Undying Desire (7 page)

The master of the Enclave stared at the former warrior in silence, then shook his head in what appeared to be pure frustration and turned on his heel. Arran stepped from the exterior doorway and headed toward the cage entrance. With a gloved hand to shield him from the silver’s caustic effect, he swung the door open for Kenric to pass through. Arran’s gaze shifted to the frail-looking warrior moving into a sitting position on the side of his cot. Markus’s cold stare locked with Arran’s. One side of the former warrior’s lips lifted in a sly, knowing grin.

“How is sweet Gabrielle?” Markus cocked his head. “Is my newest fledgling treating you well, Warrior?” Arran’s grip tightened on the bar of the cage door. “What?” Markus shrugged. “You seem pissed. I would think you’d appreciate my turning her into a vampire for you. Because now”—Markus reached between his legs and slid a palm over his crotch—“you get to fuck her for an eternity.”

“You have truly morphed into an insane bastard.” Arran slammed the door and twisted the key, securing the bolt. “And to think, I once thought of you not only as my partner, but my friend.” He could have sworn a flicker of something other than malice surfaced in Markus’s expression. But before it could take hold, the look was gone. Wishful thinking.

“Awww… Now be nice, Arran, or I might have to spill our little secret.”

Arran jammed the palm of his gloved hand into the bars, rattling the hinges before whirling away from the enclosure. A wicked burst of laughter rolled from the cage as Arran exited the holding area. Sick SOB. This had to end soon—all the subtle omission of details to Kenric, lies about where exactly Guerin had gone and what his second-in-command planned to do while there—or he was going to end up killing Markus.

He should have never agreed to be a co-conspirator in Guerin’s plan. He was lying not only to Kenric, but to Gabrielle as well. And he hated it.

Keeping this secret from his mate was slowly eating away at him from the inside out. But Guerin didn’t want the information about Kenric’s possible daughter going any further than the two of them. According to Guerin, if Gabrielle knew, there would be no way she’d keep this from Emily, Kenric’s mate.

Hell, he was probably right.

Hiding this from Kenric was hard enough on Arran, but he could only imagine how the covert knowledge would have plagued Gabrielle.

The fact that Markus loomed in the center of this fucked-up ménage only made matters worse. But they needed Markus. The former warrior had been with Marguerite for the past two years and held the intelligence they needed to locate Eve. Before she came looking for her father—and the Enclave. Arran had to completely agree with Guerin on one point. If she turned out to be as vindictive as her mother claimed, Eve would have to be stopped.

Arran took the stairs two at a time to the first floor, following Kenric’s path. At the top, he exited into the open expanse of the hallway that led to a kitchen on his left and the den farther down on his right. Arran’s boots thumped against the hard maple floors as he marched forward.

“So what do you think Markus meant when he said the Enclave’s warriors are screwing with my life?”

Kenric’s deep voice ricocheted off the walls and froze Arran in his path. Arran glanced over his shoulder and found the Enclave’s master standing with his back against the wall off to the side of the basement door. A dagger twirled in one gloved palm, the pearl handle shimmering as it whirled end over end.

Damn, he was good.

When Arran came from below, he hadn’t sensed even the smallest trace of the vampire’s presence waiting for him there. Arran turned and faced Kenric.

“He’s insane.” Arran shrugged. “That’s what I think. Marguerite broke him, and he wants to get inside your head and take you down with him. Finish the job Marguerite was never able to.”

Kenric nodded and pushed away from the wall. “Maybe,” he said as he drew closer to Arran. “You know, it’s not the first time Markus has insinuated he knew something about my team that I didn’t.” He halted, leaving less than a foot of distance between them. “Why do think he wants me to believe such a thing?”

“Like I said, he’s mad. Crazy mad.”

“I agree. He is.” Kenric reached down and slid the blade back into his thigh sheath, then glanced back at Arran. “But the way Guerin walked away from the Enclave without a word about where he was going or when he would return? Leaving you to tell me he needed some time away, because he couldn’t tolerate watching me rehabilitate Markus after what he’d done to our mates and the Enclave…” Kenric shook his head. “This isn’t like Guerin.” He nailed Arran with a glare. “And it’s starting to reek. Has Guerin been in contact with you?”

