“Yeah. When it’s—”
Why was he still talking to his mother? Dinner had come to an end twenty minutes ago, and impatience for action clawed at Mark.
Caster stood across from him in the mansion’s main living area, talking to his mother, Edie, and Riley’s mother, whose name he’d missed.
He guessed they had a lot to discuss, given everything that happened, but did they have to do it now?
“You are going to tell me what is going on, aren’t you?” Mikey’s subdued voice startled him, and Mark turned to his brother. He couldn’t read minds or decipher emotions with effortless precision like Caster, but he’d seen that look on his younger brother so much, he didn’t need to.
“Yeah. When it’s—”
“If you say, when it’s safe, I swear to the Goddess, I will kick your ass.”
His unexpected laughter drew Caster’s attention.
It took a lot of frustration for his brother to threaten violence.
Mikey had been the most sheltered of them.
They didn’t mean to do it, but he’d been too young to remember their mother’s overbearing nature, and Mark and Dean closed ranks around their brother, trying to protect him from the challenge their childhood had been.
“You’re an asshole.”
He grabbed Mikey’s arm before he could walk away. “I will tell you, I promise.” He waited for the familiar exasperated sigh that came without fail. “I need to take care of something right now. Meet me for breakfast tomorrow?”
Mikey smiled. “OK.” Then he narrowed his eyes. “Are you OK?” His voice lowered to a low whisper. “Don’t kill me. Just… you seemed a bit off earlier.”
“I’m fine.” It was a lie they both accepted.
He was so far from fine, he wasn’t sure he’d recognize it if he saw it again.
But like every time he said it, his brother played his role with little hesitation.
All questions fled, and he went back to Ben’s side.
Mark watched a much brighter smile overtake Mikey’s features, and he relaxed.
Ben seemed like a good friend. Perhaps he shouldn’t worry about Mikey too much.
“Ready?” Dean’s expression held none of the playfulness it always did. His Prime Alpha mask was in place.
He nodded and followed his older brother and Caster through a section of the house he hadn’t ventured to.
The familiar hallway lighting dimmed as they approached their destination.
The distinct sound of pain reached his ears, and he let his wolf through the barrier.
He stopped short of a transformation. This he needed to do in human form.
That revolting scent, one that had plagued his existence for more than a decade, permeated his mind, and he could do nothing to stop the growl rumbling out of his chest. The vampire leaned against a wall, unrestrained.
He turned to Caster, questions tumbling past the barrier in his mind.
“It’s not necessary.” Caster didn’t skip a beat.
Their prisoner’s attempted movement proved his point when Kyle’s arm reached out, pushing him against the wall, holding him there with little effort.
The giant bodyguard looked at Mark and nodded at him.
His control was total, and the prisoner was well aware of it.
Even with a mind consumed by the need to kill, he couldn’t help but be impressed.
“Tell him what you told me.” Kyle’s voice was low, the threat in it undisguised.
The vampire stared at him and scoffed, his contempt clear. Kyle’s fist connected with his jaw in a sickening crunch, echoing through the spacious room. Their prisoner grunted, his displaced jaw healing in the seconds it took for Kyle to pin him back against the wall.
“Pesky rapid healing,” Kyle said and punched him again, this time breaking the jaw.
It healed, and Kyle was ready to deliver another blow when the vampire raised his hands. “OK… OK… I’ll tell him.”
Kyle stepped back, crossing his arms over his massive chest.
The vampire looked at Caster as he spoke. “I swear I didn’t know, Your Highness.”
Kyle’s palm landed across his face with such force, one of his teeth shot out of his bloodied mouth like a projectile. “I said, tell him!” He pointed at Mark.
Mark held on to the scent of their prisoner’s blood, to the promise that he would soon feel its warmth on his hands. It was only when the vampire spoke that he registered the grip on his arm. Caster had been restraining him this whole time.
“I didn’t know what we were there for until it was happening.” He dared glance at Mark, but his remorse rang false. “Bastian said it was just recon.”
“For what?” Dean’s tight voice reached past the roar in his ears.
The vampire looked down. “The witch said to follow you.” He looked at Mark. “She didn’t say what for. We’d been following you for weeks.”
Mark stepped forward, and the vampire shrank further into the wall he’d braced against. The resignation in his blank look brought a sense of accomplishment even as Mark’s hand closed around his throat. Caster, Dean, and Kyle didn’t move. This was his kill. They were spectators at best.
“Wait…” The vampire’s voice was strained as he started to squeeze. “I know where she is…”
Even to his revenge-consumed mind, he recognized the value of the information the vampire dangled in his face. He stopped, but didn’t release his neck. The vampire took the breath denied him and glanced at Caster.
“Don’t look at me,” Caster said. “You’re dealing with him now.”
The fear in his eyes made Mark smile. “I want something in return.”
“You’re not going to be alive for too long anyway.” Each syllable flowed past Mark’s clenched jaw, his wolf’s impatience almost painful.
“Not for me.” He glanced at Caster. “If I tell you where she is, you have to protect my wife.”
Caster stepped closer. “Protect her from what?”
The vampire shook his head. “I don’t know what the witch has planned, but I know it will get very bad. Please…”
“Mark?” Caster asked.
“Where is she?” He tightened his hand when the vampire looked at Caster too long. “He will protect your wife, you have my word. Where is she?”
“She has a house in Eastern Romania.” He looked at Caster again. “That’s all I know.”
Free to get his vengeance, Mark allowed a partial transformation of his hands, his claws digging into the vampire’s neck.
Blood flowed through the wounds to coat his hand and seep through the white shirt, staining it a deep red.
The severe injury started to close around his claws, a consequence of the Born-Vampire’s rapid healing.
He pulled them out, and the vampire, all too aware he couldn’t escape his fate, didn’t move as he plunged his claws back in with so much force, half his head fell from its tether, dangling on his torn neck, brushing against his shoulder.
Then Mark punched through his chest, enclosing his beating heart in his fist. He squeezed, reveling in the way the action increased the sputter of blood gurgling from his torn throat.
He pulled the organ out of his chest and stepped back, allowing the vampire’s body to crash to the ground with a thud.
He took a moment to stare at the organ in his blood-coated hand.
It pulsed once, stilled, and he let go, allowing it to join the dead body it once occupied.
One down, five to go.