Forsaken Hunger

by Nikki McCoy

  After three days of freedom when his body had reached its limit, he’d found he knew nothing of cooking or even what foods he liked. Unlike Blade, he’d never indulged in the luxury of eating. His years as Serrakus’ slave had taught him food was merely another method of control he had no power over.

  It was still difficult to remind himself to eat, and sleep was just as hard to come by. Thoughts of Daneya plagued him constantly. Day and night, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Where she was and what she was doing. Whether or not she blamed him for the trauma Mckenzie might be suffering from the murder she committed on his behalf. Guilt rode him hard for failing in his oath to protect them from Gabriel.

  His only consolation was the knowledge that they were safe now. And he would keep it that way even if he had to become a Drakon all over again.

  There was also the matter of energy, his main source of sustenance now. Only problem was, he no longer had his parents to provide it for him and taking a sexual partner was still something he couldn’t bring himself to do. He could feel his aethra beginning to wither inside him, going through the first stage of what his kind called Xhohor. A slow starvation worse than the pangs of hunger. The need to feed would soon become compulsory. Until then, however, he would deal with the pain as he always had. Alone.

  “You’re starting to glaze. Why don’t we finish this up tomorrow?”

  Saden blinked and stared over at Roshon sitting across the desk from him. They’d been working for days on end, going through Gabriel’s files to find the Vampyres he’d been involved with and determine the extent of their crimes. Those who had been directly connected with the kidnapping and abuse of the human females were sentenced to become Drakons while the rest were given lesser punishments.

  It was also Saden’s duty to identify every half-breed Gabriel was responsible for and ensure they had no ties to the Djinn. Since there were so many, Lady Ilsa had agreed with his suggestion to allow the Vampyres masquerading as their parents to keep them and either pay a hefty fine or go into servitude for half a century per child. Penalties which were too low in his opinion.

  They’d all been aware of how the offspring had been conceived and, as far as he was concerned, deserved a bullet to the head for their silence. As Roshon had pointed out, though, killing that many of his kind would only further the Djinns’ ultimate goal of rising against them in war.

  Roshon had proven to be an asset in more ways than one over the past month. Despite the Lady’s righteous indignation over having to tolerate the presence of a Rakshasa, he’d kept his word and, along with his team, supervised the care of the human females during their interrogations. He’d taken personal responsibility for their safety and had insisted on escorting them to Vincent Condretti when korvaute Weiss had concluded his questioning.

  During this time, he’d also watched out for Saden in a way that went far beyond their shared understanding of each other. Taught him how to cook and doctored his wounds. He’d insisted on being there when Saden had negotiated the terms of his collaboration with Lady Ilsa. Through Roshon’s insight, Saden had been able to work out a deal that satisfied both the Lady and Lucius while leaving him as an independent contractor of his services. Which put him in control of how he got the job done and who he worked with.

  Afterwards, Saden had managed to convince Roshon and his team to stay on with him and assist in the capturing of those found guilty of conspiracy. In exchange, he and a group of leisonguardes under his command would help with the recent increase of Vanaras however they could.

  Neither of their ruling authorities had been pleased by the arrangement, but necessity had forced their cooperation. Lady Ilsa needed Gabriel’s treachery swept under the rug as quickly as possible to save face and Roshon’s leader, Brice, couldn’t afford to turn down the additional help.

  Since then, Roshon had become invaluable as a partner and a friend. He was the only one Saden trusted at his back while surrounded by a race that had turned its back on him.

  Saden clawed a hand through his hair in aggravation. “Every trail we have leads to this Djinn called Forrest, and we can’t find a gods-damned thing on him,” he said with vexation, his voice raspy from the damage to his vocal cords that’d healed naturally. “He’s like a boogeyman. Always one step ahead and laughing at us from behind his followers. Someone has to have more information on him.”

  Because of their limited resources, they’d only been able to shut down one of the other facilities instead of all three at once. The remaining two had been found empty shortly afterwards and the female prisoners moved to locations unknown.

  Among the guards at the facility had been three Djinn they’d captured and handed over to Lucius. So far, those Djinn had said nothing other than the fact that their orders came from the one named Forrest. According to Gabriel’s files, he’d been a major player from the very beginning. Possibly the Djinn Gabriel had originally made his pact with.

  Roshon scratched the stubble on his jaw and frowned. “Maybe he’s just a figurehead. It’s possible Gabriel worked directly with an entire group of Djinn who didn’t want their own identities on record.”

  “No, the Djinn don’t operate like that. They conform. This Forrest is the one in charge now. If we find him, we’ll find the rest of the females.”

  “That reminds me, Weiss should be done questioning the second batch we found. I’ll contact Whitmore later to arrange for them to be picked up by the DCM.”

  “Who’s Whitmore?”

  “The new director of the DCM unit,” Roshon replied as he began filing the papers on his own desk into a cabinet behind him.

  “What happened to Vincent?”

  “He called me last week to let me know he was leaving. Something about taking a sabbatical and moving to Oregon. He gave me his forwarding address in case we need to meet with him in the future.”

