Dark Cravings (7 page)

Water dripped into my gasping mouth and I sputtered. My back
bowed in agony. With a savagery I hadn’t known Julian capable of, my sire tore
through my mind. With each memory, sensation, feeling he encountered, his anger
mounted.

Put your shields up, Ella, I cannot control this
,Julian
ordered but I couldn’t. It was too late.

I saw the first time I’d met him. Experienced through his perspective
the stupefied look on my face as I gazed into his very blue eyes over my father’s
closed oak casket. It was the day his obsession began. The memories shifted.
His cock thrust into me for the very first time and I felt the stinging
pleasure of him taking my virginity. I remembered the feral look on his face,
the gleam of his fangs as he thrust. He’d been brutal and rough and I’d begged
for more. Flash forward, another memory.

I was dying. I lay in a dark, slimy sewage tunnel. My body
was broken, bleeding. As if I was there, the stench of stagnant, rotting water
filled my nose. After the pack of red-skinned demons nearly beat me to death,
they thought it would be fun to leave me for the rabid vampires. A little
snack, they’d said. The rats found me first.

I wished they’d finished me off.

Before I’d gotten the chance to die, Julian had swooped in
like a black knight and turned me. The memories grew jumbled. Blood. Pain.
Writhing. Julian wiping sweat from my brow. Cool water sponged over my seizing
body. Regret shadowed his love. He’d known then that he would have to leave me
in order to protect me. By saving my life, he forfeited any chance to be with
me.

His roar filled my head and I couldn’t hear anything else.
Not the shower, not my whimpers. The connection between us warbled, as if he
were trying to break free but couldn’t. We were both trapped. I wrapped my arms
around my head and tried to force my sire out. Images of Micah and me shuffled
through my mind. Through Julian’s eyes I saw the rapture on Micah’s face while
he thrust into me. I saw the beautiful way our sweat-slicked bodies moved
tirelessly against one another. On the right side of our bodies, the crimson
tattoos glowed and pulsed with energy. Through Julian, I saw Micah claiming me,
stealing me away from my sire.

His rage consumed me. Bright red spots of blood ran from my
nose and plopped to the white porcelain beneath me. One drop at a time, the
shower whisked it away like a dirty secret.

“Stop,” I cried. “Please.”

Julian pushed his will harder until the sobs of pain and
anguish consumed me. In those next moments he stripped everything from me. It
felt like the very skin on my bones had been cut away. I would have done
anything, given anything, to make him stop.

Long minutes passed before the pain faded and I felt Julian’s
withdrawal from my mind. Blessed, sweet relief. The only thing left between us
was a deep sense of sorrow.

Weak and unable to make my limbs obey my commands, it took me
several attempts to shut off the water. It took even longer to find my legs. I
crawled more than walked out of the tub and into a towel I pulled from the
rack.

I didn’t dare look in the mirror. No, I wrapped myself up
and exited the bathroom. Using the wall for support, I found my bedroom and
stumbled into it.

Clothes were not the first thing I thought of. I needed a
weapon. Even as a child, weapons had given me a sense of security. What
boogeyman hiding under the bed could withstand a black Brimstone blade between
its eyes? I pulled out the knife and sheath I kept stashed under my pillow. After
strapping the leather harness around my wrist, I turned to the closet. I piled
on clothes. Underwear, pants and a long-sleeved sweater to cover the knife.

These days my wardrobe consisted of one color—black. My
clothes were easy to mix and match and blood didn’t show up as easily. Before
my life had changed forever, I would have spent thirty minutes picking out the
perfect outfit, the perfect shade of lip gloss to go with it. Back then, I
would have chosen snug blue jeans and a cute blue shirt, to match Julian’s
eyes.

I hate blue.

I forced myself to walk, not run, into the emergency room.
There was a driving force inside me, pushing me to Micah. Now more than ever, I
needed him.

The second I entered the hospital, a multitude of scents and
sounds assaulted me. For just a moment, I stood motionless in the sea of
chaotic movement.

