Dark Cravings (11 page)

I shook my head and tried not to think about how rich and
delicious Micah’s blood had looked sparkling on the witch’s finger. My stomach
growled. Maybe it was the darkness inside talking to me again.

“No way. Just clean my wound and let’s get this over with.”

“You haven’t won this argument.” Micah glared at me for a
second before he pointed to my shoulder. “The demon left behind a keepsake. I’ve
got to get it out before I salt it.”

“Whatever,” I mumbled.

He picked up a pair of tweezers from the first-aid kit and
stared at them. And stared at them for a little longer. What was his problem? I’d
never seen him so squeamish.

“Why are you being such a wuss?” I asked.

His brow wrinkled. “Do you think I want to torture you? This
is going hurt a whole fucking lot.”

“Oh my god, Micah, stop being such a girl. If you don’t do
it, I will,” I snapped and reached for the tweezers.

Just out of my reach, Micah jerked his arm back before he
pressed hard on my right shoulder and brought me back to the floor.

He bent over me, and the soft strands of his hair tickled my
nose. I took one deep lungful of air, steadying myself. The first caress of his
hot breath touched the wound. I distracted myself by savoring the fragrant
scent of his shampoo. That was the last pleasant thing I felt before he went
fishing.

White, searing-hot agony blazed through the deepest parts of
me. The tears came automatically and it was all I could do not to scream out
before I stuck my fist in my mouth to muffle my cries. The few seconds it took
Micah to grasp and remove what looked like the end of a claw was an eternity in
hell.

“Gotcha!” Triumphantly, Micah held the piece up.

His grin faltered when I pushed him off with a burst of
strength and rolled onto my side. Knees jerking up to my chest, I assumed the
fetal position. Hot tears spilled down my cheeks. In another attempt not to
scream, I slapped my open palm against the cold, tiled floor.

Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six…

I hoped to hell by the time I got to one, the pain would
fade back into something manageable. My new position, however, exposed the cuts
on my back I’d forgotten about.

“Damn it, why didn’t you tell me there were more?”

“It didn’t hurt. How bad does it look?”

“It didn’t hurt,” he mocked. “There’s a gash that crosses
from the top of your shoulder blade to the middle of your back.”

“Let me see.”

Morbid curiosity was a curse.

I heard the cabinet under the sink open, then close before
Micah came back with a hand-held mirror. Ouch. The wound wasn’t as bad as my
shoulder, but indigo lines had spread through the network of veins under my
skin. My flesh no longer looked human. Blood leaked from the gash, which had
started to heal. Very nice. I must have reopened it when I’d gone into a little
ball.

“Finish it, Micah, or I will.” I had to fight to keep my
body still.

Saying nothing, Micah removed my bra and went about the task
of pouring in the salt. Purify, rinse, clean. It was a painful ritual I’d used
over a dozen times in the last ten years. I blacked out before he got to my
shoulder.

When I came to, Micah’s face was pale and the green tint to
his cheeks made me think he was about to be sick.

Speaking of being sick… I crawled over to the toilet and
spent the next several minutes proving just how upset my stomach was. When it
was over, I flushed and gladly took the towel Micah handed me. I wiped my mouth.
My entire body hurt, including my head. I sank back and the bathroom was tiny
enough that my back was now against the shower door.

I winced at the stinging pain and sat up a little bit. Micah
gave me a concerned look.

“You don’t look so hot.”

“No shit? How should I look after being tortured and puking
my guts out?”

He shook his head. “I mean, you’re pale, really pale. I know
you don’t want to, but maybe we should call Roy.”

I glared at him. Then I noticed his gaze dip to my breasts.
I was topless. I brought my knees up and wrapped my arms around them. The move
stretched muscles that screamed in protest.

“You need blood.” Great, there he went again.

At the mention of blood, my stomach rumbled and the familiar
sting in my gums came to life. I willed it away. I dug my nails into my pants
until I felt I had enough control over the bloodlust.

“I’ll be fine. I think I need food, real food.”

“You’re hurt, you need blood to heal. I’m worried about the
poison.”

“For someone who wanted me out of your apartment the second
I walked in here, I’m touched by your concern, really,” I said dryly.

