t,” Hellen assured him. “I will make certain of it.”

“
You
will protect my son?” he said in a mocking tone.

Her brows slammed together. “Of course.”

“Why?

“What do you mean?” she returned hotly. She didn’t like this, didn’t like how he was looking at her.

He laughed bitterly. “Do you really pretend to care what happens to anyone but yourself?”

She stared back at him, her mouth agape. What a horrific accusation, and unfounded as hell. He had no idea how much she cared about his son, about her sisters, about their futures and their happiness. He had no idea the sacrifices she’d made, and not because she felt obligated or guilty, but because it was the right thing.

“After all, demon girl,” he continued, watching her intently, “you are the one who took down my guard in one bite.”

Hellen’s lip curled as she stepped toward him. “Listen to me, because I won’t defend myself on this point again, or any of these jabs you’re lobbing at me. You, who took me against my will, kept me prisoner. Whatever I’ve done to protect myself, keep myself alive—I’ve
never
hurt your boy. In fact, I’m here right now, risking . . .” She stopped herself, shook her head. “I’m here because of the boy. I only wanted his father to know he was all right.”

Erion’s lips tightened and he seemed to soften a fraction. “Speaking of fathers. Yours paid me a visit earlier.”

She had no doubt. A flash of embarrassment went through her. This male who cared so deeply for his child now knew the truth, knew where and what she had come from.

“Charming, isn’t he?” she said.

He sniffed. “He makes an impression.”

Regardless of what Erion thought of her, of her father, she’d come here to ease his mind. “He will let the boy go.”

“You truly believe he has a grain of decency in him?”

It was a question she couldn’t answer. She didn’t know what mercy Abbadon possessed or didn’t, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to know. They were blood, and she, out of her sisters, was the most similar to him, his heir apparent. If he was pure evil, what did that make her?

“If he does not let Ladd go,” Erion said in a chilling voice. “If he hurts the
balas
in any way, he will be destroyed and I will be ruined.” He looked away, growled. “I hate not seeing the boy for myself. I hate that he cannot see me, a face he recognizes.”

Hellen held her tongue. She wasn’t certain what had occurred between her and Ladd earlier, if he’d recognized something in her, but this wasn’t the time to discuss it. Right now, if they hurried, she might be able to make Erion’s hope a reality.

Maybe even prove to him—and herself—that she wasn’t her father’s daughter.

She turned, wondering if the room Abbadon had created was truly the mirror image of Erion’s dungeon. A bitter laugh escaped her as she caught sight of the treasure she sought.
Daddy thought of everything,
she mused, walking over to where the keys hung temptingly from the very same hook.

“This is truly déjà vu,” she said, heading back to Erion and dropping to her haunches at his feet.