by Laken Cane
To drink. To feed.
She pushed thoughts of Strad from her mind and drove to a seedy, dark town known as the Moor. She had no idea when or why the area had developed its nickname—its proper name was Mossville. The town was a mean, thin strip of badlands on the edge of the city. If you went to the Moor, you were looking for trouble.
Tomorrow she’d go back to work looking for vampires and stressing over her house. Right now, she was looking to feed.
She parked along the street in front of the first bar she came to. If the number of vehicles was any indication, the place was overflowing with people.
The hunger grew with each step she took until by the time she reached the building, she was ravenous. Her heart beat hard and slow, sending the message feed me to her brain.
“I’ll feed you, you fucking monster,” she muttered, then shook her head to clear it. No. She was not a fucking monster.
She wasn’t.
But when she didn’t take care of that part of her, it tended to rise up and kick her ass. To take over.
Because that’s what it had learned to do to survive.
“You’re thinking of yourself as two separate people.”
“I am my monster and my monster is me.”
“Yes, Rune.”
She shook her head again—there was no room in her mind for echoes from her shrinks. Not tonight.
She shoved open the door and found herself in a dark entranceway. It was empty except for a wooden bench that held up a very large man.
He stood when she entered, raising a meaty hand. “Hold it, girl.”
“Hold what, dude? Your fucking hand?”
He laughed, but it was a mean laugh. “You don’t belong here. Get your ass back out the door before you—”
She had him by the throat before he even realized she’d moved. “Don’t fuck with me, baby.”
“Fuck,” he squeaked. “Yeah, yeah.”
Her fingers tightened for just an instant then she let him drop when she realized how badly she wanted to fuck him up. The monster made her a mean son of a bitch.
She walked past him and into the crowded room. Sweaty bodies and desperation made her even hungrier. The humans in the room were all so weak, so needy.
But she wanted someone special.
No, Rune. No.
“Fuck me,” she whispered.
So maybe she’d left the clinic a little too soon, but she could handle herself. She wasn’t going to pick up the wrong guy. She was better than that. Stronger than that.
Her phone rang and she fished it out of her pocket. It was Ellis, and she didn’t want to answer while inside the bar. He’d freak.
She hit mute, put it back in her pocket, and let it go to voicemail.
The music was deafening. Hazy red lighting colored the sea of blank faces with their black spark-less eyes, and made her think of blood. Everything was making her think of blood.
He wasn’t here, the man she would drink from.
No one in that room was strong enough to take her.
Fuck you, Berserker.
She turned to leave and a man started toward her from the long bar. She held up a hand to halt him and after a tiny hesitation, he thought better of approaching her. Smart guy.
After the heat and noise of the bar the cold quiet assaulted her when she stepped outside the door. She remained aware of her surroundings but her mind was on her need.
A human had a scantily dressed woman pushed up against the side of a car, and she didn’t seem to mind. A snoring man lay across the sidewalk on his back, his dirty shirt pulled up to expose his swollen belly.
She stepped over his body and went on to the next bar.
No one waited at the entrance as she strode into the building—a place, according to the weathered sign on the front, called Toad’s and Butter’s.
Whatever.
The music was just as loud as in the last bar. People danced and drank, trying to drown out the voices of their troubles and drink themselves senseless and maybe for one small minute, to connect to someone.
“Fucking depressing,” she muttered, and circled the room, looking for her own connection.
She found him sitting alone at a small table against the wall. He wore an old cowboy hat, pulled low to shadow his eyes. His hair fell over his shoulders in an uneven line. Most likely he’d chopped it off himself when it became an annoyance.
His coat was too thin and would have done little to protect him against the cold winter. He nursed a beer, and finally, when she’d stood silent in front of him for about two minutes, he looked up.
His face would hurt her skin if she rubbed against it—he’d not had a shave for a couple of days. The look in his eyes made her almost, almost look for someone else, but she was done waiting.
He’d been through some shit. Some bad shit. He reminded her of someone and it took her all of twenty seconds to realize who.
Llodra, the mad vampire master.
Not because he was mad, this stranger, but because his eyes held no hope.
“Fuck me,” she whispered, then leaned across the table so he could hear her. “Come with me.”
“Why?” His voice was the gravely, rough voice of someone who didn’t talk a whole lot.
“Dude,” she said, smiling. “Why not?”
She’d found her dinner.
She walked from the bar, not looking behind her but feeling him there, following her. A cold, light rain had begun to fall but she didn’t care—it felt good on her overheated skin.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“Someplace dark.”
“I get the feeling you mean that in more ways than one.”
