Hunger Aroused (11 page)

Right here, right now, was as good a time and place as any.

Despite the dark area, Corin saw that her eyes were heavy. Dazed. When her gaze dropped to his mouth, her pupils dilated until the blue irises almost disappeared altogether. Jasmine threaded her fingers into his hair, pulling him close until their mouths crashed together.

She tasted of woman. He pushed his tongue against hers, wanting to swallow more of that sensual elegance.

At the last possible second, he remembered to drape the shirt over her back, just before her body hit the brick building. If Jasmine cared about the scrape of cold clay against her skin, it didn't faze her. Roaming hands found their way to his zipper, finishing the task she'd started and pulling his erection out of the material's confines.

“Hurry, Corin,” she whispered, her lips brushing against his.

He had a hard time focusing. Prudence cautioned him to pay attention to their surroundings, keep his instincts attuned to the slightest change in their environment. The man within him, however, demanded he take Jasmine now. Hard and fast. Mark and claim her as his. “This isn't safe.”

“So hungry…” Her fingers trailed over his neck, tracing the path of his jugular.

His own teeth pulsed with a force he never before knew existed. “Fuck.” He withdrew the collapsible knife hidden beneath the leg of his trousers. A deft movement flicked it open. “Hold still.”

If he put too much thought into it, he would stop himself before he started, so he just performed a quick calculation and slid the razor-sharp edge along the front seam of her jeans. If she'd breathed a fraction of an inch heavier he might have inflicted serious damage, but Jasmine's trust in him held her still long enough for the task. Corin tucked the knife back in its sheath and used impatient hands to rip open the material the rest of the way, leaving a gap more than wide enough for what he planned on doing. And when he glanced down to make sure, his heart stuttered.

She wasn't wearing any panties.

“Naughty woman,” he admonished with a grin and captivated interest.

She bit down on the yielding flesh of his neck, hard enough to draw blood. “You love it.”

Swallowing, relishing her moist tongue against his skin, he nodded. Jasmine pulled from the wound, forcing his blood into her mouth, and the base of his balls tightened. She pulled a second time and he had to drive himself into her cunt before he lost control. Holding her thigh aloft with one hand, he used the other to brace himself against the building. Her grip tightened on his back. Together they found a sweet rhythm.

The heat of her mouth and the simultaneous welcoming grasp of her body surrounding him threatened Corin's senses. Her body's surrender to his, the tight sheath holding him as he plunged and withdrew, each pulse of his blood into her mouth seized hold of him.

He scented his own blood, sweet and pungent, in the early morning air. It made his stomach rumble noisily, a reminder that his own needs had not been sated in a long time. The sex he shared with Jasmine stoked the flame of desire, the natural urges of his kind, until his vision went hazy with bloodlust. But to bite her, it made a promise…one he wasn't sure he could keep.

Corin gritted his teeth, pushing harder and faster into Jas, fighting the pull of his own traitorous physiology.

To feed from this woman strengthened the pairing they forged each time they broke the rules of convention. He fulfilled a role her sire couldn't, but what excuse had he for taking from her?

Jas licked over his wound, sealing it. She pressed a kiss to his throat. “Stay with me.”

Throat tight, he said, “Always.”

He closed his eyes and became lost in her. Her scent. Her feel.

A sharp cry escaped her lips, and he reveled in the sound of her coming. In the way she pulled from him, her cunt pulsing with increasing urgency.

For now—for right now—it was the two of them against the world. No other sounds but their own harsh breathing. No other place but this very spot where they allowed themselves the freedom to be the vampires they'd become. No other sensation but that of the hard lines of his body pressing into the soft curves of hers. A time he would have paid dear money to bottle and stow away forever.

She tilted her face, bringing her mouth to his, and Corin took the gift she offered. Kissing her with such passion the memory would for eternity remain branded in his mind.

Jas's hands slipped beneath his shirt, and her cool caress distracted him from maudlin thoughts. When she flicked her fingernails lightly over his nipples, his entire body shuddered.

