A Wicked Hunger (Creatures of Darkness 1)

by Fay, Kiersten

  The waitress looked aghast at Cora’s raised tone, as if no one ever dared to challenge her.

  Cora waved her on. “Go on, give it a try.”

  The waitress jostled her bottom teeth irritably. “You’re clearly not from around here, sweetling, so let me tell you how it is. The men shoot the animals, the cook cooks the animals, and you eat the animals. If you want a salad, you can go pluck some leaves from the forest, and I’ll get you a plate.”

  Infuriatingly, Mason laughed at that, drawing the woman’s attention.

  She smiled at him and purred, “You look like a meat and potatoes kind of guy to me.”

  “Look again,” he replied darkly, flashing fang.

  Her delicate brow turned up.

  “But I promise I’ll like anything you have to offer.”

  Her smile widened at the innuendo. “That so?”

  When Mace returned her grin, the blood in Cora’s veins heated to an uncomfortable level.

  “Well, I’ll just have to test that theory out.” the waitress continued sweetly. “I’ll bring you the chef’s special.” She turned and walked away then. By the sway of her hips, she was expecting Mason to watch her go. Cora gritted her teeth when she realized he was.

  “Should I get a mop for all that drool?” she spat.

  He turned an amused gaze on her. “Is that jealousy I hear in your tone? Couldn’t be. Not after the way you woke me up this morning.”

  “Is that why you’re in such a pissy mood? Because I awoke to your razor-sharp canines in my face, and naturally I freaked?”

  “I’m not in a pissy mood. Women get pissy. I’m just pissed.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  “Testosterone.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “And no, your silly behavior this morning is not why I’m angry with you.”

  “Oh, please do enlighten me.”

  Mace cocked his head. “Such a brave little witch you’re turning out to be.”

  “So now you’re insulting me? What did I do to deserve this treatment? Might I remind you that I saved your ass yesterday.”

  He narrowed his gaze and leaned back as if she’d just presented him with a puzzle. “I spoke with Trent this morning. Your blood test results came back.” There was an accusation in his tone.

  Icy fingers of dread ran down her spine. Mace noted her trepidation with another tilt of his head.

  “And?” she prompted. Was there even more vamp blood in her system than they’d expected?

  “You must’ve known what we’d find.”

  She shook her head. “What do you mean? Is there something wrong with my blood?”

  “No. Everything’s fine. For a witch.”

  Cora stared at him blankly for a moment. “You’re using that word in place of bitch, right?”

  Instead of answering, he said, “There’s no way you don’t know what you are. It’s impossible. It would be like a vampire not knowing he was a vampire. There are clear cut signs. Undeniable signs.”

  Against her will, her lips curled upwards. Then a laugh squeezed from her lungs. “You think I’m a witch? Like a real witch? As in hocus pocus and all that?” She laughed again. “And you called me silly?”

  “This is no joke, Coraline.”

  “Of course it is. It’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “Then do you find this funny? Your blood is laced with dark cells.”

  At his revelation, Cora’s smile faltered, and her skin paled to a disturbing shade of green.

  And yet he couldn’t believe she was ignorant of her lineage. No. She’d willfully kept this from him, and for some reason, was lying about it now. Maybe because she was damn near a pure blooded witch from one of the most ancient lines on record.

  “You said the dark cells would dissipate,” she said with a slight tremor in her voice.

  “For humans that’s true, but you have magic in your blood. Magic tends to seek out and assimilate power.” As if she didn’t already know that, Mace thought bitterly. “Trent believes you might be regenerating the dark cells on your own.”

  “But, but…” Cora looked as though she might say more, though no words followed. She merely looked lost.

  “I should have known,” he added absently. “What with your predilection for swearing to a goddess.”

  She snorted. “That means nothing. I was raised that way.”

  He gestured at her with his palm face-up to punctuate his point. “Because your parents were witches.”

