I pressed a hand against my stomach. “The queen? Are you sure? Seven years would mean—”
“Among other things, that his abandonment might not have been planned. Tread cautiously where he is concerned, Ella, I fear he doesn’t have your best interests in mind. Let’s not make the same mistake twice.”
I rose from the ground and met my uncle’s eyes. “I let Julian cloud my judgment for two years before I discovered what a bastard he was. Trust me—I won’t make the mistake of trusting him or anyone else with my interests ever again.”
Roy stepped close and cupped my cheek. “It pains my soul to see you so jaded. You’re only twenty-five, Ella. Not every man you meet will break your heart. Love is a precious gift if given to the right person. Remember that.”
Unable to speak or to process, I nodded and did the zombie shuffle to the stairs. I pulled myself up the staircase of the old house my great-grandfather had built. My fingers glided over the smooth, wooden railing. I was afraid if I let go of the banister I’d fall.
I’d had sex with Micah, my self-acclaimed sworn enemy, multiple times without a condom. Julian was back and already stirring up the hurts I’d struggled to bury for the last several years. What in the hell was I going to do?
Shower. I walked blindly to the bathroom. Putting one foot in front of the other was all I could manage. I made it inside the bathroom without running into Hannah. One look at me and I was terrified my sister would somehow sense the small kernel of relief I felt at knowing maybe Julian hadn’t left me on purpose.
In order to avoid the oblong mirror over the sink, I rested my forehead against the closed bathroom door. I didn’t want to look. Like the coward I was turning out to be, I closed my eyes and walked blindly to the bathtub. I didn’t open my eyes until I was safely behind the thick green curtain. I pulled off Micah’s shirt and threw it over the shower rod.
The ice-cold water hit me like a thousand needles. I gasped. Pressing a hand against the wall in front of me, I struggled to draw in a breath. After I was clean, I let my shoulders slump, giving myself over to the confusion.
I never knew what hit me.
Julian pounced and a barrage of emotions slammed into me.
Ripping pain seared through me. I grabbed onto the slick shower curtain in a poor attempt to keep from falling. Plastic ripped. Metal rings scattered and hit the floor with a clinking echo. My knees hit the porcelain basin with a reverberating crash. Every bone in my body experienced the jarring impact. In defense, I curled into a ball. How did you protect yourself from something you couldn’t see?
Water dripped into my gasping mouth and I sputtered. My back bowed in agony. With a savagery I hadn’t known Julian capable of, my sire tore through my mind. With each memory, sensation, feeling he encountered, his anger mounted.
Put your shields up, Ella, I cannot control this,Julian ordered but I couldn’t. It was too late.
I saw the first time I’d met him. Experienced through his perspective the stupefied look on my face as I gazed into his very blue eyes over my father’s closed oak casket. It was the day his obsession began. The memories shifted. His cock thrust into me for the very first time and I felt the stinging pleasure of him taking my virginity. I remembered the feral look on his face, the gleam of his fangs as he thrust. He’d been brutal and rough and I’d begged for more. Flash forward, another memory.
I was dying. I lay in a dark, slimy sewage tunnel. My body was broken, bleeding. As if I was there, the stench of stagnant, rotting water filled my nose. After the pack of red-skinned demons nearly beat me to death, they thought it would be fun to leave me for the rabid vampires. A little snack, they’d said. The rats found me first.
I wished they’d finished me off.
Before I’d gotten the chance to die, Julian had swooped in like a black knight and turned me. The memories grew jumbled. Blood. Pain. Writhing. Julian wiping sweat from my brow. Cool water sponged over my seizing body. Regret shadowed his love. He’d known then that he would have to leave me in order to protect me. By saving my life, he forfeited any chance to be with me.
His roar filled my head and I couldn’t hear anything else. Not the shower, not my whimpers. The connection between us warbled, as if he were trying to break free but couldn’t. We were both trapped. I wrapped my arms around my head and tried to force my sire out. Images of Micah and me shuffled through my mind. Through Julian’s eyes I saw the rapture on Micah’s face while he thrust into me. I saw the beautiful way our sweat-slicked bodies moved tirelessly against one another. On the right side of our bodies, the crimson tattoos glowed and pulsed with energy. Through Julian, I saw Micah claiming me, stealing me away from my sire.