“Look, don’t get bitchy. I’m just as exhausted as you are,
in case you forgot. I haven’t been able to sleep in almost a week. And if you
think I just enjoyed the last hour, well, I didn’t.”

All right, now I felt bitchy. I’d forgotten how bad Micah
had looked when I’d walked in here. Roy had called me for a reason and Micah
had ended up being the one to help me.

“Look, I’m not drinking blood. I’m back on the wagon.”

“Yeah.” Micah looked away. “About that…”

“What?”

“No one wants to tell you because they’re afraid of how you’ll
react. When we brought you home from the hotel room, Roy had to give you his
blood to heal you.”

“No, he didn’t. Roy wouldn’t do that.” My stomach clenched.
I looked into Micah’s unwavering gaze and read the truth. “Why would he do
that?”

“There was some concern about the damage to your eyes,
something about you waking up blind or some shit. Hannah called Julian.”

Micah spat his name as if it tasted vile on his tongue. I
didn’t blame him.

I got to my feet, wobbled a bit. Micah tried to steady me
but I slapped his hand away. Despite the show of bravado, I leaned against the
shower.

“Back up. Hannah, my sister, called Julian for what…advice?”
I ended up yelling the last bit louder than I’d intended. God, this bathroom
was small. I was starting to feel claustrophobic. “I mean,
how
did she
call him? According to Roy, he’s been in jail or whatever.” Is that how Roy
knew Julian had been imprisoned? Straight from the horse’s mouth so to speak?

Micah did back up, put his hands in the air. “Julian
originally got into contact with Roy the night we went missing. Don’t blame Hannah.
Do you remember what we looked like before your eyes caught fire? You didn’t
see yourself with the blood and other stuff dripping down your face. It freaked
us all out. Roy did what he thought was best and that included contacting the
bastard. Apparently, Julian was more than happy to come to your rescue.” Micah
let out a bitter laugh. “Seems the asshole still carries a bit of a torch and
hopes to pick up where you two left off.”

Why had no one mentioned this to me? I was too keyed up to
care about my nudity. I began pacing back and forth. “So that was Julian’s
solution, feed me
more
blood. No wonder he won’t leave me alone.”

Micah turned away from me and began shuffling around in the
cabinet. He pulled out a new toothbrush and thrust it at me when I made my pass
in front of him. I stopped, looked at it for a second. Right. I looked like
shit and I smelled. Fabulous.

“He knew,” I started mumbling as I snatched the toothbrush
and turned on the tap at the sink. Between rapid, jerky brushes, I spoke
through a mouthful of minty toothpaste. “The bastard knew what drinking blood
would do to me, how it would change me.” I pointed to my eyes.

I leaned over the sink and ignored how much the move hurt. I
spit out a mouthful of foam. I stayed there, staring at the water pouring from
the faucet and thought about when Julian had attacked my mind in the shower.
The ripping, tearing pain. It was a good reminder of how I’d felt after he left
me with no explanation. Two years we’d been together and then nothing. At the
time, his disappearance coupled with the new fangs was more than my
eighteen-year-old self could handle.

Micah stepped up behind me and I felt the heat of his body
to the tips of my toes. Thoughts of Julian vanished. Micah’s chest pressed
against my back when he leaned closer to shut off the water. Even through the
cotton of his shirt, he was molten against me.

He’s a demon.
The witch’s words echoed in my head.

I looked up and met his gaze in the mirror.

Vampire Queen. Demon Son.

“The way you’ve changed doesn’t matter,” he said.

“Look at me,” I demanded. My eyes were so bright, so blue
and so unnatural.

“I’m looking.” His voice softened. “And if it’s possible,
you look even more beautiful than before.”

The shell around my heart cracked, just a little. “Ha! Liar,
you just told me I looked horrible.” I turned, realizing too late what position
my movement would put our bodies into.

My lower back cut into the counter, and my breasts, now
sensitive and full, pressed against Micah’s chest. My breath caught. God, he
had a way of looking at me. The look said he wanted to devour me.

“You need blood. I’ll give it to you. Isn’t that what mates
do? Provide for each other?”

“Oh, so we’re mates now? I don’t think so. We’re getting a
divorce, or whatever, as soon as we can manage it. Tattoo removal has come a long
way these days. I’m not drinking from you.”