  She gave him a withering stare, then leaned forward. “If I were a witch, as if they even exist, don’t you think I would have used my mystical powers to get away from you…from Edgar?” She leaned back, eyes once more on the table as if bombarded by a barrage of harrowing memories.

  Mason’s gut twisted, and he wished he could have been the one to deal this Edgar the death blow.

  The overly flirtatious waitress approached then, two identical dishes in hand. She placed the first in front of Mace: a large hunk of meat, a slop of brown beans with some sort of gravy, and a side of corn. The second, she dropped on Cora’s side of the table.

  Cora glared at the girl with uncharacteristic animosity. The waitress ignored her, instead appraising Mace suggestively.

  He hadn’t stopped only for Cora’s sake. He needed sustenance too, and he was pretty sure he’d just found a willing donor. He would have preferred to feed from Cora, had she not such an aversion to it. He’d never tasted someone so sweet. So god dammed addictive.

  This morning, with her startled pulse racing, he’d had to remove himself from the room just to get away from her delicious scent. And yet, it hadn’t been enough. From sleeping so close to her, her feminine fragrance had latched onto his skin. A quick shower had eradicated her from his exterior, but his mind? His mind had been much more stubborn, reminding him of how she had tasted just two nights ago. He’d been a heartbeat away from fetching her from the other room and pulling her back into the shower with him.

  A quick call to Trent wound up being the distraction he needed. After relaying what had happened the previous day, and warning Trent to keep an eye out for a traitorous mole, the news that Cora had been withholding her true nature had dampened his desire. Oddly, now his desire for her seemed to be flaring back up, prompted by the jealousy he was sensing from Cora’s direction toward the waitress giving him come-hither glances. In a primitive way, that pleased him.

  He swallowed, remembering his conversation with Trent. “I inadvertently initiated a blood bond with Cora. I crave her more than ever,” he’d admitted.

  Trent had groaned. Mace could just imagine him scrubbing a hand down his face in frustration. “That’s not good, man.”

  “She’s only human,” Mace had gone on to say. “It won’t last.”

  “Bad news,” Trent had replied. “Her blood results indicate she’s a witch from the Conwell bloodline.”

  It had taken Mace several moments to respond. His interest in her might be more than a mere infatuation or even a newly created blood bond. “Are you certain?”

  “There’s more….” Trent had proceeded to alarm him with news of the dark cells in her blood, nearly half of what constituted a healthy vampire…and possibly multiplying.

  Mace gritted his teeth. If he’d known what she was from the start, he would have never fed her so much of his blood that first night. Or taken from her.

  The waitress kept her attention on Mace as she spoke. “I’ve brought you the tender loin of an adult elk caught this morning. It’s one of my favorite cuts,” she preened.

  “I’m partial to the neck,” he replied.

  Cora’s lips parted on an outraged O.

  The waitress didn’t seem to notice, or maybe didn’t care. One of her brows lifted in a delicate arch. “Hm. Intriguing. I’ll have to give that a try. Is there anything else you need at the moment?” Her eyes sparkled with invitation.

  “I think we’re good, thank you,” Cora interjected.
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  The waitress slipped a stony glare toward Cora and turned to leave. Mace glanced at Cora. Her jaw was tightly locked, eyes flashing with indignation.

  She glanced down at her food with disgust. “She dumped salt all over it, and something else, I’m not sure what, but I’m not eating this.”

  Mace could smell the heaps of salt from where he sat, but was surprised Cora noticed without having tasted it first. The mystery ingredient was cumin, half a bottle’s worth was his guess.

  He shoved his plate across the table and pulled the ruined meat back towards him. “Mine is fine. Eat.”

  After a moment of hesitation, Cora sliced off a piece of meat and popped it in her mouth. For some reason, that made him relax a touch. He couldn’t recall the last time she’d eaten. Had it been that coffee cake he’d brought her? It was his job to keep her safe and that meant well-fed.

  As a vampire, he didn’t require human food, hardly spared it a thought, though he often ate conventional food to blend in when necessary. Even though Cora was a witch, she needed meals as often as any human. He was actually surprised she hadn’t bothered him to stop earlier.

