“You’ve got a half-decent brain on you. Or at least that’s what Calder keeps claiming. Let’s see if you can figure it out for yourself.”
Bastard, he thought. And in that moment, his vision of squeezing Schecter’s heart in his fist morphed into something much darker…and far more satisfying. In his Casus form, Miles would have the power to shove his muzzle right into the prick’s chest and eat his heart out with a single snap of his jaws.
Only problem was, he didn’t like the taste of self-righteous jackass.
Without bothering to say goodbye or any of the other snarled phrases burning on the tip of his tongue, Miles pulled the phone away from his ear and jammed his thumb down on the end button. Cursing under his breath, he tossed the phone into the passenger seat, then rested his hand on his churning stomach, his skin covered in a clammy film of sweat.
Had he honestly claimed he wasn’t hungry? Christ, he was so empty inside he could barely see straight. In truth, he was starved, the need to take a proper feeding burning through his veins like acid, stripping him raw. But he knew better than to allow himself to fall the way Gregory had done.
If he could just hold strong, Calder had promised them that the feeding restrictions would be lifted once the flood came. Only then would they be free to do as they pleased, living like gods in this world. But if he gave in, he’d become a slave to the hunger too soon, and before he knew it, someone would be tracking him down with orders to send him back to the pit.
He couldn’t let that happen. Would rather waste away to nothing before he found himself rotting away in the stench of Meridian again.
Still, his gut ached with a hollow, grinding pain, and he gnashed his teeth. Though Miles had made his share of animal kills since his release, it simply wasn’t the same. Like comparing water to the most succulent wine, animals didn’t have the kick that came with devouring human flesh. And while he could get a good meal out of a man, it was the women who truly gave the males of his kind what they needed. He craved a proper feeding, like the one Schecter had taken from the little Kentucky teenager, and with each day that crept by, the craving thickened within his blood and his bones. In the very substance of his being.
His hands curled into fists as he thought of the moment when Schecter had taken the girl’s body beneath his. Miles’s own body shook as the visceral, intoxicating images flooded his mind. Her smooth, pale skin bathed in silver moonlight. The heady, delectable scent of her blood. The dazzling beauty of her fear. Losing control, his fangs slipped heavily from his gums just as his claws began to pierce the tips of his fingers, lacerating the palms of his fisted hands. The scent of fresh blood drifted to his nose, and he knew what he was going to have to do. Again. His weakness disgusted him, but there was no other choice.
Just once more, he thought, uncurling his clenched fists. Once more, and then you’ll be back in control.
Undoing the cuff at the end of his sleeve, he saw that his hands continued to shake as he rolled back the dark cotton, slowly revealing his bandaged forearm. Beads of sweat slipped from his shaved head, sliding down the sides of his face. His mouth watered with anticipation.
Miles began to unwrap the stained bandages with slow, methodical precision.
“Once more,” he chanted beneath his breath. “Just once…”
As if drawn by an invisible wire, his gaze rose to the photograph of Olivia Harcourt that he’d attached to the sun visor. Her smoky eyes stared right back at him, into him, causing his pulse to pick up speed, his heart banging violently against his ribs. He shifted restlessly in his seat. She was breathtaking, really. And that scent, mouthwatering. It filled the Jeep, emanating from the sweater he’d stolen from her home back in Lennox, the sweater now draped over the back of the passenger seat.
His eyes began to burn, but he refused to blink. He couldn’t, held transfixed by the violet eyes watching him. They tempted him to do the unthinkable. To hunt her down and take what he so desperately needed, truly satisfying the hunger ripping his insides to shreds.
“Too dangerous,” he whispered, shaking so hard that his teeth chattered.
Keeping his gaze focused on the image of her face, he reached down, grasping the lever for the seat, and pressed back until he was nearly lying down, low enough that he wouldn’t be seen by anyone who happened to walk near the car. Not that he wouldn’t hear their approach well before they could see anything. He was safe from view there. Safe to do as he pleased.
