Hunger Aroused (12 page)

“I'm sorry for your loss.” She heard the sincerity, and her affection for the vampire strengthened because of it.

She was still angry with Ezra for suggesting Corin bare his soul to her if she wanted to live. Whatever happened to Corin during that time had irrevocably changed him, for certain. She didn't have to hear the actual words to know what drove him now stemmed from a past too painful to speak about.

“I will tell you this,” he offered after a few minutes of silence. “I was turned against my wishes and spent the next thirty years in captivity as a payment of sorts for the privilege. Vampires lived without rules or order then. Those with power created and killed without consequence. It wasn't just a bad time for me, but for everyone.”

“Everyone?”

“One was chosen for this life simply for being beautiful, or strong, or clever. Sometimes one was chosen for the perverse pleasure of torture. Maim a vampire physically, knowing full well he or she wouldn't be killed. Instead, suffer through regeneration…only to maim them again.”

The difference between their worlds appalled her. This time Jasmine shuddered. “That's barbaric.”

He gave her another of his humorless smiles. “Truth. Like I said, a bad time.”

“Just tell me that some fucker didn't do that to you. That you weren't tortured like that.”

“No. Nothing so kind.”

So
kind?
Her heart sank. “I'm sorry, Corin.”

The car eased to a stop outside of his house. He shrugged as he turned off the ignition. “It's been several hundred years.”

She didn't hear him right. Couldn't have. “You're…wow. That's just…
Wow.
You've got some impressive moves in the bedroom for someone older than dirt.”

He barked out a startled laugh, and the tension in the air evaporated. When he waggled his eyebrows, she smelled trouble. “I'll show you some impressive moves,” he leered.

Corin lunged after her. Laughing, Jasmine scrambled out of the car. She went sprawling as the scraps of what used to be her jeans tangled with her legs. Damn Corin for cutting up a perfectly good pair in his haste to get at her.

Then again…such a small sacrifice for some very incredible loving. And she had been asking him for it. Begging, more like.

Lush green grass cushioned her fall, and Jasmine dug her fingers into dirt still damp with morning dew. Grinning, she launched herself forward, trying to find purchase and make a full dash for safety before Corin managed to catch up to her. A car door slammed shut behind her, and for some reason that sound tickled her amusement even more.

Gasping for breath, she managed to get upright, but two hundred plus pounds of male slammed into her back. Off balance, she fell forward again, but not before Corin twisted. In seconds, he managed to put his weight beneath her and when she would have hit the grass again, she fell on him instead.

Here they were, her ass bared to the world, Corin's arms wrapped around her, both of them laughing like loons for no good reason.

“You're incorrigible!” she said, still laughing.

His dark eyes glittered. “And you are,” he said, pushing his hand through her fallen strands of hair, “just lovely.”

Had it really been only a few minutes ago that they discussed torture and slavery? Less than thirty-six hours that she'd first met this man who proclaimed he would kill her?

There was such desire and tenderness and an emotion she dared not name in the way he gazed at her. The way the world slowed to a crawl around them thrilled her. The only sounds that encroached upon this moment were the harsh rasps of their own breathing.

Jasmine lowered her mouth to meet his and Corin's eyes slipped closed. When their lips met, something within her melted. There was no heat, no urgency. No hunger drove this want. This desire stemmed from an ageless dance of man and woman when the soul cries out for the other part of itself. It was a perfect connection, a key fitting within an unbreakable lock, a missing piece of an incomplete puzzle. Her body molded against his, knew his.

And they belonged.

Corin's arms tightened around her back, and Jasmine let herself become lost in their kiss. In their rising passion.

“Let's go inside,” she murmured. They could put off the outside world with its maniacal council and blood-lusting vampires for a few hours more.

The corner of his mouth lifted, and a seductive glint appeared in his eyes.

Jasmine sat back, purposely rubbing her ass over the delightful bulge in his pants, when her senses went on screaming alert.

Hair stood on the back of her neck, her mind shrieking to defend herself.

Against what, though?

