Lucian had a hard-on for violence tonight.

Bred out of an eye-popping, bal -busting few days, he wanted nothing more than to bring down the one piece of shit who had started the whole fucking mess in the first place.

Nicholas had gone in search of his veana and the balas, and Lucian would go with Alexander to find the mess maker himself. This was not just a hunt and kil mission anymore however; this had upgraded to ful -on torture and disembowelment.

He eyed his tomahawk propped up against the wall. That could hack into some serious bone.

Grinning, he grabbed his clothes from the back of the chair. He was pul ing on a pair of black jeans and zipping up his fly when there was a knock on his bedroom door.

Alexander was way early, but maybe he wanted to get a jump on things.

He pulled back the heavy wood and was more than a little surprised by what he saw. Or whom he saw. "Don't have time for a social cal right now, princess."

Bronwyn Kettler didn't grin or rol her eyes, or shoot him a sarcastic response as she normally did. She took a breath and said, "I gave Alexander the news about Ladd."

"He told me," Lucian said, eyeing her. She didn't look so good. In fact, she looked a little pale, tired. "I am sorry for good. In fact, she looked a little pale, tired. "I am sorry for the balas, our DNA in his tiny body. It is a fate I would not wish on any vampire, Impure or Pureblooded."

"I need to talk to you." She closed her eyes for a moment and gripped the doorjamb. "Can I come in?"

He was on her in an instant, taking her against him as he helped her inside. Jesus, she weighed nothing. "What's wrong with you?"

She settled in her seat and again took a breath. This time, when her eyes opened, she smiled. Well, forced a smile was more like it. "I'm fine. Just been working a lot."

Lucian didn't buy it. "Are you il ?"

"No."

But the moment she said the word, something unseen hit her in the belly. She doubled over and sucked in air.

Lucian knelt in front of her. "You need a doctor. Why did you leave your credenti when you felt like this?"

She didn't respond, just moaned softly.

Goddammit. He tipped her chin up. Her eyes were closed, her face bone-white. "Have you fed today?"

Her eyelids fluttered.

"Bronwyn!"

Nothing. God, he hated this. What the hel had she done to herself? He cupped her face. "When was your last feed?"

"A month," she uttered.

"What?" he roared. She didn't mean it-couldn't. A veana could go without blood for a week, maybe two, but after that her body would go into shock, deep, painful starvation. "Are you fasting? Is this coming from the Order?"

"No. Just me." She gripped her bel y and flinched. "I've

"No. Just me." She gripped her bel y and flinched. "I've tried to take rations. Can't get the blood down."

"You are ill." He lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed. "I'm going to cal Leza."

But when he tried to release her, she gripped him, her head tucking into his neck. At first, Lucian didn't know what she was doing; then her scent slammed into him, desperate and starving, and he realized she was sniffing him.

Fucking sniffing him.

Without thinking, he bit into his wrist, waited for the blood to climb to the surface of his skin, then slipped his arm between their bodies, right up under her chin.

He heard a savage growl and she broke free of him. Her eyes glittered at the sight of his bright red blood. She lowered her head, and Lucian watched as her tongue drifted out, swiped at the blood on his wrist.

"Oh God," she uttered, her chest going up and down so quickly it looked as though there were an invisible string attached to it.

Lucian's skin went tight and the bulge in his pants screamed to be released. But he barely had time to register the thought. Bronwyn's hands shot out, gripped his wrist, and pulled it up to her waiting mouth.

The moment her fangs plunged into him, Lucian felt as though a bolt of electricity had hit his entire body. Shocking, painful, and intensely erotic. No wonder he'd avoided feeding a female-he'd have screwed every single one of them whether they'd wanted him to or not.

His own fangs dropped and he fought the urge to rip His own fangs dropped and he fought the urge to rip away Bronwyn's purity cloths and bite into her pale neck, taste her-final y taste her. But she needed him, his blood to regain her strength-not the other way around.

She drank, fed, suckled until Lucian felt almost light-headed. And when she released him, dropped back on the bed with her eyes closed and the color returning to her cheeks, he felt something move through him. It was snakelike in its progress, slow and calculating, and for the first time in his long life Lucian felt a twinge of fear.

Then he was pulled, yanked from his room and dropped at the mouth of a cave.

Lucian had never seen the Order, but he was pretty sure that the paven who stood in front of him with a wine-colored robe and a hood that covered his entire face, was a member.

"Who the hel are you?" he demanded, his gaze shifting from the Order to his surroundings. He'd been to this place before. It was the same cave he and Alexander had flashed to when they were waiting for Nicholas to return from the Order. The Hol ow of the Shadows. "What do you want from me?"

The paven reached up and pulled back his hood. Lucian braced himself to see some nasty sci-fi special effects instead of a face, but the horror that hit him had nothing to do with gore.

It was like looking into a mirror. The paven was ancient, but his hair, his facial structure, and his grim mouth were the very image of Lucian.

"The Breeding Male," Lucian uttered.

The paven nodded. "Your father."