Eternal Hunger

20

Ethan Dare had a love affair with the mafioso. He thought the ways they did business, carried on relationships, and handed out punishments were perfection personified. And so when he’d hatched the plan to bring down the Eternal Order, he’d adopted many of their traditions, one being their particular way of dealing with a problem employee—or in Ethan’s case, a problem recruit: dark restaurant, large table, hidden weapons.

“You have two objectives,” Ethan began, his gaze connecting with each of the six recruits at his table. “To find and recruit other Impures. And to impregnate humans, Impures, and, if we’re very lucky, Purebloods. My question is: Why isn’t the latter happening with greater speed?”

One recruit, Grevon, a short half-breed with black hair and eyes the color of snow downed his scotch and soda before answering, “Pureblood DNA repels our own.”

Ethan pinned the little shit with an ice-cold stare. “That’s because you’re not keeping them in a state of desire for the moments following release.”

“You have granted us some power, Commander, but it is nowhere near as strong as yours. At the moment of release we are weakened, and we cannot hold on to the control we had over the veana’s mind.”

A large male recruit to Ethan’s left grunted into his plate of rigatoni. “Speak for yourself, Grevon.”

Grevon hissed at the male. “I am, and for several others sitting here.” He turned to Ethan and shrugged. “We need more power, Commander. We need you to give it to us if you want this job done with greater speed.” The male crossed his arms over his chest. “I suggest you go to the Supreme One and—”

The shot was barely heard over the evening restaurant chatter, and Grevon had the courtesy to drop ever so swiftly headfirst into his veal piccata, so that no one but the five remaining recruits noticed the hit.

It was a thing of beauty.

Ethan smiled at each one of his remaining Impures, reveled in the barely hidden fear that lit their eyes. “I want more Pureblood females and I want them in swell. If anyone here is too lazy or too chickenshit to make that happen, I suggest you leave right now.”

No one moved, not even a muscle twitch, and Ethan grinned. They were either willing to do whatever he asked of them or not about to stand up and show him their backs. To be honest, Ethan didn’t care which it was, he just wanted blind devotion, and with the example before them—a fellow recruit’s head lolling in his plate—Ethan was willing to bet he’d have a few Pureblood females in his house by tomorrow night.

Dinner and drinks with the boys was damn good fun.

He was about to slide the gun he held between his legs into his coat pocket when he scented something among the perfume and the tomato and garlic. He was an Impure, true, powerless for most of his life, but when he’d joined with the Supreme One, drank from the paven’s ancient vein, ingested the pure and powerful blood, he’d been granted powers beyond his station, and sniffing out the enemy was one of them.

Ethan cocked his head to the side and inhaled deeply. There were pavens near, Pureblood, old blood, and if he wasn’t mistaken, one of them was morphed and on the hunt.

Hidden in the shadows near the back entrance of Cipriani’s Italian Restaurant, the Roman brothers gathered, ready to spring. His hand on the Glock at his lower back, Alexander watched as Dare and several of his recruits sat at a table chatting it up like they were having a tea party.

“This should be an easy kill,” Lucian muttered.

Alexander glanced over at his brother. “You sound disappointed.”

“I am,” Lucian snarled. “I was looking forward to . . . I don’t know—this is bullshit.”

“What?” Nicholas asked in a harsh whisper. “What is it you want, Luca? An epic battle?”

“Hell, yes!” Lucian hissed.

Nicholas shot Alexander a beleaguered eye roll, then turned back to his younger brother. “I’ll engage you in a little blood sport later, all right? Let’s just end this Impure jackass, drop him at the feet of the Order, and get our lives back.”

Lucian frowned. “Fine.”

“On my signal, then, boys.” Focusing all of his attention on the room before him, Alexander was about to lower the lights and change the mental frequency of the patrons and staff in the restaurant, when it was suddenly done for him. On alert, he whirled back to his brothers, but even before they shook their heads Alexander knew it hadn’t been them. Time slowed and the mélange of scents that hummed in the air ceased to exist. Crouched and ready for whatever was coming his way, Alexander locked eyes with Dare, who seemed to know right where he stood in the shadows.

Beside Alexander, Nicholas spotted something, someone, in Dare’s group and let out a feral growl. “How the hell did he—”

“Move in!” Alexander commanded. “And don’t touch Dare. He’s mine.”

In a rush of muscle and movement, the three advanced on the scene, Alexander in the lead, his speed unmatched by his brothers. Time barely existed, and the minds of the patrons were temporarily shut off as Alexander stalked forward, disengaging the safeties on the Glocks in his fists. But before Alexander hit tableside, Ethan Dare pulled his own gun and fired. He hit the eldest Roman in the shoulder with a sharp rip of flesh.

“Fuck. You.” Alexander raised the Glocks and fired—one, two, three shots, straight at Dare’s heart. But the strange Impure was quick—eyes shut, arms spread-eagle style around his crew, and in a breath, he was gone—Alexander’s bullets hitting leather.

“What the hell just happened?” Alexander roared, staring at the now empty table.

“Trainer was with them,” Nicholas said, nostrils flaring. “Did you see him?”

Alexander didn’t answer. As long as Trainer stayed away from Sara, he didn’t give a shit about who the skinny human hung out with. He was more concerned with Ethan Dare’s abilities. “Where did they go?”

“How did they go?” Nicholas said, his gaze still focused on the chair Tom had been in only moments ago. “Only morphed Purebloods can flash like that. And only outside.”

“Dare is an Impure, isn’t he?” Lucian interrupted, glaring at Alexander like he’d left something out of the battle plan.

“I don’t know what he is,” Alexander uttered, motioning for them to follow as he headed for the back door of the restaurant, his shoulder leaking blood. “But this job just became a helluva lot more interesting.”

“Well, there you have it, Luca,” Nicholas said dryly as Alexander dipped into his mind and returned normalcy to the restaurant, staff, and patrons. “Seems as though you’ll get your epic battle, after all.”