She stood and pulled back her top lip, baring teeth that elongated with each passing second. Corin sat up, growling, and she leaped back, crouched for attack. He dropped down low beside her, one of his lethal-looking throwing blades in his hand. Side by side, she imagined they appeared a formidable team.

The four men staring down on them, guns and knives glinting wickedly in both hands, were just a little more frightening.

“Morituri te salutant!”
Corin roared, whirling into a warrior's lunge in front of Jasmine. There was lethal grace in the way he flexed his muscles, in the way he poised like a hunter about to strike.

She searched her mind, the first word of his call both familiar and foreign at the same time.
Moritorium. Mortuary. Death.
She didn't have to know its exact meaning, the conviction in his tone told her more than she needed to know. “Corin, wait!”

One of the men leveled a gun at them. “Yes, Corin,” he mocked, his tone icy, “wait.”

His chest heaved as he flexed a fist around the wickedly sharp blade. Corin held still for a moment though, his curiosity perhaps overriding his need for immediate resolution.

Their assailant spoke with a calmness that set her nerves on edge. “This won't kill you, vampire, but it
will
take you down long enough for my men to finish you off. That isn't our intention, but I assure you I won't lose a night's sleep over it.”

Jasmine placed a hand on his lower back, out of sight of the men. She was already flushed from hearing their assailant call to Corin with the same tone and inflection she'd just used. Never again would she allow him to lose face in front of others.

“Are you here on behalf of the Council?” Corin asked.

The dark-haired man jerked his head. “No. She's wanted before Sijourn Vartan.”

Corin straightened and Jasmine heard a soft, “Fuck me” whisper from him. “What would Sijourn Vartan want with a woman not yet out of her transition?”

“I'm sure he'll eventually let you know. If you'd please follow me?” Despite his pleasant words, he didn't drop the barrel of the gun, but did shift his body in the direction of a waiting silver sedan. It idled at the curbside, the engine a mild purr of noise. Another car of the same make and model, down to the identical color, idled behind the first.

“Corin?” She tried to keep her voice steady, a thin disguise against traitorous nerves.

“I won't let her blindly—”

“You don't have much of a choice, Executioner,” the man snapped. “If Mr. Vartan wanted her dead, we wouldn't be standing here like this.”

Corin threw back his head. From where she stood Jasmine couldn't see the expression on his face. But the tension vibrating down his body told her enough. “Live to fight another day,” she said beneath her breath.

He gave a curt nod, taking her hand in his. Together they walked past the men, as if they were in charge and not the other way around. When one of the subordinates approached Corin, his sights on the weapon still glinting in the morning sun, he yanked his arm back and growled. “This you will not get so easily from me.”

Jasmine watched the minion raise a questioning brow to his leader, who gave him a dismissive expression. “Remember, vampire, we can take you down, whether you want to believe it or not.”

“I believe it,” he muttered as he helped her into the car.

They drove through the morning rush-hour as if it didn't exist, the sleek sedan moving at breakneck speeds in and out of traffic. She managed to keep track of the turns for a little while. Two rights, followed by three lefts, before another right. A quick peek out of the window verified they were on the same block as Corin's house, however. The driver glanced at her in the rearview mirror, grinned and gunned the engine again. She gave up at that point.

“How did you find us?” Corin caught the driver's eyes in the rearview mirror.

“Rumors and gossip are worth almost as much as the truth. But between the number of people looking for you, and a very distinctive Infiniti that cost more than most people make in a year, we managed it.”

Jasmine's face heated up at the thought of these men watching her have sex with Corin. But that almost didn't seem right. Surely they would have noticed someone near the car, even as caught up as they'd been with each other. More likely their captors had found the car on their way back home.

Corin's fingers were wrapped in hers. That helped keep her calm during the ride. “Who is Sijourn Vartan?” she dared to ask Corin after ten minutes of silence. She wanted to know what they were up against.

“A
very
powerful vampire. Older than myself.”

“Why is that bad?”

