I Hunger for You

by Susan Sizemore

  “Yes.”

  Despite the lines of pain that still marred his face, Laurent managed to look smug. “Didn’t I warn you not to trust her?”

  Colin picked up his shirt and put it on before saying, “You warned me.” He gave the other Prime a warning look. “And if she wasn’t so soft-hearted, I wouldn’t be here to save your ass.”

  “Save my—she betrayed you, dude!”

  “No, she betrayed the guy I’m pretending to be. When I told her that you might be in trouble, she managed to get the old man to toss a vampire hunter in with a vampire. Not bad for a spur-of-the-moment Plan B. The woman has promise, and I can’t wait to tell her so.” He smiled fondly, as though this was a revelation to him.

  All Laurent wanted was to get out of here. “Fine,” he told the besotted fool. “All praise to your lady, and other flowery Clan crap.” He gestured toward the locked door. “What’s next?”

  “Back to Plan A. Only now we bust out and destroy all the data we can find.”

  Right, he’d been supposed to destroy computer disks and stuff like that. Who cared? What mattered was the payday—not that the noble, and rich, Clan boy was concerned with that.

  “Lead on,” he said.

  Colin crossed to the door and dug his claws into the lock plate. While the Clan Prime pried out the lock, Laurent went to the table, picked up one of the filled syringes, and moved close to Colin.

  “How’s it coming?”

  After a moment Colin said, “Done.”

  Laurent didn’t know what was in the syringe, but he had no qualms about sticking it into Colin’s shoulder and pressing the plunger. Being a prisoner had taken up too much of the night, and he needed a head start to the premises. Justinian had ordered him to bring back Garrison’s wealth, and he wasn’t ready to defy the pack leader’s wishes yet.

  “Sorry,” he told Colin as the other vampire fell heavily onto the floor. “But I’ve got to put my own Plan B in motion.”

  Mia hoped Colin wasn’t mad at her. After all, she’d done the right thing, and he had gone along with it. She wished she could feel him; then she wouldn’t be so confused and worried.

  The headache was finally gone, so maybe she’d have the full use of her abilities back soon. Being deprived of these brand-new senses made her more aware of them, made her want them. They completed her, enhancing her connection to Colin.

  She hated that she didn’t know where he was right now. She’d thrown him into trouble, and she’d just have to trust him to get out. And it came down to who you trusted, didn’t it? Just like Domini said. Colin was easy to get pissed off at, but impossible not to trust when push came to shove. Did he realize she knew that, though?

  She followed her great-grandfather down the corridor to a small elevator with an ornate brass gate. A pair of his guards followed them closely.

  Mia tried hard to keep her mind on the moment, but thoughts of Colin kept rolling around her head.

  Did he know she wasn’t angry with him for pulling away from her just before the bad guys showed up? She knew he’d felt her emotion, but she hadn’t had time to explain that she was annoyed with herself.

  She had no business tempting him—them—in the middle of a dangerous situation. She’d gotten thrown into all this action without any training, and now she had to deal with this bonding thing and—

  She took a deep breath as they stepped into the narrow elevator cage. Mia squeezed in first, and the old man followed, standing with his back to her. She still didn’t want anything to happen to the old man, but she was more convinced than ever that he was dangerous and had to be neutralized.

  There wasn’t any room for the bodyguards, so they hurried down the stairs so they’d be waiting on the first floor when the elevator finished its slow descent.

  “How did he get into your room?”

  The old man’s voice had a cricket rasp to it, and he was leaning heavily on his cane. But there was no doubting the strength of his will or the sharpness of his mind.

  “How did you know he was in my room?” she answered. When he didn’t reply immediately, she let the subject go, and guessed, “You don’t have long to live, do you?”

  “No mortal does.” He sighed and turned his head to look at her. “I have very little time, and the vampires cheated me out of much of it a few months ago. Now I must rush to rebuild what was lost. Perhaps I could have used your help sooner.”

