Black Scar (10 page)

Marcus picked up
the Wii off the floor and sent it careening toward his brother. He ducked, and
the game console smashed against wall.

“Get out, before
I rip
your
face off!”

Devlin held up
his hands, turned, opened the door and left the room.

Flopping back on
the bed, Marcus laid an arm over his eye in exhaustion. A few tears snaked down
his cheek.

Chapter Ten

Logan could not
believe they all sat around a dining room table about to feast on a roast beef
dinner like nothing had happened. Deegan sat at the head, and going around to
his left sat Raylene, Tristan and his soon-to-be wife, Katrina, Lucius and his
mate, Trevina, herself and Brennan.

Small talk broke
out concerning Tristan and Katrina’s upcoming nuptials. Logan was surprised to
hear after the wedding there would be a private Formator ceremony with
immediate family. Tristan and Katrina would be turned by Deegan to seal their
bond for eternity. A sharp shaft of pain rippled through her. Allen did not
want to be turned, and it had broken her heart to know she would only have a
few decades with him. Turned out, she did not get even that. Glancing at the
couple, she saw their obvious devotion and desire for each other, which sent a
wave of longing through her.

“How can you all
sit here and calmly talk of weddings and roast beef when Marcus has been
kidnapped?” she cried.

The table grew
quiet. Deegan continued to heap slices of blood-red roast onto his plate.

“I have a call
out to Devlin Steele. There are protocols to this, Logan. We cannot storm his
compound like we’re a special-ops team. If I do not get a response by tomorrow,
Tristan, Lucius and I will pay them an unannounced visit late in the
afternoon.”

“Damn right.”
Lucius growled in a low, threatening tone.

“He was taken
against his will. You know this, Deegan.”

Deegan reached
for the mashed potatoes and heaped a couple of spoonfuls on his plate.

“We know nothing
of the sort.”

Logan could not
control her emotions. This was a rather disturbing prospect, as Faepyres were
quite adept at hiding their feelings.

“His cane was
found on the walk, and how did he leave? Teleportation? No vehicle is missing.
I don’t understand why you do not have CCTV cameras covering every inch of the
properties...”

“Logan, I am able
to have one meal a week, and I would like to enjoy this one. My dear,
everything is well in hand. We will not abandon Marcus. We will obtain an
answer one way or another, I promise you.”

Everyone around
the table looked at her, some with impatience, and others with sympathy. Tears
formed in her eyes again. Trevina took her hand and squeezed. There was so much
left unresolved between her and Marcus. What if he did decide to return to his
Pack? Once again, she had served up her heart to be broken.

****

The dining area
grew silent as soon as Marcus walked in and grabbed a tray. He stood and gazed
about the large room. Half of the people stared at him with revulsion while the
other half looked away. He walked over to the food. He really wasn’t hungry,
but be damned if he would hide in his messy room. Stainless steel trays of
vegetables and slices of pork roast beckoned, so he took a little of each.
Jesus, this room resembled the dining area at Alcatraz. How appropriate, it
felt like prison. Screaming toddlers ran up and down the length of the dining
room, effectively ignored by the adults. Marcus scooped corn onto his plate and
wondered how many of the children running wild were Devlin’s. As the Alpha, he
was required to breed and often. He had witnessed his brother once with a woman
a few years back. Devlin performed the act with a cold and calculating manner,
just as he approached everything else in his life.
 

Marcus turned and
scanned the dining room when he spotted a couple of his ... friends? No, not
even friends were part of pack life.

He sat down, and
Steve grabbed his hand in a brief gangsta-type acknowledgement. Reaching for
the salt, Marcus asked, “Where is Ethan? I haven’t seen him.”

If Marcus had
anything close to resembling a friend, it was Ethan. He was also his
fuck-buddy, as were a couple of other guys at this table, but they were so used
to hiding their preferences no sexual undercurrent passed between them.

Steve glanced
about the room, and then leaned close to Marcus. “He was put down.”

Marcus dropped
the salt shaker. To be put down like an abandoned dog in a pound was the height
of insult and one of the severest punishments. Only the Alpha could make this
decision, and he knew Devlin did not make the decision lightly.

“Why? When?” he
managed to croak.

“Ethan had been
caught behind one of utility sheds with an outsider. A man he met on a regular
basis,” Steve whispered. “Caught in mid-thrust. He’d been interrogated, but
didn’t give any of us up. He and this guy—Ethan was in love with him. He had
made plans to leave the compound and build a new life. He was put down three
days ago.”

A high-pitched
buzzing tore through Marcus’s brain. He pushed away the tray of food.

“We have to be
extra careful now. We are going to try and get together tomorrow night in the
usual spot. You're welcome to join us,” Steve said.

Marcus shook his
head. “No. Not interested.”

“Jesus, man, is
there anything they can do for your face? It’s kinda hard to look at...”

Marcus stood and
pushed the chair back with such force it fell over.

“Then don’t
look.”

He strode from
the dining room.

****

Back in his room,
Marcus took an inventory of the first twenty-one years of his existence.
Thropes lived a Spartan life, and material objects held no deep meaning any
more than other people did, including members of their own families. What
family? His ancient Thrope father died when he was barely walking. His mother,
some unknown female used and tossed aside, died giving birth to him. His
half-brothers were virtual strangers, even Devlin. He could not recall one
significant conversation with any of them.

He thought this
existence normal until he stayed with the Black’s. Mutual love, esteem, and
consideration ruled their relationships, along with desire, passion, and lust.
He could not help but observe how Deegan, Tristan, and Lucius revered and
respected their mates. They were forever touching them, holding them close as
if to protect them. When Lucius offered his blood, Marcus felt the deep, solid
connection Lucius had with his mate, Trevina. He would die to defend her,
shield her from any harm. He had also felt the link that had formed between
himself and Lucius.

