Primal Burdens: (The Uruwashi Series #5)

by Christina Moore

  Tristan snorted a laugh, shaking his head. “Not at all.”

  “Nastasia, she…” He shook his head. “I feel like I’m being cruel or insulting Ash by saying it, but Nastasia’s weak. She wasn’t strong enough to survive Malik, so she became like him—well, what she imagined he was. Malik played, but Nastasia… endeavored. He didn’t think he was doing anything wrong, but Nastasia knows better and hurts out of spite.”

  Tristan let out a long sigh, slumping. “I guess I understand that.” He poked at the food on his plate. “Do you think, Nastasia’s redeemable?”

  Kiba put his own fork down, straightening his posture. “I can’t imagine what Ash is going through, but she can’t think of Nastasia as her daughter. She never was. Raised by strangers, orphaned again by the time she was thirteen, then left on her to survive in a cruel world. Nastasia and Ash were only together for a short while before Malik destroyed any bond they could have formed as mother and daughter. For Ash, Nastasia is her daughter, without a doubt. But for Nastasia…” Kiba shrugged. “Ash is the woman who killed her and nothing more.”

  Tristan looked down at his plate and frowned.

  “Sorry, did I ruin your appetite?”

  “No. I’m hungry, but the idea of putting those eggs in my mouth makes me sick.” Was that sickness he felt for Ash, knowing she might have to kill her own daughter—that he might have to kill too? Or was it something else? Maybe he couldn’t eat real food after all. The last thought made him sigh.

  “Can I make a suggestion?”

  Tristan motioned with a hand. Kiba shuffled through the various cartons on the table until he found the one he wanted and plopped it down in front of Tristan. Immediately the smell found him, a smell like nothing else he’d ever experienced. He nearly swooned right off his barstool.

  “What is it?” Tristan asked, eagerly opening it and then frowned. “A steak?”

  “Red meat,” Kiba corrected. “Very red meat.”

  Looking at it more closely, Tristan understood. It was a steak but only the outside of it was slightly brown. The middle where Kiba had cut it in half was deep red and oozing. Tristan’s stomach clenched and his mouth watered.

  “I can’t eat that,” he said aloud but a voice in the back of his head was screaming at him for being a liar. And the hard-on that’d all but deflated was perking up again. “That’s raw.”

  “Sure is. Here, just try it.”

  He looked up and found Kiba holding out a steak knife. Somehow, he didn’t think either of them needed the knife to eat that slab of meat. It was just human manners that kept that facet in place. It took all of his self-control to actually use his fork and the knife to cut off a piece rather than pick up the meat and shove it in his mouth like a caveman.

  The moment that raw meat touched his tongue, he was in heaven. Tristan moaned, shutting his eyes at the pure bliss of it. He chewed slowly, savoring every spurt of juice that lit up his taste buds, warmed his passion. But he wasn’t desperate for a fuck now, just blissfully content, even with his renewed hard-on.

  “It’s the blood,” Kiba was saying and Tristan could hear the pleased smile in his tone. “If you’re Uruwashi, then that means you can still eat solids, but red meat is the big favorite.” Tristan opened his eyes and the other man shrugged at him. “That’s what Lilith said anyway.”

  Tristan swallowed and let out a shaky breath. It was almost orgasmic, eating that bloody meat—hey, maybe he wouldn’t have to resort to his own hand or struggle to wait for Ash after all. He loved a good steak before but this was on a whole new level.

  “Go on.” Kiba pushed the carton closer to Tristan. “You can have the rest. Actually, I wanted to ask you something...” Sheepish, the Were lowered his head. “I wonder if it’s okay to hunt on your property. It’s a big lot and I know deer and other animals pass through. I just, I didn’t want to hunt without your permission, since it is your land…”

  Tristan stared at the wolf, understanding exactly what he meant. He had to clear his throat to get the words out. “You mean, as a wolf.”

  Kiba looked up and nodded.

  “Ye—yeah. That’s fine. Just um…” Okay, this was weird. “Just uh, stay inside the fenced area, it goes around the entire property and try to keep your kills away from the house. Oh, and the goats and horses or whatever else Ash buys are off limits too.” That was assuming she’d have the burnt down barn rebuilt. She was nothing if not resilient. And stubborn. She wouldn’t let a little fire keep her from what she wanted.