He looked down, squeezing her hand briefly. “You're little more than an infant to someone like him. This is—” he looked at a loss for words, “—bad. His summons makes no sense. None.” His thumb slid over her wrist, a gesture that seemed prompted by frazzled nerves more so than a conscious act. She tried to read more of what he might be feeling, but he kept his gaze ahead, his face stoic.

She'd been tucked in beside one of the men, but he paid little attention to her. Stolen glances proved him to be a hawk-nosed but handsome man. Maybe in his late thirties. He dressed conservatively in a white dress shirt and black pants. Polished shoes covered large feet. Jasmine couldn't say why he interested her, but his calm demeanor helped her worried mind somewhat. Nothing about him suggested he killed for a living, or worse, tortured for kicks and giggles. For the time being, she'd just think of him as someone's personal assistant. That would help, at least for a little while.

Corin moved next to her. He spoke in a low voice. “You should feed.”

Jasmine wrapped her hand around his arm without considering her action. “Now? But I just finished—”

“Jasmine, please. Do it.”

The hunger of before hadn't returned, nor had her heat. Corin lifted the soft skin of his wrist to her mouth. Her fingers traced along a pulse there, feeling—scenting—the strong arterial flow beneath. A pulse in her teeth stoked a gentle rumble in her belly.

As she leaned forward, the heavy weight of being watched halted her thoughts. When she looked up, a pair of eyes in the rearview mirror reflected back at her, tracking her movements. The tingling on the right side of her head, the disconcerting stare of a stranger's ogling sent her belly plummeting. She couldn't do this now, not with them watching. Every other time she'd fed from Corin, the frenzied need of her carnal appetite raged with the ravenous hunger until she didn't know one from the other. To stoke that now, in front of captors whose gazes were greedy with curiosity, was an impossible request. Her rolling stomach refused to cooperate. She kissed his wrist instead. “I can't. Later perhaps, but not now.”

His nostrils flared while he studied her, but at last he nodded. “Okay, but be mindful.”

Be mindful of her heat, he was warning her. Be mindful of a hunger she had only recently become used to feeding. Easy for him to say. She cared more right now about men with guns who'd kidnapped them.

They traveled down a long driveway with looming trees monitoring their approach. Those same trees and dense underbrush protected the interior from prying eyes. A few minutes later, once in front of the house, she could see why. The car pulled to a stop in front of a large ranch-style home. The house was gorgeous, the kind only seen in magazines or in movies. If she had to guess, it was at least fifty years old, if not more.

A stone exterior gave it a fortress look, while rows of white lilies not yet in full bloom stood proud. Some yellow flower she didn't recognize wove in between the neat rows, their orderliness too regimented for anything but a master gardener's hand. Above, arched windows presided over the landscaping, while sharp angles of roof watched over all of it. A large white door sat in between two of the small windows. Despite its position, next to the glass shining in the bright sunlight, nothing about it screamed “inviting.” It should have, but the goose bumps breaking out on her arms reinforced her apprehension.

She exited the car behind the young man, Corin close on her heels. Immediately they were surrounded by the remainder of the men and escorted through the front door. She barely had a chance to admire the vaulted ceiling with its recessed lighting making a pathway toward the home's interior. The wall directly opposite them was brown brick stacked in neat layers. Plush draperies swayed gently in the morning breeze, drawing her eye to the lithographs in repose on the taupe walls. Hallways led farther inside the home on either side of them. The men led them to the left.

They were escorted into a large bedroom. A four-poster bed made of a rich dark wood rested in the center of the room. A matching armoire took up the expanse of another wall. Other than those two items, the room was stark. Her gaze drifted to the doorway of an en suite bathroom, and then to a window where white linen hung next to the reflective panes.

Halfway inside the room, she turned. “Who puts—” A soft click echoed from the door as it shut. “Burglar bars on the inside,” she finished in a mutter. Not that she'd expected much in the way of conversation, but there went any hope of asking questions about why they were there.

Corin walked to the window, his hand curling around the bar. He tugged on the metal, testing its strength. His jaw tightened before he did it again, this time using both hands. Jasmine almost felt the frustration hovering around him when it didn't budge.

