His brain burned, his throat too.
Alcohol moved through Gray Donohue's veins at a hectic pace, gripping every inch of muscle and skin.
It wasn't a cure-all, but, combined with the deafening sounds of the house band, Cage, it tamped down the voices in his mind.
Instead of barks he heard whispers.
For the past month he'd searched the city, even Long Island, for a club he could get lost in at night, a club that drowned out the voices of others. Equinox was it. Auditory perfection-or as close as he was going to get. And night after night he went there to drink, to fuck, and to sleep-to forget that he'd ever wished for the memories of the fire that had taken his father's life to be gone from his mind.
Shit, he'd give anything to be catatonic again.
"Wakey, wakey, little brother."
Gray's eyes snapped open and he snarled at the voice, a strident growl in his ear. It didn't belong to any brother of his
-it belonged to his sister's mate, Alexander Roman, and it had been there before, two months before, searching for the debilitating pain of past trauma, retrieving and eliminating each thread of it through his blood until it was as if it had never been.
Alexander had the gift of speaking into another's mind, while Gray had the hidden curse of not being able to turn off while Gray had the hidden curse of not being able to turn off the voices of anyone and everyone around him.
Pretty much yin and yang from hell.
Pushing out of the booth near the back of the club, Gray faced both the dark-haired vampire and his acidic, nearly albino brother. He'd hoped the pair wouldn't be able to track him down, but he knew it was a lost cause. Especial y for Alexander. His sister Sara's mate would do anything to make her happy.
Even trail a newly discovered Impure who had made it crystal clear he wanted no part of their clan.
Gray hovered around six foot, not exactly skyscraper tal like the Roman brothers, but what he lacked in height he made up for in muscle. Another way to shut out the noise.
Big fat weights and an iPod cranked up to eardrum-busting loud.
"Not in the mood, boys," he yel ed over the heavy-metal din of Cage.
"This is getting old," Lucian shouted at Alexander. "Why do we have to babysit this kid?"
Alexander tossed his brother a fierce glare.
"Oh, right." The near-albino with the fierce almond eyes snorted. "Relatives."
Ignoring Lucian, Alexander focused his gaze on Gray.
"We were supposed to be training thirty minutes ago."
We. There was no we. Why couldn't this bastard get that?
Thankful y, Lucian and Nicholas didn't give a shit about pul ing him into their family, into their training schedule. It was Alexander alone who kept trying to make him into a warrior, trying to get him to fight for their cause. In the warrior, trying to get him to fight for their cause. In the beginning, after Alexander had taken the memory of the fire from his mind, Gray had given the paven his time, his brawn, even his al egiance. Hell, what else could he do?
Alexander had given him an existence, al owed him to feel again, know desire and lust.
That is, until the telepathic bul shit had set in.
Gray grinned. And Alexander wanted him to fight his war?
Didn't the Roman brother know he had a war going on of his own? A secret war-inside his motherfucking head?
Again.
"You're wasting your time here," Gray yel ed, as the crowd of a hundred or more in front of them started slam dancing.
Alexander didn't even hesitate. "No."
Gray cocked his head. "You're not going to pul that 'If you're going to live under my roof' bit, are you?"
He shrugged. "If you act like a balas, you'l get treated as one."
"Shit," Lucian yel ed, loud enough for the pair of females in front of them to turn around and give them the once-over.
"How about I pul the 'drag him by the hair like a little girl thing.'"
"Lucian," Alexander said through gritted teeth, skimming a hand over his skul -shaved head. "Shut it already!"
"Why should I? He's been acting like a little bitch for two months. Why you unlocked his mind for this bul shit is beyond me."
Gray laughed. "Damn right! Maybe you should've left Gray laughed. "Damn right! Maybe you should've left things as they were, Alex."
Leaning in near Gray's ear, Lucian snarled, "Hey, I could send you back to oblivion if you'd like."
"Stop, both of you," Alexander commanded, his tone war room heavy now. He eyebal ed Gray. "Come with us now."
"And if I don't?" Gray countered.
"You will," was al Alexander said before he turned around and headed toward the door of the club.
Cage's final song ended abruptly with a shattering clang on the drums.
Voices came at Gray like a hundred predatory mosquitoes. But inside the hum he heard two distinct voices.
