Eternal Hunger (Mark of the Vampire #1)

It was close to sundown when the brothers descended the stairs that led to the tunnels beneath SoHo. They had spent the day strategizing, attempting to locate Dare's hideout, and mapping out several sections of the city. It was a far cry from the captains-of-industry gig they'd been living for the past seventy years. Building companies and acquiring enough funds to last a hundred lifetimes, they were content, pleased even, to give up the day job and return to the battlefield once again.

Alexander dropped to the bottom step with an exaggerated thud, and breathed in the familiar cold, dusty scent. He itched to turn right and head for his cage. He needed to feed before they went aboveground, and like it or not, he could never get cow's blood down unless he was inside that steel piece of shit.

He scowled. He really was like a fucking dog, wasn't he? Addicted to his abusive metal master.

"It's been a long time since we've shed blood in the name of war," Nicholas said, coming up beside him and dropping a hand on his shoulder, steering him away from the tunnel leading to his cage.

"Too long," Lucian muttered, moving around both of them to take the lead down the dark passageway.

"I'd hoped we'd find a way to get back on the front lines," Nicholas continued.

"Just didn't think it would be in the service of the Order."

"The only ones we serve are ourselves," Alexander said.

Up ahead, Lucian chuckled. "Yeah, you keep telling yourself that."

A rare growl erupted from Nicholas. "Listen, Luca, once we engage in this fight, Alexander is your commander and you will come to heel."

Lucian turned then, started walking backward, one pale eyebrow raised. "I thought this was a democracy, boys."

"I'm not bullshitting you, Little Brother. Disrespect will not be tolerated. And we'll deal with you as we did the last time we went to war."

"What was that, then?" Lucian stopped, his brow furrowed. "First World War?

With the Aboriginal trackers? Damn fine and bloody time that was." He turned and began walking down the tunnel again, calling back, "You did wield that spear with perfect accuracy, Nicky, if my ass recalls it correctly."

Shaking his head, Nicholas chuckled softly, then caught site of Alexander, who remained impassive as he stalked past the guards. "Has the hunger returned, Duro?"

Nicholas asked. "You look ready to spring."

There was hunger there, Alexander thought, taking a quick inventory of his mood, but it was not just for blood--it was a hunger for her, the woman. And a weakness perhaps, as though he didn't feel entirely whole when she wasn't around, when he couldn't hear her voice . . . even across a phone line. "I'm worried about Sara," Alexander said, his tone as tight as the fists at his side. "If something happens ..."

"You have someone on her?" Nicholas asked.

"Yes."

"Who?"

"Dillon."

Nicholas uttered a grunt of surprise, his breath visible in the frosty air of the tunnels. "How did you make that happen?"

"There was a debt I requested be paid."

"Isn't Dillon working for that human senator from Maine?" Lucian called from up ahead. The vampire had impeccable hearing when he chose to. "Running his security detail?"

"They brought in a temporary replacement," said Alexander, picking up his pace, stalking past another set of guards and down the final passageway. He needed to get there, feel the cool metal weapons in his hands, feed his need to hunt in the only way that was available to him.

"Here we are," Lucian announced, placing his palm against the keypad and waiting for the identification system to read his print.

There were two loud buzzing sounds and then the metal door slid back and the brothers walked into the ten-by-ten room. Their gazes were quick as they checked each shelf to make sure their weapons stockpile was intact. Guns, knives, swords, bayonets, ammunition--from ancient world to modern world, there was everything and anything needed to extinguish the heartbeat of either human or Impure.

Alexander palmed an ancient Egyptian dagger, a favorite of his, and slipped it into his waistband, then grabbed two Glocks and turned to his brothers, raising an eyebrow. "Pick your poison, duros, and let's get to work. We need to find Dare ASAP or the both of you are going to be sunlight intolerant and bugged by the Order for all eternity."

"Nicely put," Nicholas said, loading himself down with ammunition.

"And no fucking pressure at all," Lucian muttered as he slipped a handmade tribal spear into the waistband of his jeans.

Sara rode the elevator to the lobby, wondering what, if anything, would be waiting for her when she stepped out of the metal box. Alexander had said she was being watched, but that was only during daylight hours, right? Did that mean he might show up to take her home? Be in the lobby, holding a bouquet of flowers like guys did at the airport sometimes. Get a grip, Donohue. Jeez. Sara laughed to herself and shook her head at her juvenile thoughts. Yeah, flowers and a ride home because they were both in junior high . . . The door to the elevator opened and she and several others walked out into the lobby. First thing she saw was the red blaze of sunset streaming in through the windows and hitting the white tiles on the floor. Sun isn't down yet, girlfriend. Even if he'd wanted to, Alexander wasn't going to be waiting for her.

