A Wicked Hunger (Creatures of Darkness 1)

by Fay, Kiersten

  Knox leaned forward with unwavering seriousness. “Blood, Mason. Blood that will keep me strong and sated. Let’s see…where can we find that at?”

  “What about bloodletting? We could keep pints of it in the fridge just for you.”

  “While you get the fresh, warm stuff?”

  Mace waited, sensing the offer intrigued him.

  Knox’s grin grew broad. He leaned back and rested one arm along the back of the couch. With the other, he pulled out a sealed syringe cartridge from a side-pocket of his black cargo pants and balanced it between his thumb and forefinger. Turning thoughtful, he began to twirl and weave the thing between his fingers like a magician with a coin. “So if I hand over one of my doses, I get Cora’s blood any time I want?”

  “As long as she can supply it without harming herself. Yes.”

  “You think she’s going to be okay with that?”

  “She’ll have to be, won’t she?”

  “Since she already has you by the balls, maybe you should ask her first.”

  Mace shook his head, ignoring the insult. “We settle this now, tonight. I’ll inform her of our decision in the morning.”

  Knox smirked and slid the syringe across the table. “You’ve got yourself a deal, mate. But…I think she already knows.” He gestured behind Mace with roguish eyes.

  Anger and betrayal slammed into Mace from behind. He turned to see Cora’s bare feet beating a path up the stairs.

  “Cora…!” With the sound-deafening spell in place, he could just imagine the door to their room slamming shut. To Knox, he said, “You really are a son of a bitch.”

  Knox chuckled. “Too right.”

  He unmuted the television.

  Cora paced furiously.

  She was just a product for their consumption! How dare Mace bargain her off to Knox.

  The nerve! The repugnance!

  “Bastards!” she hissed.

  She whirled around when a crack rang out and the door burst open. The doorjamb was now splintered where the lock had been.

  Mace entered.

  Not even a courtesy knock, she thought bitterly.

  “How much did you hear?” he asked.

  “You! Selling me like a whore!” she screamed, then hurled a pillow at him.

  He batted it away, and it flopped to his feet.

  Her gaze darted for something with more substance. Finding nothing nearby, she settled on the other pillow.

  Same as the first, he swatted it away, then lifted his palms in the air and attempted to approach her.

  “Get away from me!”

  He halted, his brows rising at her tone.

  “I wasn’t selling you,” he countered defensively. “I mean, I didn’t mean to…I thought it would be better this way. Less painful for you.”

  “Less painful than if Knox had constant access to my blood?” she replied, not quelling the sarcasm. “He gets me any time he wants?”

  “No. Just your blood. I figured you would prefer it this way. Otherwise Knox is going to put his fangs in you whenever he gets a chance. I can’t watch him all the time.”

  His words seemed a bit convoluted. “So, what are you saying? I should just accept him the same as I have you?”

  “Of course not. It wouldn’t be the same at all.”

  “How would it be different? When he drank from me earlier I felt…something.” Heat ran over her cheeks.

  The sting of Mason’s furious jealousy sank into her. She flinched, and a darkness overtook his features.

  “Unfortunately, that’s to be expected with any vampire’s bite,” he said. “Which is why I suggested the bloodletting instead.”

  She stilled, her breath heaving with vexation. “The what now?”

  “Bloodletting. So that he doesn’t take straight from your vein.”

  Her brows shot up, as her shoulders sank. “Oh.”

  Mason seemed to relax a touch. “You didn’t hear that part, did you?”

  “Um….”

  Mason explained his deal with Knox, making it sound so…reasonable.

  Still, she held resentment. “Will he be satisfied by that? What if he changes his mind? And what’s this dose that made you sell my blood so freely? Without even talking to me first?”

  “It’s not important for you to know.”

  She worried her bottom lip. “Are you ill?”

  Mace studied her. She got the sense that her concern satisfied him in some way, which made her eyes narrow stubbornly.

  “I’m not ill,” he assured, not bothering to conceal his smile.