“You talk too much, cowboy.” But his observation surprised her. Dude had a sharp mind and it didn’t seem dulled by alcohol.
If she hadn’t been in such a fucking hurry she’d have driven to another town, found someone she’d never have to worry about running into again. But the Moor was as good as she could do.
Her body was aching. Her movements were slow and her thoughts were sluggish. Fucking monster.
“You got a name?” she asked, shocked that she even cared.
“Trade you.”
Fine. “You can call me Marie.” Her middle name was good enough. There wasn’t a soul in the city who wouldn’t recognize the name Rune, not now. Only a few of them didn’t recognize her face. She figured the people who lived in the Moor had more pressing things to do than watch the local news.
“You can call me…John.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “Yeah.”
His arm brushed her shoulder as they walked. He was around six feet tall, and his body was lean beneath the thin jacket.
She didn’t want to take him back to her room, didn’t want him seeing her car. She wanted nothing but to feed.
She shoved him into a dark alley and hated herself a little for her desperation. A fucking alley?
But it was all she could do.
She pushed him further in, where the streetlights barely penetrated the black of the night.
He didn’t resist. He leaned back against the side of the building and stared down at her. His eyes were dark beneath the brim of his hat but finally, she saw a spark of curiosity in his gaze.
The rain misted her skin, leaving a cold coat of moisture. She smiled. Her stomach muscles tightened in anticipation and she could control herself no longer.
Her fangs dropped and she had a second to see his eyes go wide before she struck.
But she found only air where a moment before the cowboy had stood—and because of her slowed reflexes could only stare in shock as the fucking berserker flung the man into the street.
“Get the fuck out of here,” Strad ordered, his voice growly and full of doom.
The stranger, after a lingering look at the shocked Rune, inclined his head and walked away. Smiling.
Freak.
“Fuck you,” she screamed at Strad, when she could speak. She would have hurt him
then, if he hadn’t simply scooped her up and with a big hand at the back of her head, shoved her mouth against his throat.
“Do it,” he said.
His scent, his warm skin, his deep voice…she could not resist. Didn’t, at that moment, care if he had three fucking wives. She had to have his blood.
He groaned as she parted her lips against his neck—his groan would have been the same if he’d been fucking her, she was sure—it was sexual and full of a deep, hard desire, and that sound pushed her over the edge.
She took what he offered. She could do nothing else.
He smelled incredible, warm and spicy and male. She punctured that deliciousness with her little fangs and clenched her fingers into his shoulders as his hot, sweet blood filled her mouth.
So good, so good…
As she sucked she felt every inch of his hard body, heard every breath he took. Her senses heightened with each swallow. She was aware when his hands became caressing.
“Rune,” he murmured, his voice raspy.
As though he’d needed her exactly as much as she’d needed him.
He slid his hands down her sides and gripped her ass, squeezing. They’d never had sex, nothing beyond a kiss, but feeding was just as intimate, just as raw.
And she wanted him.
She wanted—craved—the fucking berserker.
His blood filled her, satisfied her, made her more than she could ever be without it. As she regretfully retracted her fangs she left her lips against his neck, her eyes closed, and slipped her fingers with excruciating slowness over his chest.
His blood sang through her veins, lightened her mood, made her strong. Made her invincible. Made her body wake up and want…
“More,” she said.
She slid her lips over his jaw, across his cheek, and finally, to his mouth.
He stayed as still as a stone, rigid and barely breathing.
She moved her lips against his, just slightly, then opened her mouth.
Tasting, testing…
He groaned again, into her mouth. This was not the groan of passion, but a groan of wretchedness, of regret.
He peeled her off his body and set her gently on the ground. “You’ll hate me enough for the blood, Rune. I won’t have you hating me for the other.” His voice was hoarse and raw and scraped over her nerve endings like a physical touch.
And the look in his eyes was resolute.
She could hardly hold still. She wanted to run, to fight, to play. She reached up to stroke his face, knowing he was right but too high on his blood to care. “Damn you, Berserker.”
He grinned, but his eyes were serious. “Hardest thing I ever did in my life.”
Unable to resist, she trailed her hand over his chest, his ribs, and to the front of his pants—wondering if he’d stop her, almost hoping he would.
He didn’t, but he clenched his fists and threw back his head when she squeezed his erection.
She felt the heat of him through the heavy fabric and closed her eyes for a second as she let herself imagine that hugeness inside her.
His entire body shook with the effort of holding himself still as she explored his body. Finally, she took her hand away and stepped back.
“I’m sorry,” she said, and she was. “I’m kind of a bitch.” But damn, his body. His hardness. His heat.
