Hunger Aroused (5 page)

“Councilman, this doesn't sit well with me.” Corin kept his attention toward the bathroom, making certain he was aware of every one of Jasmine's movements. The scent of her arousal was maddening, his incisors so sensitive now, he couldn't stand to feel his tongue slide over them.

Pacing the room muffled some of the ache. Not by much though.

“I agree the circumstances are unusual, but we cannot allow unmonitored procreation. Of all people, I am surprised that you would question this, Corin.”

That made two of them, honestly. “I know, it's just…”

“How is she managing transition?” Councilman Sage asked, his voice skeptical.

“She manages.” Corin knew the other man at least suspected what was at the heart of the executioner's protests. With Corin near her to keep her system flooded with endorphins, she went through the cycles without missing a beat. A precarious situation for everyone involved.

“Without a sire, a vampire in transition is a very dangerous thing indeed, Executioner. Are you sure you'll be able to handle her by yourself?”

Corin's senses went on alert, his skin crawling with alarm. He didn't like the turn this conversation just took. “I've never needed help before. And I don't need it now,” he growled back.

“I see.”

The muscles in his jaw ticked. Every instinct screamed at him to push back and make certain the councilman lost interest in his little goddess. Pulling the mouthpiece away from him, he took deep steadying breaths. Anything to get a rein on emotions flaring out of control. “I can do this. Without help.”

“Hmm…I think this might be too much for one person to handle. Even you. Expect replacements, or reinforcements if you like, within the hour.”

His voice tight, Corin acknowledged him and disconnected. He still shook with anger by the time Jasmine stepped into the room a few minutes later.

“Get dressed. We have to go.” The words flew out of his mouth before he could recall them or have a chance to think them through. But he'd never before doubted his gut, and everything within him demanded that he find out more about Jasmine and her sire before leading her on the path to death. He'd get her there eventually…just not yet.

She stared at him wide-eyed, her skin still temptingly damp from the shower. If he thought for a second they could have spared the time, he would have taken a moment to unwind the towel wrapped around her dripping body. Maybe take another extra minute just to ensure she didn't have an “attack” of the change prior to their road trip. Thank gods she had a little more sense than he did, and hustled to a bureau drawer. Yanking it open, she pulled out an interesting pair of panties he planned on exploring up close later. Doing some sort of balancing act, she slipped them on and asked, “What happened?”

He didn't have an answer right away. Not one that made any sort of sense.

Without realizing it, Jasmine had aroused questions in his mind that until now had been hidden, buried deep. It'd been too long since he'd taken out the core of himself, examined it and subsequently supported the life he'd adopted. The vampire he'd become.

Who was this woman with some sort of power over him? How had she managed in a few hours to make the shell he'd erected around himself develop this hairline crack of doubt?

It was just a sliver, barely there and easily fixable, but now that he'd seen it, he wasn't completely certain it needed to be repaired. Not yet anyway.

He needed time to think.

“It's going to be me, not someone else. I owe you that.”

Duty. Rules. Without them, civilized society failed. His sense of who he'd become, forfeited.

In the end, he'd do what duty dictated. What was right.

Councilman Sage undoubtedly did what he thought best for the Council. But until Corin sorted what was right for himself—and where his duty laid—whether with the Council or with the vampire community, he could stall.

Jasmine straightened. “Corin?”

He shook his head. “Get dressed. We have minutes. Your home's known to us. I'm not sure if your place of employment hasn't been ferreted out as well.” He hadn't passed on that kernel of information to Sage, but a simple Internet search would probably betray her. “Perhaps not yet, but eventually.”

Amazed, he watched her manage to put on her undergarments without once flashing him. Then she scrubbed herself dry within seconds. How he admired this woman. In the scant amount of time they'd spent together, she'd shown him such tenacity and guts. In his mortal days, she would have been hell on any patrician who dared wed her. If instead she'd ended up with one of his fellow gladiators, she would have been his pride and joy. A reason to brag.

