Edge of Hunger

by Rhyannon Byrd

  He had no doubt the Casus would arrive tonight. And he knew Molly could feel it, too, like something heavy and thick settled in the center of his chest that made itself known with each slow, deep breath.

  After sharing an easy meal of sandwiches and chips, they sat on the floor in the living room, each with a cold beer from the cooler he’d picked up in town yesterday when he’d gone shopping for essentials, listening as the latest storm rolled away. Staring at her profile from the corner of his eye, Ian recalled how he’d spent so much time over the course of the past week wondering what it was about her that made him so hungry—and not just in a physical sense. Not just for her blood, as mouthwatering as it was. And not just for sex, though sex with her was beyond anything he’d ever experienced.

  When he’d taken her beneath him for the second time that morning, he’d paused to savor, to slow down, to enjoy each decadent, pulsing sensation. He’d pushed up on his arms and watched as he thrust into her, staring at the way he penetrated the tender mouth of her body, his cock dark and brutal-looking, her drenched folds tender and glistening and pink. He’d lost himself in the cadence of her breathing, in the touch of her hands…the taste of her mouth and the softness of her skin.

  And in the quiet hours of the afternoon, as the storms had raged overhead, when she’d slept, cradled in his arms, exhausted from the hours of physical excess he’d put her through, he’d finally come to an understanding of what made her so special…so different.

  He had the answer—he was just too terrified to acknowledge it. But he knew, deep inside, where it counted, what had happened to him. And now that he understood, he wondered if maybe he hadn’t been running all those years, so much as he’d been searching for something. For this. For Molly. For the one person who had the ability to settle him inside, making sense of the darkness…of the chaos, while exciting him in ways he could have never imagined, taking him to levels of pleasure he hadn’t even realized existed.

  Funny, how he’d had to come full circle, returning to his childhood home, for this miracle to happen. That he had his mother, of all people, to thank for bringing Molly into his life and showing him what it meant to truly care for another person.

  “You can still smell the honeysuckle in this place,” he murmured, pulling in a deep breath of the faint, familiar scent that he’d always associated with home.

  She sent him a curious smile, and he explained. “Elaina’s favorite scent was honeysuckle, and she drowned the house in it. Candles and little pots of dried flowers. Lotions and perfumes. I swear to God, Riley and I would go to school smelling like girls half the time.”

  She laughed, making him want to pull her into his arms and kiss her, just so he could taste that sweet, sexy sound on her lips. But he resisted, wondering what she was thinking, what was going through her mind. She hadn’t pressed him for anything. No explanations about his feelings…no promises. No talk of the future, and he was ready to explode. What was she waiting for?

  Needing to touch her, Ian reached out, taking hold of her hand, marveling at how small and delicate it felt in his grasp, his fear for her like a living thing inside of him, seething beneath his skin.

  “You’re afraid for me, aren’t you?” she asked, her voice soft…hushed.

  “Christ, Molly. Why the hell do you think I came here in the first place?” he grunted. “I was drawing this bastard away from you, and then you go and show up.” Cutting a dark look at the swollen, darkening sky through the front window, he said, “It’s coming. Tonight. I can feel it.”

  “I can feel it, too. But it’s going to be okay. I know it is. No matter how powerful the Casus is, it’s still no match for you.”

  Ian shook his head at her faith in him, a harsh burst of laughter rumbling in his chest. “I’ve ruined your life, Molls. Don’t you get that? You should be trying to get away from me as fast as you can, not standing up for me, cheering me on.”

  “IAN, YOU HAVE IT all backward,” Molly told him, squeezing his hand. “You didn’t ruin anything. You gave me my life back. No matter what happens, I belong here with you, so don’t waste your time trying to get rid of me.”

  “I already tried,” he drawled, his tone wry. “You can see how well it worked.”

  A playful grin curved her mouth. “So what are you going to do now?”

  “I dunno,” he murmured, leaning his head back, watching her from beneath his lashes, the teasing look in his beautiful blue eyes one of the most beautiful sights she’d ever seen. Molly loved seeing him look so…comfortable, so at ease within his skin…as well as with her, as if he were that much closer to being at peace. “Who knows? Maybe, if I get lucky, I’ll be able to fuck some sense into you.”

