Hunger Untamed H3 (13 page)

Her face blanched. “That doesn’t make sense...that can’t be right.”

Problem was, it made a whole hell of a lot of sense. “If they fed you something to heighten a vampire’s feeding and sexual experience, who knows how long it stays active in your system? Has anyone even bothered to find out?” He didn’t want to tell her that his erection was back, his groin aching with the need for release. If she hadn’t fled to the other side of the room, he’d be very tempted to drag her back to the bed and tease her mercilessly until she allowed him succor. “As far as I remember, the effects of spice on humans are supposed to be negligible, but who knows how true that is?”

Lucy lowered herself into a chair. Victor didn’t like the look on her face, the one of absolute defeat. “I was released from service soon after discovering what they’d done to us. If...if I’d stayed in, maybe another vampire might have lost control and drained me. Oh God, what about the other slaves still in service?”

Blood slaves were a precious commodity. They served a purpose for the vampire elite, and he couldn’t imagine their deaths being allowed to happen—and especially without notice. “We can’t help them right now, but we can help you. We have to figure out what’s going on with you. I’m only guessing at this point, so you’re going to have to put it all together. Right?”

She nodded, but the level of alarm he expected to see seemed to have faded. “Are you sure...maybe...I don’t know, but maybe...”

“What is it?”

“You look so hungry,” she said in a voice that seemed to shrink with every word. “Your teeth haven’t retracted and I don’t know, but maybe you’re just hungry.”

Victor shoved away from the bed without saying another word to her, because she knew her stuff. Sex should have taken the edge off his need to feed, his body responding by retracting the teeth he needed for puncturing her vein. Instead, they throbbed with the painful reminder that he needed more sex. More blood. He needed to sate his body’s appetite now or risk running the chance of attacking a human and taking it by force. In all of his years as a vampire, he’d never crossed that line, but he knew its potential.

Damned if he was about to let the blood slave remind him of that though.

“I’m not wrong about this,” he said, the anger churning in his gut.

“But just in case, maybe you should eat something. Right?”

Fuck.
Of course he should. As much as he didn’t want to admit it to her, he gave a curt nod. “I’m headed into town for supplies. Get us both some clothes, you some food.” He left it unsaid that he would locate a food source for himself, but he knew what needed to be done. “I don’t know which one of us is right, but it’s easier to get fed and prove you wrong. That done, we’ll know that I’m right if I’m still hungry for you. Stay here, inside. I’ll be back by sunrise.”

He didn’t wait for a response, instead going to the clothes he’d worn the night of the party and slipping them on. Dressing took him almost no time because he could fucking smell her everywhere he went, and her slightest movement seemed to exacerbate it. She smartly kept to herself, almost cowering in the corner and keeping her attention directed on him. He didn’t think he could attack her. He didn’t think.

By the time he turned the key in the ignition a few minutes later, the hunger was a snarling beast inside him, pushing at him to get out. Victor bit down on the inside of his cheek, tasted blood, then gripped the steering wheel harder.

He kept to the speed limit, ignoring the impulse to drive faster and get to food. Maybe even locate a willing woman to work on his carnal appetite. The blowjob Lucy had given him had melted his insides, providing him the best release he’d experienced in years, yet here it was, not even an hour later, and he wanted more. He wanted her again.

The taste of her sweet body still lingered on his lips and tongue. Even the memory of her skin, delicate and lush in the best places, made his fingers tingle. Yet as the minutes passed, the urgency no longer drove him. The burning inclination to push inside her cunt until she cried out, until he branded her with himself, no longer made his ears ring.

He still felt some of the aftermath, but it had lowered to a simmer he could control and handle. It made him more concerned that his theory about Lucy’s sudden inexplicable magnetism might hold water. What had changed?

The vast size of Walmart was a nightmare to navigate through, but it offered him options at this hour of the morning. Clothing for her—why hadn’t he thought to ask her size?—and food choices for her too. He opted for a variety of produce and included toiletries in his selection. Clothes she could move in, that stretched and breathed. The hedonist in him bypassed the intimate garments; let her continue to go commando. He moved through the task by rote, his mind continuing to churn with the possibilities.

Maybe there was a latent effect of the drugs they’d given her? Or maybe she’d had to reach a certain stage for them to realize the full potential.

“That’s a five. Not enough to cover all this.”

He blinked, brought back to the task at hand. The woman at the cash register was holding out the money he’d given her. And indeed, it was a five when he thought he’d fished out a fifty. “Sorry,” he muttered. If he didn’t focus on things right in front of him, he’d end up on the wrong end of a stake.

