Hunger Untamed H3

by Dee Carney

  He seduced.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered.

  “Getting comfortable.” His voice was whiskey rough, drowsy.

  Victor shifted, and his stiff erection bumped the top of her thigh. Lucy swallowed hard, because wow, her glimpse of him before hadn’t been an illusion.

  Still, she waited, scarcely breathing now, poised for that moment when he reached for her breast and twisted a nipple. Or maybe Victor was the type of man who went straight for the kill, plunging his fingers between her legs without waiting for her readiness.

  Any minute now...

  Nothing but silence. No movement. Nothing.

  “V—” Lucy cut herself off, despite having barely whispered. She opened her eyes and caught sight of his arm holding her tight. He’d tucked her in close to him, the hold of a lover.

  She’d told him she was used to being treated a certain way. It wasn’t a complete lie, but in her years as a blood slave, she couldn’t recall any of them ever putting her in a position like this. One that suggested intimacy. It made her feel...

  Like someone who was cherished.

  Her heart tattooed, and Lucy forced herself not to wriggle from beneath his grasp. The small cabin didn’t need air conditioning, and the evening was temperate. Victor’s warmth coddled her, a disconcerting feeling.

  It didn’t matter if she couldn’t reconcile his actions with her confusing emotions. She could close her eyes, drift off to sleep and awaken completely refreshed and unmolested. By evening fall, she’d be ready to start their training lessons and maybe have gathered her fortitude for fucking.

  Fucking. That was all it would be. His body inside hers as he brought himself off. It wouldn’t mean a thing. A means to Sage’s end.

  Before, when she’d had sex with them, it’d been about survival. It still was.

  Victor shifted, and even in his sleep, he stroked her cheek with his lips. Lucy waited, breath held and heart pounding, but he stopped almost as quickly as he’d begun.

  Two or three hours must have passed before she finally believed. Victor wouldn’t be straddling her, forcing himself between her legs and shoving his way to release. She could relax, if only a fraction, and wait for him to awaken. She would come to unaccosted.

  Lucy couldn’t understand why. Not when she felt his lust for her down through her soul. She’d sold that same soul to him for the next few days, a price she would have paid over and over again.

  For some reason, he wasn’t ready to take it.

  That thought intruding into the next one and the next one after it, another hour and a half passed before she finally drifted into a fitful slumber.

  * * *

  Victor had no idea what he might have done or said to her while they slept, but it must have been one hell of an insult. Lucy kept her eyes on him at all times, the beginning of a scowl set on her face. Might have had something to do with the way he’d tucked in behind her on the tiniest cot he’d ever had the displeasure of using. The glare didn’t let up while she opened a can of peaches and made a meager breakfast of them.

  “Will that hold you?” he asked.

  Lucy’s lips compressed, but she nodded. “What are you going to do?”

  In another two days—three, tops—he’d have to seek sustenance, but for now while not expending a lot of excess energy, he could afford to go lean. Lucy wouldn’t be persuaded to assist. Did Sage have something to do with that aversion too?

  He wanted to throttle the man.

  “I ain’t gonna starve for a while yet. Probably head into town tonight or tomorrow. See who’s willing. Pick up some more stuff for you.”

  She went still, a muddy-yellow hunk of peach between her fingers, juice dribbling down her arm. “I’m not a delicate flower. I can survive on what’s here.”

  “I’m going to push you possibly harder than you’ve ever been pushed before. You’ll need energy. Fuel. The most those things are going to do for you is give you a bad case of the runs.”

  Lucy rolled her eyes, but she put down the fruit she’d been holding. “I’m full anyway. Ready to get started?”

  He nodded and moved toward the front door. The heat of her gaze followed him to the entrance, and Victor gave a small word of thanks that they’d come here unprepared. While he’d been able to scavenge the shorts, the shirts they’d found belonged to someone half his size. Being forced to go bare-chested wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. His gun remained tucked into the too tight waistband and with a muttered prayer of hope, he figured he shouldn’t shoot his ass off.