His rage consumed me. Bright red spots of blood ran from my nose and plopped to the white porcelain beneath me. One drop at a time, the shower whisked it away like a dirty secret.
“Stop,” I cried. “Please.”
Julian pushed his will harder until the sobs of pain and anguish consumed me. In those next moments he stripped everything from me. It felt like the very skin on my bones had been cut away. I would have done anything, given anything, to make him stop.
Long minutes passed before the pain faded and I felt Julian’s withdrawal from my mind. Blessed, sweet relief. The only thing left between us was a deep sense of sorrow.
Weak and unable to make my limbs obey my commands, it took me several attempts to shut off the water. It took even longer to find my legs. I crawled more than walked out of the tub and into a towel I pulled from the rack.
I didn’t dare look in the mirror. No, I wrapped myself up and exited the bathroom. Using the wall for support, I found my bedroom and stumbled into it.
Clothes were not the first thing I thought of. I needed a weapon. Even as a child, weapons had given me a sense of security. What boogeyman hiding under the bed could withstand a black Brimstone blade between its eyes? I pulled out the knife and sheath I kept stashed under my pillow. After strapping the leather harness around my wrist, I turned to the closet. I piled on clothes. Underwear, pants and a long-sleeved sweater to cover the knife.
These days my wardrobe consisted of one color—black. My clothes were easy to mix and match and blood didn’t show up as easily. Before my life had changed forever, I would have spent thirty minutes picking out the perfect outfit, the perfect shade of lip gloss to go with it. Back then, I would have chosen snug blue jeans and a cute blue shirt, to match Julian’s eyes.
I hate blue.
Chapter Four
I forced myself to walk, not run, into the emergency room. There was a driving force inside me, pushing me to Micah. Now more than ever, I needed him.
The second I entered the hospital, a multitude of scents and sounds assaulted me. For just a moment, I stood motionless in the sea of chaotic movement.
A gurney raced by on my left. On it lay an African-American woman whose rust-colored curls surrounded a perfectly oval face. Ripped and smudged with dirt, scraps of her flowing purple gown trailed behind her. The floating fabric reminded me too much of the succubus’ robes.
On my right, another gurney rolled by with a new surge of smells and noises. I caught the brief glance of a teenager with pale-white skin, orange hair and large green eyes. The scent of liquor poured off him in such a pungent wave I feared I’d get drunk just sniffing the fumes. The kid wasn’t old enough to drive, let alone drink. There was a wide-open gash on his forehead and streams of blood poured down the side of his battered face. My fangs pulsed. Honey. Sweet, sweet honey.
“I think I’m going to be sick.” Hannah’s whimper snapped me out of my bloodlust.
Roy pulled her into his strong arms and tucked her head against his chest. “Let’s keep moving.”
As we passed, the boy jerked on the gurney and mumbled incoherently about the injustice of the legal system. He fought against the cuffs linking him to his bed. Two uniformed officers followed closely behind while their radios crackled with static.
A few feet in front of us,
a tired woman with graying hair clutched a sodden handkerchief to her chest. She rocked and moaned. Tears fell down her cheeks. “No. No. Please, no. Not my baby!” she cried. She collapsed to the ground while the doctor who stood nearby looked on in sympathy.
The wail of a siren cut through the noise of the ER. More victims outside. More soul-blackening guilt inside. Vampire Queen and Demon Son.
The ridiculous words echoed in my head.
I was not a queen and Micah was not a demon.
Through all the sights, sounds and smells, the roiling energy Micah emitted coaxed my darkness close to the surface. His power was intoxicating. I closed my eyes and focused on the tug deep inside my gut. The need inside grew even stronger. I looked up at the smooth white tiles of the ceiling and attempted to judge the distance between Micah and me. He was four levels up and maybe a few rooms past the elevators ten feet in front of me.
