Dark Cravings

by Pryce, Madeline

  While Micah brooded in the other room, I stayed in the shower until the hot water went cold. Being me, I did what I was best at. Avoidance. Hell, I’d managed to avoid Julian for seven years.

  After I was numbed of any and all feeling in my limbs, I sat under the spray and watched the water spiral into the drain. I didn’t get out until my fingers and toes looked like a two-hundred-year-old mummy’s.

  Wrapped in a towel saturated in the scent of Micah, I eyed the pile of my clothes heaped in the corner of the bathroom. The stench of old blood and poison put them on the “To Be Burned” list. Dignity be damned, there was no way I was putting those back on.

  With my head held high and my emotional armor in place, I pulled the towel tighter around myself and left the safety of the bathroom. I blinked, eyes adjusting to the soft glow of light coming from the candle on the dresser. I stared at the bed. With Micah in it, the mattress looked much smaller. The blanket had been pulled up to his waist, so the only thing I could see was the back he’d turned to the door.

  What was once smooth, tanned skin was still marked by the scratches from our stay at the Lazy Eight. Served him right. At least his marks were fairly neat lines, which could be explained as just about anything. I had a few nice indents of his teeth in my flesh that still hadn’t healed. Roy, who’d poked and prodded at the mark on my neck, couldn’t tell me if they would fade. The marks Julian had left on my throat had taken three years to heal, so I was still hopeful about Micah’s. The tattoo was another story.

  It wasn’t until I started pondering about how other men would interpret the marks on my body that I realized I was stalling. Micah and I hadn’t really discussed me spending the night. Hell, he hadn’t really invited me here in the first place. In fact, he’d told me to leave.

  It was now or never. I dropped the towel and jumped when it hit the carpet. My nerves were shot. I strode to the bed. Micah had changed the white sheets to well-worn flannel linens a shade of blue that reminded me of the sky. A sky I wasn’t going to see. Exhaustion slammed into me. I wanted to be in the bed so bad it hurt. The second I hit the mattress, I knew I’d fall asleep.

  Sleep? I couldn’t go to sleep. Julian was waiting. I bit my lip, looked across the room into the kitchen and stared at the coffeepot.

  “Just get in,” Micah grumbled. “I won’t touch you.” He lifted his head, punched the pillow he had cradled with one arm and lay back down.

  “That’s not what I was afraid of, you jackass.”

  With what sounded like an exasperated sigh, he rolled from his side to his back so he could look at me. I don’t think he’d expected me to be naked.

  All it took was the familiar gleam of lust in his eyes for my nipples to pucker into tight, needy buds.

  “The boogeyman?” he guessed.

  I was oddly pleased he’d remembered.

  “Maybe.” I was too tired to pretend.

  Micah lifted the covers. I didn’t need any light to see what was under the blankets. He wasn’t wearing any clothes either. “Get into bed. You’re so exhausted you probably won’t even dream.”

  He had a point. Not that I’d admit to it.

  I slid in between the warmth of the sheets, which were as soft as they looked, and the heat of the comforter. I sighed out loud. Thanks to the blood, and maybe the orgasms, the pain in my shoulder had dulled to an ache and I couldn’t even feel the gashes on either my back or my front. I was in nirvana. Heaven got a whole lot closer when Micah erased the distance between us, wrapped his arms around me and molded our bodies together.

  Skin-to-skin contact—the witch had been onto something. Electric currents ran between the points where our bodies touched. Heat infused me and, oddly enough, it wasn’t sexual. It felt comforting. Safe. What a dangerous sensation. I settled back, wiggling my butt against the length of his erection before I realized what I was doing and stopped.

  Micah groaned. “Ignore it.”

  “Ignore what? I don’t feel a thing.”

  His chuckle was rich, warm and so sincere, the sound made me grin even wider.

  Micah chose that moment to run his hand up my stomach. I arched into him. He cupped my right breast, the one covered in the mating mark. He brought my body closer to his and nuzzled his chin back and forth against my neck.

  “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just insult my manhood. Sleep. I’ll keep the monsters away.”

