“His mother sounds like just as big a prize as yours.”
“Yes.”
“Did Nicholas have the same situation?”
“No. Nicholas’s mother never punished him for his existence. He did it for her. Still does.” Alexander caught her looking at him with that same expression of care he’d seen back at the lighthouse and he pulled the plug on the questions and answers. “What time is it?”
She glanced down at her watch. “One thirty.”
“Shit. I need to pull my mind from everything and everyone and concentrate on the Order.” Alexander closed his eyes and thrust every image away, every image but one. It was only his perception of them, but it was all he had to go on.
The familiar hum began at his feet, shot upward, and with a rush of wind, they were gone. This time, when they hit ground they were in the woods, outside a cave and it was warm, summer.
“Fucking hell.” This was a battleground, long ago, for him and his brothers. It was where they’d learned to use primitive weapons, where Alexander’s friend and teacher had gone missing. Why was the Order playing this game? Was it simply to humble him?
A growl rumbled deep in his throat. They’d be waiting for all eternity for such an event, and even after he was dust they could go fuck themselves.
Sara coughed, moved away from him, and went to the mouth of the cave, sat down with her back against the rock. She looked pale, tired, yet so fragile in her beauty. He went to her and knelt down beside her. “Are you okay?”
“A little nauseous.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think about what all the flashing would do to your system.”
“It’s okay. I’ll be fine. I’ve never really been a solid flier.”
He grinned.
Dropping her head back against the cool rock, she looked out at the brush. “Maybe it’s me.”
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe they won’t see you because you’re with me.”
“Tough shit.” But he’d wondered the same thing. “No doubt they’re just playing with me.” Controlling bastards. “If they want me bad enough to force my body through morpho before its time, then they’ll take me any way they can get me.”
“Morpho?”
“The time of maturity for a paven, a Pureblood male vampire.”
“Is that what happened outside my apartment? The sunlight and the brands on your skin?”
“Yes.”
“Why would they do that?”
“I don’t know, but I will—” There was a loud boom, like thunder against a mile of sky. Instinctively, Alexander started toward Sara, but an invisible hook wrapped his waist and pulled. He clawed at the air, but it was useless. He was sucked into a tunnel, seeing nothing but black, and seconds later, he was standing on sand and Sara was nowhere in sight.
“Welcome, Alexander, son of the Breeding Male.”
Alexander dropped into fighting position, his eyes flickering around, looking for the origin of the voice and a weapon he could use against it. A sheet of sand whipped up in front of him, then just as quickly dropped to the ground as though weights were attached to each grain.
Before him, seated at a long glass table, looking remarkably like a modern version of the Last Supper were the ten ancient members of the Order. They were nothing like what he’d imagined them to be when he was a balas—even as a grown paven: ghostlike, other-worldly, paper thin, yet lethal to the core. No doubt the latter was true, but the ruling ten were as solid, as three dimensional as he was. They sat in their chairs, hands folded on the glass table, eyes trained on him. Each wore a red monklike robe, had a black circle, a perfect O, branded around each of their left eyes, and except for the three veana members, each had a full beard.
“Where is she?” Alexander growled menacingly.
The Order member at the far left, a paven with electric sky blue eyes and a black beard that tapered into a perfect point at the end, spoke first. “She is well. Asleep. She won’t even realize you’ve gone.”
Alexander’s fingers twitched as he imagined them wrapping around the neck of each member of the Order and squeezing until their eyes popped as wide as their brands. “You’d better be right or we’re going to have a serious problem.”
The older paven grinned, displaying his set of brick red fangs—another symbol that he was Order, that his hunger had been completely fulfilled, that his long existence consuming blood was over. “Morpho agrees with you, son of the Breeding Male.”
“How did you find me?” Alexander snarled.
“The human female you nearly devoured.”
“Impossible!” Alexander roared. “I didn’t take her life.” Aside from going through morpho, killing was the only other way the Order could track either an Impure or a Pureblood outside of the credenti.
“No, but the Impure who watched you, then drank from the human after you left, did—he stopped her heart in under a minute.” The older paven sneered. “Sloppy little sacro bastard. But his memories did lead us to you.”
Alexander’s eyes flashed at the black-haired paven. Once again, his uncontrolled hunger had imprisoned him. “What is it you want?”
“You’ve run from us for too long. It is time. You and your brothers must help your kind.”
“Help?” Alexander released a bitter laugh. “You’re asking me to help the ones who tormented and tortured me? That’s why you premorphed me?”
“You speak of one or two in the credenti, not the Eternal Breed as a whole.”
“I speak of you.”
“You accuse the Order of torture? Tread lightly, son of the Breeding Male.”
A growl erupted from Alexander and he warned the male, “Call me that filthy title again and you will see how deeply I have morphed!”
The paven’s eyes narrowed and his hand came up in front of his face, ready for a mental battle. Beside him, another member of the Order, a veana with skin the color of clay and waist-length hair the color of snow, leaned toward him and whispered something. After a moment, the paven dropped his hand, but his irritation with Alexander remained. “We have a situation at several of our credentis,” he said tightly. “An infiltration. Impures have broken into our communities, taken several of our veanas, impregnated them, then returned them to us. Thankfully, most of the balas never survived past the first month of swell, but the communities are growing scared. There is talk of families leaving, running away, hiding.”
“Good,” Alexander uttered flippantly. Did this asshole really believe he’d care if vampires were leaving the credentis? Hell, he was thrilled!
“You may have felt the need to run,” the paven continued, “but this life is not torturous for others. These are families who are breaking apart.”
“Perhaps they don’t wish to be under your control any longer. I know I didn’t.”
“These are peace-loving, simple vampires. Most will not be able to survive outside their credentis.”
“They’ll be fine.”
Nostrils flaring with irritation, the older paven turned to the others and muttered something in the ancient language. Alexander couldn’t make it out, but he guessed it had something to do with his defiant attitude. He liked that.
When the paven turned back to him, his pale blue eyes flashed with ire. “You will help us. You will do your part in this war we find ourselves in.”
“How? Protecting the credenti?” Alexander interrupted darkly.
“In a manner of speaking.”
Alexander sneered. “Fuck you.”