Free Eternal Captive: Mark of the Vampire by Laura Wright Page B

said slowly and blackly, “Stay in the water.”
    “Where are you going?”
    “To find a way out of here.” With that, he turned and dove under the water. With great speed and precision, he swam toward the shore.
    Two hours later, after investigating every inch of the “island” and finding nothing but vegetation and more water, Lucian stood on the sand, his chest exposed to the warmth of the false setting sun, his white hair shifting in the manufactured breeze, and faced reality. He could no longer act cavalier and brazenly confident about his ability to get them off this plane.
    This was Cruen’s doing—this exquisite prison. It was obvious and purposeful and undeniably worrisome, and as night slowly descended around him, and Bronwyn continued to exist in the sea alone, stand onher rocky perch under the water, Lucian fought for calm inside himself. He was growing weary from hunger, and the scent of her—even with the mark upon her hand and the sizable distance between them—was demanding entrance inside his nostrils.
    Control was a funny thing. When you had somewhere to run to, to escape the call of blood, the need was no longer fierce. But without the escape hatch, desire chased you like a demon.
    The flickering jabs of ferocity unnerved him, sobered him. He wouldn’t allow her to see his concern or his hunger. Just as he wouldn’t allow her to tell him what the Beast had said, what he’d predicted would happen to her, even though he had a pretty good idea.
    He walked to the water’s edge. She was still out there, her unclothed form hidden beneath the water’s surface. Safe from his gaze, his need. For now.
    She had to be getting cold.
    He cupped his hands around his mouth and called, “Come out.”
    “Can’t,” she called back.
    “You can and you must. It’s growing dark.” He could practically hear her thoughts, her concern. “You can wear my shirt. It’ll cover…everything.” He took the extra-large button down and spread it out closer to the water, then walked away and kept his back to her.
    She was silent for a good minute; then he heard her swimming, coming toward the shore.
    It wasn’t his way. Chivalry and thoughtfulness. In his many years of life, Lucian Roman had considered only Lucian Roman. For the most part. But this
veana
, the princess, she needed his care. Even if it was done sparingly and cautiously.
    “Lucian?” she said after a few minutes, her voice closer now, perhaps just a few feet away.
    “Don’t worry, Princess,” he uttered. “Eyes down.”
    He wouldn’t look, but he wanted to. Hell, he wanted to so fucking bad he ached from nose to nuts.
    She was quick putting on the shirt, and in under a minute, she called out, “Okay.”
    He turned around, keeping his eyes off of her and those legs peeking out from under the white cotton that not so long ago covered the skin of his chest.
    “Why don’t you sit?” He gestured to a huge chunk of palm he’d ripped from one of the trees. “It’s not the lap of luxury or anything, but it’s something. It’ll keep your ass off the sand.”
    “Thanks.” She did as he offered, then pushed her knees up inside her shirt for warmth. And yet she continued to shiver.
    “You’re cold.”
    “It’s okay,” she said softly. “I’m fine.” The quiet defeat in her tone bothered him. Bothered him more than it should. She was cold and scared—and fuck, he wasn’t going to touch her.
    “Are you hungry?” he asked.
    She shook her head. “Not yet.”
    Good. Feeding her would be absolute hell. But he’d do it. If he had to, he’d do it.
    “I’m just tired,” she said.
    He felt her eyes on him, and he made the mistake of looking, of meeting her gaze. As always, her beauty was lush and undeniable, and had a strength he couldn’t relate to.
    “You go to sleep,” he said, turning back to the water, scanning the horizon, the length of beach, for anythingthat threatened. “I’ll keep watch. See if that brother of mine shows