Still, he waited, letting the anticipation build. Letting it spread through his body, his cock hardening to the point that it pulsed with a dull, throbbing pain.
A breathless cry trembled on his wet lips…and he broke. Lifting his arm to his mouth, Miles finally sank his fangs deep, biting through muscle and sinew. So good…so hot…
As the warm blood flowed over his tongue, his mind filled with an image of Olivia Harcourt spread beneath him, screaming with terror. Closing his eyes, Miles embraced the image, letting it bloom, the fantasy spreading like a drug through his veins. He drank deep, going light-headed as the dark spill of pleasure grew stronger, fired by the fantasy, until he finally threw back his head, his mouth opened wide for a harsh, primal roar.
It seemed forever that his lungs jerked for air, the inside of the Jeep smelling of sweat and blood and come. Cracking his eyelids, he struggled to focus his swimming vision on the photograph, his muscles twitching. He cringed at the thought of what the others would say if they ever learned what he’d done, feeding from his own flesh in a pathetic moment of weakness. But what choice did he have? If he fed the hunger the way Schecter had done, there could be consequences.
No, it would be madness to take such a dangerous risk.
He could be strong, damn it. He could fight it.
But as the last devastating pulses of pleasure swept through him, he reached up, grasping the photograph in his bloodied fingers, and brought it closer, studying the shape of her mouth. Her eyes. The silken fire of her hair.
Beautiful.
He drew in a deep, shuddering breath, her scent filling his head, and felt a sudden mental snap popping inside his mind. Another snap followed…and then another, like firecrackers bursting behind his eyes, the echoes ricocheting through his skull.
As the tension eased from his muscles, Miles was vaguely aware of what was happening, the strained bands of his will finally giving way like stressed elastic. As they continued to break, a slow, easy smile curled across his damp mouth, the inevitability of what was to come freeing him from his torment. No more resistance. No more fighting against what would be.
His thumb caressed the photograph, stroking the human’s cheek, her name lingering on his blood-covered lips like a vow.
Or a promise of something to come.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Saturday, 5:00 p.m.
RETURNING HIS CELL PHONE to its case, Aiden quietly opened the driver’s door of his truck and climbed into the cab, easing back behind the wheel. They’d been driving all day, almost nonstop—except for the occasional need for a bathroom or fuel—and had finally pulled into the parking lot of a McDonald’s for some food. Kellan and Noah, who were driving Liv’s car, had run inside to order, while Aiden used the time to make a few phone calls. He’d stood outside the truck as he talked, not wanting to wake Olivia and Jamie, who had managed to nod off an hour ago. He envied them the peaceful moments of oblivion, considering what the day had been like.
After dropping the “Death” bomb on them that morning, Kellan had quickly reverted back to his typical smart-ass sense of humor. “Not that I want to sound like a wuss or anything, but why do we always get the nasties coming after us? I mean, why couldn’t it be something fun, like a flock of rabid nymphs? Death just sounds like such a downer,” the Lycan had drawled, prompting Jamie to lift her head and ask what a nymph was. Olivia had smothered a laugh under her breath, then taken the little girl into her arms and told her that they were mythological creatures who could turn into trees. Jamie had cast a curious
look toward Kellan, as if wondering why he’d want an entire flock of them. But she hadn’t asked. She’d simply fallen silent again, just watching them all with her big brown eyes, retreating back into her own little world, as she had after the fight with the Casus.
Shaking his head, Aiden wondered what they’d have to face next. First the Casus. Then the crazy-assed freak from that morning. He honestly hadn’t thought their situation could get any worse, but it had. As if having one group of monsters after them wasn’t bad enough, they now had to be on the lookout for that foul-smelling thing to return…with more of its kind. He’d been on edge every second of the day, eyeing the other cars on the road, trying to make sure they weren’t being followed. But there was only so much he could do. Though they’d had the odd rain shower, which would help slow anyone tracking Olivia’s scent, they still didn’t know if the Casus were able to track Jamie’s Merrick blood.