  Mia could barely keep her revulsion in check. It sickened her to realize how much this man had destroyed and abandoned in his quest for eternal life. Had he actually lived the life he’d been given? Did he know what he’d given up, or care at all?

  “You’re just evil, aren’t you, Grandpa?”

  The elevator stopped as she asked her question, and the door slid smoothly open to reveal three people waiting for them. The guards were lying at the bottom of the stairs, and the scent of blood filled the air.

  Mia’s emotions spiked with terror as she recognized the tall male who stepped forward, smiling coldly. He held a hand out. “Come with me,” Justinian said. “I’ll teach you about evil.”

  I’m getting good at this, Laurent thought as he ripped another door off its hinges.

  The action not only got him into the locked rooms on the third floor, but also alleviated his growing frustration.

  There had been a guard at either end of the hall when Laurent came dashing up the stairs, but he’d moved on them with speed no mortal could match. Disarming and disabling them had helped him work through his annoyance at his treatment.

  Once the guards were out of the way, he began his hunt. Recovering the Manticore’s stolen fortune was all he’d signed on for.

  He didn’t give a damn about the traditional revenge aspect of the scenario; he didn’t care about this mad Patron’s evil experiments.

  If the old guy could find the secret of immortality for mortals, it might threaten vampire existence, but vampires had been threatened throughout history. Laurent didn’t see any reason why they wouldn’t survive the menace from the Patron—as long as he wasn’t the one being personally experimented on.

  Besides, if the Patron managed to find his magic live-forever potion, think how much Garrison’s company’s stock would be worth. Laurent rather liked the idea of the Manticores taking control of Garrison’s holdings. It would satisfy their right to reimbursement, and solve Justinian’s need for revenge. Everybody would profit. Maybe he could talk Justinian into it.

  But first, he had to find Garrison’s computer. The mortal woman was right that the laptop likely held all the financial information they needed.

  The room he stepped into this time had the look of an office. He might finally be getting somewhere.

  First he ripped apart the desk and found nothing. That was fun, but then he got himself under control and began a more methodical search of the room. It didn’t take him long to find the safe tucked behind a large portrait of a very ugly woman. The gleaming steel door of the safe was set flush against the wall. Brute strength wasn’t going to do any good here, but what was the use of having extremely fine hearing if one couldn’t use it to listen for the correct combination while carefully spinning the tumblers? He pressed his head against the cool steel and got to work.

  Patience, he told himself. Patience.

  To his delighted surprise, it didn’t take long at all to open the door. He was even more delighted to find a small leather computer case resting inside the safe.

  “All right!” he congratulated himself, and reached for the case.

  His elation died the moment he had the computer in his grasp.

  They were here, earlier than he’d expected or wanted. He’d been concentrating too hard to notice their arrival, but he was acutely aware of the pack’s presence now. Most were concentrated in one area of the house, but there were others scattered around the grounds. So Justinian had brought the whole pack with him. That hadn’t been the plan.

  It sent a chill up his spine; even though he was wi
th them, he wasn’t one of them. Laurent held Justinian’s triumph in his hands, and that should count for something. But his fellow Tribe Primes were so unpredictable, especially in large groups, where they egged each other on.

  He turned slowly away from the safe. It was easy enough to follow the Manticore’s mental signature down the flights of stairs to the first floor.

  The first thing Laurent noticed when he found the pack was that there were over a dozen Primes scattered around the ballroom. The place was so big, even a dozen vampires didn’t take up much of the space. There was a crystal chandelier blazing overhead, but it didn’t throw that much light into the room. A huge, empty fireplace and several groupings of heavy old furniture made up the rest of the room. No windows, Laurent noted; that was always a plus in a building designed for mortal inhabitants.

  “And speaking of mortal inhabitants,” he murmured, spotting the pair surrounded by Primes in one of the seating areas.

  Justinian and Belisarius were standing in front of them, and another pair of Primes were poised behind the couch. One had his hands on the old man’s bony shoulders. The other had a hand twisted in the female’s short curls.