  Saden bit back the question riding the tip of his tongue, though he couldn’t stop his thoughts from going there. Had Daneya taken Mckenzie and gone with Vincent? Despite the fact that he had no right to interfere in her life again, or even watch over her from a distance as he had throughout her adult life, knowing she would be hundreds of miles away somehow made the separation worse.

  She deserves happiness, he told himself with no small amount of self-loathing. Something she could never find with him. While his soul may have been set free, his persona and reputation would forever be frozen in the past. He was a stain on the pride of his people and no title Lady Ilsa gave him or anything he did would change that. It was the reason why he’d kept the name Saden instead of reverting back to his given name, Jeremy Aikins.

  Black stares and gossip seething with hatred followed him everywhere he went. Even the Vampyres he worked with viewed him as a savage intruder who had conned his way into the Lady’s graces.

  None of it phased him, however. None except for the opinion of his sister who had sought him out after hearing of his return. She’d met with him in his office, a stunning replica of their mother with straight midnight hair and expressive, jade-colored eyes.

  For ten minutes he had stood in silence as she berated him. Listened to her vivid expressions of humiliation and shame over having the misfortune of being related to filth like him. The blame for the stigma she’d dealt with all her life had cut him deeper than any blade or whip that had ever touched his skin. With each curse she had flung at him, he’d felt his hopes for a loving reunion dissolve like bitter ash in his mouth.

  When she had finally left him alone with her red handprint burning his cheek, there had been nothing but a cold, dead weight inside him. The crushing burden of sins he could never escape. If his own blood could find no forgiveness for him, why should Daneya?

  “Look, about Daneya—” Roshon started in a sympathetic tone.

  “Don’t,” Saden said curtly, then took a calming breath. “Go on home to your mate. I know she gets upset when I keep you overnight like this. Besides, there’s nothing more we can do right now.” He’d
called Roshon last night on a hunch that had turned out to be another dead end. At this point, sending out discreet search parties for Forrest and the missing women was going to be inevitable.

  A knock on the door sounded, stealing their attention. “Come,” Saden called.

  The female Rakshasa that was part of Roshon’s personal team entered with a furtive glance to Saden. She hurried over to Roshon and whispered something in his ear. The chief’s eyes lit up as he whispered back. Whatever he said had the woman running from the room.

  Alarm chased away the fog of Saden’s exhaustion. “What’s going on?”

  “You’re about to find out, my friend.” Roshon took two tumblers and a bottle of whiskey from the bottom drawer of his desk and poured them each a glass. “Kindra will be back in five minutes. Meanwhile, have a drink with me. You’re going to need it.”

  Saden accepted the proffered tumbler with a suspicious frown and took a sip. “Why do I get the feeling you’ve been keeping secrets from me?”

  Roshon flashed him an unapologetic grin. “Probably because I have. Trust me, though. You’ll like this one.”

  He kept his doubts to himself. Truth was, he did trust the chief almost as much as he trusted Blade.

  Roshon refused to give him any more information while they waited. Five minutes later, Kindra opened the door to the office again and stood aside to let a small figure walk in hesitantly. The tumbler nearly fell from Saden’s grip as he stared in shock at the newcomer.

  Mckenzie’s sweet face perked up when her eyes met his and she shot like a rocket across the room. Saden put his glass down then scooped her into his arms, laughing out loud in relief. It was illogical how much he’d missed her, yet it couldn’t be denied. She’d been a part of his life for years. A part of the anchor that had kept his sanity afloat. In a way, they would always be connected.

  When her thin body began trembling against his, he set her on her feet and met her doe-eyed gaze. “What’s wrong, little one?” The stoic expression she wore was familiar. Brow slightly wrinkled and lips pressed tightly together with unshed moisture coating her lashes. It caused his gut to clench in fear. Where was Daneya?

  “I thought you would be in trouble because of what I did. I thought—”

  “Shh.” He knelt to wrap her in a strong embrace, his chest swelling with emotion. No one had ever cared what happened to him, or whether he deserved it or not. “You saved me. I’ve never known anyone braver than you.”

  A spark of doubt clouded her features then melted under a radiant smile.

  “Where’s your mother?” he asked.

  Before Mckenzie could respond, a female voice spoke up from the doorway. “Her mother is right here.”

  Saden rose and turned to see Daneya standing in the middle of the room, more beautiful than he remembered. Jeans and a V-neck T-shirt hugged the slim curves of her figure and her russet hair fell in unbound waves past her shoulders. The only thing that marred her appearance was the faint trepidation in her amber eyes, but he couldn’t focus on that. All that mattered was her presence and the overwhelming urge he had to touch her, hold her, make sure she was real.

  Before he could think twice, he moved to close the distance between them and cradled her face in his hands. Her skin was soft beneath his, her lips curved up in an inviting smile.

  Then it hit him.

  The danger she was putting herself in just by being there—a DCM vigilante in the heart of Vampyre territory. Not even he would be enough to protect her if Lady Ilsa or korvaute Weiss decided to view her as a threat.

  “What are you doing here?” Without waiting for an answer, he rounded on Roshon angrily. “How could you let her risk herself by coming here?”

