“W-What?”
Tara packed the pieces of the board game back into the box. “I have to go upstairs before Mawmaw wonders where I am, but I’ll come back later.” The wooden stairs creaked as she skipped without a care.
Rachel sank against the brick, her breathing shallow. Don’t come back. Stay away. The warning faded on her tongue. What if she lost control and bit Tara? A sharp breath stabbed her throat. Willpower was a strong force. She had to control this.
Desperate to concentrate on anything save the hunger, the spots and grooves on the brick wall became her focal point. No clock hung anywhere, but a good solid hour had to have passed, maybe more. Dammit, how would she know for sure? Time seemed endless as her appetite grew. Each impatient grumble reminded of what she needed, what she was capable of. I will not harm Tara or her family.
At the exit, she didn’t dare step outside, but opened the door a crack. Light streamed through the bulkhead. She slammed the door shut and scurried from the exit to the farthest wall. Skin-crawling jitters raked her inside and out. Damn this heliophobic reaction. And damn the cravings. Think of something else. Anything else. Flowers. Books. Pets. Blood. Blood. Blood. Rachel clutched her hair and squeezed her eyes shut. Occupying her mind wasn’t working. A groan grated up her throat. Why her? Why did she have to be this way?
The upstairs door swung open. Tara skipped down the set of stairs with a sandwich on a plate. A rustic scent filled the air. Confusion clouded Rachel’s mind. Was she that hungry she imagined the delicious scent? As she gazed at Tara, a colored patch on the girl’s knee caught her sight.
A droplet of sweat trailed down Rachel’s cheek. “What happened?”
Tara glanced at the sore. “I fell when I put mom’s things away.” Plate held high in offering, the child stepped closer. “Dinner will be soon, and I won’t be able to come back for a while, so I brought you a sandwich to eat.”
The sloppy peanut butter and jelly sandwich wasn’t appetising in the least. Strawberry jam oozed out from the sides, a reminder of what she thirsted for. Pulse fluttering in her neck, she strained further against the wall, the coarse structure scratched her back. If only the bricks swallowed her whole. “Leave, Tara. Get out of here.” Her eyes flickered closed as she inhaled the blissful fragrance. The first hint teased her like a narcotic, but the flavor in the measly scent roused her senses. Primal instincts too intolerable to ignore pounded through her body, screaming to act.
“But I want to know if you like the sandwich I made you,” the girl whined and tapped her little stubborn foot. “And you have to eat.”
Rachel cringed, but the images she fought back stirred. How easy would it be to snatch the child, bite into her neck so hard she’d break the collarbone? She could drain the life from her small body, satisfy the urges that demanded action.
Rachel smacked the back of her head into the wall, forcing the images gone. She did it again until a throb pulsated her skull. With a sob that resembled a scream, she dug her nails into the brick.
Tara jumped. The plate in her hand dropped to the floor and cracked in half.
“Get away. Now, Tara!”
The young girl visibly swallowed and teetered back. “What’s wrong?”
“Tara Jane? What’s going on down there?” The familiar croaky voice called from upstairs.
Too late. Fangs elongated over her lower lip.
Tara ignored her great grandmother’s call as her small mouth fell open.
Rachel shoved Tara aside and raced up the bulkhead into the yellow-pink light of the afternoon. A scream scratched her throat. Unable to trust herself with the stiff-necked child, she ran as fast as possible.
She craved to throw herself in the safety of darkness. Eyes wide, breathing loud and swift, she ran along the pavement, her pace sluggish. Strangers on the side-walk gasped and stared. More people. More blood. “No,” she cried and ran onto the road. A horn blared. Arms out in front, she backed away from the shouting driver and sprinted into a large park, passing leafless shrubs, and a playground. An enormous sycamore tree promised shade, and she hid behind its thick trunk.
A few lousy seconds kept her from tearing into the little child who had trusted her enough to let her stay, offering clothes, food, and friendship. No amount of willpower could have stopped her. Running out of that house was the hardest move she ever made. Ian was right, she was a monster. Enslaved by a hunger that jeopardised helpless lives. This torment would never end.