After correcting his mistake and paying for everything, he gathered the bags and took them to the Mustang. He’d just shut the trunk when two men approached the car.

One, a tall blond wearing a black T-shirt and blue jeans, hung back, which immediately snagged Victor’s attention. His wan face spoke of a hard life and a smoker’s habit. Victor visually searched him for any signs of a weapon, but with the way the shirt clung to him, hiding anything would have been a small miracle.

The young black guy who approached wore an orange baseball cap with a black checkmark on the brim. He took it off before coming to a halt in front of Victor. His hair had been shaved off the sides of his skull, giving him a wide mohawk style. Unlike the other guy, his gray T-shirt stretched across his broad chest and tucked tight into a black pair of jeans. “Excuse me,” he said softly. “Could I bum a cigarette off you?”

“Don’t got none for you. Besides those things’ll kill you.” He didn’t believe for a minute he’d been targeted so the guy could get a smoke. Just as well. With the way he’d been sparring with Lucy, he could use a little of the real deal. They wanted to fuck with a vampire, they’d get what they had coming.

They were probably out hoping for an easy target. Grab his wallet and credit cards. Anything else of value he might be carrying.

Victor planted his feet firmly against the ground and prepared to draw his gun from the holster. Hell, maybe he’d go hand-to-hand on this one, just for shits and giggles. He scanned the guy up front, looking for any signs of his fighting style or places on his person where he might have stashed a knife.

His gaze shot up to the guy in back, just in time to see the color of his eyes flash yellow.

Fucking hell.

Werewolves.

Chapter Thirteen

Lucy paced the small room, tempted to throw open the door and peer outside once again. The sun would be cresting the horizon at any minute, and there was no sign of Victor anywhere. He had a cell phone, but she didn’t have one here. There was no way to communicate to one another if something went wrong for either of them.

They’d left each other in the most awkward of situations.

She’d never forget the incredible hunger in his eyes when he’d been looking at her. She’d known without a doubt that he would have attacked her and taken and taken until she’d had nothing left to give.

After cleaning up, she lay down on the bed and tried to gather her thoughts on what had happened. Eyes closed, she remembered the way his mouth touched down, the feather-light kisses. He’d been tentative at first, but then grew more confident with every soft moan she’d made.

Lucy inhaled deeply, a visceral response to recalling that moment when he’d pushed her over a ledge, hurtling her toward the stars in an earth-shattering orgasm.

“Calm down, woman,” she muttered to her persistent heartbeat. What if his theory, as zany as it sounded, held some truth to it? Could it be possible that the spice in her system was still running rampant and making her a target to any vampire in the vicinity?

But something must have triggered it, right?

The distinctive crunch of tires rolling over gravel burst through her thoughts.
About damned time.
She slipped on the flip-flops she’d found and left the sanctuary of the bed to see to Victor. He’d been gone so long, he must be returning with half of the grocery store.

Okay, they’d parted not on the best of terms, so maybe she shouldn’t greet him with nagging. Taking a deep breath, she yanked open the door and stepped into the humidity of the early morning. She couldn’t see him at first for the sharp glare of the sun glinting from the Mustang. Movement ahead assured her someone exited from the driver’s side though.

“It’s a good thing this isn’t the movies where you’ll burst into a fiery ball at the first sign of the sun,” she called.

Well, so much for not nagging.

“Ran into some old friends.”

Lucy held up a hand, trying to keep the sun out of her eyes. There was something off about Victor’s voice, but she couldn’t put her finger on what. “Did you get lost on the way back?”

Goodness, she couldn’t stop herself. Maybe it was residual from the earlier disagreement. At least now he seemed to be in better control, not looking like he was microseconds from ripping her throat out.

“No. Just took my time.”

“Oh well, if you want to get out of the sun, I’ll work on putting away the groceries. I figure if you—
Victor!
” He’d stepped far away enough from the harsh glint for Lucy to see the blood plastered to the side of his head. It caked over his temple and dried in gruesome lines down his cheek and neck.

He shrugged it off. “You ought to see the other guys.” Without adding anything further, he strode past her, holding out the car keys.

She took them on automatic pilot, too stunned to vocalize any of the dozens of questions flying through her mind at light speed. “
Oh my God.
”

It was like he didn’t give a shit that he’d obviously been in some sort of altercation. Victor kept going until he crossed the threshold and into the dark safety of the house.

“Wait...wait! What happened? Are you alright?” Lucy ran after him, needing to assess the damage up close.

She managed to catch up to him in time to watch him flop down on the bed as if utterly exhausted. He threw one arm over his face, blocking her view of the blood. “Ice cream’s going to melt if you don’t get to it. Been in the car awhile already. Hell, it might already be just a puddle in the package.”

