It had taken Myne a week to recover enough to speak, and when he had, his story of escape from human captivity had shaken everyone in the clan. The story about how he’d gotten his name had done more than shake them. It had rocked them all and reinforced every prejudice they’d ever felt about humans.
“What’s your name?” Riker, perched on a stool next to the other male’s bed, drew the cup of human blood away from his lips and waited for him to speak.
“Myne.” It was the first word he’d spoken since arriving at the clan.
“Odd name.” Riker reached for the small pitcher of blood on the bedside table and refilled the cup. “What’s it mean?”
Myne’s lip curled into a silent snarl. “That’s what the man who bought me called me. ‘You’re mine, you fucking cur. That’s your name from now on. Myne.’ ”
Jesus. Riker fumbled the cup, splashing crimson fluid all over the floor. “You don’t have to worry about that anymore. You’re safe here.”
“No one is safe.”
Forcing himself to stay calm, when what he wanted to do was hunt down the fucker who had so cruelly named Myne, Riker went at it from another angle. “What was your birth name?”
In an explosion of movement, Myne levered himself up and clamped his hand around Riker’s throat. “The humans took everything from me,” he rasped. “My clan. My brother. My fangs. My name. Until I get all of that back, you’ll call me Myne.”
“You got it, buddy,” Riker choked out. “Now, do you mind letting me get some air?”
As if he’d used every drop of energy he’d had to sit up, Myne collapsed onto the pillow, panting, his eyes glazed over. “I . . . owe you.”
Myne had passed out, not waking again for two more days. They’d become fast friends after that, but they’d never spoken about his name again. Myne rarely talked about his past at all, and when he did, information came out in bits and pieces, and he never answered questions.
Riker gestured for Myne to enter. “Have poachers been sighted nearby?”
“No, but Baddon and Aiden found what they suspect to be a trap. We’re going to check it out. If we don’t do it tonight, we’ll lose our chance.”
With the full moon tomorrow, all external affairs needed to be handled before every male in the clan got wound up with the feeding frenzy.
Riker nudged open his weapons closet with his foot. “What’s the trap?”
“An injured human in a gully.”
Taking homeless humans off the streets and leaving them, bleeding and injured, in the woods was an oldie but a goodie for poachers. Healthy, experienced vampires wouldn’t fall for it, but there were a lot of vampires who either didn’t know any better or were starving and saw an injured human as an easy meal. This close to the moon phase, vampires were even more careless.
“I’m in.” Riker shrugged into his weapons harness and started loading his pockets with all the fun, sharp toys necessary for this particular game. “Extra points for poachers wearing jewelry?” Poacher jewelry was usually made of vampire body parts.
Myne grinned. “You know it. Ten extra points for nailing the leader.”
“Excellent.” Riker clapped Myne on the back as he strode out of the room. “I need to work off a little steam, anyway.”
Somehow, though, Riker had a feeling that no matter how much steam he worked off, it wouldn’t be enough to get his mind off Nicole.
THE HUNT WAS a success. Overnight, two vampire poachers had been eliminated and two poachers eaten . . . poachers who had been after different quarry: deer.
Riker and Myne had heard the shot, and they’d found a couple of drunk humans laughing over the body of a dying deer they’d shot out of season. The two bastards didn’t even have the decency to put the poor animal out of its misery.
They’d made a fine meal. And the deer, humanely dispatched, would make a fine meal for the clan. Riker and Myne had left the deer poachers alive, since it was doubtful they’d report the attack on them, given their illegal activity. The vampire poachers, however, had been drained and left on the forest floor for the scavengers.
What hadn’t been successful was Riker’s attempt to get Nicole off his mind. Making matters worse, the pull of the full moon, now nearly upon them, wreaked havoc with his hormones, and whenever he did think about Nicole—which was always—she was naked. Kissing him. Licking him. Putting those full lips on every sensitive spot on his body.
Snarling at himself, he started toward his quarters after delivering the deer to the kitchen. But somehow he found himself at the lab.
