I Hunger for You

by Susan Sizemore

  She scowled. “I heard. But—”

  “When did you first bite me?” he interrupted. “Do you bite all your lovers?”

  “All my lovers?” She laughed. “You’re the only lover I’ve ever had.”

  “What?” His arm tightened around her. After a moment of shock, his memories rolled back to the first time they’d made love. All he remembered was passion—hot, hard, frantic, unbelievably mind-melting sex. He remembered the effects, but the details were vague. “Uh…” Colin swallowed hard. “Are you sure?”

  He expected her to be offended, but she chuckled. “A woman generally remembers these things. You are the only lover I’ve ever had.”

  “But—it—you—we—”

  “Fucked like bunnies. Or vampires, I guess.”

  “But you seemed so—involved. Shouldn’t a virgin be more…virginal?”

  She laughed again, obviously relishing his almost embarrassed confusion. “This isn’t the Middle Ages. I read a lot of books with sex scenes, and saw a few R-rated movies before you came along—and I think instinct plays a part in knowing what to do.”

  “So—” He thought about it for a moment, then ventured, “When I bit you for the first time…you responded by…you followed my lead?”

  She gave this some consideration. “Yeah. I guess that makes sense.”

  “So I’m your first, huh?” He pulled her even closer, her bare skin warm and soft against his side. “How about that.” Too bad they didn’t have a few more minutes.

  “Oh, please,” she complained. “Don’t sound so smug, you slut.”

  “Guilty,” he told her.

  “And I knew every time you cheated on me. Did you know that?”

  Colin started to say that he hadn’t technically cheated on Mia, because since he had officially ended their relationship. But since they’d unknowingly fallen into the bonding process during the months they’d been lovers, and he suddenly felt the pain he left in her like deep, aching scars on his own soul, he understood her anger.

  “It must have confused you,” he said. “Knowing I was with other women, but not knowing how you knew.”

  “Did you know I was aware of you?”

  “I tried not to think about you at all.” She tried to draw away, but he wouldn’t let her. “I know that’s harsh, but it’s true. I tried to forget you.”

  “Because I’m not a vampire.”

  “You were pretty upset to find out that I’m a vampire. You wouldn’t have wanted me if you’d known the truth from the beginning.”

  “You can say that again,” she muttered.

  The comment hurt his pride, but Colin kept his hard-won calm. They didn’t have the time to work out all their problems right now. “We have years—”

  “That you’ll be stuck with me,” she interrupted.

  “But I can’t imagine being stuck with anyone else,” he said. “Even when I was with other women, all I could see was you.”

  Mia gave him a furious look. “Oh, that really makes me feel good.”

  “Do you want me to say something sickeningly romantic?” She frowned, but shook her head. “I could say I wish all those nights in other women’s beds hadn’t happened. All I can say is that they shouldn’t have happened, knowing what I know now. If I’d thought for a moment that we were bonding, I would have—”

  What would he have done? Returned to Mia and begged her to take him back, instead of lingering near her and hating the need to be with her? If he’d suspected the start of a bond, he might have run off to his Clan citadel, seeking telepathic help, or to Dr. Casmerek’s vampire clinic for some kind of scientific answer. But could they have helped? Would it have been right?

  “My culture teaches that bonds are meant to be. Apparently the longer a Prime lives un-bonded, the more he craves the bond and searches for his one true love. I’m still confused about what happened between us.”

  Mia was thoughtful for a moment. “If I hadn’t bitten you and made you forget it, you probably wouldn’t be in this mess.”

  “Don’t apologize.”

  “I’m not. I’m just acknowledging my accountability. When I first figured it out, I was upset about it, but then I figured I had as much right to bite you as you did to bite me. It brought us mutual pleasure.”

  He couldn’t deny the incredible pleasure, and the need for more of the same. So Colin tried his best to be as accepting of the situation as Mia was trying to be—he knew she was still pretty rattled, even though she was trying to be objective. He rubbed his shoulder, aware of a sweet, phantom ache. The girl had sharp teeth for a mortal.