  His own stomach growled, but it didn’t hunger for elk. His attention swept the room. The waitress stared at him from the entrance to a hall near the kitchen. A sign above read Restrooms. When she caught his eye, she smiled and backed into the hallway, out of sight.

  “Stay here. I’ll be right back,” he told Cora.

  Her eyes went wide. “What? Where are you going?”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll be back before you finish your meal.” He didn’t wait for further protest, making his way across the bar.

  Cora watched Mace head toward the facilities. Did vampires relieve themselves like everyone else? She supposed it was entirely possible, but Edgar had never once used the restroom that adjoined their living quarters, so she had assumed he didn’t suffer from those needs.

  She took a sip of water and eyed the hunk of meat that covered half the plate. The small bite she’d taken felt heavy in her stomach, the after flavor gamey. She’d never been fond of meat, but on the streets, she tolerated it whenever she’d managed to get her hands on fresh leftovers discarded by some of the classier restaurants. She’s always chant to herself, “beggars can’t be choosy,” or some such nonsense meant to chase away the dreary reality of just trying to survive.

  Right now, she should feel blessed for such a bounty, but her body felt off, her stomach churning. She took a gulp of water, hoping the cool liquid would calm her gut.

  It didn’t.

  Her body’s reaction was abnormal, almost foreign, to anything she’d encountered before. Nausea came sudden and with great violence. Her skin warmed to a feverish degree, and a light sheen of sweat developed over her flesh. On the heels of that came the taste of metal in her mouth, evoking an unexpected rage, oddly enough, and her heart slammed against her ribcage.

  She pushed away from the table and rushed toward the ladies room. The good thing was, if she became sick, there wouldn’t be much for her stomach to evacuate.

  She barreled through the restroom doors and headed straight for the sink, seeking cold water to splash on her face. A feminine moan gave her pause.

  A figure near the far wall caught her eye. Scratch that, two figures…embracing. For a brief moment, her cheeks burned with embarrassment as she assumed she’d walked in on a couple hooking up in the bathroom. But the familiarity of Mason’s back turned her embarrassment in to molten fury.

  “What are you doing?” she screeched.

  Mace cringed and lifted his head from the woman’s neck to glance back at her. Cora gasped as the female’s face came into view—the snotty waitress, features rapturous in the wake of Mason’s bite. Impossibly, Cora’s ire deepened till she thought she might be swallowed whole by the darkening pit of rage.

  “Her?” she spat accusingly.

  “I told you to stay put,” Mace growled.

  The waitress whimpered and reached for him as if bereft.

  Cora turned away with disgust and stomped out of the restroom, through the rowdy bar, and out the front entrance.

  A strong hand clamped over her shoulder, staying her. “Where are you off to?” Mace asked.

  “Let me go. I can’t stand to look at you right now.”

  “Why. What’s wrong?”

  “Her? You had to…with her?” Cora kept her back to him. “She’s such a…I just thought you had better taste?” In truth, she hadn’t expected to see him feed at all, had been blessedly spared that burden back at Ever Nights.

  Wait. Burden?

  Why would she feel that way? It shouldn’t matter to her where Mace found his food, even if said food was a small town skank-bag. Should it? No, of course not. But for some insane, irrational reason, it did…

  As if his thoughts were trailing down the same path, Mace asked, “What do you care who I feed from? As long as it’s not from you, what does it matter?”

  “It doesn’t.” She ignored the false note in her tone.

  Mace went silent for a moment before responding. “I need to eat, Cora, just like you. Only, my food source is different than yours. It has to come from a warm vein.”

  “I know.” She hesitated, wondering why he was bothering to justify this to her. For that matter, why was she taking this so personally? “I…I was just surprised, is all. Go on back and finish so we can go.”

  He didn’t move.

  “Really. I just wasn’t expecting to see—”

  He turned her around to face him. “Are you…crying?”

