Black Scar (6 page)

“Get out,” he
growled.

Logan turned on
her heel and rushed from the room, slamming the door behind her.

Chapter Six

For all his youth
and the fact he really was twenty-one, Marcus Steele had packed a lot into a
short time frame. Thropes were highly intelligent. Marcus managed to crowd four
years of university learning into six months. He’d always been a voracious
reader and had an extensive collection of rare books on philosophy, history,
and science. He loved old movies and classical music, but he also liked to play
video games—a stereotype of his generation. He’d been reluctant to ask Brennan
for a Wii, as he’d left the game console behind at the Thrope compound.
Conscious of his extreme youth in the presence of such older specimens, he
didn’t want to be pigeonholed as a wastrel who ate pizza, Doritos, and played
videos for hours on end. The image hit too close to home and had been the sum
total of his life for the previous six months.

When his older
brother approached him to make a sacrifice for The Pack, Marcus jumped at the
chance. At last he’d been asked to do something substantial, something that
mattered.

He leaned on the
solid oak cane Brennan had procured for him. He smiled cynically as his hand
gripped the silver wolf head handle. Turned out Brennan had a sense of humor.
Regardless, he was glad the damned splint had been removed. As Logan predicted,
he did have a slight limp. Maybe he always would.

Marcus walked
back and forth across the bedroom a few times to encourage feeling to return to
his leg. His arm still rested in a cast and sling. Walking to the window, he
opened the steel blinds.
 
Sun poured into
the room and washed over his body. Very strange the rays did not affect him
with his Vampire blood. Everything was a muddle, from his emotions, his body,
his health, his cravings, and his needs.

He thought back
to Logan’s narrative of her Faepyre beginnings. Marcus could hear the subtle
anguish in her voice when she’d described how her kind had been made to feel as
outsiders. The feelings were close to how he felt at the moment. Deep down, he
was no longer a Thrope, couldn’t even shift anymore. The gift of reading one’s
thoughts while they drowned in desire had also disappeared. Sex with a Thrope
could be frenzied and last hours. A male Thrope could lock inside a female and
fuck continuously. He also had the power of placing his partner into a relaxed
state to survive the frantic fuck-fest. Marcus couldn’t do that anymore either.
Not that he ever used his mind in such a way, as all his sex partners before
he’d been turned were men. They had the physical strength to survive a Thrope
sexual encounter.

Marcus inhaled
then blew out a deep, cleansing breath. What he’d noticed the last few days was
the peace and quiet. At night lying in bed, he could hear the gentle, musical
cadence of crickets and the sounds of ocean waves caressing the beach below.
Occasional gulls would cry overhead, but even that added to the serene
tranquility. Perhaps for the first time in his short life he experienced
harmonious stillness.
 

Marcus leaned
against the wall to take pressure off his throbbing leg. A sailboat passed by
the horizon. With his enhanced hearing he could hear the sails flapping in the
ocean breeze.

Life at the
Thrope compound could be described as noisy, disorganized, and chilly. Marcus
had no idea who his mother had been and did not care.
 
She turned out to be one of the many nameless
human women that were used for breeding. She didn’t even survive his birth.
Thropes could get a human female pregnant, but all offspring were one hundred
percent Thrope, none of this ‘half’ stuff. His father and Devlin’s had been
Pack leader. By the time Marcus had been born, his father neared the end of his
Thrope life span of three hundred and fifty years. He died when Marcus reached
five years of age. The event meant nothing. He didn’t know the man, had no
memories of any interaction at all. One hundred and fifty years difference
existed between his half-brother, Devlin, and himself. There were other
half-siblings in between, but Devlin chose him to be the Second.

No real family
units existed in Thrope packs. Children ran around like wild pups. No one knew
who sired most of the younger Thropes. They were born of frenzied multiple
matings with a vast number of partners in most cases, so who knew? Like dogs in
heat. Emotion didn’t exist between the members of the Pack or in the act of
sex. All they cared about was breeding the perfect Thrope. Devlin wanted his
pack to be the strongest and most devious of any Thropes, hence his experiment
of introducing Vampire blood into the line.