"Because I don't want to have to drain my mate's little brother. Again."
Alexander. Real pissed, real worried.
"Worthless Impure."
Lucian. Clear and disgusted and . . . true.
Nicholas landed on the exterior observation deck of the Empire State Building, his arms wrapped excessively tight around his companions.
Especially her.
Her.
The wind whipped over the glass enclosures, sending her blood scent straight into his nostrils, teasing him, enticing him. His fangs elongated in his mouth. What was it with this veana? Why did he want to tear the clothes from her body and play doctor? His hands curled into fists, bunching the rough fabric of her coat between his fingers, wishing it was her hot, smooth skin. How did she have this power over him? How had Dare managed to gift it to her?
"Make no mistake," he uttered, his mouth dangerously close to her neck. "I did that for the boy."
"Yeah," she said, pushing away from him. "I got it."
When she reached the railing a few feet away, she turned, no doubt expecting the boy to have fol owed her. But Ladd remained, clinging to Nicholas's leg like it was a lifeline, and Nicholas let him, even put his hand on the balas' s head. Hell, it wasn't the boy's fault he'd been brought into this bul shit.
The Mets cap had come off somewhere back in the al ey, and under the bright light of the moon Nicholas saw the veana ful y-her perfect face, those large tragic eyes, and her long hair, pale as beach sand flying about her shoulders in the wind. He itched to touch it, even imagined it wrapped around his fist as he pulled her in for a taste. Goddammit!
Goddamn HER! His lower half stirred and he growled at the effect she had over him.
"So, what was that?" he said. "Did you piss off Dare, or was that thing hiding in the al eyway another guest of Mondrar?"
The veana said nothing, her gaze dropping to the boy every few seconds as though she wasn't sure if Nicholas was going to keep his hand on the balas's head or drop it to the child's neck for a quick snap.
"Or was it the Order?" Nicholas continued. "They looking for you?"
"Ladd," she said, ignoring Nicholas altogether, "you want to come over here?"
The boy stared at her, but didn't move.
"Did you break out?" Nicholas pressed. "How many years of hard labor do you have left?"
She flashed him her fangs. "You real y like hearing yourself talk, don't you?" Again, she cal ed to the boy,
"Ladd? Are you okay?"
Nicholas kept at it, hoping she would crack or get so pissed off she'd let the whole story rip. "Are you on the run, veana?"
"Goddammit!"
"Are you?"
"Yes!"
Finally. If she was connected to Dare, maybe he could get a location out of her or a meeting place. His tone smoothed out. "And the Eyes? Did they introduce you to Dare?"
"The only answers I'm bound to give you, paven," she said through clenched teeth, "are about the boy and his mother. I've done that. I'm done here."
His eyes narrowed. "What does that mean?"
"I did what Mirabelle asked me to do. Bring the boy to his father. I'm done."
"You're not done until I say you're done."
Her gaze dropped again. "Ladd, it'l be al right, I swear."
The instinct to rip into her flesh with his fangs was as strong as the desire to pleasure her with them. "Where. Is. Dare?"
"I don't know who you're talking about."
He looked at her with true disgust. "There are not many females on this earth who would agree to use a balas as bait."
Her face went white as a snowfall, and her cheeks pulled inward. But it was her eyes that gripped his soul and twisted, those large brown mirrors that showed a raw misery he completely understood. He knew what had made him look at the world like that, but what had she seen-or done?
She looked down and faced the balas, her tone gentle but resolute. "Listen, you'l be okay. Safer than with me, I promise you."
Ladd clung to Nicholas's leg.
She backed up along the railing. Slowly, the city lights spread out in back of her. She pointed a finger at Nicholas.
"Take care of him or I swear I'll come after you."
Nicholas laughed. "Where do you think you're going to go, veana? And how are you going to get there? You can't flash-you haven't gone through Meta. I can tell."
"No." She shook her head. "I'm not going to flash." She stepped back another three feet, this time into a weak, but undeniable ray of day's first light. "But you are."
Whipping around, Nicholas saw the very raw edges of daybreak. He shot back to face her, stared into eyes that may have carried deep pain, but also rendered an undeniable strength.
"I wil see you soon, veana." Then he flashed, the boy firmly affixed to his side.