In the distance, a familiar white truck drove with slow speed. She squinted at the driver…Ian. The weight of her heart plunged to her stomach. Could the situation become any worse? Beyond the park lay a forest. It took a strength she didn’t know she possessed to ignore her trembling legs and run. Either she escape the back-stabbing bastard or died trying…considering her hungry state combined with the gruesome glow of the slow sunset, death might come first.
Chapter 9
A growl in his belly rumbled through the small space of the truck. In the glove compartment were stashed protein bars, but he stopped before retrieving one. Rachel had been hungry and waited for the blood bags. He cringed. A hot sensation raced down his throat. How heartless he’d been. Even though he refused to let her bite him, he could have tried other ways, instead of watching her starve.
Female laughter snagged his attention. A couple strolled along the pavement hand-in-hand, unconcerned with the world. If only life gifted him with the same carefree bliss. A breeze drifted through the open window. Ian inhaled just as he had every few minutes in hopes to catch a whiff of her out there somewhere. Her strong, earthly rainstorm scent—close enough to taste—greeted his senses with a tremor.
She was close. So close.
He slowed speed. Eyes peeled. One driver beeped from behind. Ian ignored the man’s rude comments when the driver overtook him.
In a park, a figure sprinted for the forest ahead. Ian jerked in the seat. Rachel. Out in daylight. “Shit.” He hit the gas and made a sharp turn. The truck bounced over the curb, onto thick grass. Not bothering to lock the vehicle, he charged after her. Her pace slowed. Could she be weak…or hurt? Why the hell was she out in daylight? The fact she ran called his natural instincts to take over. His body tingled with the need to chase. Hands clenched, he picked up speed, ate up the distance between them with his swift velocity.
Rachel passed a huddle of trees and sprinted out into the open light. The sky washed the ground with pink and orange. As he neared, she whimpered and stumbled to a stop, hands on lithe thighs, heaving for breath. No, not breathless, but sobbing. She knelt on the ground and wept. His heart clamped.
“Rachel.” He drew her into a secure embrace. She recoiled, but he held her close and used his wide frame to obstruct the last of the sun.
She used the inside of her wrists to push at his chest. “Let me go, you traitor.”
“Close your eyes,” he whispered into her hair. “Block out the light.”
Silence, followed by another sob. Tears seeped past fused lashes as she grasped the front of his shirt, her knuckles bone-white. This was the woman he called a monster earlier? This helpless creature who trembled in his arms? Throat tight, his heart raced so fast, he feared it would explode. Dread and the sense of hopelessness weighed inside him as though he empathised with Rachel on a deeper level. Never in his life had he felt this strongly toward another being. If he could shout out in that instant and turn the sky black, he’d do it in a heartbeat. All he could do, however, was shelter her with his body.
“I’ve got you.” He stroked her back with tender fingertips. “I won’t hurt you. I promise.”
Soft moans drifted from her throat. Determined not to return to the truck until sundown, he remained still.
“I’m a monster.”
“What?”
“The little girl who hid me in her basement, who helped me, clothed me…I ached to bite her.”
He swallowed, not sure if he wanted the answer. “And?”
Locks of dark auburn
hair brushed across his chest. “I ran out of the house before I gave into the urge.”
A smile tugged at his mouth. Her courage, her unselfish heroism… She amazed him. When he’d hurt himself earlier, she’d been tempted by his blood, yet did not harm him. And now she admitted she didn’t attack her little friend.
She sobbed into his shirt. “A monster…”
His lips stretched into a grin. “No. Don’t you see? You ran before you acted, you were in control.”
“I felt far from in control.”
“But you didn’t hurt the girl. You sacrificed your own comfort, faced your fear to protect the child.”
She sniffled, wiped her nose with her wrist. “But my urges—”
“Baby, I know. Your cravings are strong. For that, I’m sorry, but I’m so proud of you. What you did was brave.”