What a dismal
failure on so many levels.

Deegan had
stopped by yesterday with Tristan and introduced him. Marcus could feel the
love, respect, and the unbreakable bond between father and son. A stab of
jealousy pierced his unused heart. He never experienced that kind of blood bond
with family. To hear Deegan had a grandson, Lucius, was a surprise.
 
Lucius would be back to Bennington Bay next
week after staying in the U.K. the past three years. Tristan had the
classification of a Dhampyre and his son, Lucius, a Quarter.

Deegan’s visits
were for the purpose of trying to assimilate him into the Clan. He would tell
him snippets of history and the physicality of being a Vampire, but Marcus was
not in the frame of mind to absorb any information.

His thoughts
drifted to the ethereal, beautiful creature that had nursed him for the last
four days. He had not seen Logan since he kissed her yesterday. What in hell
possessed him? The kiss was all encompassing and beyond his understanding. When
he thought about it, he hadn’t kissed anyone before. His brand of sex didn’t
involve tenderness or compassion. He felt it yesterday as soon as his lips
touched her cool ones. Marcus groaned as he relived the passionate encounter.
His prick thickened. The kiss wasn’t enough; he wanted more. It merely teased
and stoked his lust to dangerous and unknown levels.

He wanted a
woman.

A rough,
sarcastic laugh left his throat. No woman would want him now he was quite the
monster with his hamburger face. The beautiful Logan would never want him
either. Life certainly played its little jokes.

****

Logan sat alone
in the kitchen nursing a cup of tea. Sunshine poured through the many windows
on the far wall facing the ocean. She sat in the shadowed protective corner
away from the harmful rays. The Fae blood she possessed protected her from the
worst affects of the sun, but why tempt fate? Fate, which seemed to be playing
a cruel joke. That kiss, she had thought of nothing else. The Bloodling was
very talented with his lips and tongue, she thought ruefully. When his full,
sensual lips touched hers, the blue-white flame that simmered deep inside
roared to life.

The back door
banged against the wall, and a man stepped inside the kitchen. His face
remained hidden under a hoodie, and he wore large navigator sunglasses. He
pulled the hood down and removed the glasses.

“Deegan! How is
this even possible? It’s near noon! The sun, your slumber...”

Deegan smiled
with his piratical, wicked grin and took a seat at the table. “I am the
de-facto guinea pig for Edward’s new invention, Solar Phasmatis. It is in the
early stages, but it may allow a pure-blood Vampire to move about during the
day when required, as long as they stay out of the direct sun.” Deegan dropped
the sunglasses on the table and ran his hand through his wavy, raven locks.

“You are taking a
hell of a chance!”

Deegan laid his
hand on top of hers and patted it. “Tut, love. I know what I am doing. You
sound like Raylene.”

“Your mate has
every reason to be worried. What about your missed slumber? A pure-blood needs
that daytime rest to rejuvenate.”

“This medication
is only for the occasional venture into early daylight. Perhaps at a later date
Edward will make improvements so it can be taken daily or at least more often.
As it is, Solar does aid in the rejuvenation process to a certain extent. Being
a Primoris, I am able to move about in late afternoon anyway. This gives me a
few more options.”

Logan took a sip
of tea, digesting the information. Thankfully, her Fae blood and physicality
allowed her to sleep at any time of the day.

“How is it the
Bloodling is not affected by the sun at all?”

“His name is
Marcus. Don’t refer to him as that, Logan.” Deegan’s penetrating silver-gray
gaze scanned her face. He tried to ascertain her emotions.
Good luck with that, Deegan.
“I have told Edward of this, and he is
stumped. This is new territory to us. You seem agitated, my dear. What is
wrong?”

Hmmm. He picked up on something. No use lying
.