  “Without question,” the Were said cheerily. If he picked up Tristan’s unease, he made no motion of it.

  While Tristan ate the rest of the steak with a calculated slow pace that he’d never done in life, they talked a little about Kiba’s life, but nothing deep. Nothing about his captivity so much as about the tattoos and piercings, his love of 90’s rock bands and classic American cars.

  Apparently, the tattoos and earrings remained with the wolf whenever he shifted, but every so often he’d go back into human form and find a section of tattoo gone as if it’d never been there or an earring hole closed up and he’d have to redo it. That he was allowed to have a personality, the opportunity to explore the outside world in his captivity, shocked Tristan. But when Tristan voiced his thoughts, Kiba explained that anything good that ever happened to him in the past twenty-one years was all at Lilith’s doing.

  Kiba also offered without Tristan having to ask, that he could shift into wolf form whenever he felt like it, but once a wolf, he was stuck that way for five-eight hours and needed a good nap afterward. The full moon was the only time Kiba could shift back and forth willy-nilly, without pain or exhaustion. He could tell the kid was excited for the upcoming full moon.

  When he was done with the steak, the rest of the food just made his stomach roil and nose curl up in disgust. Even the soda he found in the fridge he realized was too sweet for him now. He ended up having iced tea without sugar. That was a first—no sugar. In fact, he was craving salt. Lots of salt. He made a mental note to buy salty snacks next time he had time to stop at a grocery store.

  “I think that’s it for me,” Tristan said around a yawn. God, he felt sated like he hadn’t in a while. And it was all due to a simple steak? Would it always be so easy?

  Kiba waved him goodbye, but when Tristan was nearly out of the room, the man said so softly he almost didn’t hear, “I would do it if I could—Kill Nastasia.”

  Tristan stopped but wouldn’t turn to look at the man, afraid of what his face might show, what Kiba might see.

  “You say I’m brave, but I’m not brave the way you are. I can’t stand up to her.”

  He shut his eyes, upturning his face. “Ash calls my form of bravery recklessness.”

  “Maybe, but you’re still brave. Braver than me. I… I want to help stop her, but I can’t. I really… just can’t. Sick me on Pollux, and I’ll do it, but not Nastasia.”

  Tristan let out a long breath, straightening but still refused to look back and see the other man’s expression. “I’ll never ask you to do anything you can’t. Ash, either.”

  “So what are you going to do to stop her?”

  “I… I guess I’ll have to do it myself.”

  Whatever Kiba thought of that, he didn’t put to words and Tristan made his way upstairs. He was dead on his feet but with a dying vampire in one room, a dying girl in another and the last guestroom now occupied by their apparently full-time live-in werewolf, the big house started to feel small. He didn’t have the balls to go to his own room either. Sure, he could lie when asked and say it was because he was afraid of burning Ash by opening the door, but to himself he could admit that he didn’t want to see her in her death-like sleep.

  Tristan sighed to himself as he went back downstairs after checking on Ellie. The girl breathed, even moaned in her sleep a little, but Tristan couldn’t be sure it was really Elinore in that body upstairs. Six minutes was a long time to be dead and if there was a shinigami around, it was more
than enough for the spiteful little devil to plant itself into her empty vessel. He’d had his suspicions in Japan about a shinigami hanging around him—missing keys, lights turned on and off, a cup on the other side of the room rather than where he left it. But there was never enough proof that all those things weren’t just his imagination. Xuejiao told him he had one, but he really couldn’t let himself believe the vampire child.

  Kiba was sitting at the center island, still picking at breakfast and looked up to smile at Tristan when he stopped at the bottom of the steps, scrubbing his face. “Everything okay?”

  “Uh… yeah. Trying to figure out what to do.”

  “How about some sleep?” Kiba’s smile brightened. “You look like you haven’t sleep in a year.”

  Tristan actually smiled. “Yeah. I’ll go crash on the sofa, be mindless and watch TV, doze if I’m lucky.”

  The Were’s eyes lit up. “Oh, um… do you, uh, mind if I come too?”