  “Oh, hell.” Laurent rushed forward, but was stopped by a stern look from Justinian. Laurent held up the leather case in his hand. “I have what we came for. Let’s get out of here.”

  “I’m not done here.” Justinian looked back at the prisoners. “The Garrisons have to pay.”

  “What are you going to do? Mind-rape them for information? You don’t need to do that. We have what rightfully belongs to the Manticores. We can leave.”

  “What use is a black bag?” Belisarius sneered. “All his money couldn’t fit in that.”

  “It’s not the bag that’s important, but the data in the computer inside it. You do know what a computer is, right?” Laurent knew that sarcasm was dangerous, but he just couldn’t help himself.

  “Garrison’s data will be password-protected,” Belisarius said to Justinian. “I can rip those passwords from his mind if you wish.”

  Okay, so Belisarius wasn’t completely ignorant, just stupid and brutal. And the old man probably deserved what he got.

  Probably? Laurent shook his head in disgust at this softness. There must’ve been wimp juice in the drink he’d had at the Clan house.

  “Do what you want with the old man—” he began.

  “I will,” Justinian purred.

  “But remember that the Garrison female also belongs to the Reynard Prime. Hurt her, and you risk a war with the Clans.”

  “He’s afraid of the Clans,” Belisarius sneered.

  “We’ve been through this before,” Laurent said with a sigh.

  He gave up and stepped back. He knew from the glittering edge to Justinian’s emotions, the look of greedy anticipation on Belisarius’s face, and the general eagerness for blood sport pulsing in the psychic atmosphere that the time of reasonableness had past.

  “You guys just can’t hold it together, can you?”

  Of course, Laurent was ignored.

  Justinian concentrated on Garrison. “Will you trade the passwords for the female’s life? Remember that she is your only chance at immortality, old man. So will you trade your empire for something more important?’

  Garrison looked steadily at Justinian, and replied calmly, “Of course not.”

  The female didn’t look surprised.

  Justinian looked delighted. “We’ll see.” He told Belisarius, “Make her scream.”

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Colin was lost in thick, clinging fog that enwrapped him so he couldn’t see or taste or feel where his body ended and the fog began. He was alone. Completely alone. And something was terribly, terribly wrong. The fog allowed him fear, and pain that boiled up from his soul. There was so much pain—in his heart, in his head, permeating his body, blocking out any chance of joy or completion or—love.

  He was lost, and he’d never love again. Or be loved.

  I wish you all the time in the world to enjoy what you have. Cherish each day.

  David Berus’s voice rang in his head. Then the Serpentes Prime’s hand was on his shoulder. They stood together—

  And looked down on a grave.

  “No,” Colin said. He closed his eyes and turned away. “No!”

  Mia was gone. Dead. Lost.

  “Isn’t that what you wanted?” Laurent asked. “She wasn’t worthy of you.”

  Colin whirled to the Tribe Prime, ready to kill. But Laurent wasn’t there. “Liar!” he shouted to the phantom. Yet he knew that the one who lied was himself, about who he wanted and needed. He was an arrogant fool, unworthy of her.

  David Berus wasn’t to be seen, either.

  Colin was alone in the fog, fog that was swiftly turning to fire. Colin didn’t care. He burned from the inside out now, aching hunger gnawing at him.

  “This is how it feels,” Berus said from out of the fire, “to lose what you love.”

  Colin had a memory of childishly admiring Berus for having survived the loss of his bondmate. Now that admiration turned to compassion.

  And to hopelessness.

  “I can’t live like this,” he called to Berus.

  “It isn’t living.”

  This was hell. Having Mia ripped from him was hell. Being without her was hell. She was—everything.

  “She can’t be dead.”

  “Why not?” Laurent sneered.

  “Because.”

  “Not an answer, Clan boy.”