Lucy shook her head. “No way. You are not diverting this conversation. What happened to you?” She crouched down beside him and gently lifted his hand out of her way.

A lump curdled in her stomach as she stared at the clotted and dried blood. Vampire physiology, its ability to heal rapidly, kept her from figuring out where the original damage had occurred, but she slid her fingers through his hairline anyway. Either he found it annoying or painful, because he opened his eyes long enough to shoot her an irritated look. Lucy gasped.

“Your eye!”

Victor immediately closed them again and shoved the arm back into its previous position. “It’ll heal.”

Jesus. No one had to tell her that Victor’s head must have been bashed in, including the eye socket and possibly his cheek bone. The closest eye didn’t miss the assault, now an angry, dark red circling his brown iris. It spread over almost the entirety of his eyeball, until only a speck of white remained. “You look straight out of a horror movie. If I saw you coming at me with your fangs bared, I’d pee myself.” She ran through a mental list of first aid supplies that might be in the cabin, not happy with the limited inventory. “Don’t tell me that so-called friends did this to you.”

“Just some punk kids, thought they had an easy mark.”

She’d been about to rise, but then stopped and frowned as she thought about it. “You let some kids do this to you?” Victor Collins had to be hundreds of years old. He was a seasoned fighter and mercenary. He knew how to dispatch other vampires, creatures notoriously hard to bring down and God knew what else. Yet, he’d let human kids cave in his skull? That didn’t make any sense. “Were you outnumbered or something?”

“You’re like a dog with a bone,” he growled. “Everything you see will heal. Let it go.”

He wasn’t telling her everything, and she had no idea why not. With a huff, she rose and went to locate a washcloth. After finding one, she ran it under the cold tap and came back to attack the blood on his head. Swiping angrily, she bit back things she wanted to say to him.

Her caregiving must have been more forceful than she thought. Victor grabbed her fist and yanked the cloth out of it. “I didn’t have a concussion before, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t give me one now.” He glared at her, the evil eye adding more menace to his inflamed expression. “I’m sorry if you think that I should take out creatures younger and weaker than I am, just to prove a point. Instead I let them think they’d gotten the best of me, threw a twenty in their direction and came back home. With groceries...that are currently melting in the car.”

Despite every urge to confront him and the fairy tale he was weaving, she chose to clamp her teeth and let the lies pass. She’d figure it out sooner or later.

Lucy mimicked a growl she’d often heard come from him when agitated and went to collect the groceries. Fortunately, there were several bags, and by the third and final trip, lugging everything inside tempered her mood.

Good heaven, why hadn’t she sent him out for supplies sooner?

Victor had bought a number of canned goods, specialties of Chef Boyardee, enough chicken breasts and ground beef to feed a football team and, as he’d told her earlier, two different types of ice cream. Seeing the butter pecan label almost washed away the lingering agitation she’d felt toward him. Pulling out a tube of Ben Gay from one of the last bags demolished the rest. “Oh, bless you,” she called to him. “And it’s unscented...”

She flipped open the cap, then went to town rubbing the creamy medicine into her sore shoulders and arms. It felt amazing. In the middle of the kitchen, she massaged her sore muscles, closing her eyes as warmth began to do its magic. “This might be better than sex,” she murmured.

“Then obviously I’m doing something wrong,” Victor said from the doorway.

Her eyes snapped open, heat traveling over her cheeks. “That’s not what I meant.”

He pushed away from the jamb, his gaze lazy as it traveled over her. “I’m not so sure about that.”

Lucy’s attention kept drifting toward his eye, and she found herself somewhat amused that something else managed to pull attention away from his paralysis. The more she looked at it, though, the angrier it made her that he wouldn’t share why someone had attacked him.

“Go sit down and let that stuff do its thing. I’ll make you breakfast.”

Lucy goggled, all blood slave training flying out the window. Her former master would be mortified. Doing her best to remember she did perform a service here, she tried to reset her expression. “I’m sorry, what? Did you just say that you’d make me breakfast?”

He’d exchanged the black dress shirt and slacks for a white T-shirt that stretched across his torso and blue jeans that ought to be illegal on him. She came this close to offering to snip a small V-notch in the sleeve, because the thing had to be one loose thread away from bursting open. And when he bent over to locate the small frying pan she’d tucked away, Lucy had to lick her dry lips.

The Ben Gay seeped into her muscles, warming her all over. Then again, she couldn’t be sure if she wasn’t flushed from enjoying the very fine view of Victor.