She moved through the crowd and headed for the doors. So where was he, then?

Home, chatting it up with the hot little vampire in the room next to his? And if he was, she thought, pushing through the double doors, could she blame him? Beautiful, great personality, same species, and believed they were destined for each other. Throw in the killer breasts and she was really the perfect girl.

The blast of winter air hit her square in the face and she quickly pulled her coat closed at the neck. For one moment, she contemplated not going back to the house in SoHo, making it easy on all of them. After all, she wasn't a drama-loving kind of girl and the thought of engaging in some sort of love triangle just screamed pathetic, desperate chick. But she couldn't go home. It would be stupid and irresponsible, two things she was not. She could get a hotel room--but then again, what protection did that offer? She wasn't a fool. It was either Alexander's way or going to the police, and she'd missed the window on the latter. If she went to the cops now they'd call her a nut job and kick her vampire-loving ass out onto the street.

She walked to the curb, ready to hail a cab, but before her hand made it into the air, a sleek black car pulled up in front of her. She moved away from it, farther down the sidewalk, but kept glancing back to check on its progress. Suddenly, the back door opened and a woman got out. She looked like a lawyer or maybe someone who worked on Wall Street. She was dressed in business clothes, and had shoulder-length auburn hair, nicely curled under at the bottom. Her face was pale and oval shaped, and when she turned her gaze on Sara, her hazel cat eyes narrowed. "Good evening, Dr. Donohue."

Sara had her purse open and pepper spray in her palm in under five seconds. "Do I know you?"

"I'm assisting Alexander Roman."

As the woman walked toward her, Sara was grateful for the heavy street traffic.

"Assisting him with what?"

"You."

"You're the one watching me?"

She clipped a nod, then gestured toward the town car. "Please. Get in."

Sara laughed, but the sound held little humor. "Yeah, like that's going to happen."

The woman lifted one manicured eyebrow. "You're not going to give me trouble, are you?"

"I might."

The woman's face remained impassive, but her hazel eyes hardened.

"Listen," Sara began, releasing her NYC-tough-bitch attitude on the woman,

"whoever you are--"

"Dillon."

"Okay. Dillon. You're a woman, right?"

"Veana."

Great, another female vampire. "Whatever. How smart would it be for me to get into a car I don't recognize with someone I don't know?"

"You take cabs all the time, don't you? Same thing."

No. Not the same thing at all. Sara put her hands up and shook her head. "Thanks, but no thanks. I'll walk."

The veana cursed under her breath. "Alex didn't tell me what a pain in the ass you were."

Alex? How friendly were they? "That's too bad. Could've saved you the trouble of coming here."

Sara turned and started down the street, the icy wind finding its way inside her coat. For several seconds she heard nothing but street noise as she walked, then behind her, near her left earlobe, came the hushed words "Don't be a fool."

She stopped, whirled around, her heart pounding like a mouse with its tail caught in a trap. The female stood in front of her, breathing slow and easy.

How the hell?

Dillon cocked her head to one side and said in a low, deadly voice, "My assignment is to bring you back to the Romans' compound and I always complete my assignments. So if you're thinking of going anywhere else but there tonight, think again."

Fear pulsed in Sara's blood. Calm and dignified, with nary a hair out of place, Dillon didn't look all that big or tough, but Sara knew in her gut that she was as lethal as a gun to the head.

"You and Alexander . . . ?" Sara began, but Dillon knew where she was going and cut her off.

"We are nothing."

"Friends?"

"No."

Sara didn't buy it. "Then why are you doing this?"

"I owe him."

"He save your life in 'Nam?"

"No. Spanish Civil War."

"What?"

Dillon's face hardened. "Let's go, Doctor."

Sara didn't know if the female vampire was lying or telling the truth, but it didn't really matter. Her main objective was getting through any and all potentially dangerous situations so she could care for Gray. If she was gone, Gray's treatment would be put in someone else's hands, and she would never allow that to happen. This veana in front of her was on a mission to keep her safe, and apparently the vampire would not be dissuaded from it.

"Fine," Sara said, lifting her chin. "I'm going back to SoHo."

"Wonderful," Dillon muttered, turning around.

"But," Sara called out, "not in that car."

The female vampire stopped, growled, "Fucking New York women," then headed for the black town car.

After repositioning her shoulder bag, Sara turned and resumed her walk down 12th Street toward SoHo. Behind her, the gentle hum of a car's engine reminded her that Dillon followed at a snail's pace.