She scoffed. “Me, a vampire, brave? You’re obviously unwell.” Her voice slurred with fatigue. Thanks to her, he finally saw things in a different light. And now that he found her, he let relief sink in. When the sun vanished, he stood and with gentle care lifted her. Her head lolled against his shoulder, eyes fluttered as though she fought to keep them open. Ian jogged to his truck, dropped her into the passenger seat and ran around to the driver side. Her hands wrapped around her waist, face pinched in pain, and she groaned. Something wasn’t right.
Sweat beaded her forehead. Her hands wrapped around her throat, gaze on the ceiling as she panted. As her eyes darted about the truck, she patted the interior, paused when landing on the doorhandle.
“Shit,” he muttered, and smacked the auto-lock. “Sit still.”
They entered the highway, black forest surrounded them. Home was another three-hour drive.
“So…hungry,” she whispered in a slur.
That explained her restlessness. She needed to feed. “What happened to the cooler box? Did you drink every bag?” The supply should have lasted a few days at least. If all the bags had been devoured, then Amber might be right. Rachel could be an addict.
“Lost bags. Fell. In. Canal.” Her head sloped forward, silky strands slid over her face like a burgundy curtain.
No hospitals or blood banks anywhere near them. Ian groaned. He refused to keep driving, knowing she starved. The sudden lump in his throat threatened to choke him. Could he do it? This wouldn’t be like all those years ago with those three attackers…this was Rachel. She needed him. He veered to the side, yanked the handbrake and shifted in the seat. With the inside of his wrist placed beneath her chin, she winced at the mere touch. Sweat dotted his brow, and he ignored his own trembles.
Her nostrils flared. “What are you doing?”
“You said you were hungry.”
Dark pupils dilated, engulfing her hazel pools. Two fanged teeth caught her bottom lip. The idea of feeding had to have entranced her. He yanked the lever and his seat swung back. With her arms secured in his grip, he lifted and had her straddle his lap. Where did her clothes come from? Black skin-tight pants and a lace top that left no room for the imagination. What had she been up to in the last several hours?
A slight whimper echoed from her throat as her hands flattened over his chest. “No. Not you. You hate me.”
Hate her? He cupped the back of her neck and stared deep into her eyes. “I do not hate you.”
Her pink tongue danced across her lips as her wide gaze studied him. “Vampires. You hate vampires. I won’t drink from you.”
Even in her hungry, weakened state, she tilted her chin away. How had he ever considered this woman a monster? He’d been wrong. Not the first time too. Chayton and Amber had told him more than once, not all vampires were the same, that some wanted peace with the species. Rachel was unique. Yes, she had attacked on the night they met, but she’d been hungry. Could he blame her for following natural instincts?
She put the needs of others before herself. Not many humans possessed such a capability, let alone a vampire with an irrefutable urge for blood. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, wanting to repeat the action, sample more of her softness. “Rachel. Take from me.” Who’d have thought he’d insist a vampire drink from him? The irony. With her head angled close to his neck, nose pressed into his heated skin, her breath tickled him. Yet, she didn’t nip or bite. Stubborn woman. “Don’t make me tell you again.” With firm but gentle fingers, he massaged her nape in encouragement.
Her resistance eased. Pointed teeth sank into his skin. Ian stilled as a soft sigh escaped his lips. She took initiative and drank. Never had he imagined it would feel this good. The intensity of the bite sent him over the brink. Pain and bliss lanced through him. With a moan, he clutched her shoulders, determined to keep her there. He stilled when she lowered into his crotch, supple thighs squeezed his hips.
Sticky blood dribbled down his neck, followed by the sweeping motion of her tongue. The teasing act had him hard in an instant, throbbing against her core. He enjoyed this. Unbelievable. Either his hardness or blood fuelled her with the energy to grind as she drank. Throaty groans erupted from him. He dug his fingers into the flesh of her leather-clad ass, gritted his teeth, and assisted with the slow, delicious rocking.
Chayton’s revelation smacked Ian in that instant. For him to want her this much, she had to share his mark. No wonder the bite aroused instead of repelled. A strong need to strip her free and kiss that precious mark overcame him. And he would not deny himself a minute longer.