“I haven’t heard from him.” At least that part was the truth. The bastard hadn’t returned any of his messages since they’d spoken last night.

“I see.” Kenric nodded once more but never released his gaze. “Two days, Arran.” Kenric’s eyelids narrowed. “Out of respect for your loyalty and service to the Enclave, I’ll give you a little more time. But by the time my ass has to return to Markus…I want answers.” Kenric brushed past him.

Arran released the air that had become trapped in his lungs. “Dammit,” he mumbled under his breath. This had gone to shit faster than he’d anticipated. Whatever Guerin had planned, he’d better move fast. Because in two days, there was about to be one large, pissed-off master vampire crawling all over his ass.

Chapter Seven

Anticipation hummed hrough Seth’s veins like a snake that had licked the air and detected its prey mere inches away. On the stairway’s landing, he gripped the polished brass knob of the corner banister and breathed deep. Tonight he hovered one step closer to having it all.
Yes.
He could almost taste the victory.

It was decadent, sweet, and all his. Well…it would be soon.

He reached low and repositioned his swollen cock before continuing down the steps. The flavor of a conquest always made him want to fuck. That was something else he’d have to take care of before much longer.

On the main level, Seth made his way to the basement door and headed below. His calyx had informed him earlier that the expedition posse sent to verify Eve’s identity and retrieve her had returned. He crossed the expanse of the room, his boot heels releasing a distinct click off the lower level’s concrete floor.

Near his receiving area, Seth spotted only three of the six men who’d comprised the group waiting.

And no female.

What the hell was this all about? He sucked in a breath and his gut rebelled. The stench of failure permeated the air.

Seth eased onto the seat of his royal-blue velvet armchair, his in-house security flanking him, and met the lowered gazes of the trembling trio. His jaw ached from the effort it took not to kill them before hearing their sob story. Because he knew that was exactly what they were about to spill. It required every ounce of his control not to rip their throats open and allow their incompetent blood to fill the sewers.

“Out with it,” Seth snarled. “What have you learned and where are the others?” He steepled his fingers and braced himself for the play-by-play. The apparent spokesman of the group painted a shaky and pathetic tale of how one female and a vampire in wolf form took out six men and escaped. They were the only ones to have regained consciousness after her attack and had disposed of the others before reporting in.

But it was her.

There was no doubt.

She’d fought them in daylight and her power… His pulse leaped, and the muscles in his forearms twitched in restraint. So fucking close. Seth didn’t know whether to roar with rage at their feeble attempt to snare her, or feast on their hearts in celebration.

He had to know what made the female tick. Sample her DNA. How did she balance the power of a vampire along with her sensitivity as a human? So many unanswered questions about her existence. How did the vampire antigen live in balance with her human cells without consuming them? Could her tolerance to sunlight be replicated? Was it possible to vaccinate a vampire with her particular human genetic traits and acquire her abilities? He had to find out. Seth swallowed back the growl of frustration clawing its way up his throat. One thing was for sure—they would die tonight for losing her.

He would have to start again. But at least he knew where to focus his search: the Rose’s Thorn. Eve wouldn’t show herself again, but someone there had to possess knowledge of where she would hide.

“Seth.”

The unexpected mental call yanked his attention from the situation at hand. Shit. She was early.

“Yes, Mistress,”
he replied silently.

“I’m waiting for you in your quarters. I do hope you have good news to share with me this evening.”

Seth cringed. Her games were a tedious but necessary evil. He suppressed the chuckle at the pun. Evil. An understatement for what lay beneath the gentle purr of the female upstairs.

Without a glance at either of the males bracketing his chair, Seth spouted his command and rose. “Dispose of them however you see fit.” Abrupt inhales resonated from the trio, mixed with a barrage of desperate cries for mercy. It would do them no good. About as much use to them as his pleas would be when he shared the latest failure to produce Eve. At least their pain came with an end in sight. His, on the other hand… He sighed and began his trek upstairs.

“I’m afraid the news will not be to your liking, Mistress,”
he mentally transmitted. A shriek pierced his head, sending an icy chill of dread down his spine.