  Roshon raised his hands defensively. “Easy. She’s not in any danger. As far as anyone besides us and my men know, she’s an abductee from one of the facilities with more information to give and therefore under our authority.” When Saden furrowed his brow in confusion, Roshon’s mouth twitched in a failed attempt to hold back a grin. “I figure you two have a few things to discuss. I’ll be waiting outside if you need me.”

  After he was gone, Saden looked to Daneya. “How did you find me?”

  “Blade came to my house a week ago. He told me what’d happened to you and the position you took to search for the rest of the women. When I said I wanted to see you, he arranged this meeting with Roshon.”

  From her faltering tone, he knew Blade had to have convinced her to come in some way, but he didn’t care. He was just happy she was there, with him. Unable to stop himself, he threaded his fingers into her hair and leaned down to take full possession of her mouth.

  Daneya stepped away from the kiss and gently pulled his hands from her. “I’m glad things are working out for you. That you’re finally getting the respect you deserve. You must be happy to be among your kind again. To be able to build a life now that you’re free.”

  His confusion doubled as he watched her gaze bounce nervously around the room, focusing on everything except him. She was obviously upset about something, though he had no clue what it was.

  He chose his next words carefully. “This is only a temporary life, and I wouldn’t call it happy or respectful. What I’m doing is…” for you. For the promise I made. He swallowed heavily, then said, “I’m doing this because I’m the only who has a chance of bringing down what remains of Gabriel’s operation. The Lady Ilsa knows that. To her and everyone else here, I’m just a means to an end. I may have been born a Vampyre, but these people are no longer my kind. I could never fit in with them, and I don’t want to.”

  Daneya slowly shook her head and the sorrow on her elegant features tore at his insides. “This, whatever this is between us, won’t work. There are too many variables.” She spun on her heel and started to pace several yards away. “We built a relationship based on need and survival, charged with pure”—her eyes flicked momentarily to Mckenzie staring pensively from the other side of the room—“energy. I can’t take from you what you’ve just found and you can’t expect me to give up my life to be with you. It’s too crazy! Where would we even live?”

  She flung her arms out in exasperation. “You’re a Vampyre and I’m a human with more reasons to hate your kind than I can count. Neither one of us will be accepted wherever we go. We might as well try to make a home out of sand. Like you said before, what we had was all a mistake, right? That both of us will be better off if we just go our separate ways.”

  His thoughts tangled in a struggle to comprehend what she was trying to get at.

  From the hallway outside, Roshon yelled, “That’s your cue to tell her she’s wrong, but very, very delicately.”

  Saden strode to the door and shut it as Daneya’s face flushed a bright red. He recalled the conversation she spoke of as if it were yesterday. How he’d tried to convince her that their feelings for each other were irrelevant in the long run. If he had known then what he did now, he’d have slapped himself.

  Is that what she was trying to do here, convince him that he’d been right all those weeks ago? He took a second to look closer at her. At the way her body vibrated and how her gaze seemed to bore into him as if searching for answers. It suddenly dawned on him that it wasn’t anger or the need for closure that had driven her to come. While he didn’t know how to read or understand women, that didn’t matter.

  This was Daneya, and he knew her better than he knew himself. It was fear that emanated from her, and that more than anything, he understood.

  “Telling you that was a mistake,” he said quietly. When she scowled, he ignored it and pushed on. “I love you, and the only thing I’ve realized since being set free is that I miss you. I would do anything to have you again. Give you what I couldn’t before.”

  Her silence filled the air with tension. “Where would we live?” she repeated.

  For the first time since seeing her again, his heart rate spiked with hope. Daneya didn’t entertain hypotheticals, which meant her question held the ch
ance for possibility despite the doubt in her voice. “At my manor. I was planning on having the damages repaired. Or we can buy a house together. Wherever you want to live.”

  “And what would we do? I can’t continue at the DCM with an ex-Drakon by my side and I’m sure your kind would feel the same way about me.”

  “I don’t give a fuck what they think about you!” he said angrily, then took a deep breath when a corner of her mouth lifted in amusement. Behind the uncertainty in her eyes was a daring look he was all too familiar with. She was testing him to see how far he would go to keep her, he was sure of it. Confidence rushed in, overriding his fear of losing her forever.

  This time when he approached her and took her face in his hands, he let every ounce of his determination show. “We would do the same as we’ve always done. Take out the bad guys. We don’t need the DCM or the house of Avram for that. I need you and Mckenzie. If you give me a chance, I’ll make you both happy.”

  A single tear spilled down her cheek as she shook her head with a smile. “I love you, too.”

  The feel of her lips touching his, the heat of her body pressed against him, sent a burst of sensation through his being. It was joy, pure and simple. Beyond anything he’d been capable of experiencing as a Drakon. He wrapped her in his arms and crushed her slighter frame to his, drinking in the taste of her on his tongue.

  This was freedom. Right here. This was his salvation.

  Eventually, the sounds of gagging pulled them apart. They turned to see Mckenzie standing close and watching them with a derisive grin on her face. “Grown-ups are so gross. Does this mean we can stay at the manor? Can I have a dog, and my own computer? Oh, and another gun?”