  Tristan made a face at the Were’s suddenly weird enthusiasm. Like a kid on Christmas morning.

  Kiba bowed his head. “I love TV. It was the first thing Malik let me have but Nastasia took it away from me. She took everything from me. Even my free will. It was luck that I managed to break off from the group the night we met in the barn. I don’t mean to make you feel bad, but losing Malik…” He shook his head. “He was definitely the lesser of two evils for me personally.”

  After a moment of processing what it was really like to be a slave to a vampire, Tristan wiped the pained look from his face and put on a big smile. “Come on, let’s watch TV. Just nudge me if I nod off and snore.”

  Kiba laughed and bounced off the stool to join Tristan in the corner room. The day was sunny and that annoyed Tristan so he pulled all of the shades to make the room dark. There was a whole stack of unopened movies piled up in the corner next to the TV and Tristan found a copy of his favorite movie. Before too long, Tristan was fast asleep.

  He awoke to a weight on him and he panicked a moment, memories of Sebastian taking the fore. But the feel was all wrong, too warm, soft and smelling of musk. Groggy, Tristan lifted up onto his elbows and scoffed when he found a huge-ass wolf sleeping between his legs, a massive head resting on his stomach.

  “Mmm-kay… that’s just weird.” At least the raging hard-on he woke up with last time wasn’t an issue again—it was already awkward enough without poking the Were in the throat with an uncontrollable bodily function.

  He flicked the wolf’s ear. “Hey, wake up.” He pushed on the animal’s big head. “Dammit, Kiba, get up.”

  The wolf finally stirred and opened his eyes. After a moment of looking at him, Tristan could have sworn the wolf smiled. Kiba’s mouth opened in a great gaping maw as he yawned and then he jumped off the sofa, freeing Tristan. Kiba shook himself, his earrings clanking on his pointy wolf ears.

  “Dude, what the hell?”

  Kiba plopped down on his rear end and did one of those moany little noises dogs do when they’re “talking”.

  “Don’t give me that shit,” Tristan said with a playful smile. “I know you were trying to feel me up.”

  Kiba popped up, talking again and then barked.

  “Whatever, tell me about it later.” Which, depending on when the kid shifted, could be tomorrow at this point. He just wondered why Kiba bothered at all. Maybe he rested better in wolf form, or maybe he hunted while Tristan slept. Tristan wouldn’t even be able to have a real conversation with Kiba for some time. Not until a vampire woke up to take telepathic dictation.

  “Wow, is it really that late?” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck and stretching as he looked out the living room windows. It was almost dark out, he’d slept the day away. It was too early for Wren, but Ash was up already. Tristan could feel her and Desmond, their distinct flavors alight again. Well, that meant Desmond hadn’t kicked over yet. That was good… he guessed.

  “You gonna stay like that for long?”

  The wolf shook his head no. Damn, it was just weird having a conversation with a wolf that could answer him.

  “You need me to open a door to let you out or anything?”

  The big wolf shook his head and trotted away. Tristan followed as far as the stairs and stopped to watch as the massive animal put his mouth on the lever handle of the garage door and pulled it open easily. There was a rag hanging on the outside and when Kiba was on the other side, he grabbed the rag and pulled the door shut behind him. It was simple but made Tristan smile. It was going to take him a while to really grasp the concept of a human mind in that big powerful animal.

  He was just scaling the stairs when he felt it, like a slap to the face, a fist to the gut. It was panic and fear, but more than that, hunger and desire, raw need. He understood immediately what he was feeling and his stomach dropped.

  “Desmond, no!” he screamed, taking the steps two at a time to stop his friend from killing an innocent girl.

  17: Leave a Scar

  BY THE time he reached the second floor, Ash was darting out of the bedroom in nothing but a thin robe, her hair dripping water. Tristan almost plowed right into her but Ash’s quicker instinct had her grabbing him and righting his path so that they ran side by side down the hall to the guestroom above the living room.

  They stopped inside the door, gaping at Desmond holding Ellie’s limp body his arms. He looked fit and strong, just like his old self, only bald. His body was healed, sure, but his mind seemed to be broken as the bright green eyes that watched them didn’t register any familiarity.

  “Let her go, Desmond.”