A gurney raced by on my left. On it lay an African-American
woman whose rust-colored curls surrounded a perfectly oval face. Ripped and
smudged with dirt, scraps of her flowing purple gown trailed behind her. The
floating fabric reminded me too much of the succubus’ robes.

On my right, another gurney rolled by with a new surge of
smells and noises. I caught the brief glance of a teenager with pale-white skin,
orange hair and large green eyes. The scent of liquor poured off him in such a
pungent wave I feared I’d get drunk just sniffing the fumes. The kid wasn’t old
enough to drive, let alone drink. There was a wide-open gash on his forehead
and streams of blood poured down the side of his battered face. My fangs
pulsed. Honey. Sweet, sweet honey.

“I think I’m going to be sick.” Hannah’s whimper snapped me
out of my bloodlust.

Roy pulled her into his strong arms and tucked her head
against his chest. “Let’s keep moving.”

As we passed, the boy jerked on the gurney and mumbled
incoherently about the injustice of the legal system. He fought against the
cuffs linking him to his bed. Two uniformed officers followed closely behind
while their radios crackled with static.

A few feet in front of us, a tired woman with graying hair
clutched a sodden handkerchief to her chest. She rocked and moaned. Tears fell
down her cheeks. “No. No. Please, no. Not my baby!” she cried. She collapsed to
the ground while the doctor who stood nearby looked on in sympathy.

The wail of a siren cut through the noise of the ER. More
victims outside. More soul-blackening guilt inside.
Vampire Queen and Demon
Son.

The ridiculous words echoed in my
head.

I was not a queen and Micah was not a demon.

Through all the sights, sounds and smells, the roiling
energy Micah emitted coaxed my darkness close to the surface. His power was
intoxicating. I closed my eyes and focused on the tug deep inside my gut. The
need inside grew even stronger. I looked up at the smooth white tiles of the
ceiling and attempted to judge the distance between Micah and me. He was four
levels up and maybe a few rooms past the elevators ten feet in front of me.

We walked by the nurses’ station and I tried not to let the
abrupt drop of conversation bother me. That was becoming a common occurrence.
The two men we’d passed in the parking lot had nearly dropped their coffee the
second they’d gotten a good look at me. The cluster of people in the waiting
room had cut off mid-sentence to stare at me as I strolled by. A little girl
had taken one look into my eyes and clung tighter to her mother’s leg.

With my hair still wet, the brown strands looked black.
Against my unnaturally pale skin, my eyes glowed. My black-on-black ensemble
completed the vampire goth look.

“Maybe you should just get a cape.” Hannah’s whispered words
in my ear eased some of my anxiety and I squeezed the hand she slipped into
mine.

A week ago I’d been unremarkable. Brown hair, brown eyes, below-average
height. There was nothing noteworthy. I wasn’t even charming. Homeschooled
since I was five, I lacked the necessary social niceties other people my age
had. Hannah’s high school years had consisted of football games and winter
formals. Hell, she’d even been prom queen. My experience had included midnight
patrols in the neighboring cemeteries while I learned about rogue vampires,
demons and blood splatter.

The shiny metal doors of the elevator slid open and the
haggard passengers exiting gave me a wide berth.

“You’ll have to limit your exposure,” Roy said calmly as the
doors dinged shut behind us. The other people waiting for the elevator had
chosen to wait for the next one. “While most humans don’t believe the legends
are true about vampires and demons, it is obvious there is something…different
about you.”

I stared straight ahead at the mirrored walls. Two blue
flames stared back at me. Beside me, Hannah and I couldn’t have looked any more
different if we’d tried. She was tall—five-eight—and blonde, where I was short
and brunette. Her short knee-high skirt and pastel V-neck sweater brought out
her inner cheerleader. My black combat boots brought out my inner badass.

“I’ve been out in public with Julian before. He didn’t
frighten small children the way I seem to be doing.”

“Julian was,” Roy paused, “charismatic. I believe it’s why
the Vampire Court chose him as their human-vampire liaison with the Agency. You
give off a different vibe, something richer, more potent. There is strength,
power, inside you. Micah told me about the phazing. Coupled with the new
changes, I don’t know what it means yet. Anyone with even the slightest degree
of sensitivity would recognize you as not a normal human. It won’t be long
before the Shadow Agency is alerted.”

