Crave (9 page)

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Authors: Karen E. Taylor

BOOK: Crave
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Fell deep into his hunger.
This
was the hunger of last night, the blinding red hunger that allowed no other feeling. It took hold of me and I began to shake. Larry's anger and pain were mine. We were one. I screamed and as if from far away, I heard an odd rasping noise, heard a voice from outside calling a name I should have known. But the voices inside were stronger, the roar of the creature that lived within me, the roar of the creature that sought to control my soul. I cried out again, a half-human, half-feline call of distress and despair.
Larry's hands slipped from mine and he seemed to fold in on himself, collapsing into a misshapen lump on the floor. I roared again and felt the air pressure in the room change. Ron had opened the door.
Before I could even react, I felt a wisp of air pass me, heard the high-screeching call of victory, saw a winged body fly past a startled Ron and out the door. I felt the elation and expectation wash over him as he disappeared from sight. “Death,” he sang. “I fly to find death and freedom.”
Chapter 11
W
ith Larry's influence gone, I was able to force my body back from the partial transformation it had already made. When my mind cleared and I was myself again I discovered that I was alone and trapped inside the cell. The door had snapped closed before I could escape. Ron, I assumed, had gone in pursuit of Larry.
Grateful for the time alone, I sat back down on the cot and tried to calm my shaking and collect my thoughts. The first one that ran through my head was: Victor would not be pleased. I laughed grimly at that monumental understatement.
Looking to the doorway, I spoke out loud. “Victor is going to have us both for dinner, Ron. And we'll deserve it.” But how could anyone have known that Larry had achieved the power of transformation so quickly? He'd only been a vampire for a little over two years. And he'd have had no training.
Or, and my distrust of Vivienne surfaced anew, maybe he had. What if she'd been working with Larry for the past two years? Teaching him the tricks of the trade? She seemed secure in the knowledge that she could instruct Mitch in the mysteries and he was only a few months into his existence. “Damn.”
I turned on the cot, pulled my legs up, and wrapped my arms around them, hugging them close to my body, noticing as I did so that my jeans were ripped in a few places. A totally irrelevant thought made me laugh. “I had better get the hang of this changing pretty soon, or it's going to cost me a fortune in clothing.” I flexed my toes a bit, easing the stiffness from them. At least this time I hadn't lost a pair of shoes, too.
“Clothing should be the least of your worries right now, Deirdre.”
Victor stood in the doorway, by the control panel on the wall. I resisted the impulse to jump to attention at his presence and just swiveled my head to meet his angry gaze. “Can you give me one good reason why I shouldn't just leave you in there?” he asked, his long aristocratic fingers playing with the controls. “I could flip on the sunlights and close the door. A year or so locked up in here might teach you caution. Or at least respect for authority.”
I sighed. “Actually, Victor, I have no reasons and no excuses. Do what you want. I'm hardly in any position to prevent you.”
“But I am.” Mitch appeared behind Victor. “Let her out, Lange, or so help me, I'll bring you down. Right here, right now.”
Victor did not turn to meet him; instead he shook his head slowly and a smile played on his lips. “It was my idea to enlist your help, you know.” He spoke to me as if Mitch was not present. “Not all of the Cadre was in favor of asking a rogue to come in and meddle in our internal affairs. You are an unknown quantity to them and hence, a danger. I argued that I needed you here for those same qualities and I still feel that way. When it turned out that we had not just one rogue to work with, but two, they were not happy. Fortunately,” and the smile on his face broadened, “I have the final say in matters such as this, but,” he turned the switch on the wall and the glass panel slid open, “before you pull a stunt like this again, promise me you'll think long and hard.”
I squeezed myself through the opening, took a large breath of fresh air as I did so, and exhaled in relief. Mitch came to me and put an arm around my waist, hugging me close to him. I returned Mitch's hug, then moved away from him and started toward the doorway, anxious to put the place and the event behind me.