  “And we did it a lot—tasted each other—even if I don’t remember the times you bit me. I wonder why I don’t remember?”

  “We’re stuck with each other,” Mia said. “Till death do us part, I guess.”

  The vision of empty, lost, bondless David Berus flashed through Colin’s mind. He shuddered at the thought of ending up like that. “Till death do us part,” he told his bondmate. “And that will be a long long time.”

  “But you’re immortal, and I’m—”

  “Been watching Buffy reruns?”

  “Right. Not immortal, just long-lived. Domini tried to explain that.” He hadn’t noticed that she’d put her head on his shoulder until she lifted it. “Domini also said something about my mysterious psychic talent being stimulated around you.” She laughed. “You stimulate every other part of me. Could it be that when you made me forget, I bounced it back at you?”

  He rubbed his chin. “I—suppose.”

  He wasn’t sure if anything was settled, but fury wasn’t buzzing between them anymore. That would have to do for now.

  He stood and drew Mia to her feet. “We have plenty of time to explore our psychic connection later. Right now, we’d better get to the Matri’s meeting before they send a commando team in for us.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Nice,” Laurent murmured, standing arrogantly in the center of the luxurious room. He looked around with the air of one who owned the place. “Very nice.”

  If there was one good thing to be said about the Clans, it was that they lived well. Not ostentatiously, mind you. Oh, no, the cultured, civilized, extremely old-money self-proclaimed good guys of the supernatural world had class, style, élan.

  Laurent wanted to get him some of that. Or at least enough cold, hard cash to fake it. Being nouveau riche was fine with him.

  In the meantime, he noted the tasteful paintings and sculptures, the numerous leather couches and chairs grouped around low tables, the subdued glow of the lighting, the rich color and texture of the carpet.

  He was not unaware of the danger of the situation. Truce or not, he, Justinian, and Belisarius were standing in the den of their mother-loving enemies, with every Clan Prime in the territory ranged in a circle around the walls of the windowless room. No one had invited them to have a seat, of course. He supposed being offered a drink was out of the question.

  And what exactly did Clan folk drink, anyway? It was a certain bet that their women didn’t allow them to keep blood pets around the house. No way one of those poor, whipped bastards could just reach out and grab himself a hot one without Mama saying, “You put that mortal girl down right now!”

  Laurent couldn’t help but smile at the image, earning him a furious look from Belisarius.

  “Relax,” he whispered to the beta Prime. “So they have us outnumbered. We have—no, wait, we don’t have right on our side. You may continue being terrified.”

  “I don’t take commands from you.”

  Laurent managed to successfully hide his amusement this time, wondering if Belisarius realized just how stupid his automatic response sounded.

  Justinian turned a fierce look on him. This is taking too long, exile.

  Patience, my lord. We must be patient.

  And wait on a woman’s whim as to whether she will talk to me, and when?

  Justinian’s frustration at having to deal with the Clan women was
understandable. It didn’t help that they’d been kept waiting far longer than Elder Barak had promised. Laurent hoped the pack lord didn’t blow their best chance out of impatience and outraged pride. Laurent gave a wary, assessing look at the Clan Primes ranged around the room. Though they weren’t aware of it, Laurent recognized many of them. Every Prime in the city, except for the little Reynard shit who’d started this, was giving them cold, hard looks. The the Manticores would never get out of here if there was a fight.

  Maybe even worse than the uneven numbers was the fact that the Clan vampires were memorizing their faces and psychic signatures. Hiding in this territory was no longer going to be possible.

  “This had better work,” he murmured, and drew dirty looks from the vampires he’d talked into coming here.

  Before Justinian or Belisarius could say anything, a group of people entered the room. The Clan boys all straightened, practically coming to attention at the sight of several of their regal, proud women. The smallest of the lovely females seemed to be in charge. She was not young, but age only added a lovely patina to her beauty. She walked hand in hand with a barrel-chested male with dark skin for a vampire, and grizzled gray hair.