“I haven’t cooked for someone in a long time, but it can’t be that hard, right? Just like riding a bike... Right?”

Victor kept his back to Lucy. He didn’t want her to notice the way his hands still trembled. On the drive home, he’d pulled over just in time to keep from driving headfirst into a large oak tree about ten feet from the road. He would have survived, but that wasn’t the point. His vulnerability to those werewolves had left him rattled.

The drive had been surreal. He’d never forget looking at the gnarled branches, admiring their strange beauty, as blood had dripped down his face and onto his black shirt. Just as he’d wondered if he’d be able to clean the crimson liquid from the car’s leather, his left eye had shut on its own. Pain had burst from the broken socket as his vampire physiology got to work pulling in bone and tissue back to its original position. He’d cried out, but that sure as hell didn’t stop his body from correcting the damage.

Like someone grinding glass into his flesh.

The car had veered off to the right, rolling through the gravel and dirt off road before he lifted his foot. Somehow he’d managed to cut the engine—he assumed—prior to the torture overwhelming him to the point that he’d passed out.

Eight minutes lost to his body healing. Slumped over the steering wheel, the sun minutes from breaking over the land. Blood and sweat had saturated his shirt, his heart pumping as he’d swallowed down bile and slowly come to awakening.

All because he’d been unable to walk away from the two werewolves without dispatching them first.

They weren’t even guys he recognized from Locke’s crew. These two had stumbled upon him, and he couldn’t say if they’d been out searching or just dumb, blind luck pointed in his general direction.

“You’re going to burn that.”

Pulled back to the kitchen of the little shack he shared with the enticing blood slave, he glanced at the skillet, where the butter indeed bubbled into an ominous brown color. Victor frowned at it, then reached for the eggs. He curled his hand into a fist around the delicate shell when he noticed the slight tremor.

“Sure you don’t want to turn down the heat first?”

He glared at Lucy over his shoulder. “Are you the one doing this or me?” He turned down the heat though. Just in case. “Why don’t you go make yourself useful and practice your take downs?”

“Because I’m luxuriating in not hurting like someone’s been using me for a punching bag for the last week.”

“It hasn’t been a week.”

“It sure as hell feels like it.”

The eggs immediately began to sizzle as they hit the hot pan. The edges curled up, turning as brown as the butter within seconds. The aroma coming from the pan seemed okay, so he figured he couldn’t be doing too bad a job. Besides, this gave him something to do while he figured out the riddle of Lucy. Thick slices of ham went into the pan too, the air coming alive with the rich scent of grease almost immediately.

It was too easy to get used to this domestic scene.

Time slipped by while he stayed here with her, the werewolves on the hunt for him. Sooner or later they’d find him, and he couldn’t be sure he’d make it out by himself. He’d need her help. Did he bring her into his confidence and let her know about the price on Sage’s head, or was she better off not knowing?

“Have you given any more thought to what we’d talked about before I’d left?” he asked. Feeling safe to leave the eggs unattended, he moved to the cutting board and began slicing into a plump tomato. His eye throbbed painfully, but he ignored it. If he drew any attention to its healing progress, Lucy would pounce. The last thing he wanted was her pity.

“Did you feed while you were out?”

He’d gorged himself on the werewolves, draining them both until their hearts had given out. “Yes,” he said with a smile, making a point to show his retracted teeth. “Hunger’s at bay, and I should be good for a few days more.”

“So can I assume that you no longer feel like you
have
to bite me?”

His heart thudded triple-time, because if given one opportunity—just one—he’d be all over that shit. No question. “No,” he said slowly, “I don’t have to bite you, but I can also say that you aren’t giving off the same aura from last night either. I don’t think the hunger was all me. I stand by my theory that you still might have spice in your system.”

She pointed to the pan, and Victor pretended he didn’t notice. He just so happened to have lifted the lid right as the ham stuck to the iron. He’d meant for it to be that dark brown, almost glossy black color. He turned down the burner heat a little more.

“Spice isn’t supposed to affect humans at all. I didn’t even make the connection to Cindy until I’d started getting sick. I don’t get to interact with other blood slaves too often, so I don’t know how many, if any others at all, have been affected. I assumed that if they were doing it to us two, then others must be given it as well.” Victor turned in time to watch her pop a few grapes in her mouth. “You should probably wash that first. Wait...you
did
wash the tomato and these, right?”

The bell pepper in his hand looked clean enough, but he figured she probably knew something he didn’t. He rinsed it under the sink and then chopped it, placing ringlets besides the sliced tomatoes. He might have forgotten to run the plump tomatoes and juicy grapes under the water, but they were vegetables and fruit. They came clean. Probably.