Might have something to do with the fact that since he’d entered headquarters, three people had told him Nicole was with Grant. As if Riker was her keeper or jealous boyfriend or some shit.
And here he was, hand on the doorknob and feeling like a jealous boyfriend.
The second he opened the door, he knew he’d made a huge mistake.
The two females assigned to watch Nicole acknowledged Riker with a nod before going back to propping themselves against the doorframe. He acknowledged them and then zoomed in on the human standing next to Grant, her shoulder brushing his as she reached out to pin a card to the bulletin board on the wall.
A deep, primitive urge to beat Grant to a pulp and drag Nicole off to his quarters made Riker forcibly lock his joints to prevent his body from firing off before he’d even pulled the trigger.
Grant turned to Nicole and smiled, and even from the doorway, Riker felt the male’s moon hunger radiating off him. Normally, humans weren’t the target of a moon-starved vampire. But sometimes when the hunger struck, mistakes happened. Eventually, the vampire would realize his error, but by then, it could be too late.
Riker didn’t want any male taking Nicole by accident.
And that, he realized, included himself.
Clenching his hands into tight fists, he backed out of the room, trusting Katina and Zara to get Nicole out of there before Grant fell to the moon hunger. He all but sprinted to his quarters, stopping for a moment at the gym to order one of his newly blooded warriors, Gaelan, to get a message to Benet immediately.
The knock at the door didn’t come soon enough. Or maybe it came too soon.
Benet strode into Riker’s place, her long red hair pulled into a high ponytail to expose her neck, the way she always wore it for him. And, as usual, her brightly colored jeans—turquoise today—hugged every curve, and her black V-neck top revealed plenty of throat for him to sink his teeth into.
Not that he ever had, and as she started for the sofa in preparation to sit so he could take her wrist, he grabbed her arm, halting her in mid-stride.
“Riker?” Her husky voice wrapped around him like an embrace. Wrapped around him like Nicole’s arms had when he’d kissed her in this very room.
Benet even sounded like Nicole, and now all he could think about was Nicole’s sweet flavor. Her fresh scent. Her soft skin.
His fangs throbbed, pulsing to the beat of the blood in Benet’s veins.
He pushed her against the wall and covered her body with his as he put his lips against her warm neck. “I need you,” he said roughly. He needed Nicole so badly.
“This is different,” she whispered, but he barely heard, let alone cared. All he knew was an all-consuming hunger, as if he’d missed several moon feedings in a row and was on the verge of starvation and bloodlust.
The glands behind his fangs tingled as he put his tongue to them, releasing fluid that would ease penetration and provide intense pleasure.
“Now.” Nicole—no, Benet—rolled her hips against him and cranked her head to the side in a double invitation. Sex and blood. She’d give him both.
With a growl, he struck, sinking his canines into her tender flesh.
“Yes,” she moaned. “Yes.”
Nicole—had to be Nicole—wrapped one slim leg around his waist and rocked into his erection, her movements growing more frenzied with each pull he took on her vein. Warm, wet blood poured down his throat, firing his
need for her even more.
“Take me, Riker,” she whispered.
He intended to, and God help any fool who interrupted.
THE CLAN WAS a very strange place on the day of the full moon.
Nicole had spent the day in Grant’s lab after a fitful night in the room she’d been locked inside, and while everyone had been cordial, they’d also been . . . intense. Even Grant, who had been so squirrelly the day before, had been serious, startling her with sudden growls and even the odd purr.
The purring happened when she got close to him. When they accidentally touched, Grant purred louder, and his gaze would drop to her throat.
She made a conscious effort to keep her distance.
The two male guards she’d started out with in the morning had been replaced by females as the day wore on, including the scary Katina chick who had threatened her in the prey room. But there had been no sign of Riker, which disappointed Nicole more than she cared to admit.
He doesn’t want anything from you. You mean nothing to him. Less than nothing. He didn’t even want your blood in the cave when he needed to feed.