“Shouldn’t the fact that my heart is beating count for
something? I’m not a dog to be put down.” I pressed my back against the wall
and gripped the metal railing. When the aluminum dented, I let go and flexed my
fingers. Whoops.

Roy gave me a chiding look. “You aren’t the only living
vampire, Ella.”

Hannah clapped. Her shimmering gloss covered lips curved in
a smile. “Lizbeth Tepes, the reclusive queen of all vampires, that no one
outside of her Sacred Eight has seen since she was fourteen. That makes her over
six hundred years old or something.”

I glared at my sister. “Who told you that?”

She lifted a delicate shoulder. “I may or may not have found
a book in Roy’s study. Did you think my sister would get turned into a vampire
and I wouldn’t do some research? As if.” Hannah continued as if she didn’t see
the eye roll I gave her. “According to the Shadow Agency, she was born to Vlad
the Impaler sometime during the fifteenth century. She carried the genetic
defect that made her the first, and only, vampire of her kind. Until you, of
course, Ella.”

“I’ve got nothing in common with that sadistic bitch besides
the beating heart. And really, who knows if her heart is even still pumping?
Julian never said much about her. The only thing I know about Lizbeth is that
she gets off on torture.” I looked at Roy. “Why is my heart still beating?”

“That, my dear, is an excellent question,” he said.

The elevator doors slid open with a ding and a wisp, announcing
our arrival and the end of our conversation. People who overheard you talking
about vampires tended to think you were crazy. Roy and then Hannah followed
close behind me. I stopped in front of the fifth door on the left. I knew it
was Micah’s room but not by the instant surge I got in the dark, shadowed part
of my soul where my inner vampire lurked. The almost hysterical shouting was
what tipped me off. Micah’s voice was deep, raspy—I shuddered.

“She can’t be here. I don’t want her here,” Micah roared.

“An hour ago, she couldn’t get here fast enough. What’s
going on with you?” Eli yelled right back.

“Ella can’t be near me. I don’t know how to explain it.
Make. Her. Leave,” Micah shouted.

My chest ached. Cautiously, I cracked open the door. The
distinct smell hanging in the air was a combination of bleach and formaldehyde.
No matter how pungent or unpleasant, the aroma was not enough to drown out
Micah’s scent.

The room I walked into was cold and sterile. Functional. Everything
from the ceiling to the floor, including the slatted blinds, shone white in the
dim fluorescent lights. I looked at the bed, the man in it, and then lowered my
gaze to the ground.

I wasn’t prepared for how fragile Micah would look in his
thin cotton gown. He didn’t turn at my approach when I shuffled fully into the
room. The tense line of his jaw said enough. He didn’t want me here. I watched
the blood drain from his knuckles as he gripped the metal railing of his
hospital bed. The insistent beeping coming from his heart monitor sang in a
too-fast tempo.

I’m not sure what I was thinking by coming here.
Guilt is a powerful emotion, one that overrides common sense. I was emotionally
vulnerable enough, from my ordeals with Micah and Julian, to ignore my
instincts to run and hide.

Micah turned, looked at me. I took an involuntary step back
when his gaze hammered into mine. I sucked in a breath. Roy said something, “bad
plan”, maybe? I couldn’t hear over the drumming beat of my blood or Micah’s
matching rhythm. The room narrowed until the only thing I saw was the way Micah
ripped out his IV. Blood ran from his arm, dripped onto the sheet underneath
him.

He jumped out of bed and the moment his bare feet hit the
linoleum floor the lights began to flicker. Dazed, I stepped back. My heart was
in my throat. My stomach was in a knot. Micah looked…hungry.

“Mine,” he hissed.

The room went black and engulfed the hospital in a
pandemonium of beeping alarms and scampering feet. Micah grabbed me around the
waist and pulled me into the bathroom. The door slammed shut behind us. Micah’s
mouth closed over mine. His kiss was brutal, punishing and decadent.

