Eternal Demon: Mark of the Vampire by Laura Wright Read Free Book Online Page B

window and the view of a pair of late-night lovers sucking face across the street. “I need warriors.”
    •   •   •
    Hellen’s lungs expanded as she moved quickly through the dark village, the pain and pressure begging her to slow, but she ignored it. By this time, her sisters had to have arrived at Cruen’s compound. The enchanted coach would’ve seen to it, made sure they reached their destination. Her fiancé had to be pissed, and Hellen prayed the male wouldn’t take it out on Levia and Polly. She had to get there, and her only chance now was returning to Hell and to her father.
    She hadn’t made the mistake of thinking the vampire wouldn’t come after her. She knew he would. That male was determined to have her, determined to use her to get something back from Cruen. Or maybe it was just to punish him—the black-haired, crystal-eyed bloodsucker seemed to hate her betrothed.
    Whatever the reason for his thievery, Hellen hadn’t been about to wait around and see if he and her new mate could work things out. With a knee to the balls, she’d gotten her chance, and ran away from the castle as fast as she could manage. Rain soaked, she’d slipped through a cracked section of the gate, ripping her dress before heading for the hill and into the woods.
    It had been a moderately rugged terrain and the rain and lack of light were no help, but she’d managed. Her only regret was that she didn’t have her longbow. If the bloodsucker did manage to find her, it would come in handy. She’d make sure she got off a perfect shot.
    Between the eyes.
    No. Through the heart.
    Did bloodsuckers have hearts?
    Avoiding homes with lights blazing and heading back into the shadows, Hellen kept her body on high alert, her eyes, though relentlessly coated with rainwater, searching for the way back, the way home. Finding her way back to the Underworld and standing before Abbadon wouldn’t be met well, but the Devil would be hard-pressed to blame her for the abduction—and if she was very lucky, maybe even praise her for escaping and returning home.
    She hated the feeling that bloomed inside her when she thought of her father. He was the Demon King, vile and hated and cruel and without compassion—had sold his child to the highest bidder—and yet the need to feel his pride, even his love, had always been strong within her.
    All of it was moot, though. She wasn’t going anywhere if she couldn’t find a portal, and she’d been searching for quite a while. The portals into the Underworld had been created by Abbadon in case one of his citizens found themselves aboveground. No one knew exactly where they were. There were many, and they were undetectable by humans—by anyone other than a demon. They released heat, attracted a demon’s DNA, but so far Hellen had felt only the cold night and rain.
    She wondered where the dark-haired bloodsucker was, how close he was, and if he would punish her greatly if he got his hands on her again.
    A pinprick of lust shot through her.
    Idiot,
she thought, pushing on. Attracted to anger and power and unpredictability. Her father had raised her to respond to such prized qualities.
    The small village was dark and quiet, except for the constant patter of the rain. She kept moving, down the streets, keeping to the shadows, desperate to feel the heat of home. After rounding the square for the third time, she started to think about the impending daylight. Perhaps she should go now, before dawn, abandon this village for the next.
    But her thought, her burgeoning plan, dissolved in the sudden onslaught of warmth at her back. She whirled in its direction, sighed at its safe, familiar feeling. Rain continued to pelt her head, keep her clothes stuck to her skin, but she ran toward it, toward the small church and its graveyard beyond.
    The closer she drew, the hotter the air and the rainwater became.
It will be good to be home,
she thought, entering the graveyard,
even for a short time.
No matter how