Such emotions had
been overwhelming Marcus since he was turned. It seemed he longed for just such
a connection as well. Perhaps he found it in Logan MacNeil. What did it matter?
She did not want him.

Marcus opened the
closet and reached for the duffle bag on the top shelf.
Fuck this.
He yanked open his dresser and threw the duffle on the
nearby bed. He grabbed handfuls of his wrinkled clothes and tossed them on the
bed.

Fuck everyone.
He should become a Rogue, go hide in the damned
mountains like a hillbilly hermit. Surround the place with barbed wire and buy
a pit bull that would gnaw the leg off anyone who stepped on his property. Get
the prerequisite rusted-out car up on cement blocks for a lawn ornament...

A soft knock on
his door interrupted his maudlin thoughts. He marched to the door and threw it
open. A petite woman with hair the color of autumn leaves stood before him. She
gazed at him steadily, not even reacting to his hideousness.

“Second? I am
Daniela McCann. May we have a word?”

Marcus sighed and
held out his arm in invitation. The woman stepped into the room, and Marcus
slammed the door hard. She never even flinched. He glared down at her; she
couldn’t be any more than three inches over five feet, if that.

“Who the hell are
you?”

Her small hands
caressed her mid-section. “I carry your pup.”

Marcus’s insides
lurched. How pathetic, he didn’t even recognize the woman. Yet, why would he?
He took those women the Thrope way, from behind. Never even saw their faces,
nor did he speak to them. He did his breeding a couple of weeks after he had
been turned into a Vampire. At the time, he still felt like a Thrope in a lot
of ways. Not anymore.

“What do you want
of me, Daniela?” His voice sounded weary to his own ears.

“I prefer to be
called Dani.” She glanced at his bed, the clothes and duffle bag in a heap.
“Are you leaving? If so, I ask you to take me with you. I no longer wish to
remain here.”

Marcus stepped
closer to Dani. “I sense you are not human, but I cannot quite tell if you are
a Thrope.”

“What does it
matter? If you leave, let me go with you. I do carry your...”

“Child. Baby.
Don’t say pup. I hate that term.”

A slight smile
curved about her full lips. “In truth, I do as well.”

Marcus crossed
his arms. “You are aware I am a Vampire? I may have been born a Thrope, but
little remains of the Wolfen creature I once was.”

She nodded. “I
have heard the talk. The great sacrifice of the Second, allowing his blood to
be tainted for the good of the Pack. I also heard you were injured in an
attack. Gossip states the head blood-sucker disfigured you to keep you in
line.”

A short burst of
cynical laughter left his throat. “Yeah, well. Not true. Look, Dani, I don’t
know what in hell I am going to do. If I do leave, I’ll make sure you come with
me. That’s all I can promise for now.”

“Thank you.”

Marcus opened the
door. “Good night.”

She nodded and
left the room. Marcus closed the door, his hand still gripping the handle. Now
what? Take to the hills with a pregnant whatever-she-is?
How to react.
Laugh? Cry? Tear the room apart?

Fuck it. He was
going to bed.

Chapter Eleven

The door to his
bedroom banged against the wall, bringing Marcus out of a deep sleep.

He opened his
eye. Devlin stood at the end of his bed with arms crossed. His expression,
though guarded, looked irate and dark.

“The Blacks are
here. Did you call them? They did call here yesterday. I did not return it.”

Marcus snatched
his eye patch off the end table and put it on. He gazed at the window. The sun
sat high in the sky. “What is the time?”

“It is one in the
afternoon. Answer me: did you call these blood-suckers?”

Marcus threw back
the blanket. He was naked and hard as an iron pike. The Blood Lust had returned
in full force. Blood and sex were all his thoughts were full of. His arm still
throbbed in pain.

“No.”

Devlin scoffed,
his gaze sliding down to Marcus’s erection. “Look at the state of you. You no
longer have any control over yourself, do you? You have become one of ...
them
.”

Devlin said the
word ‘them’ with loathing and disgust.

“Get dressed and
meet me in the office. And do something about that.”

Devlin strode
from the room, banging the door shut behind him. Marcus stood and grasped his
aching prick. While he stroked, he wondered—why in hell had he slept so long?

****

Ten minutes later,
Marcus entered Devlin’s spacious office. By the opposite wall stood Deegan,
flanked by Tristan and Lucius. They made a formidable trio. All three were
dressed in black, how appropriate. Devlin sat behind his desk. Marcus decided
to remain standing.

“So what is the
reason behind this unforgivable breach? No one approaches The Compound without
being invited.” Devlin sneered.

Deegan smiled,
though it held no warmth. “Really? And yet you dared to step on my property to
take Marcus. And let us not forget what you did to Tristan’s mate.”

Tristan snarled,
his fangs fully elongated. Obviously, Katrina’s kidnapping had not been
forgotten or forgiven.

“Marcus is not a
pet for you to keep about your house for amusement,” Devlin snapped.

Deegan laughed.
“That is rich coming from you. Yet, you yourself treat him as one. Keep him in
this sterile kennel, breed him. You turn my bile.” Deegan turned to face him.
“Marcus, all we want is for you to make a choice. We will respect it whatever
it may be. You cannot straddle both worlds, lad. It is not the way of the
Shadow World. The choice must be made now. Either remain here or come with us
and join the Blackthorne Clan.”

Christ. No pressure.
He glanced at the Blacks. If he chose them he would
be embracing his Vampire side and would no longer be a Thrope. His brother,
Devlin, would not welcome him back to the Compound. Why did the Blacks feel
more like brothers to him than his own did?