  “Don’t act so smug. I haven’t forgiven you just yet. You still sold my blood without my permission. My blood. It doesn’t belong to you.”

  His expression fell. “You wanted my protection. I’ve just done what’s best for you.”

  “Well, maybe protection isn’t enough. I should have a say in what happens to me.”

  Mace turned his head away. “We’ll speak of this later. I’d planned to take you back to Saraphine in the morning. You should get some rest.”

  Her chin shot higher. His statement sounded too much like an order in this moment. Although, she was tired.

  Exhausted, really.

  And she did want to see Saraphine again. Not only was the young witch spunky, and snarky to Mace, which Cora found humorous, but she’d felt an instant kinship with the girl. Also, maybe if her alleged powers were unbound, she’d finally be able to defend herself—a necessity if she were expected to contend with Knox.

  Goddess, she hoped this magic thing wasn’t fictitious.

  And yet, she couldn’t let Mace continue to think she would give into his every whim. She needed to dig her heels in before it became a habit.

  “I’d like some space tonight,” she informed him, amplifying her conviction through the use of her emotions and tightly crossed arms.

  He didn’t respond for a long while, his features going dark. Finally, he replied, “Sleep well, then. I’ll fetch you in the morning.”

  With that, he closed her in the room.

  Cora sighed and crossed to the window, glancing out over the darkened forest as she contemplated how that last look on Mace’s face had spiked her pulse, and not in the way she liked.

  He’d reacted strongly to something she’d said, but she couldn’t decipher what.

  A flash in the distance drew her attention. What had that been? A light of some kind? It came again from behind a large tree, joined by another. A dark figure, low to the ground, prowled through the forest, and she realized what the lights were.

  Glossy eyes flashed once more, and it reminded her of the reflection off an animal’s pupils.

  While the human race had been drastically diminished by way of war, poverty, and disease, the natural predators of the land had flourished. It wasn’t uncommon, even in city limits, to spot deer, or foraging bears. She couldn’t see it clearly through the darkness, but by the bulky silhouette, she imagined she was probably looking at the latter.

  A wild beast.

  She was reminded how much more similar vampires were to animals than humans. She’d be smart to remember that when dealing with Mace. He had essentially claimed her as his mate, and she’d practically rebuked him just now. Maybe that’s why she’d received such a strong mixture of feelings from him. It was part possessiveness spliced with greed. A large portion had been practically uncivilized, barbaric even. And a fraction had been something else entirely, something she couldn’t even begin to describe.

  She shuddered, pushed away from the window, and slipped under the covers, closing her eyes.

  Morning came far too swiftly. Sleep had been restless.

  Insanely, she’d felt bereft of Mason’s warmth the whole night. And…guilty. Had she grown so used to the security of Mason’s presence in such a short time?

  And had she really yelled at him like that? Where had that bravado emerged from?

  She washed and dressed in a pair of dark jeans that Mace had mentioned liking
. A simple midnight-blue tank hung loose on her torso, and she put her hair up in a tight ponytail.

  She’d had nearly the whole of the night to rationalize his high-handed decision, and her conclusion was simply this: Though she despised that he’d made that choice for her, it actually was an acceptable option for the time being. Knox could be mollified, leaving her free of harassment.

  By the time Mace came for her, the sun was just cracking the tree line.

  Cora took him in.

  A black jacket hugged his torso. Under that, the butt of his gun peeked out of a holster that wrapped across his torso. Dark jeans and black utility boots finished off the ensemble.

  He looked formidable. Terrifying. Sexy.

  When she finally looked up at his face, she found him solemn. Yet determination was carved into the creases around his mouth.

  There was a lot she wanted to say. She wanted to rid them both of this tension that had settled like a valley between them. Instead, she glided forward till only an inch separated them and lowered her forehead to his shoulder.

  As if he understood what she needed, his arms came around her, his palms flat on the small of her back. She didn’t know how long they stood like that, but eventually, without a word, they separated and made their way to the car.