Chapter Eight

Hunger.

Two syllables.

One simple word.

But for a vampire, those six letters possessed the power to bend the mind of even the eldest creature of the night to its will. Guerin’s fangs bore into his lower lip. The copper taste of his own blood did little to sate the ravenous beast in his gut.

“Good. You’re coming around.”

Eve
. On instinct, he inhaled deeply, drawing in her unique duo of fragrances—cinnamon vanilla. Mmm… Delicious and unsettling. They possessed the power to flip the switch on his hunger and divert his attention toward a desire of another kind: lust.

The ache in his fangs eased, and his incisors receded to a more tolerable position. He swallowed hard, working to find a hint of moisture in the desert he called a mouth. Judging from the strength and clarity of Eve’s voice, she’d fared better than he had.

He cracked one eye open, then another, and peered at his surroundings. Gray paneling encircled the room. Pale-yellow lighting glowed from a table at his right. A few feet away another small round table and two chairs sat beneath a heavily draped window.

Definitely not the Ritz, but at least he was silver cage–free, and getting out of here would prove much simpler. Because if he didn’t, it wouldn’t be long before the need to feed would haul his ass to the edge of his sanity.

Guerin rubbed a palm over his face, the stubble there way beyond a five o’clock shadow, and hoisted his aching and starved body in the direction of Eve’s voice. He blinked, and his heart stuttered even in its weakened state at the vision in front of him. Another lamp shone behind Eve, haloing a band of golden light around her raven hair.

An angel born from the womb of darkness? Was it even possible?

“Impressive,” she added from the wooden chair she’d placed near his bed. “I thought it would have taken much longer for you to recover from that amount of UV exposure.”

“What can I say?” Guerin drawled. “I’m an overachiever.” He nodded at the room around him. “Where are we?”

“Always the wise guy.” Eve glanced around the small quarters. “This is my backup place.” She settled her gaze on him. “A girl can never be over-prepared.” Eve threaded her fingers through her hair, pushing it away from her face. “Are you ever serious about anything?”

Guerin smirked. “Beautiful… Seriously, I would think that you’d like this side of me a hell of a lot better. It’s prettier.”

“What?” She tilted her head and tossed him a smug grin. “You don’t think I can handle the
real
Guerino Lombardi? The one who stays hidden behind the smart-ass remarks and charming smiles?”

A snort escaped his throat. “Handle it?” Guerin rolled onto his back and draped an arm over his eyes. “I’m sure Eve Devonshire can handle whatever is thrown at her.” After witnessing her talents for the past few days, psychic shock waves, walking in daylight, abilities he’d never seen even Kenric, a master vampire, wield, left no doubt the woman could handle whatever came her way. The genetic combination of a master vampire’s DNA crossed with an abnormally strong female vampire such as Marguerite had resulted in producing a hybrid offspring who could go toe-to-toe, and then some, with any vamp. And it was one mother of a turn-on. He sighed.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Which was?”

“The real Guerino? Who is he?”

“That wasn’t the question.” He slid his forearm away and turned his head toward her. “You asked if I thought you couldn’t handle it. And you got your answer.”

Eve’s expression cooled, right before she stood and nailed him with a hard glare. “No more games. Who the hell are you and what do you want with me?”

Guerin swung his legs over the side of the bed and launched himself to his feet. A loose gray pair of sweats dipped low around his hips. Well, thank Christ for small favors. At least his bare behind was finally covered. He ground his molars, searching for patience. For the strength to handle this the right way.

Fuck it.
Guerin curled his fingers into a tight fist. She wanted to know why he was here, he’d give her all the damn info she begged for. Including the part where he’d helped to kill her mother… The world tilted on its axis.
Whoa.

His stomach roiled.

He stumbled back, jamming his calves against the mattress frame to keep from falling on his ass. Reaching behind, he fumbled for something solid to keep him horizontal. The room dimmed, and Guerin plopped onto the mattress, his pulse thumping hard in his ears.
Yeah.
He’d tell her as soon as he got a handle on his lights. Guerin blinked, attempting to clear his vision. Eve was in his face. Her lips moved, but the steady drumbeat in his head garbled her words.