  “Serisa and Barak of Shagal, aka Clan Jackal,” Laurent said to Justinian.

  He’d given the Manticores a briefing on the local players, but now he matched faces to the names. The Tribes were always amused and contemptuous of the humble scavenger names the Clans went by. Laurent figured the Clans saw their monikers as some kind of self-deprecating joke these grand chevaliers played on mortals and the rest of the supernatural world.

  Not that this was the time to be analyzing names; his job was to get what they wanted and get out of here alive. A lot was going to depend on keeping Justinian and Belisarius from doing anything fatally stupid. They had both tensed at the sight of the female.

  Be polite, he advised Justinian. Be diplomatic. Or let me do the talking.

  Laurent knew his last comment was a big mistake even before Justinian gave him a poisonous look, for it was an implied challenge to the senior vampire’s dominance.

  Laurent bowed his head and took a quick step back.

  Serisa spoke before Justinian reacted further. “Don’t sneer at me if you want to get anything accomplished. I don’t like dealing with you, either, but at least I don’t resent you simply for your gender.”

  Justinian drew himself up haughtily. The Primes along the walls tensed. Then Justinian smiled, and swept Serisa an elegant bow.

  “Forgive my rudeness. It’s a bad habit I’ll try not to indulge in in your presence. Our cultures are different, Lady, but my intent is to abide by the rules of your house, though I am not certain of all of those rules. Cut me some slack, please?” He spread his hands before him in a conciliatory gesture.

  His last words held a certain charm, at least enough to make Serisa smile. Laurent noted that the smile didn’t reach the shrewd old Matri’s eyes. The Primes relaxed, but not much.

  “A little slack,” she agreed. “So we can get this over with as quickly as possible.”

  Justinian inclined his head with graciousness that took Laurent by surprise. “When you hear what I have to say, you will be glad you allowed this parlay, Matri.”

  “And why is that?” she asked.

  Before he could answer, two more people entered the room, and everyone’s attention turned toward the couple.

  Well, well, well, isn’t that sweet, Laurent thought. They’re holding hands. He was willing to bet that they wouldn’t be after the Clan brat found out the awful truth about his girlfriend.

  No, not girlfriend, he realized as they came closer and the psychic energy that swirled between the pair permeated his own shielded senses. Oh, shit! They’re bonded!

  Bonding wasn’t something the Tribes allowed, but Laurent had been around enough Clan and Family types to recognize the signs. He put a hand gently on Justinian’s sleeve and telepathically pointed out this new wrinkle in the proceedings, while the lovebirds went to stand with the Matri’s group.

  Everyone was staring at her. She’d gotten stared at a lot the last couple of days and she was very uncomfortable with the looks she was getting from the trio in the center of the room—which included the blond vampire.

  “You do know that’s the one who attacked me, right?” she whispered to Colin.

  He squeezed her fingers. “Oh, yeah,” was his grim answer.

  He aimed a murderous glare at the Tribe vampires, but didn’t say anything as he led her to stand near Serisa and Barak. Domini was there, and Anjelica, along with a couple more Clan women and several older males. Mia felt young and way out of her depth in this crowd, and would have been happy to slip to the back behind everyone and not be noticed.

  But apparently she and Colin were the center of attention. She wondered if they were ever going to be able to get away to start leading their lives and working out their relationship.

  Serisa clapped her hands. “We are gathered in truce with our enemies,” the Matri intoned.

  Did the vampire leader have a ceremonial statement memorized for every occasion?

  All the vampires, including the Tribe ones, clapped once. The combined effect was like a somber clap of thunder. Mia exchanged a glance with Domini, who claimed to be nominally human. Domini had her arms crossed, and she gave the faintest of shrugs when Mia caught her eye. Mia was almost reassured, knowing she wasn’t the only one out of this particular ceremonial loop.

  “Speak, Justinian of Manticore,” Serisa said.