  A small part of him enjoyed the way her gaze wandered over him, hazel green eyes growing bright. He went about his tasks with a deliberate linger, a flush of mixed pride and embarrassment almost overtaking him. From the corner of his eye, he assessed whether she’d notice the unusual coloring, but no—Lucy was engrossed in the view of him.

  He could have fucking touched the moon.

  If he didn’t move her thoughts—and heated gaze—toward more objective matters though, his plans for training would be discarded immediately. Truth be told, he was halfway there. “The first task is to figure out what I’m working with,” he said as he crossed the threshold. “Using whatever method works best for you, I want you to come at me.”

  “Yeah, but with Sage, I had the element of surprise.”

  He conceded her point. “That would have given you an extra three, maybe four seconds before he reacted. I’m not looking for a full-blown fight. Just show me how you would have done it.”

  Behind the small cabin lay a field of mostly grass, surrounded by the occasional tree. There was a breeze this evening, signaling the oncoming change of the season. Victor lifted his nose into the air, no longer smelling the rain. With his heightened vision, he avoided the mud puddles created by last night’s storm, but based on the small cursing coming from behind him, Lucy wasn’t so lucky.

  “I need a stake,” she muttered when he settled on an area. She’d be less likely to slip on the wet grass here or stumble into an animal-created pothole. Victor could keep some of his attention on the cabin.

  Victor grunted an acknowledgment. He jogged over to a nearby tree. He stripped it of a single branch and as she came to him, removed the small twigs and leaves from it. “Make this work.”

  She tested its heft in her hand, making a noise of approval as she did. “I guess this will be okay for now. Wouldn’t want to accidentally drive something pointier and sharper into your heart.” Her teeth gleamed with her smile.

  Damn, if his dick didn’t thump.

  Victor shifted his weight to his back leg, raised a hand and beckoned with his fingers. Lucy canted her head to the side, studying him, and it filled his confidence. But as he suspected would happen, her entire face gave her away. From the moment her eyes widened and her jaw set, he knew when she would spring. Still, her attack, the ferocity of it, almost caught him off guard. This woman had a true hatred for vampires.

  She trailed the stake behind her as she rushed him, which was also a surprise. Maybe she’d watched one too many ninja movies. He wanted to remind her this wasn’t a sword. Although he liked the streamlined look she presented, it also meant it would take her an extra second or two to swing the stake around.

  Most people would have come at him using it like a knife, arm raised and easy to deflect. While good for offense, if she were defending herself, that wouldn’t work. And against a vampire, her defenses would have to be optimal.

  Lucy brought the stake around so slowly that Victor had time to lean away from her and then, using his left hand, smack her dominant arm. She winced. “That hurt!”

  He almost laughed, and the distraction must have seemed an opportune time. A panting Lucy thrust her arm forward—again, a swordsman’s move—and attempted to gouge him with the branch. Although there was time to yank it from her, he chose to bat it away from his body, using more force than necessary.

  Something inside of him twisted darkly when she grimaced. She was soft. Delicate.<
br />
  Still, Lucy was determined.

  Forgoing an attempt at grace, she whirled, throwing her arm back. Stabbing from up high, instead of the previous useless thrusts. He batted it away a second time, annoyed she hadn’t learned how to get closer. “Are you trying to stab me or scratch me?”

  She scowled but then came at him with an overhand grip. At last. Except her white-knuckled grip on the branch betrayed her growing frustration. Damn it. She’d have to rein in her emotions. Besides, if she’d manage to make contact, the jarring impact of the stake hitting sternum might knock it out of her hand.

  “Loosen up,” he barked. “Your first task is to get close enough to me to use that. Stun him and then drive it in. If you can’t get close, none of this matters.” Victor bounced away again when she lunged. Her movements were awkward and clumsy. Pathetic. “Are you even trying?” he growled.

  Lucy’s face, already red with exertion, mottled with varying colors. “I can do this!” Her chest heaved as she fought for breath.

  “Then show me,” Victor said. God, he wasn’t trying to bait her anger for the fun of it. “And damn it, I’m taking it easy on you. What happens when Sage actually starts to fight back?”