  The vampire only growled in answer and Ash let out a roar, darting forward. She slugged the bigger vampire right in the side of his face. Desmond growled as his teeth dislodged from Ellie, but it wasn’t without its damage. A huge chunk of flesh came free and an arch of blood spurted out.

  “Ellie!” Tristan ran to the girl, clamping his hand over her neck and with Ash’s help, wrenched the girl free from Desmond. Swearing, Tristan retreated to the doorway with Elinore. “Fuck! Ash?”

  “A minute,” she growled, fighting the berserker that was Desmond.

  “She’s bleeding out, I can’t stop it!”

  Ash was tossed off Desmond and into a dresser. She screamed as it broke under her and struggled to right herself. Even with the poor girl bleeding out, the smell of her blood strong in the air, Desmond was focused on Ash. He dove for her and she let out a yip of surprise.

  Tristan was torn between keeping an innocent bystander alive and helping his lover when Wren rushed into the room. It took him all of three seconds to take it all in and he went to his knees across from Tristan.

  “I think her artery is torn. I can’t stop it.” His voice was shaking and he felt keenly sick to his stomach. She was about to die and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

  “Leave her to me, go help Ash.”

  Tristan hesitated and Wren shoved his hand away.

  “Go!”

  Tristan stumbled to his feet, looking at his shaking hands covered in blood. She was dead, he knew she was, but he couldn’t harp on it now. He had to help Ash. Only, when he tried to tell his body to move, he couldn’t. He was hopelessly fixated on the blood on his hands. They shook but it wasn’t from fear; it was the excitement that made them shake, the anticipation of slipping his blood covered fingers into his mouth and sucking them clean.

  “Tristan!” Ash’s angry growl made him jerk to attention.

  His eyes widened inh horror as it sunk in that he wanted to taste the girl’s blood.

  “My sword, get Mura—”

  She yelped when Desmond body slammed her to the floor, his teeth tearing into her neck. Tristan sprang into motion. He knew he wasn’t strong enough to pull Desmond off, but he had to try.

  “I’m fine,” Ash growled through gritted teeth. She could move the vampire if she wanted to, at least this way he was only hurting her and not that poor human girl. “Just get me a weapon!”

  Tristan hear
d her but his conscious wouldn’t let him leave her trapped and mauled under the vampire. He let out a war cry of a yell and grabbed Desmond. Under the big vampire, Ash’s eyes widened, her mouth dropping open as Tristan managed to lift the vampire off her.

  “Tristan!” she gasped.

  He stopped for the space of a breath, the reality of his new strength sinking in. He just did that, stopped a vampire with twice the mass as himself with ridiculous ease.

  Desmond wasn’t going to give Tristan any longer to be in awe with himself and grabbed for him with clawed hands. Tristan jerked his head back to avoid the grab at his hair. Instead, Desmond got ahold of Tristan’s arms and pulled Tristan to him. By the time Tristan realized he was trapped, Desmond already had his fangs buried in Tristan’s shoulder.

  He screamed, flailing in the vampire’s hold. The memory of pleasure of his first bite was utterly obliterated with this new horror of pain. He felt every pull of his blood out of his body like electricity in every vein.

  “Desmond!” he screamed helplessly. There was nothing he could do; beat, kick, thrash, none of it meant a thing to the vampire even with Tristan’s new strength. The pressure on Tristan’s collar was tightening and he knew the vampire was going to snap the bone.

  Ash’s angry scream bellowed from behind Desmond and the vampire flinched, falling still. A low growl vibrated through Tristan’s chest from where the monster held onto him and the first trickle of something not pain fluttered through him. It wasn’t Desmond, sending out the pleasure pheromones, it was Ash. She was trying to distract him with sex.

  Desmond growled some intelligible word and let go of Tristan, shoving him back hard enough to send him flying into the wall of window. His head missed the glass and smacked into one of the metal frames with a ting that echoed through his whole body, made his teeth ache with the impact.

  When his vision cleared he expected to see the vampire humping his lover, feeding off her delicate throat. But what he saw was far more shocking. Ash was standing over Desmond. Her sword was bloodied, dripping on the carpet and the back of Desmond’s head was split wide open.