A Hunger Like No Other (32 page)

As if reading her mind, he murmured, “Need to sleep. But when I get my strength back, I'll be able to give you this”—he thrust into her, still semihard—“and all the blood you can drink.”

Her flesh spasmed around him at the thought.

He grinned. “Every night. I promise you.” He kissed her forehead. “Rest for a while.”

“But the sun will be up soon.”

“I'll have you in our bed well before then.”

Her body was warm and relaxed under his hands, but her mind was in a panic. Yes, she wanted to rest in an open field on top of him near the earth they'd torn apart during hours of sex. But an open field—like a parking lot or a football field or, God forbid, a plain—was a death trap. Sleeping under the stars? Avoid at all costs. She craved cover, thick canopy, a cave or some way to get lower in the earth, farther from the sun.

And still the pull to remain here was strong, conflicting with her need for self-preservation. The Lykae Instinct he'd given her was beautiful, compelling, but there was one problem.

She was a vampire.

He rolled over in sleep, tucking her into his side. He put his knee over her to pull her close and then crooked his arm around her head. Protectively. All around her. Better. Maybe just surrender.

“Mine,” he growled softly. “Missed you.”

Yes. Apparently she'd missed him, too.

Surrender. Trust him.
Her eyelids drifted closed. Her last thought was,
Never knew day. Or night . . . .

I
n their bed, Lachlain lay on his side, stroking the backs of his fingers from her navel up between her soft breasts and down again. He felt electricity charging the air and after last night, he now knew it was for her.

He didn't understand how she could still desire him or why she seemed so pleased with him. He'd woken with a heavy regret for his actions. She had been more than he'd ever dreamed, so beautiful, so passionate, and he'd finally claimed her. Again and again. Beneath the full moon, she'd given him unimaginable, mind-boggling pleasure—and a soul-deep feeling of connection with her.

She'd given these things, but he'd taken her virginity on the ground in the woods like the beast she thought him, shoving into her delicate flesh. He thought . . . he thought he'd made her
scream with pain.

Then he'd marked her neck savagely. She could never see his mark—no one but a Lykae could—or feel it, but she would carry this frenzied brand forever. The Lykae would forever know upon seeing it that he had been out of his mind with lust for her. Or they would reason he'd done it to such a degree as an overtly hostile threat to other males. Both would be true.

Yet in spite of all this, the lass seemed pleased with him,
chattering happily, reaching up with a dreamy expression to caress the side of his face.

“You have no' drunk today. Are you thirsty?”

“No. For some reason, no.” Then she smiled brightly. “Probably because I stole so much yesterday.”

“Saucy lass.” He leaned down and nuzzled her breast, making her jump. “And you know it's freely given.” He grasped her chin and met her eyes. “You do know that, do you no'? Anytime you need to drink, even if I'm asleep, I want you to take.”

“You really like it?”

“Like is no' the word I'd use.”

“You'd heal faster if I didn't.”

“Maybe, but my recovery would no' be so sweet.”

Still she was insistent. “Lachlain, sometimes I feel like a ball and chain around your ankle.” Before he could protest, she said, “You asked me the first time I drank if I thought you would turn me to a Lykae. Could you?”

He tensed when he saw she was serious. “Emma, you know no living being can change without dying first.” The catalyst for the transformation among the vampires, the ghouls, the wraiths, among all of them, was death. “I would have to turn fully, give myself up to it, and then
kill
you, hoping that you got infected so you could be reborn.” Praying that she accepted a piece of the beast into her body and that it would roar to life within her—but not too strongly. “And if you survived, you'd be locked away for years until you could control the . . . possession.” Most took a decade. Some never gained control.

With her shoulders curving in protectively, miserably, she muttered, “And still it almost sounds worth it to me. I hate being a vampire. I hate being hated.”

“Becoming a Lykae would no' alter that—just would alter you to a new set of enemies. We're no' exactly universally loved in the Lore. Besides, even were it done with the snap of my fingers, I would no' do it.”

“You wouldn't change that I'm a vampire?” she asked, her tone disbelieving. “It would be so much simpler!”

“Bugger simple. It's made you what you are, and I would no' change a single thing about you. And besides, you're no' even wholly a vampire.” Going to his knees, he scooped her up against his chest. He ran the tip of his finger over the small sharp point of her ear, then nipped it with his teeth, making her shiver. “Think you I dinna see the sky you gave me last night?”

She blushed, a shy smile coaxed forth, then buried her face in his shoulder.

If he hadn't seen it, he'd never have believed it. Crystal clear sky, moon heavy, yet lightning streaked wildly over it like a net, the light fading so slowly from each bolt. It had taken him a long moment to realize they mirrored her cries. “That's always been rumored to be a Valkyrie trait, but none of us knew for certain.”

“The men who see it don't usually, well,
live,
if they're the type to tell about it.”

He briefly raised his eyebrows at that, then said, “You are no vampire. You have your lightning and your eyes grow silver. You're unique to all the world.”

She grimaced. “In other words—a freak.”

*  *  *

“No, doona say that. You're just your own entity, I believe.” He eased her back in his arms and the corners of his lips quirked up. “You're my wee halfling.”

She punched his shoulder.

“And I like the lightning. I'll know you're never feigning it.” He kissed her, but he was grinning and she punched him again. He seemed to think this was hilarious.

