Hunger Revealed

by Dee Carney

  WARNING: This free e-book contains matters of a sexual nature and adult language, which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. This free book is for ADULTS ONLY.

  This is a free work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Hunger Revealed

  Copyright 2012 Dee Carney Morgan

  Editor: Jana J. Hanson

  Cover Artist: Mina Carter

  Smashwords Edition

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  Prologue

  Sijourn leaned toward Corin. “I know of an executioner wanted by the Council for failing to complete a kill order. I know of a woman, still in heat by the scent of her, who is the object of that kill order. I know of no authorization for a newly created vampire in this portion of the state... I know of many things.”

  “I'd have to disagree. Otherwise you wouldn't have brought her here. If the Council's after me, they're surely after her as well.”

  “She might be the hope for a new breed of vamp—”

  “She,” Jasmine announced, “isn't amused by this conversation. Hello? I'm right here.”

  Corin's heart kicked against his ribs like it was trying to get out. A new breed of vampire. Is that what Sijourn really thought?

  Hunger Aroused

  Chapter One

  Jasmine turned to the side, visually tracing the way the sheer material billowed out and fell into graceful layers against her hips. The overhead lighting did nothing for her complexion, but overall, the effect of the clothing wasn't too shabby. The mirror didn't do her any favors, but it hadn't cracked either.

  Her gaze drifted a little bit lower, following the lines and slopes of her body, but nope, no problems identified. Light blue babydoll lingerie would knock Corin off his feet for sure. In a few weeks, on the night of their one-year wedding anniversary, she'd pick something even skimpier to show off.

  “Do it now while you can,” she muttered beneath her breath. Immediately, a sense of giddiness and overwhelming joy made a smile push at her cheeks.

  “Do what?”

  She whirled, startled—yet, not really—to find her husband now standing behind her in the small dressing room. Ducking to see around his hulking body, she searched for irate saleswomen who might be storming their way in order to toss them from the boutique. “You're going to get us kicked out!”

  Corin paid no attention to her protest. His dark eyes had grown stormy and studied her with sexual blatancy. “Gods,” he whispered.

  Jasmine leaned back, letting the cool wall support her as he visually undressed her, inch by inch. Her skin warmed beneath the scrutiny, which sent delightful shivers through her thighs, belly, and breasts. “I guess I should buy this one, huh?” she asked in a husky voice meant to transfer some of those same shivers to him.

  How crazy and amazing that a single look from this man aroused her to dripping need. Is this what the next hundred years would be like? A century of loving the man, a vampire executioner, who'd saved her from death and from a fate even worse than that.

  Maybe now would be a good time to tell him their news…

  “Mellita,” he said softly, “you amaze me.”

  His words were so similar to the thought she'd had a moment ago, her smile widened. They'd grown even closer during their brief marriage. He'd taught her how to be a member of the vampire nation. Their laws. Their covenants. How to survive.

  Used to his occasional brusqueness and frustratingly overprotective nature, she could no longer imagine a world without him.

  Her smile became an outright grin when her gaze happened to drop and encountered just how “amazed” her man had become. “Is that for me?” she asked, a brief nod pointing to the thick outline in his trousers.

  “Always.” His expression morphed into something a little mischievous. It was a look she knew well.

  “Oh no, mister. Not here.” She giggled. “I am so not going to jail because you want to be a little kinky.”

  He moved in close before she could break out of the dressing room. “Shh. We'll be quiet,” he whispered before sweeping his lips across her jaw.

  As she knew she would at his touch, Jasmine melted. Tilting her head, she met his seeking kisses, heat swirling in her belly.

  This was so bad. So bad. They'd never been quiet during sex. Even now, a small whimper of need bubbled from her throat. Corin responded by pushing a hand into her curls and deepened their kiss, his tongue thrusting into her mouth. Weak-kneed, Jasmine fought down the rising passion and tried to sway her husband once again to take this to a less-exotic location. “Let's finish this at home, sugar,” she murmured against his lips.

  He responded by pulling on the ribbon of satin tied right above her cleavage with slow and deliberate intent. He looked into her eyes while his fingers continued their decadent work, revealing more of her bare skin with each tug. Jasmine's nipples tightened, heaviness filling her breasts at the thought of those same fingers brushing against them.

  “Corin—” The admonishment died, a desperate need to feel her husband intimately overriding common sense.

  Dark eyes flicked up. “You can't go home dressed in this. Consider this my way of helping you out.”

  Her steady breathing grew more labored as he unveiled her near nudity. Another shiver crossed her as he pushed the soft straps from her shoulders, letting the entire garment flutter to the floor. Left standing in her own panties, growing wetter while her husband filled her mind with fantasies, she could barely get the next sentence out. “Eleven minutes to get home…six, if you floor it. We don't even have go to the bedroom.”

  “Such an awful long time to wait.” Corin dipped his head low, kissing a trail of heat down the sensitive curve of her neck. He cupped her breasts, lifting them to meet his questing mouth. When his lips circled the delicate tip of her nipple, she forgot what she'd been protesting. He crossed to the other breast, his hot tongue laving a path of sensuality she felt straight through her toes.