  “You’re welcome to give it a shot,” she quipped. “I doubt it’ll work, but God knows I’ll enjoy your efforts.”

  A sharp bark of laughter surged up from his chest and she smiled, wondering if he’d ever been at ease like this before with a woman. She doubted he ever had, and it made her insides light up with a warm, incandescent glow.

  “What?” he asked, rubbing his thumb over the delicate points of the hand he still held in his grasp.

  Molly set her beer down and lifted her free hand, hooking her hair behind her ear. “I was just thinking that this isn’t the way you normally spend your time with women. Talking. Teasing.”

  He stared at her for a long, breathless moment, then reached out, touching her face with the tips of his fingers. “You’re right,” he rasped in a deep, velvet-rough voice. “And I’m a selfish bastard for enjoying having you here with me when I know it’s putting you in danger. But I can’t help it. I want to have as much time with you as I can, Molly, but I’m scared of losing you.”

  “Won’t happen,” she whispered, completely undone by his stunning words. She wanted to throw her arms around his neck and beg him to love her, but she fought back the impulse, too afraid of how he’d react. Instead, she plastered a teasing smile on her face. “But I don’t suppose you have a hidden arsenal anywhere around here? Maybe a Beretta I can unload in him? Shotgun? Uzi?”

  He snickered under his breath, shaking his head. “Not that I know of.”

  “ELAINA DIDN’T BELIEVE in guns, either?” she asked, her tone casual, when Ian knew that what she was really asking was why he didn’t believe in them.

  “Let’s just say that my daddy, before he ran away, was overly fond of them. Which probably wouldn’t have been so bad, if he hadn’t been as equally fond of Wild Turkey.”

  Even now, Ian could still remember the terror he’d felt when he’d awakened one night to the sounds of an argument between his parents. Peeking through his bedroom door, he’d witnessed his father holding a gun to his mother’s head, screaming for the “demons to be gone.”

  Ian had known she’d been talking about their ancestors again, which always threw his father into a rage. Elaina’s face had been covered in tears, the look in his father’s eyes as cold as the metal of the gun he’d held jammed against her temple.

  He’d wanted to run to her rescue, but he’d been terrified, standing there frozen with fear, as if his feet had been nailed to the cold hardwood floor. Finally, his father had pushed Elaina away and grabbed his truck keys, storming out of the house. He’d driven away that night in a blind, drunken rage…and they’d never seen him again.

  And from that day forward, Ian had never been able to stomach the sight of a gun…and neither had his mother.

  “Hey, you in there?” he heard Molly ask softly, and he gave himself a mental shake as the sweet, womanly weight of her body settled over his lap. Her arms lifted around his shoulders, lips pressed to the hard point of his jaw, and he bit back a husky moan. She felt…incredible, as if she’d poured herself over him, covering him in a warm, sweet wave of longing. Wrapped him up in something beautiful and tender and pure. His throat jammed up with emotion, but he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer, lowering his head so that he could bury his nose in the warm, silken mass of her hair
, breathing her into his body…into his heart…his soul.

  He was so goddamn terrified of losing her, that he never wanted to let her go.

  They stayed like that for long, endless moments, rocking gently together, the rumbling thunder the only backdrop of sound, until a sharp, guttural cry tore across the night, the eerie sound coming from the front of the house. Molly stiffened in his arms, and Ian grabbed her shoulders, setting her away from him.

  Moving to his feet, he said, “It’s time.”

  “OH , GOD ,” Molly gasped, her voice thick, eyes damp with a sudden wash of tears as she watched him move toward his duffel bag. He looked so calm…so focused, as if he weren’t about to face the most frightening experience of his life.

  He leaned down, taking out the cross and a long, wicked-looking knife that he held out to her, saying, “When I came here, I didn’t plan on things working out the way they have. Now that I’ve fed, the Merrick should be able to hold its own with this asshole, and God willing, the cross will kill it. But if something goes wrong, the Casus is going to come after you. Use the knife, Molly. Do whatever you have to do, and then get the hell away from here.”

