Craved (Book #2 of the Vampire Legacy)

by Morgan Rice

  Kyle began to head down the gravel road, a new bounce to his step, kicking up dirt as he went. He got onto the busy Route 99, and walked along its shoulder. Cars whizzed by and as they did, he grinned and stuck out a thumb. Of course, as the headlights lit up his scarred face, reflected off his bald head, no one dared stop.

  But that just made him grin wider. He wouldn’t have stopped for himself either. No one was that stupid.

  Kyle didn’t really want a ride anyway. He just enjoyed scaring others. Maybe he’d strike just a little bit of panic in some driver’s heart, maybe in the heart of some mom or her kids. He grinned wider at the thought, sneering at a Volkswagen Beetle as it sped by.

  His real destination was just down the road, a little dive bar that he remembered from years ago. It was the perfect spot to get a drink and kick off his hell raising. Maybe he could beat the hell out of a few unsuspecting locals—and maybe, if he got lucky, top it off by finding some girls to take advantage of.

  Pete’s. That was its name.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  Scarlet walked by herself down Route 99, cars whizzing past her, and never felt more alone. It had been the worst day she could remember.

  She ran over and over in her mind what could have possibly happened to Sage. How could he have abandoned her like that? Had he changed his mind? Was it something she’d said? Had he realized that he was just not that into her all along? Had he decided to stay with his family instead? Had it all just been a lie? Had he really sent his cousin for the necklace?

  The thought of him broke her heart completely. Sage was the last person in the world who she thought would let her down. Now, after the fights with her parents and her friends, she felt she had no one—absolutely no one—left to turn to. All the joy and optimism that had swelled her heart this morning now came crashing down, sending her lower than she had ever been. She truly felt she had nothing left to live for.

  Scarlet walked with her head down, dejected, barely even noticing the cars. She felt, inside her, something slowly stirring, welling up. It was a slow, simmering rage, something unsatisfied, something that needed to be fulfilled. It was a desire to take revenge on something. On someone. A desire to feed. She felt her skin itching, all her senses on edge, like, she imagined, a drug addict probably felt when needing a hit. Previously, she had been able to keep it all in check. But now, she couldn’t hold it back anymore. More and more, she felt as if she were about to explode. She had a sinking feeling that once she found her next target, she’d be unable to control herself.

  A part of her wanted to run, to get away, to avoid mankind. But another part of her was feeling this unquenchable desire that had to be sated. Her veins were alive, burning inside of her. She needed fresh blood to fill them.

  Suddenly, a car screeched to a stop right in front of her, snapping her out of it. She looked up and saw a beat-up black pickup truck. In the cab sat two men, mid 30s. They backed up, until they were right beside her, slammed on the brakes, and peered out.

  She saw beer cans in their hands, and could smell stale beer coming from inside the cab; she could see from their faces that they were drunk. They were unshaven, ugly men; their hands were covered in grease, and they looked like they hadn’t changed in weeks.

  “Hey little girl,” came the slurred voice of the man in the passenger seat. “What ya doing on a road like this all by herself so late at night?”

  “Jump in and we’ll give you a ride!” the driver yelled out.

  “We’ll take you for a good time,” the other one added.

  Scarlet felt her rage rising, nearly uncontrollable. She zoomed in on the pulses in their throats, watched their heartbeats.

  With a supreme force of will, she forced herself to look away. She turned and continued walking down the highway, ignoring them.

  “Hey girl I’m talking to you!” one of them shouted.

  A second later, she heard the door to the truck open and close, heard boots on the gravel, and heard the sound of them both rushing up to her. She sensed that in just a moment, one of them would grab her, probably try to throw her into the car and take her who knows where.

  But they picked the wrong girl, at the wrong time.

  At the last second Scarlet spun, just as the first one was about to grab her. She snarled, her fangs protruding, and an unearthly noise filled the air.

  The two men stopped cold in their tracks, shocked, eyes opened wide in fear.