  He was true to his word. The moment my eyes closed, a warm darkness, filled with the smell of Micah, penetrated the mental shield I held in place at all times. I relaxed into it and watched ivy grow along the walls, fortifying them. I imagined the strands being the same shade as Micah’s eyes. Teal. Micah would be there to keep guard when I couldn’t.

  To my utter surprise, I had the best sleep of my entire life. Damn it. How was I ever going to go to bed again and not think about how right it felt to have Micah’s large, warm body spooned against mine? He was a living, breathing electric blanket. Bastard.

  I have no idea how long we slept or what exactly it was that woke us. A smell? A shift in the air? Maybe it was the tingling sensation you got when someone was looking at you. I finally realized that it was the third heartbeat in the room that triggered my protective instincts. I reached under Micah’s pillow for the gun I knew was there. Micah beat me to it. Considering my dislike of firearms, it was probably a good thing.

  In a blur of movement that rivaled my own speed and dexterity, Micah was on the ground in a crouch. The strength, healing and instincts of a demon. The witch’s words rang in my ears. Micah’s gun, like an extension of his hand, was trained on the man standing patiently at the foot of the bed.

  Richard McGregor. Micah’s father.

  “You see, Ella,” Micah said, eyes never leaving his target, gun never wavering, “this is why guns are better. If there had been a knife under my pillow, it would now be sticking out of my father’s chest and we wouldn’t know why he was here. You like to act first, think later. Dear old Dad here would have learned a hard lesson about breaking and entering.”

  He had a point.

  I looked over the man in the three-piece suit and contemplated the wonders of genetics. The last time I’d seen Richard had been at my hearing, right after I’d been, oh how did they put it? Infected. Richard’s thinning blond hair and beady brown eyes made me wonder if there was any credibility to the rumor that this man might not be Micah’s dad. Maybe Mrs. McGregor had had some secret lover. A secret demonic lover.

  Richard’s narrow face was too thin to give him the confidence the tailored suit attempted. He wasn’t wide enough in the shoulders, or tall enough, to pull off the look. Maybe it was the stench of fear pouring off him that ruined it.

  “Breaking and entering? Hardly. The door was unlocked. I’ve been standing here for five minutes watching you snuggle.” Richard spat the last word out. Brave words for someone who was terrified. “Knife or gun,” Richard continued, “it wouldn’t have mattered. If I’d had the inclination to harm either of you, there would have been no challenge. You’re getting sloppy, Micah. But you always were, weren’t you?”

  Micah didn’t lower his gun. “I’ve got wards. They keep unwanted guests out. How long did it take you to break them?”

  The gleam in Richard’s eyes was one I’d never seen before. His gaze had a sick kind of glee lurking in it. This was not the same man I’d seen leading the Shadow Agency—this man was darker somehow. The mask had been removed.

  “Child’s play,” Richard replied.

  “Why are you here?” Micah asked.

  I looked back and forth between the two, Richard in his finery, Micah stark naked with a gun. It was a bit dysfunctional. For the first time I found myself questioning the relationship between father and son. I’d just assumed they were two peas in a demon-hating pod. Things were not right between them. The testosterone filling the room had a very violent taste to it and I wondered if they’d ever actually come to blows before.

  “I must say, I’m rat
her disappointed in your choice of housing. This building should be condemned. Really, Micah, what would someone think if they saw me coming into this place?”

  “Like I give a shit, old man.” When Micah gave him a half-smile, I got why he lived in this dive. What a rebellious little snot. I liked it. A lot.

  The cold look Micah got in response dropped the temperature in the room and I was painfully reminded that I was naked. I pulled the sheet just a little bit higher over my chest. Too bad my sudden movement drew Richard’s attention.

  The look he gave me was too intimate for strangers. I remembered what Roy had told me about the marriage petition when I’d been fifteen. My gut began a slow boil.

  Richard’s smoldering look managed to make me feel both cheap and easy. When his gaze trailed over the column of my neck, then over my exposed shoulders, I began to panic. How had I never picked up on this pervy vibe before now? This man was just fucking creepy.

  “Nice matching tattoos,” Richard drawled.