  She walked her fingers over his strong shoulders, reveling the way in which his movements made the muscles flex. “We're going to get caught,” she murmured, no longer sure who she was trying to convince.

  The angelic part of her brain reminded her of the other shoppers and salespeople milling around the store. The little devil, however, the one enjoying the way Corin alternately licked her nipples to heated points, strongly implied the risk would be worth it.

  The sound of women's laughter drifting into the dressing room a moment later snagged and held Jasmine's attention. She patted Corin's back, a signal he understood based on the way his shoulders slumped with resignation. “Eleven minutes,” he whispered. “You have an additional four to get dressed. Otherwise I'm dragging you out in whatever you're wearing.” His eyes twinkled with humor.

  “No worries there. I can envision me in a fireman's carry as you hustle us through the mall.” He’d do it. No doubt.

  “At least you know enough to take me seriously,” he said. A quick kiss swiped over her lips. “Move it.”

  “You move it,” she called to his back. Corin went to the door, cracking it open a sliver. He peered into the gap. Jasmine smirked and said, “Go get the car. Let me just pay for this, and I'll be out in a sec.”

  With the grace of a warrior, he slipped out of the dressing room, then pulled the door closed behind him. Breath held, face scrunched, Jasmine waited for the sounds of women’s shrieki
ng or someone in a chest-pain panic as a brute of a man strolled out of the area. When no general mayhem became apparent, Jasmine scooped the discarded lingerie from the carpeted floor. It only took a moment to then quickly dress in her print top and knit pants.

  If Corin said he'd be back in four minutes, he meant exactly that. After their brush with death because of the imaginings of a billionaire vampire with dominance on his mind, Corin had tightened his protective circle around Jasmine. Finally, months later—after a lot of work and a relatively quiet existence—she'd gotten him to relax his stranglehold. No way was she giving him a reason to start going all He-Man again. But just because he allowed her a little breathing room didn’t mean she didn’t relish more. Some days, she missed being a single woman, if only it meant not having Corin worry and hover. Some days, his attention threatened to drown her.

  She hated that he remained constantly at vigil, always looking at everyone and everything around them with suspicion. He didn’t trust her to be near strangers and trusted no one who came close. Made making friends difficult. Making friends among vampires, even more impossible. She loved her husband dearly, but for once, she wanted just a little space!

  Jasmine released an audible sigh, blowing away the frustration. It didn't matter. Corin could be nothing other than her big, strong protector, and she'd simply have to let him.

  After a final glance around the dressing room, she grabbed the babydoll and her purse. The door swung away easily, and when Jasmine stepped outside, a woman hustling down the little corridor almost collided into her. “Sorry,” Jasmine muttered.

  “No, I'm—wait. Are you Jasmine Gerulaitis?” The woman's green eyes widened in recognition.

  Frowning, confused, Jasmine nodded. “Do I know you?”

  She didn't recognize the woman who wore an expensive silk shirt and ankle-length skirt. Her blonde hair had been pulled back, a tightly braided ponytail slung over her shoulder. The brilliant diamond ring on her finger suggested wealth while the blunt roundness of her fingernails spoke to a hard-working life. “My name is Evelyn Mitchell. It took us a little time, but I'm so glad we found you.”

  “Us?”

  The woman grinned, showing off vampiric teeth. “The members of the House of Cruor. We weren't certain it was you, but I volunteered to come ask. To find out if you are really the woman who transformed without a sire.”

  Not this again. Evelyn thought Jasmine was some sort of miracle. That she'd somehow become a vampire without the blood of a sire.

  It wasn't true.

  Jasmine blew out a frustrated breath. She and Corin had gone over this and over this, again and again, yet a lot of people still refused to believe that she'd had a vampire sire. Just not in the usual, traditional sense. It was quite possibly the only reason Corin had spared her life when they'd first met.

  Whatever. People who didn't know her could believe what they wanted. “Evelyn, was it?” She kept her voice low, hoping no human around them would eavesdrop on what must have been a bizarre conversation. After the woman nodded, Jasmine said, “It's nice meeting you, but my husband's waiting outside. I have to go.”

  Evelyn moved closer to Jasmine, coming at her with that creepy grin showing off the sharp edges of her pointed teeth. “We just want to talk to you for a little while. To discover and understand.”

  Jasmine's jaw tightened. “There's nothing to discover or understand.” She tried to sidestep the woman. “Now, if you'll excuse me.”

  “Only a few minutes,” Evelyn replied sweetly. She reached for Jasmine's arm, her powerful grip betraying her vampire heritage.

  Stepping into the hold as Corin had taught her, about to twist away in a calculated move, Jasmine cried out instead when something sharp pricked her skin. “Hey!”

  “My lady, I am so sorry. So sorry.”

  Her vision immediately grew hazy, but Jasmine recognized the little syringe in the woman's hand. Not more than two seconds passed before her mouth fell slack, feeling as if filled with cotton and sand. Her arms wrapped around her stomach as the muscles in her legs gave way. Evelyn caught her before she hit the ground completely, however, and Jasmine's eyes rolled, unwilling to focus long enough to capture an image of the woman's face again.