  In that moment, Scarlet felt she could easily plunge her fangs into their throats, feed—and she wanted to more than anything.

  But with another supreme effort, she forced herself not to.

  Instead, she grabbed the closest one by his plaid shirt, picked him up high over her head, and leaned back and threw him.

  He went flying, smashing through the windshield, landing in the front seat, shattering glass all over the place.

  The other man peed his pants. Eyes open wide in terror, he turned and sprinted and ran back into the truck. He jumped in and peeled out of there. Within moments, their red tail lights were a dot on the horizon.

  Scarlet looked around, breathing hard, and took several deep breaths.

  Slowly, she willed herself back to normal, and slowly, her fangs retracted. She was proud of her self-discipline.

  But she felt like a starving animal. She didn’t know how much longer she could take it.

  She scanned the horizon, and saw, not far from her, a roadside bar. It had a cheap, flashing neon sign, missing a letter. It blinked: Pete’s.

  She was dying of thirst. Maybe if she had some water, some food—anything—it might taper off her craving. She had to try something. Anything.

  Pete’s it was.

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

  As Scarlet walked through the door of the small dive bar, she knew right away that it was a mistake. A dozen or so locals sat slumped over the bar, big burly men, and they all turned and stared as the door closed behind her.

  The bartender looked up, too, as if wondering what a girl like her was doing in a place like this. It was a disgusting little place, fluorescent lights flashing, a broken pinball machine off to one side, a small pool table missing balls. The bar looked more like a living room than a bona fide establishment. It was late, she realized, and clearly these men were deep into their drinking. She could sense the dark energy, and a part of her wanted to turn and run.

  But another part of her was desperate. She needed water, food—she didn’t know what. Something was happening to her body, and she could hardly think straight.

  Scarlet rushed to the bar, breathing hard, and flagged down the bartender.

  “Water,” she gasped. “I need water. Please.”

  He warily filled a glass with tap water and handed it to her.

  “You got ID to be in here?” he asked.

  Without pausing, Scarlet chugged the entire 16 ounce glass of water. It felt so good going down her throat. She was parched, and didn’t know why.

  “More,” she gasped.

  The bartended filled up her glass, and she chugged it again.

  She took a deep breath, and felt a little better. But she still didn’t feel sated. Her veins were still screaming for something else. Something more.

  Blood.

  Scarlet turned and scanned the faces of the men at the bar, who all leered back at her as if she were a thing of prey. They licked their lips, as if waiting to pounce.

  Suddenly there was the distinct sound of a bolt sliding shut; Scarlet turned and saw a huge man standing at the door. He had just finished locking it, and he blocked the exit with his massive frame. He stared at Scarlet as if manna from heaven had just fallen into his lap.

  Scarlet willed herself to breathe, to stay calm. She didn’t want to hurt these men. She didn’t want to kill them. She didn’t want to feed on anyone. All she wanted was to be left alone. To get out of here. To let this nightmare end.

  The huge man, his face covered in scars and with a shining, bald head, walked righ
t up to her. He sneered down at her. He was the biggest cretin she had ever seen.

  “My name is Kyle,” he said to her, as he approached. “What’s yours, little girl?”

  “Go to hell,” Scarlet said.

  A chorus of oohs arose from the bar, as the other men roared in amusement.

  Kyle’s, humiliated, turned beet-red.

  He reached down with both hands and grabbed her wrists and yanked her to him. In the same motion, he reached around and picked her up off the floor and carried her off, as if she were a ragdoll.

  Scarlet struggled and kicked and elbowed, but it did no good. This man was huge, as strong as a rock, and she couldn’t wiggle free. She summoned her rage, her supernatural strength, to come—but for some reason it would not.

  “Get your hands off of me!” she screamed.

  “Honey,” he said, as he dragged her behind the bar, through a hidden door, into a secluded back room, “that’s the last thing I am going to do to you tonight.”

  The final thing Scarlet saw was the door slamming behind her, as the man held her tighter and carried her deeper, and deeper, into the blackness.

  CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

  Caitlin sat in the passenger seat while Caleb floored their car, Sam and Polly in the back. They had picked them up on the way and Polly was tracking Scarlet’s movements on her iphone. They all sped down Route 99, each on edge, Caleb doing 100 miles an hour as he raced for Pete’s.

  “I see her blue dot!” Polly yelled out, glued to her phone. “She’s still there. We’re getting closer. I see it!”

  “I hope it’s really her, not just her phone,” Caitlin said, with a sinking feeling.

  For the millionth time, she agonized over what her daughter could be doing at Pete’s. She wondered again if she’d made a mistake to leave for so long, to go to Paris, if she should’ve stayed here, at home, and done whatever she could to protect her. She felt overwhelmed with waves of guilt and anxiety.

  But she at least took comfort in being here with Caleb and Polly and Sam. It would be a rough crowd at Pete’s, and if there were any altercations, there was no one she’d rather have there than Caleb and Sam. Between the two of them, they’d have the muscle they needed to get Scarlet out of anything.

  “THERE!” Caitlin screamed, pointing. “Up there, on the right!”

  Caleb dramatically slowed the car, bringing it down to 40, and made a hard turn off the road, onto the gravel parking lot of Pete’s. A truck’s air-horn, behind him, blared at him as he did, but he didn’t care.

  They screeched to a stop right in front of the bar.

  “She’s in here!” Polly screamed. “For sure!”

  The second they pulled up, the four of them jumped out of the car, the engine barely off, and raced as one for the door. Caleb reached it first, Sam right behind them, and Caleb tried the knob.

  “It’s locked,” he said, confused.

  “That makes no sense,” Caitlin said. “The lights are on. I see people in there. I hear music.”

  “I’m telling you, they locked it,” he said.

  “Why would they do that?” Polly asked.

  And then, suddenly, with a pit in her stomach, Caitlin realized. They wanted to keep somebody locked in. Her stomach dropped further, as she thought of Scarlet. Was she being held captive in there?

  “Stand back,” Caleb said. He must have been thinking the same thing.

  He took a running start, and put a shoulder to the door. It shook, but didn’t give.

  “I’ll help,” Sam said, stepping up. “On three, we ram this thing. ONE…TWO…THREE!”

  The two of them took a few steps and rammed their shoulders into the door, which went flying open in a splintering of wood.

  The two of them went flying inside, Caitlin and Polly on their heels. As they did, it was immediate mayhem.

  A crowd of about a dozen locals, big, burly men, scowled back. There was an excited energy in the air, as if they were all up to something—or hiding something.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing to our door?” one of them screamed.

  “Who the hell you think you are?” another yelled.

  “Where is she?” Caleb screamed back, walking towards them. “My daughter. WHERE IS SHE?”

  The locals grinned to each other, and as they did, Caitlin knew immediately that she was here.

  “You mean that sweet little thing?” one of them mocked. “I’d say she’s rounding second base right about now!”

  There followed a chorus of laughter from the other locals.

  Caleb’s face turned a shade of purple, as he took on a darker expression than Caitlin had ever seen in her life.

  He charged the local who spoke, grabbed him with both hands, heaved him high above his head, and threw him into his friend. The two of them collapsed onto the floor.

  There was a shattering of glass, as another local snuck up on Caleb from behind and, before anyone could react, smashed him hard with a bottle on the back of his head.

  Caitlin watched, horrified, as Caleb sank to the ground.

  “Oh my god, Caleb!” she yelled.

  Sam jumped into action. He tackled the local, driving him down to the ground.

  But a moment later, three more locals jumped on top of Sam, kicking him in his exposed rib cage and back, and beating him down.

  Caitlin ran to the bar, grabbed an empty bottle and ran over and smashed the man on the back of the head who was kicking Sam.

  But suddenly, she found herself back-handed hard across the face. She was then shoved against a wall, as another man grabbed her from behind, restraining her arms. Another man grabbed Polly.