  “Then I fight with him,” she shouted. Her voice cracked, but the same fiery determination sparked in her eyes. The branch hung loose in her limp hand.

  “Yeah? Then fight me. Give me everything you’ve got.” Victor threw out a punch. He pulled back at the last second, taking away the force of it, because he knew she wouldn’t duck in time. With no intention of punching her, he relaxed his fingers. His open palm slapped just beneath her jaw, his fingertips stinging from the sharp impact.

  She stumbled. His heart clenched hard, every instinct in him screaming to go to her. “That’s probably going to bruise,” he said gently instead.

  Lucy dropped to one knee, but her head snapped up. Rage in her eyes. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t stop until Sage is dead. If you have to bloody me, make everything black and blue, you show me how to do that. I can take it.”

  But he didn’t want this. He didn’t want to see her damaged and especially not by his hand. “I don’t think you can.” Fuck. Not knowing what to do next, he turned on his heel, headed back to the cabin. He’d been riding so high on his infatuation with her, it’d never dawned on him the real impossibility of her task. If they continued this, he’d be sending her to a death sentence. “Let’s go regroup,” he said. “Think about another plan.”

  The sound of her feet pounding on the ground was his only warning.

  Victor spun, going low into a crouch. Lucy ran toward him at an impressive speed, the stake clutched in her hand. When she was almost on top of him, she swung out with her left hand and then punched out with her right, the weapon’s hand.

  He had to put a stop to this before she got herself hurt. He deflected both blows, her face coming into contact with his forearm. She’d been trying to reach around him while he’d been on the defense, but she managed to get in the way instead.

  Without adequate time to pull back, the blow bounced off the side of her nose, glanced off her cheek. If the earlier slap didn’t produce a bruise, this assault guaranteed one.

  In that moment, he watched her defeat blossom. As he rose from the crouch, Lucy dropped the stick. A moment later, she followed its descent.

  Inwardly, Victor cursed a blue streak.

  Lucy kneeled on the ground, blood dripping from her nose onto the grass in fat droplets. Her body was bowed, her arm wrapped around her waist as if she tried to hold in her guts. He hadn’t done nearly as much damage as he could have and Victor was bombarded with the absolute certainty of the wrongness of this all.

  “Go home, Lucy. Go back to being a pretty little dress-up doll, if not for the vampires, then for some rich human looking for a trophy to display.”

  She lifted her head, eyes blazing with fevered determination. “I can do this.”

  “No, you can’t. You’re weak and helpless, and I don’t want to hurt you anymore. You don’t stand a chance against Sage. Your first instinct to hire someone to do this for you was right.”

  Struggling to catch her breath, Lucy rose on wobbly legs. “It should have been me. It should have always been me. That man hurt me, and I won’t stop until I’ve hurt him back.”

  “Wanting to hurt him isn’t enough!” Victor bit back another volley of cursing. She would be seriously injured, if not killed by Sage, and it would be his fault. If he didn’t stop her now, if he didn’t get her to understand what she faced, her death would be on his head. “When you go after him, he’ll fight back and he’ll do it savagely. He’ll do it not because he’s out for revenge or trying to wound you. He’ll risk everything to kill you first because he’ll be fighting for his life. His motivation is stronger and better than yours. You are going to die.”

  “I’m going to die anyway,” she murmured, tears filling her eyes.

  Victor’s gut clenched, but he was resolved in swaying her decision. He would not have her death because of him. “I—I’ll find someone you can hire. Someone who’ll take on the task for you.”

  The smile she gave him held no mirth. No humor. Bittersweet, it spoke to the turbulent emotions driving her. She swiped away her tears and bloody nose with the back of a hand. Taking a deep breath seemed to help steady her. “At first, that’s what I wanted. More than anything, I wanted someone bigger and stronger than me to take care of him. Now that I’ve tasted what it’s like to be up close to Sage, to have his life in my hands, I want it. I have to be there when the life leaves him. You couldn’t possibly understand what it’s like to be a throw-away, to be just an objet d’art, overlooked and uncherished. This? This makes me feel like I have some worth. I want to be worthy. Taking his life makes me worthy.”