  Jasmine tried to say Corin's name. Nothing came out. She wanted to yell stop. Or help.

  She wanted to beg Evelyn not to do this because she was pregnant and needed to protect the baby.

  Instead, the world went black.

  Chapter Two

  Corin stormed through the racks of clothing, shoving them out of the way with brute force. He'd let seven minutes pass with no sign of Jasmine. And that simply wasn't like her.

  His first thought had been that the line to make her purchase held her up. When he strolled back to the entrance of the lingerie store and didn't spot her, though, his concern spiked. Without pause, he hurried in the direction of the dressing room, the pitting feeling in his stomach growing with every step.

  “Sir? Sir, you can't go back there!”

  The lanky saleswoman rushing to meet him before he barreled down the corridor almost met his full wrath. Only the whispered warning of his conscience kept him from ripping her throat out just to get to his wife. He'd never harmed an innocent human before, but rational thought was becoming more and more difficult to come by. “My wife,” he growled as he brusquely brushed by her body. “Have you seen her? Petite. Blue eyes. Curly brown hair.”

  “If you'll let me…” She struggled to make it around him and into the corridor first. “I'll look, if you’ll wait out here.”

  “Not a chance,” he said. Not after their dealings with Sijourn Vartan, the billionaire vampire who’d tortured Jasmine. Not after the Council, the vampire nation's ruling body, had once ordered Corin to kill her.

  Resigned, she called, “Ladies, please stay inside your rooms for just a moment. We have an emergency.”

  At the same time, Corin yelled out, “Jasmine!”

  Inevitably, doors began to creak open at the sound of his voice. So long as one of the women peering out was his wife, it didn't much matter to him what the other women thought.

  “Jasmine!”

  The area was too small for her not to have heard him bellow both times. His heart kicked hard, fear and adrenaline surging through his veins like molten fire.

  If the Council had reneged and finally come after her, there wouldn't be shelter enough for any of them to hide. He would find and slaughter them all. It's what executioners did.

  Curling his hands into fists, desperately fighting to regain some measure of calm, he moved to the dressing room where he'd last seen her. Only two steps outside of its doors, he paused. Tilting his head, he inhaled deeply, the subtle crisp scent of blood greeting him. It was such a small amount, he might have missed it. But a vampire who knew the taste of his wife as well as Corin did honed in on it.

  Based on the miniscule quantity he scented, no real harm had probably come to her. Perhaps a nick of skin. A slight scratch.

  For each one visited upon her, he'd return the wound a thousandfold.

  “Take me to your security feed,” he said to the saleswoman.

  She folded her arms across her chest, lifting her chin into the air. She seemed frozen with indecision. “I don't know who you are, and—”

  “I don't have time for this shit,” Corin grumbled. He pushed past her, ignoring her squeak of surprise. His sleeve snagged on something, a momentary pause allowing him to realize he'd tangled somehow on her nametag. “Look, Moira, some very bad men have my wife. And I'm best equipped to get her back safe and sound. I will do it with or without your help.”

  She blinked up at him with those wide eyes but said nothing. Disgusted by her unwillingness to assist him, Corin made a low sound of dismissal. He stomped away, intent on finding the back office where a security system with camera monitoring must have been erected.

  Fuck. Where would they have taken her? Back to the Council? He couldn't believe he'd allowed another execut
ioner to get so close to her, for surely only an executioner would have been so brazen as to snatch her in broad daylight.

  Broad daylight...

  A thought struck him, and Corin slowly turned to face Moira again. She hadn't moved from the spot, but the way she looked at him now made him pause. Sketched onto her face was a mixture of fear and…guilt. “How did they get her through the front without others seeing?” he asked softly.

  Corin began to walk toward her again.

  “A grown woman, probably unconscious, wouldn't be missed by lots of shoppers.”

  Moira began to back away slowly, fear creeping up and overriding the guilt of her expression.

  “Did he have help from the inside?”

  She began to search around her, looking for somewhere to run presumably, but only doors to dressing rooms surrounded them.

  All of these things he said while stalking her, the saleswoman whose eyes had grown as big as saucers. Who looked like a trapped creature with no place to turn. Whose fluttering heartbeat raced like a hummingbird's.

  He wasn't for sure she was involved—not yet—but when the first beads of sweat dotted along her upper lip, Corin knew.

  “Where is she?” he barked.

  Moira jumped, then swallowed hard. The guilt—a dead giveaway—intensified. She'd paled, and her lips all but disappeared as she bit down on them. Shaking had already started to take over her hands, and he'd bet money she was moments away from peeing herself.

  If she'd helped to kidnap Jasmine, then she knew what he was. For her sake, he hoped she also knew who he was also.

  A shudder rippled through her. “She's safe,” she said barely above a whisper.

  Corin's lip lifted, revealing teeth growing larger with his agitation. An intimidation act he had no problem utilizing. “You realize that you're not safe 'til I see that for myself?”