“You shouldn’t have come. I knew the moment you stepped into
the hospital I wouldn’t be able to control it. Something is still inside my
head, whispering, taunting… It told me you’d come.”

Hard, pressing, he pinned me against the closed bathroom
door. Someone pounded on the other side and each blow vibrated against my
spine. That small sensation was nothing compared to the hammering beat of Micah’s
heart. Sandwiched between the door and his hard body, the only sensations I
registered were heat and want.

Mine.

Micah reached down, twisted the lock on the door. The warmth
of his breath painted my cheek, but the only thing I cared about was his cock
against my stomach. His erection was thick and long. I rolled my hips against
the bulge and heard his breath stutter.

The lights flickered on. Despite the brightness, the only
thing I saw was the possession in his eyes.

“I need you,” he whispered against the shell of my ear
before he sucked the lobe into his mouth.

Micah drew his lips down my neck, licked. He used his teeth
and scraped them along my flesh. Desperation filled me. I needed him. This.
Needed his passion more than breath…more than blood. A deep, throaty moan
escaped me when he trailed his hand up my stomach, under my sweater. He closed
his hand over one swollen breast. I grabbed his hips, pulled him between my
thighs and molded our bodies together. I met his hungry gaze and the intense
attraction between us exploded. This was bad.

Threading his fingers through the tangle of my hair, he
tugged my head back. My whimper encouraged him to pull harder. He drew in a
deep breath and I watched him tremble.

Hot and demanding, he pressed his open mouth along my
throat, over my chin. He slanted his lips over mine and slid his tongue into my
mouth with an urgency that stole my breath and my heart.

He nipped at my lower lip. When he stuck his tongue into my
mouth, the sting faded. Everything disappeared. The only thing that mattered
was the way he cupped my breast, the way he used his thumb to circle my nipple
into an aroused point that shot flames to my core.

Micah tore his mouth from mine and pulled my sweater over my
head. He didn’t stop. He fumbled with my bra, shoved it down until I was
exposed. My hands shook as I desperately tried to unbutton and unzip my pants.
In one shove, I had the pants and the panties down around my ankles. I stepped
out of both.

Micah rolled his hips so his cock, covered only by his thin
gown, now pressed against my dripping-wet center. He felt so good against me.
Our eyes met and there was something so sinful, so erotic in the fire there.

Tracing his fingers along my thighs, Micah coaxed them apart.
I arched my back and invited him into my body, into my soul. I scraped my nails
against his neck as he grabbed my sex in a possessive grip. A low, breathy
sound left me.

I moved my hands down his back, over the ridges of bandages,
reacquainting myself with the hard lines of his body. I found the tie on his
gown and tugged. The moment the strings came loose, I pulled the material from
his arms and tossed the garment to the ground.

He thrust against me, teased my pussy with the tip of a
talented finger. The sensation was jagged, like a bolt of lightning. Blue
lightning.

My eyes.

Forget it.

I grabbed the back of his neck, forced his mouth to mine.
The necessity between us grew with each swipe of his tongue.

Back and forth, he teased the dripping slit of my sex with
his fingers. I felt his desperation, the need inside him to mate, to claim me.
Faster, more demanding, he brought me to the brink and shoved me into climax.
Thought had no place between us. Only feeling. He plunged two fingers inside
me, his knuckles twisting in and out to prolong a pleasure I’d never known
existed until him.

I cried out against his mouth. The scent of blood filled the
air as I dug my nails against his flesh. Micah grunted his approval. I teetered
on the edge between heaven and hell. Something so sinful shouldn’t feel so
good. He added a third finger, stretched me wider in preparation for his
erection. Against my will, my eyes closed at the ecstasy overtaking me. I
wanted to look at him, to see the pleasure reflected in his gaze and I couldn’t.

He increased the speed of his fingers before tearing his
mouth away from mine.

“You belong to me, Ella, say it. Look at me,” he demanded.

My eyes snapped open at the command. What I saw pushed me
over the edge. Magic. Sex. Possession. Golden rings spread out from his pupils,
the orbs shining back at me. I moaned his name as my body tightened and flexed
around his fingers.