In fact, it seemed as if they were still gathering a lot more questions than answers.
And the clock was ticking.
Tilting his head back, Aiden rested it against the seat, while his mind wandered onto the long list of questions Olivia had fired his way throughout the day, increasing the tension of the drive. Not that he didn’t enjoy being near her, because he did. More than was wise. But their conversations hadn’t been light…or easy. She’d plied him with questions about what had happened in the parking lot, though there wasn’t much he could tell her. He didn’t know what that thing had been or what it wanted from him…or why Monica had referred to it as “Death.” She’d also asked about Noah, wondering where he’d learned to fight the way he had, handling knives like some kind of martial arts guru. In that at least Aiden had been able to give her some answers, explaining a little about Noah’s rather unconventional upbringing, though he was careful not to reveal too much. She trusted Noah, and he didn’t want that to change.
And face it, man. You want her to trust you, too.
Surprised, he ran the unspoken, unfamiliar words over his tongue, studying their flavor. Something pulled tight in his chest, and he lifted his hand, rubbing at the odd ache burning just behind his sternum.
Though he’d have loved to deny it, the words were true. Despite knowing it was an asinine, doomed-to-fail kind of idea, he really did want Liv to trust him. Not just to keep her safe or to protect her, but…well, in all ways. All the ones that mattered between a man and a woman.
Fool. Idiot. Jackass.
Ignoring the irritating chorus of voices, he shifted in his seat, positioning his body so that he could simply watch her like some kind of lovesick lapdog. The idea made Aiden’s lip curl, but he didn’t turn away. He couldn’t, too riveted by the sight of her. The passenger seat had been lowered a little, and she lay on her side, facing him, her cheek resting on her hands. He enjoyed the unguarded moment that allowed him to simply stare, soaking in the little details that he found so fascinating. The graceful shape of her brows. The thickness of her lashes. The fullness of her bottom lip and the smooth curve of her cheek. She didn’t wear any makeup today, other than a light sheen of gloss on her bee-stung lips that just made him want to nibble on them, licking and sucking and kissing. But then, she didn’t need to wear makeup. Her complexion was flawless.
“Aiden,” she whispered, and for a moment he thought she was talking to him. He’d already started to respond when he lifted his gaze from her mouth and found her eyes still closed, her lids twitching. Obviously dreaming, she moaned, whispering his name again, and his breath got all jammed up in his throat, his heart damn near beating its way out of his chest.
She was talking in her sleep.
And she was talking about him.
Scrubbing his hands down his face, Aiden choked back the thick animal sound that tried to crawl its way out of him. He was so jacked up after touching her that morning, he felt as if he could go off at the slightest provocation. And hearing her moan his name in her sleep was provocative as hell. The animal in him wanted to scoop her up and run for the trees that lined the back of the parking lot, where it could have her to itself. Strip her, take her to the ground and go all kitty on her. Place its scratchy tongue against the downy softness of her skin. Lick her from head to toe, lingering on all her sweet spots.
Come to think of it, the man in him thought it sounded like a hell of a plan, as well.
Like she’d let you, a bitter voice suddenly muttered inside his head, jarring him out of his fantasy.
Think about it. Who said she was dreaming anything “nice” about you?
Scowling, Aiden narrowed his eyes. He studied her expression, searching for clues. She looked flushed, turned on, but who knew? After what she’d seen that morning, maybe he’d become her worst nightmare. Maybe he was just projecting his own desperate fantasies onto her. Maybe all she wanted was to get away from him. Ditch his ass and never set eyes on him again.
A loud, furious roar filled his head, and he winced, grimacing from the pain. Ouch. Obviously the tiger wasn’t any happier with that idea than he was.
Under the watchful intensity of his gaze, she shifted, restless, her lips parting. Aiden felt himself drawn forward, poised on a sharp edge of anticipation as he waited to see what she would say next.
A second passed. His muscles coiled, tension drawing him tight…tighter.