Yeah, he’d made his feelings perfectly clear last night. Nicole had no right to be upset, but dammit, she’d laid herself out for him, thinking they at least shared a mutual attraction. And he’d turned her away without a second thought.
“Whatcha doin’?”
Nicole jumped at the sound of the scary Katina chick’s voice right behind her. “It would be very helpful if you guys would stomp your feet when you walk,” Nicole muttered.
“But then we couldn’t scare you.” Katina eased next to her. “What’s in that vial?”
Nicole followed Katina’s gaze. “The green one? That’s Kool-Aid. Lime, I think.”
“Why?”
“You’ll have to ask Dr. Frankenstein.”
Katina laughed, a deep, melodic sound that was as beautiful as she herself was. “I dare you to call Grant that to his face.”
“I already did.” She sighed.
“What did he do?”
Nicole rolled up the sleeves of the black-and-blue flannel shirt she’d picked out of the bag of clothes Katina had brought her last night. She figured she might as well color coordinate with the bruise on her face. At least the swelling had gone down.
She was truly grateful for the clothes, though. Even the ones that didn’t fit so well. Like the two-sizes-too-big flannel shirt. Okay, so maybe the yellow granny underwear wasn’t the most awesome thing ever, but the jeans she’d selected were perfect. She even liked the worn hole in the butt. The hole was the only way the yellow granny panties would ever look sexy.
“He called me Dinner à la O-Positive.”
Katina laughed again. “Pretty cool how he can determine your blood type by smell, huh? Most of us can’t do that.”
“Cool is not the word I’d use,” Nicole said as she pulled a tray of vials close, “but we’ll go with it.”
Katina flipped her thick black braid over her shoulder. The vampire had fabulous hair. “Did you know each type tastes different?”
“No, I didn’t.” Nicole squeezed a dropper full of liquid from one of the vials onto a microscope slide.
“It’s true. You Os are lame. Too metallic-tasting. My favorite is B-positive. There’s a spicy aftertaste I love.” She frowned. “It’s so rare, though.”
“You need to be eating Asian people.” Nicole checked on Grant’s whereabouts—far across the room, thank God. “Asians have the highest percentage of B-positive blood.”
“Really?”
Nicole’s stomach turned when she realized she had just offered up an entire ethnic group of people on a platter. She might as well draw up a menu for all the blood types and people who shared them and distribute the menus to vampires who wanted to know how to find their favorite flavors.
“Um . . . can you pretend I didn’t say that?”
“Nope. I’m so taking a trip to Chinatown tomorrow.” Katina playfully slugged Nicole in the shoulder, and it was all Nicole could do to keep from rubbing her arm and crying like a baby. “You know, I’m glad we didn’t eat you that first day. I think I’ll ask Hunter if we can keep you.”
Keep her. Like a stray dog or a captured wild bird . . . or a vampire slave. With every passing hour, Nicole became more and more ashamed of her race.
“How do you know so much about blood, anyway?” Katina asked.
“My specialty is vampire physiology,” she said, happy to talk about something she actually enjoyed. “To know how vampires work, I need to know how humans work. Vampires are dependent on humans to live, which means I need to know everything I can about blood and how it affects vampires. Blood type can play a huge role in everything from the vampire origins to how vampires breed, mature, get diseases . . . The possibilities are endless, especially when we apply what we’ve learned about vampires to human medicine. It’s fascinating. I even discovered a way to use the vampire rac1b2 protein to cure ovarian cancer in humans.”
Silence.
Nicole took a deep breath. “Aaaand . . . I’ve just reminded you of why I’m here and why you hate me, haven’t I?”
“Yup.”
Katina stepped back, folded her arms over her breasts, and scowled. The knives sheathed all over her curvy body suddenly looked bigger. The other female by the door, Zara, ran her tongue over her fangs.
It occurred to Nicole that female vampires were scarier than males.
Bending her head, Nicole peered into the microscope. What she saw sent a thrill of excitement through her. “Grant? The cell expanded.” She tweaked the magnification and grinned. “It’s three times its normal size! We did it. I think we might have found the cause of bloodlust. I mean, we need more tests, but you were right about that enzyme. Grant?”