  “No!” Her eyes burned and she knew they were probably red, but she wasn’t—a hot tear scorched a path down her cheek.

  Mace looked horrified.

  What the hell is wrong with me? “I’ll wait in the car.” She turned for the vehicle.

  “Cora…” Mace sighed in an uncertain tone, then paused.

  “That’s them,” an angry female voice called from the direction of the bar. “Fucker bit me while she watched.”

  Halfway to the car, Cora turned to see the waitress flanked by several burly men, all glaring at her and Mace.

  Chapter 10

  Mace sneered back at the four men spilling aggression from their pores. He recalled the waitress’s hollered warning when he’d left her to chase after Cora. Don’t you dare leave! Get back here! She hadn’t liked that he’d left her to run after Cora. And in his haste, he hadn’t thought to compel her to forget him.

  “Cora, get in the car.” Mace tossed the keys her way.

  Her hand whipped out, snatching them out of the air. Wide eyed, she peered at the keys as if surprised she’d caught them.

  To the waitress, Mace said, “Do you wish to get these men killed for your wounded pride?”

  The girl lifted her chin.

  One of the men growled, “Andy, get my gun.”

  “Mace,” Cora called unsteadily from beside the car. “Let’s just go.”

  Mace had never backed down from a fight. And if Cora wasn’t here, vulnerable as she was, he wouldn’t have now, but she’d been in enough danger over last couple of days.

  He headed for the car. “I said get in, now.”

  She pressed the button to unlock the car, ripped open the passenger side door, and settled inside. As Mace took the driver seat, she handed him the keys. The men came forward, hissing vile slurs. By the smell wafting off the group, at least a couple of them were just this side of drunk.

  Mace revved the engine and then sped out of the parking lot just as he caught the glint of a two barrel shotgun.

  “Get down, Cora,” he ordered.

  She only slightly ducked her head and looked over at him. “Huh?”

  He shoved her by the back of the neck, forcing her torso toward the floorboard seconds before a shot rang out. At the same time, he cornered a building. The thwarted bullet ricocheted off the edge of the brick.

  Cora gasped and twisted to look behind them.

  “Stay down,” he gr
owled.

  “They aren’t behind us. I don’t even see…Shit.”

  Mace glanced in the rearview to see that beater from the parking lot lurch onto the street. He lowered his foot on the gas petal. Cora was now fully turned around in her seat on her knees, peeking around the headrest.

  “Damn it, Cora, do as I say.”

  “They can’t possibly catch us in that POS.”

  The road took a sharp turn, and Mace jerked the wheel at sixty miles per hour. Tires screeched. Cora toppled headfirst into his lap.

  “I know you were jealous back there, love, but make it up to me later.”

  She righted herself, plopped her ass in the seat, and yanked the seatbelt around her torso, snapping it into place. “Ha! You wish.” She gave him a caustic look. “Here’s a thought. Why don’t I use some of my witchy powers to pop their tires?”

  “Anything you can do to help.”

  A second shot blasted out the back of the window. Cora screeched and covered her head with her arms.

  Mace gritted his teeth and slammed the gas pedal down as far as it would go. “Do you know how to shoot a gun?”

  “Not really.”

  He reached over her and opened the glove compartment, revealing a nine millimeter Glock.

  “Holy mother…” Cora pushed back against the seat as if she could melt through it.

  “Take it. It’s loaded. Aim it out the back, and only out the back, preferably at the driver.”

  Another shot sounded from behind. It missed, but Cora screamed anyway and covered her head once more. The following shot took out the driver’s side mirror.

  “Dammit, Cora, this isn’t a wait-till-you-feel-ready type of situation.” He sighed at her horrified expression. “Would you rather drive then?”

  “Yes. please!”

  “Fine, be quick.” They’d reached a long stretch of road with no other cars in sight. “Put your foot on the gas over mine.”

  She shimmied her leg into position, and they traded feet. The car lagged slightly. In a swift and proficient move, Mace lifted her and swung her body over his, while shifting under her to take the passenger seat and the gun.