  The one called Justinian took a step forward. Like all the other Primes she’d seen, Mia found him handsome, with a commanding presence. But unlike the Clan males she’d encountered, there didn’t seem to be any sense of humor leavening the haughtiness of his bearing. He looked the way a vampire ought to: arrogant, cruel, and really, really pale.

  “The Clans and Tribes disagree on almost every point,” he began.

  Justinian’s voice was deep and compelling, and made her think of a high-powered trial lawyer. For some reason that image made Mia very uncomfortable—as if maybe she was the one on trial.

  “Over the centuries, this has led us to misunderstand each other. But when it comes to the hunters, when it comes to survival of our kind, we are forced to cooperate.” He produced a slick, sincere-seeming smile. “I have come to tell you that you are unknowingly harboring a female from one of the mortal bloodlines that have murdered our people for centuries.”

  “Would that be me?” Domini spoke up, taking a step forward and shielding Mia in the process. “If it is, you can leave now, because that thing with the Purist was settled long ago.”

  Justinian turned a look on Domini that could have melted titanium.

  “Silence, female!” he snapped. Then he looked her up and down and sneered. “Mortal female, at that.”

  “So much for the civilized veneer,” Domini murmured.

  “Bi—” Justinian managed to stop himself before uttering the rest of the word.

  The tension in the room escalated, and Alec moved forward. Tony Crowe put a hand on Alec’s shoulder to stop him. The blond vampire did the same with Justinian.

  Justinian shoved away his hand, but the blond turned to Serisa. “There’s a story that needs to be told,” he said hurriedly. “One that goes back several mortal generations. Allow us to tell you the root of our grievance and claim. We came here in good faith.” He gave Domini a mildly reproachful look. “Bait a Prime of any of our kind, and he responds.”

  Domini frowned. “Okay. I did that.” She pointedly did not address Justinian. “My apologies, Matri.”

  The friction among the Primes eased down a notch.

  “Tell your story,” Serisa directed.

  The blond waited for a nod of permission from Justinian before he said, “For several centuries, a mortal family named Garrison pursued Tribe Manticore. These murderers made it their mission to hunt us to extinction.”

  His words made Mia uncomfortable, an
d she could almost see their point of view.

  “But the Manticore accepted the terms of the Great Truce of 1903,” he went on. “We tried to pursue the peaceful coexistence promised by the truce. The Manticore disappeared into the night, to take blood as we need, but to live without killing. And the Garrisons retired from hunting. They still had the blood of our dead on their hands, but we vowed not to seek revenge. We lived by the truce.” He looked around and asked, “Has anyone ever heard of a Manticore killing a mortal?”

  After a short silence, Barak said, “Not for over a hundred years.”

  “When the truce freed us from the necessity of always being on the run, the Manticore finally had the time to amass a great deal of wealth. We used this wealth to protect our young, to try to fit into the modern world. We might have become one of those tribes that blended into the neutral ways of the Families.”

  Mia interpreted this statement as some sort of playing on the Clan vampires’ sympathies, and it seemed to be working, at least a little.

  “Whatever might have happened,” he went on, “we will never know. Because our future was destroyed by a man named Henry Garrison.”

  Oops, Mia thought, as shock rattled her.

  Colin had put his arm around her shoulders; now it tightened in reaction to her psychic outburst.

  “What?” he asked.

  The blond went on, “Garrison was from the generation of the hunter family born after the truce was signed. He had no personal vendetta to pursue vampires, no reason to hunt us. But he came after us anyway. Not because of what we are, but because of what we had. This Garrison stole everything from us and made himself a wealthy man.”

  “A very wealthy man,” Justinian added. “And Tribe Manticore has dedicated nearly a century to hunting him. It is our right to take back what is ours, but Garrison hides himself very well. It has taken us decades to find even a member of his family. And what do we encounter, when we finally have the key to his whereabouts within our reach? We find that the Clans have offered protection to this vampire murderer’s great-granddaughter.” He pointed at Mia. “To her.”