She turned, and her heart nearly stopped. Grant was hunched over, gripping a table so hard that cracks were starting to work their way out from his palm. Reddish glints lit up his eyes as they flitted between her and Katina and the other female.
“Nicole,” Katina murmured, “come here. Walk slowly.” The female snapped her fingers at Grant, drawing his attention. “Take one of us, Grant. Nicole is human.”
Shit. This was the moon fever in action. Nicole slid a fat folder off the desk and inched toward Katina. “Shouldn’t he have planned for this?”
“He did,” Katina said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Zara is his usual partner. But sometimes he gets confused. It happens to us all every once in a while. Just happens to him more. Probably on account of him being not right in the head.”
There was a blur of white streaking through the lab, and then Zara was on her back on a table. Grant’s body covered her, his fists tangled in her chestnut hair, his teeth deep in her throat.
Nicole had seen vampires feed before, but in controlled settings, like labs. Once, in Paris, she’d been at a full-moon soiree thrown by some of the wealthiest people in France, and the entertainment had included a chained male vampire feeding from a chained female vampire. The raw violence and sex set against the backdrop of the luxurious decor and the elegantly dressed crowd had been shocking. Nicole hadn’t been able to tear her eyes away. Much like now.
“Whew,” Katina breathed. “I really did not want to be fed on tonight. And I definitely didn’t want to sleep with him. Mad scientists aren’t my thing.”
Nicole’s voice was as unsteady as her legs. “So you don’t have a regular partner?”
Katina tugged Nicole toward the door, forcing her to look away from Grant, who had started to claw at Zara’s jeans. “There are almost twice as many females as males here, so a lot of us don’t have regular partners.”
“What happens on the new moon?” Clutching the file against her chest, Nicole glanced back at the couple, who were frantically tearing at their clothes, their bodies writhing against each other. “I’d think that would cause trouble.”
“It does. Some males feed two females, but most of us have to take turns and go a month
between feedings. Makes for a lot of grumpy females one day a month.” She nudged Nicole with her elbow as they walked through the cavern of halls. “Talk about your PMS. We call it VMS.”
“VMS?”
Katina waggled her brow. “Vampire mean streak.”
Well, that sounded less than pleasant. Most likely for everyone around the VMS vampire.
The halls were mostly empty, but a few females appeared here and there, until they reached Nicole’s room, where a new female guard had been stationed. Katina took her place on the opposite side of the doorway, and Nicole entered her quarters.
Someone had been here while she was in the lab. More neatly folded clothes had been left on the couch, and piles of food and bottles of water covered the plain but sturdy coffee table. It had to be Riker’s work.
He might have kicked her out of his place, but he’d remembered to send her the things she needed. Despite the disaster that was last night and his disappearance today, the clothes and food made her smile as she sank onto the couch and opened the file she’d swiped from the lab.
She nibbled on broccoli spears and ranch dip as she thumbed through the pages of Grant’s notes on the cases of bloodlust he’d seen and the methods he’d used to treat them. The results were discouraging: fully 70 percent of the vampires he’d tended to had succumbed to either the disease or the treatment. Now, with her new knowledge of the VR-2 enzyme’s role in bloodlust, she could see why the treatments that failed did so. What she didn’t understand was why some of Grant’s methods had worked at all.
There were too many variables and too many unknowns. Nothing that linked the survivors stood out.
She flipped through more pages, stopping when one particular name caught her eye.
Riker.
Grant’s notes were scribbled on the page in his loopy, thick script as he described Riker being brought into his lab by four warriors, his limbs bound, his mouth gagged.
It was the day Terese had died.
The warriors who’d brought him in had outlined what had happened at the mansion, that at some point during the battle on the grounds, Riker had become uncontrollable, a killing machine who wouldn’t listen to reason. They’d had to subdue him in order to escape the VAST team that had swarmed the property.
Bound by Night (The Moonbound Clan Vampires) Page 14