No matter what happened, when her time to die came, he would deliver the death blow. Not some executioner who didn't bother to look past her accidental crime to see the scared woman living behind a brave mask. That his thoughts even dared to run along these lines meant only one thing.

He was so fucked.

For the first time since meeting her, she did what he asked without making a sound, slipping on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt quickly. He frowned when she took the extra time to don a pair of socks and bright white sneakers. A pair of worn-in black flats she ignored would have been easier to slip on.

Ears tuned to any out-of-the-ordinary sounds, he pressed a finger to his lips and motioned for her to follow when she stood upright again. They made their way to the front door, where Corin used a decorative window to study the street front. The sky was overcast, the trees swaying ominously. No one walked the quiet residential neighborhood sidewalks. Cars traveled the roads at respectable speeds. In the mid-afternoon of a workday he didn't really expect to see anyone, but something about the solitude discomforted him.

Jasmine slid her body in between him and the window. Tempted to put her behind him, out of sight of any potential threat, he gritted his teeth and endured her teasing presence. She would know the area better than he; she might spot something he missed. Keeping his voice low, he asked, “See anything out of place?”

“No.” Her tension was almost palpable.

“Good. Let's go, then. I want you to walk by my side, quickly. We're headed to a black Infiniti about two blocks over.” She didn't look at him, and instincts he'd been listening to for centuries revolted. “Listen to me, Jasmine. There are things far worse than me out there. You do not want to deal with them on your own. Do you understand?”

Still not looking at him, she hesitated but nodded.

“Live to fight another day, Jasmine. Don't run from me.”

“I won't,” she answered.

Not at all satisfied but having little choice in the matter, he accepted her reassurance. The minute their feet hit the pavement, however, she did exactly as he'd suspected she would.

Like a bat out of hell, Jasmine ran.

***

She had no doubt he told her the truth. That things worse than him existed and might very well be after her. But she could not be a willing partner in her death. Would not. Nothing Corin said or did indicated he'd changed his mind about killing her, and she wasn't taking any chances. Heart pumping, feet flying, she ran as if her life depended on it. Because it did.

Her thoughts scattered to the wind. She'd left behind her purse and her cell phone. She'd abandoned her place of residence, the carefully picked decorations and furnishings no longer in a place she could call haven. Of everything there, the only thing she would miss, the things she would risk returning for, were the old photographs of her parents. Everything else was expendable.

She didn't know her neighbors. None of her friends, all two of them, were at home. The clinic was only a few blocks away, but would it be the first place Corin looked?

Dear God. Was he behind her?

She didn't dare to look, but her skin crawled, just
knowing
with stern resolution that he pounded the sidewalk behind her, his fingers only centimeters away from grabbing on to her hair and yanking her back. When one minute became two and two became three and still nothing happened, she dared glance over her shoulder.

No Corin. Anywhere.

Stopping, she wanted to double-over and catch her breath, but knew better. Instead, Jasmine kept her head upright and scanned the streets. Still nothing. He couldn't have just up and disappeared, but damn if she could find him. With a quick glance at the darkening sky, she started jogging. Not the full-out run from a few minutes before, needing to conserve energy in case he did show up.

The clinic seemed her best haven for now, if only for a few minutes. There she'd get a private place to stop and think. To figure out what she should do next. While she'd been taking a shower, something had changed. Something that forced Corin's hand. When he said that other things worse than him were out there, did he mean they sought her out now too?

She chanced another quick glance over her shoulder, slowing to a determined walk when she still found no sign of him. Something about this was wrong. Corin did not seem the type of man to stop, not until his mission had been completed. Was he allowing her to settle into a sense of safety before whisking that away?

A squeal of tires interrupted her thoughts.

Breath huffing, she turned in time to watch a small blue Honda roar past her. Inside, the driver's eyes were large, the face housing them pale with fright. The hapless woman appeared to be almost standing upright in the driver's seat, two hands gripped on the steering wheel.