Another second. He held his breath.
She sighed, her lips moving as she started to say—
Tap…tap…tap.
The quiet rapping of knuckles against the window at his back caught him completely off guard. Startled, Aiden lurched in his seat, smacking his head on the roof of the truck. What the…? Feeling like an idiot, he slid a cautious glance toward Olivia, thankful to see that she was still sleeping.
Unfortunately, the low rumble of laughter coming from outside the truck told him that Kellan and Noah had thought it was funny as hell. Whipping around, he gave a soft growl at the sight of Kellan bent forward, one hand clutched around two large bags of food, the other crossed over his stomach, as if he had to hold himself together. Noah stood beside the laughing werewolf, his broad shoulders shaking with humor as well, while he balanced two trays of supersized drinks in his hands.
Reminding himself that it wasn’t going to help his case with Liv if she caught him clobbering his friends, Aiden climbed out of the truck, quietly shut the door behind him, then shoved his hands into his pockets, where they couldn’t get him into trouble. He scowled at Kell’s good-natured ribbing, their laughter dying away as he brought them up to speed, relaying what he’d learned from his calls. They decided they would go ahead and set out again, eating as they drove, and after handing over a bag of food, as well as a tray of drinks, Kellan and Noah headed back to Liv’s compact.
Balancing the bag under one arm, Aiden opened the truck door and found Olivia sitting up in her seat, rubbing her eyes. She gave him a soft smile as he handed everything over, then climbed behind the wheel.
“What were you guys talking about?” she asked as he started the engine, reversed out of the parking space and followed Kellan back out onto the highway. “The three of you looked tense. Did something happen while I was asleep?”
“I made a few calls when we stopped. Talked to Quinn again—” he’d already talked to Michael Quinn, the Watchman who was now engaged to Saige Buchanan, earlier that morning, and asked him to inform everyone at Ravenswing about the strange attack at the hotel “—then managed to get in touch with Kierland.”
“And?” she asked, pulling a Happy Meal for Jamie out of the bag.
“It sounds like he could be on to something that might actually explain what went down this morning. Last night he was approached by a Deschanel.” He slid her a curious look. “You heard of them before?”
“Vampires, right?”
“Yeah. It seems there was a Watchman killed in Russia a few days ago, the body drained completely of blood, which doesn’t mesh with a Casus feeding. When those bastards feed, they take as much flesh as they can.”
She nodded, took a deep breath, then moved the conversation along. “If not a Casus who killed the Watchman, then what?”
“That’s the thing. We don’t know.” He hit his signal to change lanes, pushing the speed limit as far as he dared. “Rumors are going around that it was a Deschanel kill, but the vamp who approached Kierland denied it. Said they want to make a deal with us. Trade information about some new threat to the Watchmen in exchange for Westmore.”
“He’s the one who’s working to bring back the Casus, right?”
“Yeah, that’s him.” Aiden explained why the Deschanel wanted to get their hands on Westmore, as well as Kierland’s suspicion that the murder in Russia could be connected to that morning’s attack at the hotel. He also told her that another Watchman murder had been reported in New Zealand, keeping the gory details to himself. While he talked, Olivia listened as she woke Jamie up from her nap and set about unpacking their food.
“So what exactly is Kierland doing in Prague anyway?” she asked, handing him his Double Quarter Pounder with Cheese.
With the burger in one hand, Aiden steered with the other. “He’s still trying to convince the Consortium that the clans need to make a unified stand against the Casus.”
Nibbling on her fries, she said, “Why does he want the Consortium involved?”
“Because an operation this size needs central leadership if it’s going to work. Kierland not only wants all the clans working together, but he wants a system set up that will allow the Markers to be shared among the different Watchmen units, who would then make sure they were available to any Merrick who needed them.”
“But isn’t that dangerous?” she asked, taking a sip of her soda. “I mean, obviously the Merrick need them in order to fight the Casus, but what if the Markers fell into the wrong hands?”
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