We walked by the nurses’ station and I tried not to let the abrupt drop of conversation bother me. That was becoming a common occurrence. The two men we’d passed in the parking lot had nearly dropped their coffee the second they’d gotten a good look at me. The cluster of people in the waiting room had cut off mid-sentence to stare at me as I strolled by. A little girl had taken one look into my eyes and clung tighter to her mother’s leg.
With my hair still wet, the brown strands looked black. Against my unnaturally pale skin, my eyes glowed. My black-on-black ensemble completed the vampire goth look.
“Maybe you should just get a cape.” Hannah’s whispered words in my ear eased some of my anxiety and I squeezed the hand she slipped into mine.
A week ago I’d been unremarkable. Brown hair, brown eyes, below-average height. There was nothing noteworthy. I wasn’t even charming. Homeschooled since I was five, I lacked the necessary social niceties other people my age had. Hannah’s high school years had consisted of football games and winter formals. Hell, she’d even been prom queen. My experience had included midnight patrols in the neighboring cemeteries while I learned about rogue vampires, demons and blood splatter.
The shiny metal doors of the elevator slid open and the haggard passengers exiting gave me a wide berth.
“You’ll have to limit your exposure,” Roy said calmly as the doors dinged shut behind us. The other people waiting for the elevator had chosen to wait for the next one. “While most humans don’t believe the legends are true about vampires and demons, it is obvious there is something…different about you.”
I stared straight ahead at the mirrored walls. Two blue flames stared back at me. Beside me, Hannah and I couldn’t have looked any more different if we’d tried. She was tall—five-eight—and blonde, where I was short and brunette. Her short knee-high skirt and pastel V-neck sweater brought out her inner cheerleader. My black combat boots brought out my inner badass.
“I’ve been out in public with Julian before. He didn’t frighten small children the way I seem to be doing.”
“Julian was,” Roy paused, “charismatic. I believe it’s why the Vampire Court chose him as their human-vampire liaison with the Agency. You give off a different vibe, something richer, more potent. There is strength, power, inside you. Micah told me about the phazing. Coupled with the new changes, I don’t know what it means yet. Anyone with even the slightest degree of sensitivity would recognize you as not a normal human. It won’t be long before the Shadow Agency is alerted.”
“Shouldn’t the fact that my heart is beating count for something? I’m not a dog to be put down.” I pressed my back against the wall and gripped the metal railing. When the aluminum dented, I let go and flexed my fingers. Whoops.
Roy gave me a chiding look. “You aren’t the only living vampire, Ella.”
Hannah clapped. Her shimmering gloss covered lips curved in a smile. “Lizbeth Tepes, the reclusive queen of all vampires, that no one outside of her Sacred Eight has seen since she was fourteen. That makes her over six hundred years old or something.”
I glared at my sister. “Who told you that?”
She lifted a delicate shoulder. “I may or may not have found a book in Roy’s study. Did you think my sister would get turned into a vampire and I wouldn’t do some research? As if.” Hannah continued as if she didn’t see the eye roll I gave her. “According to the Shadow Agency, she was born to Vlad the Impaler sometime during the fifteenth century. She carried the genetic defect that made her the first, and only, vampire of her kind. Until you, of course, Ella.”
“I’ve got nothing in common with that sadistic bitch besides the beating heart. And really, who knows if her heart is even still pumping? Julian never said much about her. The only thing I know about Lizbeth is that she gets off on torture.” I looked at Roy. “Why is my heart still beating?”
“That, my dear, is an excellent question,” he said.
The elevator doors slid open with a ding and a wisp, announcing our arrival and the end of our conversation. People who overheard you talking about vampires tended to think you were crazy. Roy and then Hannah followed close behind me. I stopped in front of the fifth door on the left. I knew it was Micah’s room but not by the instant surge I got in the dark, shadowed part of my soul where my inner vampire lurked. The almost hysterical shouting was what tipped me off. Micah’s voice was deep, raspy—I shuddered.
“She can’t be here. I don’t want her here,” Micah roared.
“An hour ago, she couldn’t get here fast enough. What’s going on with you?” Eli yelled right back.
“Ella can’t be near me. I don’t know how to explain it. Make. Her. Leave,” Micah shouted.