Jasmine followed the woman's line of vision, and her stomach dropped. A sickening thud filled the air as the Honda, tires leaving behind black streaks on the pavement, clipped the man who'd stepped out from between two cars. He must have thought the clearance was enough for a car to get by. The woman swerved as much as she dared, making a life-altering decision between colliding into oncoming traffic or hitting a lone pedestrian.

The force of two thousand pounds of steel sent him sprawling. Over the sound of the car grinding to a halt, the crack of his head against the sidewalk where he landed made Jasmine wince.

She didn't think. Instinct took over. Jasmine ran to his prone body. Her training knew what to do. Ensure his safety. Keep him breathing.

Keep him alive.

Where was a goddamned cell when you needed one?
Trusting someone nearby saw the accident and did the right thing, she knelt beside him. He moaned softly when she pressed her fingertips to his carotid, the pulse there strong and steady.

“Oh my God.” A pair of feet came to a halt. A woman's voice on the edge of hysterics. “Is he all right? He came out of nowhere. I swear I was just driving along, and he came out of nowhere.”

She ignored the woman's meek declarations of innocence, looking for any blood beneath his body. Jasmine didn't dare risk turning him, not unless given no other choice, but until paramedics arrived she could stabilize him to the best of her ability.

“Shh, don't move,” she said. He still attempted to lift an arm. She needed to distract him. “Can you tell me your name?”

“Mi—” A weak, muffled sound.

“Mike?” Tentative nodding. “Mike, my name is Jasmine. I'm a nurse, and I'm going to sit with you until the paramedics arrive. I want you to stay still, all right?” The lie slipped out before she could recall it. How was she supposed to sit here and help him when Corin might come around the corner at any minute? On top of that, what were the worse things he'd hinted about and were they nearby?

It amazed her how the streets, dead to pedestrians only seconds ago, now had people spilling from houses and a few small businesses to gawk, up close and personal. A crowd began to form, blocking her view of the street in either direction. With every second that passed she hoped someone would step forward to offer assistance. At least then she'd have an opportunity to slip away with her conscience still intact.

Mike made another sound.

“Say it again,” she prompted with her head next to his.

“Br-breathe…can't…”

While she didn't outright dismiss his complaint, she didn't allow it to dominate her thoughts. She checked for a change in his respirations or a change in his coloring. In the end though, she decided that if he could talk, he could breathe. Growing difficulty with it required investigating though.

Gingerly Jasmine ran her fingers over his chest, a feather-light touch meant to assess the barest levels of pain. She pulled her hand away when his sharp cry signaled she'd touched a bad spot. Probably broken ribs, and God only knew whatever else might be broken. So long as he hadn't punctured a lung, he'd be fine until the ambulance arrived. Miserable, but fine.

The quick assessment had to be good enough. She couldn't stay here a minute longer. Self-preservation required her to get moving and leave him in the hands of someone else. If she hadn't seen the accident herself, she might have spent more time assuring his safety, but knowing things could have been a lot worse, she forced herself to let it go.

“You,” she snapped at the owner of the Honda. The woman was speaking rapidly into a cell, probably explaining her side of the story to a friend or husband. “I need you to sit next to him and keep an eye on things until the ambulance comes. It shouldn't be long.” She hoped.

“Wh—what? I don't know anything—”

“He's stable.” Lowering her voice, Jasmine added, “And needs moral support more than anything right now. Just stay with him. You'll both be fine.” They locked eyes, a mutual understanding growing in scant seconds. “I have to go.”

The woman nodded and knelt beside Mike. She started talking to him in low, soothing tones. Satisfied, Jasmine stood. He'd be fine. They both would be.

“I have to go,” she repeated, backing away. A confirmation for herself.

The crowd had closed in on both sides, and she marveled that all of these people had come out of nowhere and now had nothing better to do than gawk. Some of them reached out to pat her, or offer words of encouragement. Not like she'd done much, but their sentiment still filled her with a measured sense of pride. This is why she'd become a nurse. This good feeling that allowed her to put her head on her pillow at night and succumb to dreamless sleep.