“To say I'm sorry, Victor, wouldn't be exactly true. This setup has got to be one of the cruelest forms of torture ever imagined. And I'm not sure if anyone kept here deserves this particular punishment, regardless of the crime. But you must believe that I didn't come down here with the intention of setting Larry free.”
“Of course you didn't, my dear, it's just that unexpected things happen when you're around. And for what it's worth,” Victor looked back over his shoulder and locked the main door before following us into the hallway, “I've always felt the same way about this place. This was never my idea, you know; it's one of Max's little brainstorms. I always felt that death was far preferable to incarceration.”
“Interestingly enough,” I observed, “so does Larry, at least now.”
“Good,” Mitch said as we reached the elevator, “then when we catch him again we can just kill him without having to worry about consulting him first.”
“Indeed,” Victor agreed with a low laugh. “Mitch, there are times when you and I are in complete agreement; there are other times when I understand why you never progressed past the level of detective in your mortal life.”
Mitch bristled and Victor laughed again. “It's not a bad quality, you understand, this questioning of authority and the determination to go against it in the face of your conscience. It just rarely endears one to superior officers.” The elevator door opened and the three of us got on. Victor pushed the floor for the Cadre's living quarters; I noticed that no key was needed for the upward trip. So did Mitch.
“I see that your security on the way up is slack. How many people have you actually had escape from down there?”
Victor cleared his throat, nervously. “Larry was the first one. But then he was also the first rogue to ever be incarcerated. Damn it, I can hardly believe he was capable of escape. His powers should never have been that fully developed. For one as young as he, he had an abnormally strong will. With Cadre members, it usually only takes twenty-four hours in the cell and a full barrage of the sun lamps to bleed away all resistance. This event will surprise some people, shock others, and confirm old beliefs . . .”
“Those old beliefs being?” I knew what they were, I had heard enough of them spoken and implied during my trial by the Cadre. But I wanted Victor to admit the facts. And I wanted Mitch to hear what these vampires, of whom he was so enamored, thought of beings like him and me.
Victor dropped his eyes and studied the floor. “The only good rogue is a dead rogue.”
“Does that include us?” Mitch took a defensive stance, positioning himself between me and Victor.
“Actually, Mitch, your status is questionable. You are, after all, being trained by another vampire. And your reactions and sentiments seem to closely resemble ours.”
The elevator stopped. “You know, Victor,” Mitch said, “I'm not so sure that's a compliment.”
Victor snorted. “No, from your point of view, I suppose it's not.”
“How about Deirdre? What is the official Cadre decision on her status?”
The three of us stood in the hallway and Victor gave me a calculating glance. “Had she accepted our offer of her own house last year, we would have welcomed her as one of us. But her disdain of the organization was then and is now apparent in her every move. She is a rogue in our eyes. I doubt after this event she will ever be viewed as anything else. And ultimately, we know that your true sentiment lies with her, Mitch.”
He started down the hallway, then turned back. “Tomorrow evening the Cadre will be meeting to discuss plans for the recapture and disposal of Larry Martin. If I were you, I'd make definite plans to be there. And I'd also watch my back. Have a good evening.”
 
Once back in our room, I collapsed on the bed. Mitch sat next to me and stroked my hair. “Still hungry?” he asked. “Do you feel up for a hunt tonight?”
“No, but we need to do something. I want to be out of this place for a while. And I am sure I can work myself into the proper mood.”
He smoothed my cheek with the back of his hand and gave the low throaty laugh that always set my pulse racing. “Well, I know it's been a tough night already for you,” he glanced at the clock on the night stand, “but it's still pretty early to go out. And I think you need something to occupy your mind other than the bloody Cadre and Larry Martin. Do you think you could work yourself into the proper mood for anything else?” I caught the gleam in his eyes and smiled up at him, reaching my arms around his neck, pulling his mouth down to mine.
When we kissed, his lips were cool, like the coolness of his skin against mine as he removed first my sweater and then my bra. His one hand cupped my right breast, teasing the nipple, rolling it between his fingers. It was like the touch of marble against marble, but it was Mitch's touch and it never failed. I moaned and his kisses grew fiercer while his other hand unzipped my jeans and reached inside to stroke me.