“Why? Is it because the witch said I was a demon? I’m not
good enough anymore? Or maybe it’s because Julian is back in the picture and
you’d rather be with him?”

Before he could mask it, I saw the fear fueling his abrupt
shift into anger.

I pressed my hand against Micah’s arm, held on to the muscle
before he could pull away.

“I don’t want Julian. And Gem is crazy. You’re not a demon,
Micah. You’ve got a family, a father, a brother. You know where you come from.
Things might be…off, but how can you possibly be a demon? Richard would have
known.”

I took a deep breath. “I can’t believe I’m about to say
this. Look, I’m afraid. You, us, it scares me. If I drink from you, I don’t
know if I can stop. I don’t know if I’ll want to stop. I crave it, Micah, your
blood. I can hear it pumping in your veins and all I want to do is… I can still
taste you on my tongue.”

He grinned. “I can taste you on my tongue too, but it isn’t
your blood I’m talking about.”

Here was the finesse I’d expected from him. He undid the
buttons on my cargo pants. The pants were loose and heavy enough to slide down
my thighs, so I was standing in nothing but a pair of black bikini panties.

“You drive me insane,” he said against my ear.

He brushed his lips along my throat. I shivered.

“I thought you said you were joking about the sex.”

“Does it feel like I’m joking?” He ground his pelvis against
mine to show me exactly how thick and hard his cock was.

“This is a horrible idea.”

He cupped my ass and held me tighter. He continued talking
in low, husky tones. “I just want to make you feel good. I’ve never seen you
cry, I don’t like it. I need something to erase that.”

I bit my lip. Nodded. God, I was easy.

He pulled me with him to the shower. The glass door made a
pathetic squeak when Micah pulled it open. His mouth met mine and I pushed at
his shirt. He broke the kiss and, one handed, pulled off his tee. I pushed off
his pajama bottoms and reached for the thick ridge of his shaft. He ripped off
my panties at the same time.

He turned on the water and the hot temperature stung my
newly tended wounds. I tried to pull away, but Micah deepened the kiss. He
moved his fingers over my body in slow caresses, as if he was memorizing every
curve and apologizing for the hurts he’d caused. I shivered as he traced his
palm gingerly up my spine to grasp the back of my neck. He guided my mouth to
his throat.

“Bite.”

My fangs slid free in the same moment he found my wet
entrance and slid his fingers inside. A deep, husky pant came from Micah when I
found him and began to stroke.

“Jesus Ella, you’re so wet.” He moaned in bliss.

He inserted another finger knuckle deep before he curved
them to hit my G-spot. Roughly, he pumped inside me, finding the rhythm that
made me clench in the first drawing spasms of an orgasm.

I sank my fangs into his neck. A hot gush of blood filled my
mouth. The pleasure exploded. Micah jerked, but instead of pulling me away, he
held me closer, stroked me faster. I didn’t need any encouragement. I wrapped
my legs around his waist, and with a fist around his erection, I guided the
thick crown of his cock to me. Back and forth I rubbed the mushroom tip against
my opening, teasing us both.

I lifted my mouth from his neck and Micah wasted no time in
covering my lips with his, thrusting his tongue deep. He entered me in one
smooth, powerful push. My body clenched, pulled him deeper inside. Pleasure. He
pounded into me. As the tension built, so did the energy in the air. I came,
screaming my release. Everything around us combusted. The two remaining light
bulbs in the room shattered. Glass tinkled against the porcelain sink and I
couldn’t have cared less.

In the total darkness he pulled me from the wall, sank down
and kept me in his lap so I could ride him. I moved on his cock, up and down.
My back bowed and Micah’s mouth wrapped around my nipple. He sucked and
nibbled, lifted his hips underneath me.

“You feel too good. I’m gonna come,” he said between gasps. “Should
I pull out?”

God no. “Not pregnant. Back on the pill, it’s okay.”

“Thank god.”

His thrusts grew harder, more erratic. When his teeth found
their way over my chest and to my neck, the sensation of his cock and the heat
of his mouth on me coalesced. I thought I was going to pass out from the
pleasure of it all. He bit down on the tender skin of my throat and he came
inside me. He grunted, groaned and all I could do was hold on for the ride.