  “Going into town?” Knox shoved into the back seat, popping out of nowhere. “I’ll just tag along then, won’t I? Wouldn’t want the two of you love birds plotting to run off without me?”

  Cora shrank into the passenger seat, using it as a makeshift shield against his gaze. Mace seethed, but didn’t respond as he started the ignition. The engine grumbled to life, and the car jerked into motion.

  “Done a number on this beauty of a car,” Knox commented blithely, brushing bits of glass over the edge of the back seat with his hand.

  No one replied.

  “It’s a right heap. I know a guy. We could trade it for something more suitable for our…growing family.” The last words were growled low, soaked in sarcasm.

  Cora’s shoulders tensed so badly her neck started to hurt.

  “Knox, shut the fuck up,” Mace fired at him.

  “Pull over, and see if you can make me,” Knox challenged.

  She caught the look they shared in the rearview mirror, but, by far, it didn’t match the sense of mutual hate she received from both of them through the bond. It went beyond her, as if it had been forged in a distant past, perhaps even long before she was born.

  The original emotion that formed her perception suddenly cut off. It was as if a wall slammed down so hard, she was surprised she was the only one in the car to jump from the noise.

  Taken off guard, she glanced back at Knox. He returned her puzzled gaze with one full of hostility.

  She turned away.

  It was then that she realized he could conceal his emotions from her.

  Was that learned, or innate? Was it possible she could block her emotions from him?

  She wouldn’t dare inquire.

  Surprisingly, after the exchange, Knox quieted. Yet the duration of the trip was steeped in thickly tense silence, bubbling with tempered aggression.

  Outside Saraphine’s shop, Mace pulled up to the curb and stepped out. Cora joined him on the cracked, uneven sidewalk. She was sure to keep Mace between her and Knox, but at the moment, Knox didn’t seem to be interested in her.

  His attention was on the two-story building with its slightly dilapidated storefront. For the first time, Cora noticed the sign over the door. The words Wicked Wares had been inscribed into a slab of wood that hung from a protruding iron rod. The letters were embellished with fanciful swirls and had been painted, but the color that could have once been vibrant red was dulled to a rusty burgundy and were cracked and peeling.

  She glanced around, taking in the town that had previously eluded her interest as well. Crude buildings hinted at a once glorious past. Dirt and other natural debris stained the streets and walls fronted by a road that could have been a main street, but was empty of vehicles. She’d once seen part of an old western flick and half expected to spot a tumbleweed cross the street at any moment.

  “This the hovel where your pretty witch friend lives?”

  Mace turned a withering gaze on Knox. “Why don’t you disappear for a while? Go do something useful?”

  “And what would that be?”

  “Trent said Cora should continue to eat. There’s not a lot of food at the cottage right now.”

  “You want me to food shop for your little witch?” Knox balked, then laughed outright. “We never bargained for that.” He rolled a dark gaze toward Cora. “If you want to renegotiate—”

  She cringed.

  “Forget it.” Mace directed Cora inside.

  Knox strolled in behind them.

  Saraphine was sitting at the register, her feet up on the counter. The black tank top she wore was designed to look like a corset with black string laced down the front and was framed by a pattern of white and pink skulls. Her arms were covered by a sheer pantyhose material that left her pale shoulders exposed. Her jeans were tight and low on her thin waist, which inspired a bit of feminine envy in Cora. When Saraphine looked up, her feet flopped to the ground, boots landing loudly as she stood.

  “Hiya, Cora!” she said. She glanced past Cora and Mace, and her expression fell. A hint of green took over the color in her face.

  Knox loped farther into the room. His emotions were totally blocked from Cora. Not that she wanted to experience what he was feeling…ever. But it almost seemed as if whatever wall he’d put up between them had just been solidified.

  Mace, too, had noticed a change in the atmosphere, but he was focused on Saraphine. “Everything alright?”

  “’Course.” She smiled at him sweetly, then quickly added, “I finished the potion this morning.” She reached under the counter and produced a small teardrop vile filled with a purple liquid that seemed to glow from within.