  Caitlin stood there, pinned, helpless as she watched Caleb lying there unconscious, and Sam getting beaten to a pulp on the ground.

  God only knew where Scarlet was. This was the most horrifying moment of Caitlin’s life. She would do anything, anything, just to break free, to be able to save her husband, her brother, her best friend—and most of all, her daughter—from these disgusting locals.

  She wondered if the locals would kill them all. It certainly seemed like it was going that way. She felt more helpless than she ever had.

  That was when the door to the bar burst open.

  The locals turned, and Caitlin saw, standing there, a boy who looked maybe 18. He was tall, with broad shoulders, striking gray eyes, and a proud, noble chin. He wore a tight leather jacket, and she had the strangest feeling that she’d met him before.

  Caitlin wasn’t exactly sure what happened next. She blinked, and a moment later, the boy was across the room. She didn’t understand how he covered so much ground so quickly. But he did. And in another blink of an eye, he had already managed to knock out all five people who were kicking Sam. He punched and kicked in such a whirlwind, it was as if a tornado entered the room.

  Caitlin watched, wide-eyed, in awe. Inspired by him, she raised her elbow and brought it back, elbowing the man holding her hard in the solo plexus. He keeled over, and she reached around, grabbed a bottle and smashed it hard across his face. He collapsed to his knees and she kicked him hard in the gut several times.

  The boy circled the room, knocking out everyone except for Caleb and Sam and Caitlin and Polly. Within a moment, the floor was littered with bodies. She wondered who this boy was? How he had this strength? And why he was helping them?

  The boy rushed over and helped Caleb and Sam to their feet. The two of them looked at him, dazed, not understanding what had happened.

  “Thank you,” Caitlin said, stepping forward. “You saved our lives. Who are you?”

  “Sage. Where is she?”

  Caitlin wondered how he knew about Scarlet. Had he come here looking for her?

  The boy didn’t wait for a response. He searched the room, then his eyes locked on the door behind the bar.

  He rushed it, and Caitlin and the others rushed it, too, right behind him.

  Without pausing, Sage kicked the door down, and it went flying off its
hinges.

  Caitlin stopped in her tracks, horrified: she could not believe what she saw.

  *

  Although Scarlet struggled, she could not overpower the man. He had carried her into this back room, turned on the cheap fluorescent light, and had thrown her across the room; she’d landed hard on the firm, cheap couch, banging her head on the wood frame. She lay there, shaking, trying to get her bearings. As she sat up, he backhanded her hard across the face, knocking her down.

  The man walked across the room, turning on another lamp on the far side.

  “I want to be able to see you when I do this,” he snarled. “Looks like it’s my lucky night.”

  Scarlet lay there, burning with the injustice of the world. It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t fair.

  She started to experience a new sensation. An anger rose up through her, a deep, primal anger at the world. It overwhelmed her, took over her, rose up through her veins. Up until now, she had tried so hard to hold back her urge not to hurt anyone. Not to feed on anyone. It was so against her nature.

  But as this disgusting man, this awful predator, walked towards her, looming so large, Scarlet could not hold back any longer. The primal rage rose up through her—and this time, she let it rise. A tremendous heat prickled in her veins, raised her hairs, made them stand on end, from her toes up to her head.

  She breathed harder, and heavier, and slowly, she felt her fangs protrude. She felt transformed. No longer was she afraid of her anger. Of her desire. Now she was ready to embrace it. Now, finally, she was ready to embrace who she was. Ready to feed. Ready to destroy.

  As the man came closer, now just a few feet away, Scarlet suddenly jumped to her feet. She stood there opposite him, and as she did, she let out a unearthly, horrific snarl. It was the anguished cry of a wild beast, caged for centuries, finally let loose. Her chains had finally been unbound.

  Despite the man’s huge height and strength and breadth, despite his scars, despite his being the meanest man she’d ever met, he stopped cold in his tracks at the sight of her. And in his eyes, she could see, for the first time, real terror. He was panic stricken. In a state of total shock.