  A drawer scraped open, cotton rustled. The next thing I knew, a tee shirt landed in my lap. I turned just in time to see Micah pull up a pair of athletic pants.

  “Get dressed.” Darkness moved within Micah’s eyes. The predator was awake and if the tic in Micah’s jaw had anything to say about it, it was pissed.

  Richard leered at me. “Don’t bother on my account.”

  Never letting go of the sheet, I pulled the shirt over my head and shimmied into the tee. Only then did I get out of bed. The lecherous old man looked me over, paused on my breasts and moved to my bare legs. Where were my weapons when I needed them?

  “Micah, would you lend me your gun?” I gave Richard my best smile as I said it.

  No one paid any attention to me.

  Richard jerked his gaze back to Micah and took a step closer to the bed.

  Micah’s finger tightened on the trigger.

  “There seem to be a great many details you’ve left out in your report. I didn’t know I needed to bring a stake with me. How long has she been a full-fledged vampire? And how long have you been the blood whore’s play thing?”

  “Is there something you actually wanted, Father?” Substitute the word father with asshole, because that was what I knew Micah really meant.

  “I find your lack of respect appalling, son.” Richard said son, yet I knew he meant ungrateful brat. Touché.

  Micah let out a manic laugh. He lifted his gun and I watched Richard look at the weapon with unease. Surely Micah wouldn’t shoot him. Right?

  “Respect?” Micah asked when he stopped laughing. “Let’s talk about that for a second. You came into my apartment in the middle of the night, uninvited.”

  “It’s two o’clock in the afternoon. That’s hardly ‘the middle of the night’.” Richard cast a scathing look in my direction, the lust I’d seen a few moments ago now replaced with hatred. “Obviously you were otherwise occupied and failed to notice the time you were, as usual, pissing away. I see nothing has changed. Cheap room, cheap woman. Tell me, are you drunk as well?”

  I took two steps closer, the curl of my lip exposing my fangs. My gaze landed on the surging pulse at Richard’s neck. I fantasized about tearing into his flesh. I could almost feel the skin beneath my teeth, taste the blood that I would spit on the floor at his feet. When my hands began to tingle and my head started to spin, Micah’s voice pulled me back from doing something incredibly stupid.

  “Ella,” Micah warned.

  “I can see you were right. She is reckless, stubborn and a danger to society. Thank goodness we have all those reports you submitted to back our claim. Now that she has broken her oath, her extrication should be exceedingly simple. We don’t allow parasites into the Shadow Agency.”

  “Is that why you’re here, to ‘extract’ her?” Micah asked. “If it is, you’ve come severely unmanned if you think you’re going anywhere with her.”

  “One fuck and now she has you wrapped around her finger? I must say you were singing a different tune a few months ago when you stated, and I quote,” Richard smiled cruelly at me, “‘Ella has no regard for the Agency’s rules or regulations. She kills indiscriminately and with a ruthless savagery that makes her a danger to others’.”

  A horrible weight settled in my stomach. My palms got sweaty. My heart started to pound.

  “Ella, don’t listen to him. He’s taking things out of context.”

  I felt like I was going to puke.

  Stupid. I was so fucking stupid. Any little bit of trust I’d started to harbor vanished.

  “So you didn’t try to get me ‘extricated’ from the Shadow Agency?” I asked, my voice a whole lot steadier than I felt.

  “Yes. No.”

  “Which is it, son?”

  Something broke inside Micah, I saw it, felt it. The air shimmered and the dark shadow inside—the feral part of him—eclipsed his eyes. He crossed the few short steps to his father and without any preamble brought his fist back and smashed it into Richard McGregor’s face. Blood sprayed into the air and splattered across Micah’s naked chest.

  The older man crumpled, fell to the floor in an ungraceful huddle. In any other circumstance the sight would have been comical.

  With the blood dripping down his torso, Micah looked savage.

  The scent was pungent and rich. My fangs lengthened and I took a step back, then another and then another, until my spine touched the wall on the opposite side of the room. This was too small a space for me to be in. My stomach cramped and I put my arms around myself to help with the pain. The need to taste, to feed, had never been this bad before.