I bucked up into his caress and he laughed again, then slid my torn jeans and my panties from my body. Removing his mouth from mine he kissed my neck and then my breasts, pausing to suckle each of them in turn. He continued to trace his way down my stomach and further, until his kiss grew warmer, and I caught fire. His mouth teased and encouraged me, his hands stretched up over my body, molding my breasts. And when his tongue stabbed inside me, I could feel the hint of growing sharpness around his teeth.
I gasped and thrashed about on the surface of the bed. The sensations he was causing with fangs and tongue were almost too much to bear. He raised his head from me for one brief second, enough so that I could see the passion in his face and his eyes. Then he bared his fangs and quickly brought his mouth back down on me, penetrating the delicate skin.
I screamed as the flooding orgasms shook my body. And he held on to me, his hands grasping my hips now, keeping my writhing body tightly pressed against his mouth. Mitch pushed me over the brink uncountable times and just when I thought I could stand no more, he took his mouth away, looked up my body at me and smiled. A crimson blotch of blood smeared his lower lip.
He rose from the bed and stood over me. “Still hungry, Deirdre?”
I laughed and began to unfasten his pants. “The blood can wait, my love. Right now I just want you.”
“I was hoping you'd feel that way.” He eased himself out of his clothing and covered my body with his. This time I did not notice the absence of heat in his skin as he entered me, gently at first as if he were afraid to hurt me. But his thrusts grew more frantic as he was rewarded with my shudders and calls of passion. Wrapping my legs around him, digging my nails into the flesh of his back, I tasted the salty flesh of his neck with my tongue and whispered mad words of encouragement into his ear. In a time that seemed an eternity and a mere second, we spiraled down into the deep waves of our passion, holding each other's spasming body and mind closer than ever before.
He finally rolled from me and I realized that I was crying. And when I looked at him where he lay next to me, I discovered to my surprise that he, too, had been crying. Blood-tinged tracks streaked his face; I touched them with my fingertips in wonder.
He leaned over and kissed me lightly. “Oh, Deirdre, I love you.”
I giggled.
“What? Is something funny?”
“No, I was just thinking that poor Vivienne will never know what she's missing.”
“You mean you aren't jealous anymore?”
“After that performance, my love, how could I ever be jealous of anyone?”
“Too bad,” he tried to sound disappointed, but I could hear relief in his voice, “it was sort of fun to get you worked up about it.”
“More enjoyable than this?” I ran my nails along his chest and laughed when he shivered.
“Never.”
We lay for a while, side by side. Barely touching each other, but together and calmed, at peace. There was no need for words between us. Eventually, though, Mitch pushed himself up on one elbow and leaned over to kiss the tip of my nose. “Let's get dressed and go out. It's early and there's lots of night left to enjoy. And I'm hungry.”
“Fine by me.” I got up from bed and went to the armoire that held my clothes. I dragged the hangers back and forth, then opened the drawers one by one. “Damn.”
“What's wrong, sweetheart?”
“What was I wearing last night?”
Mitch chuckled. “Fur and then skin.”
“Very funny. No, I mean before that.”
He thought for a while. “Your black leather pants, I think.”
“Damn. That's what I thought, too. And now they're lying on the sidewalk somewhere in shreds.”
“And let me guess,” he said, rising from the bed himself and putting his clothes back on, “you have nothing to wear?”
“Well, nothing I really want to wear. I think I'll give Betsy a call tomorrow and see what she has on her racks this season.”
He gave me a pained glance. “While you're with her, I think I'll stop over at the old place and see how Chris is doing.”
“Chicken,” I teased him. The last time he'd seen Betsy was at our wedding where she'd put the moves on every other man there. The first time they met, the night I'd sold my fashion business to her, she had attempted to seduce him while I was in the ladies' room. She was brisk and abrasive, but we had become friends of a sort. I always felt that she would make a better vampire than I ever did.
“No,” he spoke quickly, “I really should see Chris. I called him while you were downstairs and got the machine again. Didn't leave a message this time.”

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