My chest ached. Cautiously, I cracked open the door. The distinct smell hanging in the air was a combination of bleach and formaldehyde. No matter how pungent or unpleasant, the aroma was not enough to drown out Micah’s scent.
The room I walked into was cold and sterile. Functional. Everything from the ceiling to the floor, including the slatted blinds, shone white in the dim fluorescent lights. I looked at the bed, the man in it, and then lowered my gaze to the ground.
I wasn’t prepared for how fragile Micah would look in his thin cotton gown. He didn’t turn at my approach when I shuffled fully into the room. The tense line of his jaw said enough. He didn’t want me here. I watched the blood drain from his knuckles as he gripped the metal railing of his hospital bed. The insistent beeping coming from his heart monitor sang in a too-fast tempo.
I’m not sure what I was thinking by coming here. Guilt is a powerful emotion, one that overrides common sense. I was emotionally vulnerable enough, from my ordeals with Micah and Julian, to ignore my instincts to run and hide.
Micah turned, looked at me. I took an involuntary step back when his gaze hammered into mine. I sucked in a breath. Roy said something, “bad plan”, maybe? I couldn’t hear over the drumming beat of my blood or Micah’s matching rhythm. The room narrowed until the only thing I saw was the way Micah ripped out his IV. Blood ran from his arm, dripped onto the sheet underneath him.
He jumped out of bed and the moment his bare feet hit the linoleum floor the lights began to flicker. Dazed, I stepped back. My heart was in my throat. My stomach was in a knot. Micah looked…hungry.
“Mine,” he hissed.
The room went black and engulfed the hospital in a pandemonium of beeping alarms and scampering feet. Micah grabbed me around the waist and pulled me into the bathroom. The door slammed shut behind us. Micah’s mouth closed over mine. His kiss was brutal, punishing and decadent.
“You shouldn’t have come. I knew the moment you stepped into the hospital I wouldn’t be able to control it. Something is still inside my head, whispering, taunting… It told me you’d come.”
Hard, pressing, he pinned me against the closed bathroom door. Someone pounded on the other side and each blow vibrated against my spine. That small sensation was nothing compared to the hammering beat of Micah’s heart. Sandwiched between the door and his hard body, the only sensations I registered were heat and want.
Micah reached down, twisted the lock on the door. The warmth of his breath painted my cheek, but the only thing I cared about was his cock against my stomach. His erection was thick and long. I rolled my hips against the bulge and heard his breath stutter.
The lights flickered on. Despite the brightness, the only thing I saw was the possession in his eyes.
“I need you,” he whispered against the shell of my ear before he sucked the lobe into his mouth.
Micah drew his lips down my neck, licked. He used his teeth and scraped them along my flesh. Desperation filled me. I needed him. This. Needed his passion more than breath…more than blood. A deep, throaty moan escaped me when he trailed his hand up my stomach, under my sweater. He closed his hand over one swollen breast. I grabbed his hips, pulled him between my thighs and molded our bodies together. I met his hungry gaze and the intense attraction between us exploded. This was bad.
Threading his fingers through the tangle of my hair, he tugged my head back. My whimper encouraged him to pull harder. He drew in a deep breath and I watched him tremble.
Hot and demanding, he pressed his open mouth along my throat, over my chin. He slanted his lips over mine and slid his tongue into my mouth with an urgency that stole my breath and my heart.
He nipped at my lower lip. When he stuck his tongue into my mouth, the sting faded. Everything disappeared. The only thing that mattered was the way he cupped my breast, the way he used his thumb to circle my nipple into an aroused point that shot flames to my core.
Micah tore his mouth from mine and pulled my sweater over my head. He didn’t stop. He fumbled with my bra, shoved it down until I was exposed. My hands shook as I desperately tried to unbutton and unzip my pants. In one shove, I had the pants and the panties down around my ankles. I stepped out of both.
Micah rolled his hips so his cock, covered only by his thin gown, now pressed against my dripping-wet center. He felt so good against me. Our eyes met and there was something so sinful, so erotic in the fire there.
Dark Cravings Page 6