Kiss of Midnight_ A Midnight Breed Novel - Lara Adrian [451]
She bent her head, putting the exposed base of her neck—the patch of skin that bore her unusual birthmark—in plain view to him.
The silence seemed endless.
Then, finally, a hissed curse.
“What does it mean?” she asked him, lifting her head and letting her hair fall back in place.
Rio didn’t answer her. He backed up as if he didn’t want to be near her for another second.
“Tell me, Rio. Please…what does all of this mean?”
He was quiet for a long moment, his dark brows low over his eyes as he stared at her.
“You will know soon enough,” he said softly as he went to the door and stepped outside.
He closed her in, then turned the lock, leaving her in there alone and confused, and very certain that the path her life had been taking had just irrevocably changed course.
CHAPTER
Nine
A Breedmate.
Madre de Dios, but he hadn’t been expecting that. The small crimson birthmark on the nape of Dylan Alexander’s slender neck changed everything. The teardrop-and-crescent-moon skin marking she bore wasn’t something that occurred very often in nature, and its meaning was indisputable.
Dylan Alexander was a Breedmate.
She was a human female, but with the specific, extremely unusual blood properties and DNA that made her cellular physiology compatible with that of the Breed. Females like her were rare, and once women like Dylan were known to Rio’s kind, they were cherished and protected as closely as blood kin.
They had to be. Without Breedmates to carry the seed of future vampire generations, Rio’s kind would cease to exist. It was the curse of the Breed that all offspring of its hybrid race were born male—a genetic anomaly that occurred when the cells of the vampiric otherworlders mixed with those of the special human females that bore their young.
Women like Dylan Alexander were to be revered, not stalked like common prey and abducted off the street in fear for their lives. They were to be treated with great respect, not locked up like prisoners and held against their will, no matter how elegant the cage.
“Cristo en cielo,” Rio muttered aloud as he stormed down the Darkhaven estate’s gleaming mahogany staircase to the foyer below. “Un qué desastre.”
Yes, this truly was a disaster. He himself was a disaster—one that worsened by the moment. His skin was tight with hunger, and he didn’t have to check the dermaglyphs on his forearms to know that they were probably no longer their normal pale henna hue, but reddish-gold, reflecting his mounting need to feed. A nagging throb was kicking up in his temples, portent of the blackout he’d be dealing with if he didn’t lie down soon or get some nourishment to stave it off.
But sleep was out of the question and so was hunting for a blood Host. He needed to check in with the Order and fill them in on the added complication to a situation that had been fucked-up royal to begin with, all thanks to him.
He took the stairs a couple at a time, wishing like hell he could just continue walking right out the front door of the Darkhaven and into broad, deadly daylight. But he’d made this mess, and he’d be damned if he was going to leave it for anyone else to clean up.
As he hit the marble of the foyer below, Andreas Reichen was just opening the double doors from within one of the many rooms situated on the first floor. He wasn’t alone. An anxious-looking Darkhaven male with a mop of strawberry blond hair was with him, both of the vampires coming out of the dark-paneled study in the midst of a hushed conversation. Reichen looked up at once and met Rio’s eyes. He murmured something reassuring to his civilian companion as he clapped him gently on the shoulder. The younger male nodded, then politely got the hell out of the area with only the most furtive glance at the scarred warrior standing nearby.
“My nephew, bringing me some unpleasant news from one of the region’s other Darkhavens,” Reichen explained once they were alone in the foyer. “It seems there was an incident a couple of nights ago. A rather high-profile individual was found missing his head.