****
His blood…oh, his blood. No words could describe the complete pleasure each gulp of pure life essence delivered. The utter relief as potent as if she’d been in a desert for months and received a droplet of water. Satisfaction never tasted sweeter. The sounds he made motivated her, fuelled a liquid heat that pulsated through her core. Might his blood be the trigger for such a powerful aphrodisiacal response? Either way, she enjoyed the coppery offer.
Air skimmed her bare stomach as he raised the lace blouse. Rachel lifted her arms. He removed the top and threw the lace material to the passenger seat. Callous hands stroked and palmed her naked skin, warmed her flesh, discovered her body. He lowered to her full breasts, kissing one, then trailed the tip of his tongue across the other. Head swirling, she strained into his erection, savoring the feel.
A groan similar to a growl emitted from him. Swift hands raced to unbutton her pants. “I need to see you. Every inch of you,” he whispered, then nipped her earlobe before soft kisses brushed along her jawline.
She moaned in response, her sensitive nub throbbing, silently begging for his touch. Her body shivered with excitement. She never wanted it to end. But the pleasure soon replaced with an aching headache, like every other time.
What the hell was she doing? Ian planned to take her straight to her killer. She should run, not drink his blood. Definitely not grind against him. As his lips descended on her mouth, she shoved at his chest, flicked the lock and jumped out of the truck.
She gasped at the frigid air. Her already peaked nipples numbed. Unconcerned with her nudity, she ran across the road, into the forest. Twigs snapped beneath her boots, an owl cried high above. Moonlight bathed the snow-dusted forest. A cluster of trees shadowed in the dark promised protection. She hid behind the thickest one.
“Rachel?” Ian called out in the distance.
The thrum in her brain fuzzed her sight. Rachel braced herself as the strobe-light of iridescence forced her eyes shut.
Rachel inhaled as she surfaced the emerald water. Spicy cinnamon and lilac from the Dodecatheons perfumed the air. She squirmed in the water at the memory of their kiss. What she’d give to have that moment back. Her gaze flickered over to the lit candles and her diary of incantations on a nearby rock.
The spells performed in the last few days benefited her, especially the one which ended Jeff and Delta’s relationship. Warts, from head to toe. The hex would only last two weeks, but Delta didn’t know that. Rumors spread, the mortified girl had packed her things and left within the hour. That wasn’t the only thing Rach
el had up her sleeve. She made Eddy fall ill with a fever, which allowed for the private witch-hunt meetings to be just her and Jeff.
The family spell-book mentioned werewolves dream-shared with their destined mates. So she’d tossed in a few fantasies too. Rachel knew the exact scenario planted in the dream…so if Jeff mentioned something, she could act surprised and give details about their shared encounter. He hadn’t mentioned any dreams yet, but he had been watching her more intently. A few times, when they met up for their one-on-one meeting, he’d flirt a lot more. In the last few nights, she’d performed several spells to make him believe they were meant for each other. Perhaps the incantations weren’t strong enough to overpower his bond…since he hadn’t made a claim for her yet.
Did she feel guilty? Deep down, yes. He considered her a friend, aiding to help find the elusive witch on their campground. Little did he know said witch sneaked out here to the waterhole to perform love spells on the daily. Not that she had a choice. The campground was no longer safe to do magic. At least here, she washed off the scent after every incantation.
Soon enough, Jeff would desire her without the need of magical influence. She bit her lip at the prospect. Jeff…wanting her, caring for her, perhaps even in love with her. A giggle echoed, and she smothered the sound with the back of her hand.
A gust of wind burst overhead, rippled the water and blew out the candles.
Her towel which had hung over a branch, flew above the trees, sailing away with the burst of wind. “Oh, great.” She swam to the edge, flattened her hands on the smooth surface and surged out. The cool breeze blanketed her bare skin. With a breakage of goosebumps covering her body, she hurried over the different sized rocks toward the tree where her clothing lay.
“Argh.” A knife-like sharpness lanced through her ankle as she slipped over the last rock covered in algae and fell on her bottom. Tears stung her eyes. Careful this time, she eased to her feet. She blanched at the screaming pain, and hopped to the closest tree, leaned against its thick trunk for support.
Buried Passion Page 12