“I wish to go
home. I am of no use here any longer. My brothers need my assistance in solving
this Concealment problem. My scientific skills are going to waste here as a
nursemaid for a blood sucking beast-boy.”

Deegan sat back
in his chair and regarded her with disdain and curiosity. She revealed far more
than she intended.

“You are
attracted to him.”

Logan held the
cup between her hands to draw comforting warmth. It wasn’t helping.

“It is worse than
that. There are signs of the Mate Bond, and I canna allow it.”

A thick, black
eyebrow arched in surprise. “Indeed? With Marcus. Does the fact his
breathtaking handsomeness has all been obliterated disgust you, or is there
enough left to stir your cold heart after all these years?”

The cup almost
snapped to pieces in her hands. Deegan was trying to get a reaction out of her.
She would not indulge him.

“He is a boy. A
child. Twenty-one years. Marcus has not lived. He is a confused lad in so many
ways. I cannot see to his Blood Lust needs, and he refused when I offered to
find him a male to see to his increasing desires for blood and sex.”

Deegan crossed
his arms. “So offer him a woman.”

Logan frowned.
The realization that she did not want anyone to see to Marcus’s needs troubled
her further. An erotic image flashed through her mind, Marcus sitting upright
on the bed, with her riding that magnificent cock of his. She shifted
uncomfortably in her chair.

“Logan, you are
old enough to be classified as an Ancient. It may be in your power to ignore
the Mate Bond. But why would you? You have lived long enough to know this
opportunity to find that one mate that we can bond with is rare. Why do you
fight it? Is it his extreme youth and hideousness? Talk to me. I want to help.”

Logan lowered the
cup to the table, but kept her hands wrapped around it.

“You know what
happened with my previous mate. He was killed, torn apart by a Thrope right in
front of me. And you wish me to align myself with one of those beasts? It is
not to be borne. I canna do it.”

Deegan’s face
softened, and he reached to take her hand. “Love, that happened two hundred and
fifty years ago. You must move on. Believe me on this, I know. I tried to fight
the Mate Bond with Raylene. The attempt turned out to be futile. In reality,
deep down I didn’t want to fight it, and neither do you.
Alone
is not a state Vampires or anyone with Vampire blood craves.
We feel deeply, passionately. To deny this is to deny yourself.”

For the first
time in decades since Logan swore off sex and a connection of any sort, tears
welled in her eyes and threatened to spill down her cheeks. Deegan lifted his
hand to cup her cheek affectionately. His thumb brushed past her trembling
lips.

“I do not know
the lad that well, and it is something I am taking steps to address. But in my
few chats with him, Marcus seems bright, intelligent, and despite his Thrope
beginnings, I sense honor and compassion. He will be a fine addition to the
Clan.
 
Do his ruined looks disturb you?”

“You know me
better than that, Deegan,” she whispered.

Deegan lowered
his hand. “All I ask is that you not dismiss the Mate Bond as yet. Stay and
face your fears. You are one of the most courageous women I know.”

Logan did not
feel very courageous at the moment. Deegan did speak the truth; she had to face
her fears. And she did dread intimacy on any level. But what she feared most of
all was—Thropes.

Chapter Seven

Returning to
Bennington Bay felt strange to Lucius Black. Granted, he’d been gone three
years and in Vampire time it seemed more like three months. Yet his reunion the
previous night with his father, Tristan, and grandfather, Deegan, had been more
poignant than he imagined it would be. Perhaps the fact that all three of them
had mates, which is known to ramp up emotions on all fronts, was the reason for
the overwhelming feelings.

Trevina. God, he
loved her. His Vina. He’d left her at their new beachfront home two kilometers
away where she would make it habitable and homey. Lucius informed his family
they would be living in Bennington Bay eight months out of the year while
spending the rest back in the U.K. where Trevina could visit her mother and
attend to her beauty salon business. He also shocked them by agreeing to take
up his responsibilities regarding Black Transports and duties to the Clan
itself.