  It wasn’t any of the Tribe bastard’s business. So Colin held the all-important words inside, speaking only to his empty soul.

  Because I never had the chance to tell her how much I love her, Colin thought.

  Pain ripped through the left side of Colin’s chest, and a shout of pure fury stabbed into his mind. His eyes flashed open in shock, and he was momentarily blinded by the light of the bright, bright room.

  “Touch me there again, and I’ll rip your heart out!”

  Colin sat up so fast that he cracked the back of his head on the wall he’d been slumped against. Mia’s fury and fear ripped through the fiery fog and brought him fully awake.

  Mia!

  Colin!

  She was alive! He was out of hell!

  Colin! Help!

  She needed him—and it was her fierce energy that brought him back to life.

  “Mia!” he shouted, and jumped to his feet.

  At least he tried, but for a moment all he could do was flail helplessly on the cell floor. What the hell was the matter with—

  Laurent. A jab of pain. Then he was dizzy and down. He’d been drugged by the Manticore. He’d been lying here hallucinating while his woman needed him.

  Move, he told himself. Carefully. Steadily. He took slow, deep breaths. Got his legs under him. He stood, and waited until he was certain he could keep standing.

  While he did all this, he fought to keep from shaking with fury and shared pain as Mia’s torture played out in his mind.

  A few seconds was all it took to be sure he could function, but those seconds brought him a lifetime of anxiety before he flew out the door.

  She wasn’t screaming enough to suit Belisarius, and Laurent wished she would—then maybe Belisarius wouldn’t hurt her so much.

  Belisarius was having way too good a time. His actions excited the others, who shared laughter and encouragement, and made bets about how long the mortal would last.

  Justinian stood back with his arms crossed, watching his beta Prime torture a helpless woman like a proud papa watching his boy at a track meet.

  Laurent stayed still and silent in the shadows, and wished it would stop.

  The old man didn’t seem to be paying attention at all.

  When Belisarius lifted a hand with claws fully extended, Laurent looked away. So he was the only one who saw the streak coming through the open doorway.

  Foxe was awake and coming to the rescue—of course. Surely he was aware that there was
a pack of excited, bloodthirsty Primes surrounding the object of his noble desires?

  And Laurent was the only Prime in the room aware of the approaching threat. Not only did Foxe move fast, his psychic shielding was incredibly strong. That made his approach doubly silent and dangerous.

  Laurent supposed it was his duty to shout out a warning to his Manticore brethren—but they ought to have been on guard in the first place, he decided. So he stepped even farther into the shadows, and waited to see what would happen.

  Strength of numbers or purity of heart? He certainly didn’t care to place a bet.

  One moment, Mia was only aware of the sharp claws arcing down toward her face. The next thing she saw was a black streak rocketing toward her. Then Colin put himself between her and her tormentor.

  Colin’s attack forced the other vampire to drop his tight hold on her upper arm. Mia stumbled back and fell to her knees. Though she was bruised and scared, the elation of having her bondmate defend her overrode everything else.

  She wanted to help Colin, but the fighters were moving so quickly she could barely see more than flashing fangs, raking claws, and fiercely straining muscles.

  She looked around and saw the other vampires moving in, circling the fight, waiting to see how Colin’s battle with their comrade played out before they joined the attack. Her heart sank at the realization that her man didn’t have a chance. Even if he defeated the one he was fighting, the others would be all over him.

  Mia scrubbed a hand across her face. Think! She’d gotten Colin into this deadly situation—how was she going to help get him out of it? Her thoughts raced. Silver, garlic, hawthorn, sunlight, high-caliber bullets, mortar rounds, C4, napalm, nuclear radiation, Stinger missiles—Think, woman! What’s at hand? There must be an arsenal of weapons against vampires in this place. All she had to do was get through the line of vampires and find something she could use.

  Colin threw Belisarius onto a low table, and the old furniture was crushed beneath the impact. Wood splintered, and the two Primes scrambled for sharply pointed shards to use as stakes.