  “What do I do with it?” Cora asked as she moved closer, almost mesmerized by the container. An unexpected excitement unraveled inside her.

  “You just drink it.” Saraphine replied. She began to wring her hands together.

  Cora picked up the vile and removed the stopper. The scent of lilac engulfed the room.

  She was on the cusp of something wondrous, her mind insisted. Dangerous, maybe. Frightening, for sure. But wondrous nonetheless. Would she discover herself to be a powerful, extraordinary witch…filled with an astonishing, magical ability imparted upon her from birth? Would she finally discover the means of protecting herself, rather than cowering or relying on others?

  The possibilities swirled in her head.

  She paused. “Is this going to hurt like your last spell?”

  One of Saraphine’s shoulders lifted, the gesture miniscule yet packed with significance. “Most spells come with some physical effect. Not always painful.”

  She didn’t miss the purposeful avoidance of the question. “Good to know. But will this one hurt?”

  A new voice answered; an older voice Cora had never heard before. “It gonna hurt like a bitch. You may even think yer dying. But it will set you free.” An ancient looking woman stepped out from the back room. She pointed a stubby, thick-knuckled finger at Knox. “Threaten my granddaughter again, vampire, and I’ll string yer teeth into a necklace.”

  Arms crossed over his chest, Knox’s features twisted into a wry grin. He shifted that same droll expression toward Saraphine and it tightened around his mouth. “Lurela?”

  “What did you do?” Mace demanded, facing Knox.

  “What you and Trent are too pussy to do. You think we’ll ever be free of her when she gains her powers?”

  All at once, Cora understood. A dim memory rushed to the forefront. Knox had argued with Trent and Mace about unbinding her magic. He’d wanted to keep her weak. Maybe even kill her.

  She shuddered at that.

  Had he hunted down Saraphine? Threatened her? Harmed her? If so, Sarap
hine was truly brave to have defied him and created the potion anyway.

  “I don’t want to be free of her,” Mace replied, practically growling.

  Cora’s jaw went slack on a gasp. Mace sent her a fleeting glance then turned back to Knox.

  “Well I do,” Knox growled. “By allowing this, you’re signing both our lives away.”

  Mace gestured to the door. “Walk away. No one’s stopping you.”

  Knox sneered at Cora, then at the bottle in her grasp. The barest fissure cracked into his wall, and she read his intend. Before he could lunge for it—her salvation!—she tossed the contents of the vile back, gulping it down. He bellowed out a harsh cry and kept coming. Mace threw himself in the way, holding him back.

  Unexpected pain lacerated her every nerve, and she doubled over. White-hot tendrils of burning agony slithered over her flesh, scorching its way inside as if to her very soul. Her skin felt as though it were being flayed and ripped back, exposing the muscle underneath. Spasms cut through her. Fevered agony ignited, seeming to boil the blood in her veins and searing off the sweat on her forehead.

  The blazing inferno ate away all thought, devoured hope, leaving behind only misery and pain.

  She was pure anguish. Suffering, her purpose. Agony, her friend. If she breathed, she didn’t know. If she cried, she didn’t know. If anyone mourned for her, she didn’t know, for this was surely the end, and in the end, there was nothing but infinite torture.

  Chapter 27

  A glorious touch of cold patted her forehead, dripping over her scalp and into her hairline. She moaned softly as residual pain simmered under her skin. Her body was struggling to make a way for oxygen to enter her throat. Something hard was pressed into her back…the floor? Gravity was being a bitch at the moment. Its pull to the Earth seemed to have increased tenfold. Her chest felt concaved. She was spinning wildly, growing nauseous. Whatever was happening, she begged for it to stop. It begged back for her to open her eyes. She tried, but failed. Blinding light sent tiny swords through her brain.

  A hand slapped down on her face, and she realized it was hers. Her limbs were finding it difficult to follow orders. Gaining a bit of control, she rubbed her aching head with clumsy fingers.