“What do you think they want?”

His fingers traced around the indentions in the wall where the bars were anchored. He crouched, studying the areas closely. “I'll have to trust it's not to harm you. Not yet anyway.”

The scraps of material around her legs were useless, so she kicked them off. When it was time to leave, she'd try to fashion them so her ass didn't hang out for the world to see, but until then, no sense in being uncomfortable. She sat down on the bed, fatigue from the late night and early morning activities catching up to her. “So who is Sijourn Vartan?”

“A very powerful, very reclusive and very wealthy man. What happens when you've lived a long time, Jasmine, is the opportunity to amass a large amount of riches. Sijourn Vartan was well-to-do long before he'd been transitioned. Hundreds upon hundreds of years of life after that time has made his value go from astounding to obscene.”

“Then why haven't I heard of him before?”

He looked over his shoulder at her, a wry grin on his face. “You've never heard vampires really exist until a day ago, too.”

Good point. “So I take it his money is well hidden. What kind of power belongs to a vampire who is reclusive but also that rich?”

“Before the creation of the Council, men like Sijourn ruled kind of as lords over our kind. If I were him, I'd prefer the old ways. Even if he's smart enough to go along with it, deep inside, he'd have to be bitter as all hell. Imagine a king forced by his people to become a common man. Democracy overturning sovereignty. In this day and age, I think he has holdings in financial businesses around the world or something. I'm not sure for certain.”

“If he's so wealthy, why does he employ humans? They weren't vampires, right?”

“Very good of you to notice. With Sijourn's wealth and age, he's an arrogant man who only hires humans to ensure he has no immediate competition or something.
Eccentric
is probably a pretty good word to describe him.”

“But what do you think we're waiting on?” She looked around the room again, hating the closed-in feeling the blank walls brought.

Corin walked the room's perimeter, visually tracing the seam between the hard wood flooring and baseboards as well as the walls where they met ceiling. “I doubt he lives here. I have multiple houses, and I suspect he does too. He's probably on his way from wherever he's been hiding.”

His scrutiny of their situation set her nerves on edge. A change in topic, something that had been bugging her, was in order. “Corin?”

“Hmm?”

“Why did you want me to feed when we were in the car?”

“Someone so young needs to feed more often. And if things get volatile, I need you at your best. Your heat wanes, but still needs to be satisfied.”

“But what about you? You never feed.” She furrowed her eyebrows. “In fact, you've barely had any sleep too. You've got to be running on fumes by now, right?”

Corin smiled, gave the door one last forlorn look and joined her on the bed. “You're right. I'm exhausted. Let's rest while we can.”

She tucked herself against his side, tension starting to ebb from the moment she pressed her face into the folds of his clothing. “When are you going to feed?” she murmured. “I wouldn't mind, you know.”

“I know you wouldn't,
mellita.
Thank you.”

He kissed the top of her head, the gesture as placating as she'd ever seen. She couldn't shake the sense he was edgy. Maybe irritated.

“What's wrong?”

“You've been one question after another after another since we've arrived. You're worse than a two-year-old, Jas. Go to sleep. Get some rest. Or if you don't want to, let me.”

But it was his avoidance of the subject that stoked her curiosity. If he'd just respond with something as simple as he wasn't hungry, she could let it go. She twisted until she could see his face. “You're hungry, aren't you? How often do you need to feed? Someone as…seasoned as you might not need to feed as often, but you have to be hungry.”

His eyes slipped closed. “When the opportunity arises I'll feed. Don't worry about me.”

“The opportunity is here. You wanted me to feed in front of those men, so why not while we're alone? Why won't you feed from me? Is there something wrong with my blood, or is something else going on?”

“No…no. There's nothing wrong with your blood. I just…can't. I won't.”

Having to shoot out rapid-fire questions was starting to get on her nerves too. “God damn it, Corin, why won't you? Must everything be like pulling teeth with you?”

“You've tasted my blood.” His voice was calm, patient. “If I taste yours, a sort of connection between us would be created. That's not a good idea. It would make both of us very vulnerable.”