“So sensitive,” she murmured. Her tongue stole a quick lick from the corner of his mouth.

He would have retaliated with some fondling of his own if his hands weren't otherwise occupied. “Perhaps.”

“I think I'd like to see them pierced.”

Later he wouldn't be able to say why, but the second the words left her mouth, Corin let slip the loose thread of control he'd held together until now. His muscles tensed, and he held his breath, whispering a prayer of reprieve. The gods ignored him, and the ache of release raced through his body, winding him tight until the first pulse escaped on a rush that left him dizzy.

He groaned aloud as the very essence of him left his body. Taking in the scent of her again, he buried his face in the soft crook of Jas's neck, battling down emotions that had no right to life, harsh breath scissoring in and out of his lungs. Memories of his transition, his life afterward and his life now tumbled on each other. Thoughts of duty, responsibility, the woman he held in his arms scrambled and screamed, none willing to ease gently into the night.

When it was over, when his ragged breathing settled, he rained kisses over her eyelids. Her cheeks. The shells of her ears.

“Are you okay?” she whispered. Delicate hands rubbed over his neck and back.

Corin swallowed. “Yeah. You?”

“Yeah.”

The sounds of the city awakening drifted to their little corner of the world, and Corin tried to get his body to stop trembling. No matter what he'd just told her, he couldn't stop thinking. Couldn't stop feeling.

And he was anything but okay.

***

Something had changed, and Jasmine couldn't figure out what. Corin drove the car in complete silence, his jaw set, leaving him with a harsh profile.

She couldn't stand these moments when he obviously raged with some idea or memory that widened the chasm between them. She didn't know how to break the tension without inviting trouble. After the coupling they'd just shared, she wanted to feel closer to him. Not pushed away.

Her eyebrows drew in when a faint hum sounded in the air. Corin maneuvered forward in his seat, and withdrew a cell phone from an interior pocket. He flipped open its cover and glanced at the display before putting it to his ear. “Yeah?” After a minute, he held it out to her. “Ezra.”

Frowning, she took it. “Hello?”

“I wanted to check on how you were doing after Gregory's bit of mischief.”

In the beginning she thought she wouldn't survive it. Now that the rush had subsided, she found the intoxicating effects of spice almost addictive. “I'm fine, but I'm sure you won't be insulted if I never take another drink in your place.”

He chuckled. “Not at all.”

She paused, sensing he had something more to say, but not quite knowing where this was going. A quick glance at Corin proved he wasn't paying attention to the conversation, but kept his attention on the road ahead of them.

“I want to give you a piece of advice when it comes to Titus, Jasmine. Is that all right with you?”

“Sure.” It couldn't hurt at this point.

“Ask him about his transition.”

She glanced again at Corin. “What?”

“I've known Titus a very long time. And I've never seen him as…enamored as I have today. Ask him about his transition. If there's any hope for the two of you, you need to know.”

“That's not the biggest issue here. What about—”

“The Council?” He snorted. “The rules of the Council pale in comparison to the rules he's set for himself. There's a reason he undertakes the particular role of executioner and why he does it so well.”

Corin canted black eyes her way.

“That information should be offered at the appropriate time,” she said, watching him, “and is not something I should have to pursue.” How much of this conversation could Corin overhear? He would not react well to the two of them talking about him. Cryptic language on her end was a necessity.

“He
will
kill you, Jasmine.”

Her blood froze in her veins, as if his cold tone had reached through the air waves and caressed her.

Ezra blew out a breath, then continued. “He will kill you because betraying the Council's orders goes against his most fundamental beliefs. In fact I'm surprised he's gone as far as he has. But know this. If he has no other choice, he'd rather see you dead by his own hand than harmed by another's. Talk about his transition, and you might have a fighting chance.”

She didn't know what to think. If she should believe him. “Are you really trying to help me?”

