Page 17 of Property of Mako
A golden and bejeweled chalice held by skeletal hands, overflowing with blood.
The Crimson Chalice Covenant. Their true mark.
“Fuck,” Dexter muttered, telling me he recognized it too.
“This isn’t just trafficking,” Crypt drawled ominously.
“This is curation,” I confirmed. What we were looking at was an elite, supernatural black market where humans weren’t just food—they were status symbols.
Now the rumors of the missing girls having certain traits made perfect sense. Legacy-blood humans. Virgins with psychic touch. Children of forbidden bloodlines.
After the small taste of Lyra the other night, I had felt invincible. It hadn’t taken me long to realize what I was tasting. Which meant her sister likely wasn’t a random abduction. These were calculated gatherings.
My fangs ached as my hands clenched with fury.
“Jesus,” Crypt breathed.
I could still smell them—faint traces of perfume and fear. As I slowly made my way closer to the stage, one scent caught me off guard. Familiar. Sharp.
Lyra’s scent.
No.
My dead heart began to race as I breathed deeply to determine where it was coming from. That in itself told me I’d seriously fucked up by going to her home that night—as if I didn’t already know. I hadn’t been able to stop myself, though. She’d been like a siren that I’d been unable to resist.
Unsuccessful at getting her out of my head with blood whiskey, I’d gone for a ride, only to find myself on the road that led to her house. When I’d parked my bike at the end of her driveway and walked up, I’d told myself I was just checking to make sure the Covenant hadn’t gotten to her because of her snooping.
Then I’d fucked up—I’d gotten too close to her. I’d been practically drunk on her scent alone. Imagine my surprise when I’d practically taken her on her front porch. Sex hadn’t interested me in ages. When you were on Earth as long as I was, it lost its appeal. Sad, but true. Yet one taste of her kisses and I’d lost my mind. My fangs had slid down, elongating hungrily, and I’d sunk them into the delicate flesh on her neck.
Her blood had washed over my tongue like a drug. When her orgasm hit her, I could taste it. It was like cinnamon and whiskey, and my head had spun. I’d never had anyone affect me like that.
Ever.
Before I’d lost the ability to make rational decisions, I’d withdrawn my fangs and sealed the openings. It was a shame to stem the flow of her delicious red aphrodisiac, but utterly necessary. It had also taken every ounce of my self-control—no wonder.
Shaking off the memory, I tamped down the frantic worry over a woman I barely knew that was clawing at my seams. Centering myself, I searched again for the scent I’d caught a whiff of. When I scented it again, I fought for calm. Then I frowned as disbelief slammed into me.
A deeper breath was followed by momentary relief.
No—not Lyra. Not quite. Similar. Younger.
Shit. My heart sank.
Lily. It had to be.
She’d been here and that was not good.
Dexter and Crypt followed me as I searched for the trail I was picking up. It grew stronger, and I crouched near the edge of the stage and found it—a faint streak of red. Not human blood. Not anymore. It had a shimmer to it. Branded blood.
That meant they’d marked her. Claimed her.
Holy fuck.
“Why does that smell like the chick from the other night?” Dexter asked, his tone full of trepidation.
“I think it’s her sister. She was obviously here. I was told they already had a showing. This proves it.” Swallowing the lump in my throat I refused to acknowledge, I pushed back the ancient memories that tried to flood my mind. Memories I’d done my damnedest to erase.
Slowly, I stood, every bone in my body tight with the kind of rage that had once led me to raze a French manor full of diabolical slavers two centuries ago for this very thing.