  That’s it. Julian’s voice was a malevolent presence inside my head. Drink. Tear his throat out. You’re vampire now. You’re mine. Together we will rule.

  No. No. No. I shook my head, slid to the ground and put my forehead against my knees. I couldn’t concentrate. Julian’s anger, his hatred, his need for me, was a rancid spike piercing my tongue.

  I’m going to kill your hunter. He’s touched you, tried to mark what wasn’t his.

  I tried to block my sire out but I couldn’t. Blood was everywhere. I looked up to the smell and watched the scene before me in a detached, anesthetized sort of way. The blood was nearly black as it poured out of Richard’s skewed nose. Micah hit him again and a new arch of blood sprayed. I watched it in slow motion and before I could stop it, I licked my lips in anticipation. This wasn’t me.

  After I kill the hunter, I’ll fuck you in his blood, make you lick it off my cock. You always did like it rough.

  Ivy. I thought about the thick green and blue tendrils snaking over the walls in my mind, pushing Julian away. Micah’s scent wrapped around me and I grabbed onto the lifeline. Julian vanished with a snarl.

  The room started to spin, slowly at first, then faster. Quicker. I blinked away the nausea and found myself in front of Micah. The impact of my body against his forced Micah to step away from his father.

  “Micah,” I whispered, voice cracking and raw.

  Micah’s glowing eyes moved from his father to me. I saw hunger, death and lust in him. It was not lust for sex, but for blood and for revenge. Demon. My pulse jumped. Micah’s muscles bunched and I knew, from months of fighting beside him, against him, he was ready to attack. I gripped his face between my hands, turned his gaze forcefully away from his father.

  “You have to stop.”

  There was so much pain in his eyes, such awful, heart-wrenching pain. Micah gripped my wrists, tried to push me away, but I wasn’t about to budge.

  “That’s right, listen to your vampire whore. You’re no better than her, no better than your mother. You’ll pay for this, boy.” Richard spat a mouthful of blood onto the ground and got to his feet. He swayed, but managed to stay upright.

  Micah stepped closer, tried to take another, but I held him back. I shook my head. “No.”

  “You’re finished. As of this moment, you’re both fired.” Richard’s words were slurred and there was an odd, whistling so
und every time he inhaled. I didn’t trust myself to look at him. “Oh and Ms. Grey, that includes your sorry, pathetic excuse for an uncle. I won’t stop until your entire family is ruined.”

  When the front door slammed shut, I let go of Micah. I didn’t look at him again, I couldn’t. Stepping around the puddle of blood that had now, thankfully, lost some of its appeal, I went to the bathroom. Smelly be damned, I was putting on my pants and getting the fuck out of here.

  I was so exhausted, so emotionally drained.

  Had Micah really told his father those things about me? My confusion quadrupled.

  For right now, I was done with the McGregors.

  Chapter Nine

  Two steps. I got no farther before Micah captured my wrist and released a low, rumbling sound. The instant heat of his touch sent white-hot electric bolts from where he held me to my clenching sex. I sucked in a ragged breath. My heart quickened with arousal and, I’ll admit, a touch of fear. I forced my gaze from his white-knuckled grip to his face.

  Mistake.

  The naked pain in his eyes broke my heart.

  “Where in the hell are you going?” he hissed.

  I tried to pull free, but instead started a game of tug-of-war. Ten seconds later, Micah changed tactics. Instead of pulling, he pushed. I stumbled until my back was against the wall with Micah pressed against me. He didn’t waste one moment.

  He smashed his mouth against mine in a brutal, punishing kiss. I bit his lip. He bit mine back. I gripped a fist full of his hair and tried to push him off me. He grabbed both of my wrists and pinned them to the wall at my sides.

  “Let me go,” I demanded.

  My eyes stung and I was terrified I’d start crying. The strength of my feelings for him was too much, too soon. I couldn’t get my heart broken, not again. The stupid bond between us wasn’t giving me much of a choice.

  Micah bent his head so he was right in my face, his eyes searching mine. When he spoke, his words caressed my lips, “Why, so you can run away?”

  His question hit too close to home. I gave him my best sneer. “You don’t know anything about me.”