“Consider this my way of apologizing. If Gregory hadn't acted so foolishly, I don't know that we'd be having this conversation.” There was a pause. “Then again, Titus and I have both lived a hard life. One of us deserves a chance at happiness, I think.”

“You sound as if you know—” hell, she had no idea how to disguise this from eavesdropping ears “—what he wants.”

“Don't you?”

No,
she wanted to reply. They took pleasure in each other physically, but Corin offered nothing more than that.
No,
because despite the growing certainty within her that he hungered for blood as much as she, he made no attempt to feed from her.
No,
because he still intended to carry out his duty, no matter what she did or said.

“I'm not certain,” she replied instead. “But thank you for the advice. I'll take it under consideration.”

She disconnected the call, her mind too disoriented to form a coherent thought.

“What did he have to say?” Corin asked over the mild hum of the motor.

“He offered me some advice.” How he would he react if he knew the particulars? “Back there, I noticed that they called you Titus. Is that your real name?”

“It's the name I was born with, yes.” He turned a corner effortlessly. “Only those who've known me a very long time still choose to call me by it. Corin is who I am now.”

“Corin is the name you adopted after you transitioned?”

The car swerved as Corin pulled next to the sidewalk. The seatbelt strapped across her torso and lap saved her from being jostled during the unexpected move.

Jasmine whipped her head around to face him, ready to offer a piece of her mind about the reckless move, but the anger radiating from Corin stopped the tirade before it began.

“What did Ezra tell you?” he asked. Something heavy weighed down his words. As if he wanted to hear the truth, but at the same time was afraid of what she'd reveal. That he was even curious hinted he might already know the answer to his own question, a fact that didn't sit well with her.

“N-nothing!”

He reached out, clasping her behind her neck. Although she could almost taste the tension and anger in the air, his touch was gentle. Corin pressed his forehead to hers, his eyes slipping closed at the contact. “Tell me. Please.”

“Your transition,” she whispered. “He said to ask about your transition.”

His shuddering breath didn't ease her worry any. “It was a bad time, Jasmine.”

“Please tell me about it.”

“I can't.” His voice cracked. “Not even for you can I relive the past. The horror of my mortal life.”

“Oh, Corin…” She stroked his jaw, at once sorry for having asked him. The strong, brooding man withered before her very eyes, and she wouldn't see that for the world. “Don't…don't say anything more.”

He pressed a kiss to her palm and sat back in his seat. After refastening his seatbelt, he pulled away and put them back on the road.

He drew a deep breath. Released it. “Tell me about you. Why did you become a nurse?”

“I always wanted to be a psychologist or a therapist, or so I thought. Halfway through my studies, my parents died.” She paused, expecting the obligatory
I'm sorry
people felt the need to offer. Corin remained silent and, while troubling, she realized she would have been more surprised if he'd murmured the sympathetic words just then.

“How did they die?”

“Head-on collision. My father died instantly. My mother died at the hospital during surgery. The nurses who took me under their wings during those hours of waiting were amazing.”

“Do you have other family? People who will miss you?”

She didn't want to know if he asked her out of genuine curiosity or if to cover a future trail when she went missing. “No. My parents had enough of a job handling me,” she said lightly, laughing at some of the memories.

“I doubt you were much of a burden to them.”

“You only say that because you don't know about my teenage years.”

“I don't believe that.”

“Trust me, I was. Just for example, would you believe me if I said every year on my birthday I practically made them empty out the grocery store of strawberries?”

“Your favorite, I gather.”

“Oh God, yeah. They indulged my strawberry habit something fierce. Spring is a dangerous time to approach me without something strawberry-flavored in hand, and they kept me fully stocked.”

The corner of his mouth lifted in a smile. “Strawberries, huh?”

“Can't get enough of them. Fresh, milkshakes, ice cream, shortcakes, cobbler, jelly, pie…”

He laughed. “I get it. Strawberries!”

“My parents encouraged everything I was passionate about. I loved them. I miss them.”