Eternal Demon: Mark of the Vampire Read Online Free Page A

keeping pace with the carriage until it burst forth into an open field. Moonlight poured down overhead, spread its ethereal shards out over the overgrown expanse.
    No farther, my lady.
    In a burst of speed, Erion shot forward, made a quick right, and stopped dead in front of the horses. The beasts screamed as they came to a halt, rearing up, nearly braining him with their massive hooves. The demon inside Erion pulsed to get out, tame what was snorting and hissing in front of him, muzzle what was letting loose a cacophony of terrified screams inside the bride-white carriage.
    He smiled grimly. The terror was only beginning for his parcel.
    He leaped onto the footrest near the carriage door and gripped the handle. A flexible wall of dark magic pushed at him, tried to buck him off, tried to convince his mind that he was seeing a mirage, but Erion mentally shoved back at the sensation and yanked at the door.
    It wouldn’t budge.
    Not a problem. He enjoyed tearing the gift wrap off a parcel.
    Reaching up, he grabbed the metal bar on the roof of the carriage, swung back, and crashed his feet into the door. It went down with a thud. Another feminine scream pierced the night air, and the horses panicked and took off again, barreling across the field. Erion’s gaze was razor sharp now, but all he saw was a red blur with electric green eyes before he was hit in the chest and thrown backward.
    He landed on the ground with a teeth-shattering slam, something fierce and flooded with layers of skirt on top of him. He heard the horses scream and snort, saw out of his peripheral vision the coach clattering past, abandoning the meadow for the dark woods beyond.
    The Layers of Skirt spoke. “Before I kill you, I want to know just who the hell you are!”
    Wet grass and cold earth at his back, Erion’s brows descended over his narrowed gaze. The female sat astride him, had his arms pinned at his sides as though she were under the impression she had some kind of control in the situation. In truth, he could not only flick her off like a bothersome fly, but stretch her arms over her head and slit her throat with one fang, all in under a breath. But then he wouldn’t be able to feel her weight atop him. So for a moment he let her remain where she was.
    Miles and miles of shocking red hair, illuminated by the moon overhead, draped either side of his shoulders, and those inhuman eyes the color of emeralds in the brightest sunlight gazed down at him with equal parts scorn and I-want-to-rip-your-head-off.
    This female,
Erion mused, the organ between his legs pulsing with curiosity
, may be sixty-five inches of soft, round, sexual pleasure wrapped up in a hundred irritating layers of creamy white wedding costume, but she is clearly one fierce bitch.
    He had no doubt that she would kill him if he gave her the chance.
    If he gave her even an inch.
    With one smooth, swift roll, Erion reversed their positions. On her back, her arms pinned above her head by one of his hands, her hair splayed like a sunrise around her face, and her eyes flashing in the moon’s light, she hissed at him, struggled against him like a caged animal.
    “You have made a grave mistake, Male,” she said, her voice as deadly as her gaze.
    “We shall see,” Erion answered, his tone smooth and resolute as he slipped the other hand around her waist.
    She kicked at him, tried to get her knee up between his legs. “I am to be mated this night, you fool!”
    Erion chuckled softly. “It may need to be postponed.”
    “My betrothed will not look kindly on having his bride accosted,” she said through gritted teeth.
    “I am counting on it,” Erion said, releasing her pinned arms and yanking her closer to his body. His gaze traversed the moonlit landscape one last time. “Let us hope that Cruen cares enough to come after you. For if he does not . . . well, we are both doomed to a fate worse than death.”
    And from the cold, moonlit ground, Erion flashed away, his parcel still