  “The cross will work, Ian. It has to.”

  “I meant what I said,” he grunted, waiting for her to take the knife, before slipping the cross over his head. It glittered against the center of his chest, his only clothing the low-slung jeans that hung on his hips. His body looked lean and dark and dangerous, golden skin stretched tight over the hard, rippling power of his muscles. “If something goes wrong,” he told her, “you go out back, get in your car and get out of here. Drive straight to the airport and go back to Scott. He’ll take care of you, Molly.”

  “Ian,” she breathed out softly. He looked so vital, so strong and powerful, even more so than when she’d first set eyes on him only a week ago. And yet, she was terrified for him, knowing that he was about to face something so evil and vile it didn’t belong in this world.

  “Just do it, Molly. The only thing that matters here is that you make it out of this alive. That’s why I brought this bastard here. No matter how this plays out, I want you safe.”

  She nodded, trembling with fear, and watched as he made his way toward the door. He reached for the handle, and his name burst from her lips. “Ian! ”

  He looked over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

  “I don’t care what it takes,” she whispered, “just kick his ass and make sure you come back to me.”

  For a moment, he just stared at her, those dark eyes swirling with devastating emotion, while he held completely, utterly still. Then he took a deep, shuddering breath, and quietly said, “For what it’s worth, Molls, I want you to know that I love you.”

  He held her gaze, reading the overwhelming rush of astonishment in her tear-drenched eyes, in the shivering of her body, and then he gave her a slow, wicked smile, and walked out into the night.

  STEPPING OUT ONTO the front porch, Ian drew a deep breath into his lungs, and immediately found the Casus’s foul, thick stench hanging on the air. Closing in. But he was ready. Ready to fight to save the life of the woman he loved.

  And he did love her, more than he could have ever imagined. Her faith had changed him, and he could see now that it wasn’t his control that had kept her safe when he’d fed from her that morning, enabling him to stop before he’d taken too much blood. It was because she meant something to him—because she meant everything to him—and he was going to do whatever it took to protect her.

  Rather than fight the darkness that dwelled within him, as he’d been doing for so long, Ian was finally ready to embrace it. To surrender to its power, trusting it not only with his life but with Molly’s, as well.

  Rolling his neck across his shoulders, he moved down the porch steps, into the front yard, the cool blades of grass damp beneath his bare feet. A strange, eerie calm spread through him, his body hard…tight, senses perfectly attuned to every sound…every fraction of movement in the trees ahead. The Casus’s scent thickened, and he could tell it was drawing closer. His fingers flexed at his sides…and he waited impatiently for the Merrick to rise within him, the cross warm against his chest, thrumming with power. And yet, when the creature stepped from the shelter of the woods, an evil, malicious smile curving its muzzled mouth…Ian still stood there as a man.

  What the hell? Taking a deep breath, Ian reached for that primitive part of his nature, digging deep into the darkest recesses of his being. He could feel it there, roiling through his system like some primordial creature racing through an ancient loch, but no matter how desperately he tried, he couldn’t reach deep enough to grab it. Couldn’t get hold of it and rip it to the surface.

  What in God’s name was it waiting for?

  “Anytime now,” he growled under his breath, giving a frustrated roll of his shoulders, and the Casus came closer, its gray, grotesque body moving like something torn straight from the chilling depths of a nightmare. Ian stood his ground as it stalked forward, its pale, ice-blue gaze burning bright within the shadowed darkness, and it was like looking into hell itself, feeling its flames blistering your skin, melting you piece by piece in a slow, torturous burn.

  Lifting its nose to the storm-damp air, it pulled in a deep, searching breath, and a guttural sound immediately vibrated in its throat like a demonic purr.

  “Mmm. I can smell your little blond bitch inside the house,” it rasped, the grated words strange within the muzzled shape of its mouth. “I have to admit, I was hoping she’d follow you here, Buchanan. I’ve had so much fun tearing your women to shreds, I wasn’t about to let this one slip through my fingers. I’d planned to track her down once I finished with you, but this is going to be so much sweeter, with you here to watch our playtime.”