  “What did he do to you?” he whispered.

  “One day I might tell you,” she said with a shrug. But today wasn’t that day.

  He hadn’t forgotten about the lycans. He couldn’t forget. Yet, as he studied her now, Victor also knew he couldn’t walk away from Lucy. Whether he helped her or not, she’d go after Sage. To succeed or to die. By not helping her, he guaranteed her death. But by driving into her a fraction of the skills he’d learned over the years, maybe she’d have a fighting chance. Maybe.

  “Stand up,” he rumbled at her. “Put your hands up. Feet shoulder width apart.”

  The blood beneath her nose smudged in the direction she’d wiped it. Face mottled, she breathed hard through her mouth. Annoyingly close to her sensual lips, a bluish tint formed, the bruise burgeoning as he’d thought it would. Despite all of this, he watched her struggle into position, and she did it without complaint. Her determination was a beautiful thing.

  “You’re not fighting me as hard as you will Sage. You don’t hate me like you hate him.”

  “Sure about that?” she muttered beneath her breath.

  Victor ignored her. “You need something to fight me for. How about I give you an incentive?”

  Chapter Six

  Lucy squinted at Victor, suspicion riding her. “What kind of incentive?” Her stomach fluttered wildly. He aroused such delicious feelings in her, a visceral attraction she’d thought long since evaporated. A part of her that remained dormant.

  “I know how much you’re looking forward to fucking me later.”

  God. “I—I’m not backing out.”

  “I know. But maybe you’d like to earn a freebie.”

  “I don’t understand.” She’d gone tense, unable to help it. Every time she considered Victor, her entire body grew taut. Regardless of what her mind wanted—what she thought her mind wanted—she responded to him.

  Victor moved closer, forcing Lucy to raise her gaze. She tilted her head up to his, and the languid appreciation in his eyes made her stomach clench. “I’ll make you a deal,” he said, his gaze tracking over her face. When he used a thumb to swipe just above her lip, she didn’t flinch, but her stomach kept up the pattern of whorls. A spot o
f blood dotted his fingertip, and he became mesmerized by it.

  He used his tongue to taste the spot. Despite familiarity with vampires’ sanguine affinity, she prepared to turn away disgusted. Maybe even have to fight despair that she’d been placed in this position again. Instead, her vaginal walls clenched at the utter ecstasy that filled Victor’s face from the minuscule offering.

  “A deal?” she asked on a breath. Had to refocus.

  His throat bobbed as if he struggled to make his voice work. “We’ll spar a little bit, give you more time to practice. Not as hard as a few minutes ago, and then we’ll make a bet.”

  “Go on.”

  “If you can tag me, you get a night off. One hit, and you’ll only owe me a kiss. Nothing more.”

  “Not even...”

  “Just a kiss.” Those brown eyes lowered, his gaze intent on her lips. “Is that fair?”

  Lucy nodded, unable to believe the offer. She couldn’t say why it mattered that it gave her another day to get to know him first, but it did. Maybe because this way it felt less like a deal and more like, maybe, a date. A liaison between people who waited with pent-up anticipation until the time when they could be together. “Why?”

  “Because I will have you sooner or later. Whether it’s tonight or tomorrow night. More important to me is that we improve your skills quickly. I can’t and won’t promise you the weeks and months of training that you probably need to accomplish what you want.” He stood there like a man with all the time in the world. Not quite arrogant, but smug enough to suggest he knew he’d get his way.

  “I don’t have months.” Not even weeks. A foregone conclusion she’d accepted a long time ago.

  “No, I don’t suppose you do. This will eat at you until you’ve gotten what you need, huh?” Victor folded his arms across his chest, the moon highlighting him in an ethereal way. Again, a pulse of power pushed away from him, and Lucy’s heart tripped at the sensation.

  It scared the hell out of her. “Fine,” she said. “I tag you and I only owe you a kiss.”