“Oooh! I wish you'd never seen it!”

He gave her a lewd smirk. “And if I'm outside and feel a charge in the air, I'll know to come running to you. You'll have me trained in a day.” He was clearly thinking of all the scenarios. “I'm glad we live so far from towns.”

We
live.

He frowned. “But you were in a coven. Everyone would know if late one night you brought yourself to come. No' a lot of privacy.”

He spoke so bluntly—he was so aggravating! Face back against his chest, she snapped, “I didn't have to worry about that!”

“What do you mean? You never saw even when you touched yourself?”

She gasped, glad he couldn't see her face. But of course, he leaned her back, not letting her look away. “No, Emma. I want to know. I need to understand everything about you.”

She was secretive, shy. Those damn voices were insisting she
share.

“Lightning is constant over the manor—any marked emotion triggers it, and so many live there. And anyway, before last night, I've never, um, well”—she struggled with the word—“come.”

His eyes widened, and she could tell he was . . . delighted.

“It was very distressing for me.”

“I doona understand.”

“I've heard that the most twisted vampires have subjugated that need. Blood is all they desire, and those are the ones that decimate villages and drink to kill with such
greed . . . .” She stared past him. “To not be able to was terrifying for me. Every day I feared I would be like them.”

“No' able to.” He brushed her hair back from her forehead. “I dinna know. I thought you had some kind of Valkyrie control over yourself . . . I dinna know it was involuntary.”

She must be using a gallon of blood blushing tonight.

“It's no' surprising you could no'.”

She looked at him with hurt.

“No, no, if you were young and dinna know how and then it dinna happen . . . you would start to feel pressure each time.”

She nodded, stunned he saw so much. That was exactly what had happened.

“You will never be like those vampires. Emma, you are nothing like them.”

“How can you be so certain?”

“You are kind and gentle. You feel compassion. I would no' want you so strongly if I dinna know you are these things.”

“But the Instinct
forces
you to want me. You said before that you
had
to keep me with you.”

“Is that what you think?” He cupped her face. “The Instinct
guides
me to what I want and need. It directed me to the one woman I could make a life with. No matter what, it would always be you for me, but without the Instinct, I would never have recognized you as my mate because you are other. I would no' have given us a chance—and never forced you to.”

“You say all of this like my mind's made up.”

His expression grew grave, his eyes bleak. “Is it no'?”

“Well, what if it wasn't?”

He palmed the back of her neck, his eyes flickering blue. “You canna speak lightly of this.”

“Has it never happened?” she whispered.

“Aye. Bowen.”

She wriggled from his grasp, curling up against the headboard. “I thought you said his mate died.”

“She did. As she ran from him.”

“Oh, my God. What did he do?”

“He became void of feeling, more a walking corpse than Demestriu even. You would doom me to that.”

“But if you want to build a life with me, mine involves my family. You said you'd take me there. Why not now? Just get it over with.”

“I have to do something first.”

“You're going to get revenge, aren't you?”

“Aye.”

“It's that important to you?”

“I canna be right without it.”

“What Demestriu did to you must've been awful.”

A muscle ticked in his cheek. “I will no' tell you, so doona play to find out.”

“You always want me to tell you my secrets, but you won't share one that affects both of us.”

“I will never share this.”

Giving him her side, she hugged her legs tighter to her chest. “You want your revenge more than you want me.”

“I will no' be what you need until I set this right.”

“People who go after Demestriu don't come back.”

“I did,” he said smugly, with all his considerable arrogance.

Could he be lucky twice? He couldn't
not
come back. “So, do you plan to leave me here when you go mete out your retribution?”

“Aye, I would trust your safety only to my brother Garreth.”

“Leaving the little lady back at the keep?” She laughed, but it was a bitter sound. “Sometimes I'm stunned by what a time capsule you are.” He frowned, obviously not understanding her. “Even if I could be convinced to kick my heels up here, this plan has a flaw. The coven is busy with their own difficulties, but there's only so much time before they will come for me. Or worse.”

“What do you mean, or worse?”

“They'll find a way to hurt you. Find a weakness and exploit it
like a scourge.
They just won't stop. Isn't there a group of Lykae living in the next parish over? My aunt, the one I love best in the world, could attack them with a viciousness that would stagger you.”

He ground his teeth. “You know what bothers me most about what you said? I should be the one you love best in the world.
Me.”

She gasped at the words and the surprise feeling that flashed through her all the way to her toes.

“And of the other, if anyone in my clan is weak enough to be captured or killed by wee fey . . . women, then they needed to be culled from the pack anyway.”

That statement brought her crash-landing back into the conversation. “They are small and fey
looking.
They also kill vampires regularly. My aunt Kaderin has destroyed more than four hundred of them.”

His lips curled. “An auntie tells you tales.”

“There's proof.”

“Did they sign a paper right before she worked their heads off?”

She sighed, and when she didn't answer, he leaned forward
and squeezed her foot. “When Kaderin kills, she snaps out a fang—to be strung with the others. The line runs the length of her room.”

“All you're doing is endearing her to me. Remember, I'll see every one of them dead.”

“How can you say that when I am one? Or part of one. Whatever you want to call it! One of them is my father.” He opened his mouth to speak, but she said, “You can't spare him only. Because I don't know who he was . . . or is. That's why I was in Paris searching for information.”