  Ian’s lip curled as a deep, inhuman growl surged up from his chest in response to the bastard’s taunting, and with a piercing burst of relief, he realized the Merrick was finally breaking free. He almost smiled with feral satisfaction, until the first wave of pain ripped through him, tearing and sharp, like being turned inside out. His back arched, arms flung out wide at his sides, his muscles jerking in spasms, as if he were being electrocuted—and then it tore free in a violent, explosive force of rage.

  Blood trailed over his hands as long, razor-sharp talons pierced through the tips of his fingers, his gums stinging as his fangs released with a sibilant hiss. He shook violently, teeth gnashing as the change rolled up from the soles of his feet, altering his body in an agonizing clutch of pain. Bones expanded, muscles bulging…enlarging, the ferocity of the transformation as terrifying as it was freeing in some strange, wonderful way. His chest heaved as the final stages of the change flowed through him, his facial bones cracking, altering the shape of his nose, flattening it against his face like an animal’s.

  “Merrick,” the beast growled, and with a primitive roar of rage, Ian leaped through the air, slamming into its body so hard that they crashed to the ground and rolled across the slick grass. Snarling, he dug his talons into its ridged back, a stark howl erupting from the Casus’s throat as it slashed out at him with its claws. He should have been ripped to pieces, but they slid over his skin without breaking the surface, and Ian shook his head, stunned to discover the cross was actually protecting him.

  “Talisman,” it sneered, eyeing the Marker as it pushed to its feet. It watched as Ian did the same, flexing its long, sinister claws at its sides, its ice-blue gaze burning with hatred.

  Ready to bring this thing to an end, Ian grasped the heat of the cross, then tugged, breaking the velvet cord. He held the hot metal clasped tight between his thumb and fingers, wondering how he was supposed to make it work. How was he meant to use it as a weapon? He’d half expected it to transform into some kind of dagger or Ninja star. Something he could throw. Even burst into flames like a fireball. But it did none of those things.

  Arm of Fire? Like hell.

  “There’s no way you can win,” the creature hissed, its deformed body moving aro
und him in a slow circle, and Ian mirrored its movements, careful to keep it in front of him. Gritting his teeth, he wondered how long he was supposed to wait before shoving the Marker in his pocket and relying on his talons and fangs to rip the monster to pieces.

  “I’ve waited too long for this,” the Casus snarled, its long fangs gleaming in the pale shafts of moonlight breaking through the heavy storm clouds. “Centuries of time to prepare…to think about nothing but how good it was going to feel to take you down, Merrick. Don’t think that little bit of metal is going to stop me now.”

  Come on…come on… Ian thought, rubbing his thumb against the etched surface of the cross, hoping for a miracle.

  “But I won’t kill you right away,” it went on, its thin lips twisted in a malevolent smile. “I’m going to leave you bloody and broken, but breathing, just long enough for you to watch me get acquainted with your blond. Then you’re going to give me what I need.”

  Ian’s rage mounted in a vicious, visceral wave, magnified by the power of the Merrick, and a deep, guttural growl ripped from his chest, at the same time as the Casus charged him. It came at him in a flurry of hammering blows, striking him with its clawed hands as he fought to hold his ground.

  Slashing back at it with his free hand, Ian sliced at its gut with his talons, drawing a hot spray of blood, but it just kept coming. Needing both his hands to fight off its attack, he tried to slip the cross in his back pocket, when the Casus aimed its long, curved claws at his wrist. Though the stunning blow didn’t break Ian’s skin, it hit with enough force to knock the cross out of his hand, onto the grass. In the next instant, the Casus’s claws tore deep across his chest, making him cry out in pain.

  “Mine,” it snarled, taking him to the ground, the jarring impact jerking the air from his lungs. Ian struggled to hold it off, but it was almost impossible. Despite the strength of his Merrick, the Casus was bigger…stronger. It snapped at his throat, his arms shaking as his Merrick used all its power to hold it at bay, but it wasn’t enough. Its fangs sank deep into his shoulder, ripping flesh…muscle, cracking the bone. He roared as excruciating pain exploded through his system, white-hot and ravaging, while those lethal fangs tore at him again…and again.