He’d done what he knew she’d want—in the long run—and had stood strong as she’d tempted him further.
But what was the difference, really, in feeding in a dark alley and lying naked in his arms in a soft bed? What?
She swallowed hard and stepped farther away, knowing she had to leave before she convinced herself.
Because as he’d said, she’d hate him for it.
So using the speed his blood gave her, she got the hell away from him.
Chapter Eleven
She didn’t bother getting into her car. She was too amped up. Instead she roamed the streets on foot, searching for vampires. They’d be awake and hungry but afraid and cautious, as well.
This was the second time she’d been ordered to kill Llodra. This time, she’d do it. She just had to find him.
She sucked the cold air into her lungs, reveling in the icy burn. She could barely remember the despair she’d felt earlier. Worries over madness and the depression that hit her hardest when she was hungry had fled, and all that remained was euphoria.
If she went mad, as vampires tended to do, even blood wouldn’t restore that elation—the despair would be constant and all-encompassing.
She ran through the night, her senses on high alert, listening, looking, and hoping for vampires. She searched Club Kiss, a favorite nightspot of Llodra’s, and every abandoned house she passed.
There was no sign of the River County vampires. Llodra had gathered those who remained into a tight little knot of undead and had disappeared.
And he still had Blood and Fire. She wanted them, wanted them even more than she wanted Llodra’s head. Not for herself but to free them. Their captivity was just…wrong. Horribly wrong.
The rain began to come down with a little more force, plastering her hair to her head and jabbing her face with freezing needles. Even for a badass half Other who had just fed, it was uncomfortable.
She’d ended up back in Spiritgrove without even realizing it. The speed from feeding had slowed but not enough to make her want to get a cab back to the Moor. As she retraced her steps she continued to watch for the vampires, but they were well and truly hidden.
But she did see Ellis.
A popular gay bar spat him out onto the sidewalk not twenty feet in front of her, and he wasn’t alone.
Before she could yell his name the guy with Ellis shoved him up against the side of an old car and hit him in the face.
Rune dropped her fangs and shot her claws through the tips of her fingers—a fucking painful thing to do—and started toward them. Her rage made her forget the rain and the vampires. Her lizard brain took over. She would kill the asshole who—
But then a man jumped out of a truck parked across the street from the bar and sprinted toward them.
Levi?
He didn’t bother to slam the door shut behind him, just raced toward Ellis and did what Rune had been eager to do—he began to beat the fuck out of the stranger.
She couldn’t help but wonder why he’d been watching Ellis in the first place. If Ellis had been in danger and was keeping it from her, there was going to be trouble. But why else would Levi have been shadowing him?
Rune stood still, allowing her claws and fangs to retract. Ellis didn’t need her help—Levi was taking care of business.
Ellis leaned over and tugged at the arm of his rescuer, and Rune slid silently off the sidewalk to watch. The men were spotlighted by the tall streetlight, and the few pedestrians out that late gave them wide berth.
The rain had slowed, finally, and the pavement gleamed with a glossy wet shine. If it’d been a few degrees colder, the wet streets would have iced over.
At last Levi allowed Ellis to pull him from the downed man. The dude lay like a slug, and Rune didn’t know if he was unconscious or playing dead. She grinned when Ellis pulled back a booted foot and kicked the guy on the shoulder.
But her smile disappeared when instead of giving each other high fives, Levi and Ellis faced each other silently. Levi’s spine was ramrod straight and even with only streetlights to chase back the shadows, Rune could see his glare.
He clenched his fists, reminding her of Strad, but she pushed that man from her mind as quickly as he’d appeared. She did not want to think about the berserker.
What the fuck is going on here?
Ellis crossed his arms, angry, and turned his back on Levi.
Come on, Ellie. He saved your ass. Don’t be like that.
She could almost see Levi sigh. He said something and walked away, heading to his truck. But when Ellis didn’t follow, Levi went back and took his arm. He wasn’t going to let Ellis stay there alone.
&
nbsp; Ellis shook off Levi’s hand, his voice not loud, but loud enough for her to hear.
“Just leave me alone, Levi.”
“You’re being a little stupid, Ellis. I’m not leaving you here to be picked up by some other fuck.”
“I’ll do what I want.”
“What you want is to pick up strangers and get your ass kicked? Rune rubbing off on you?”
Hey now. That stung a tad.
Ellis pushed Levi, hard, and Levi stumbled back a couple of steps. “You don’t know anything.”
Levi held up his hands. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. But fuck, man. Just…come on. I’m not leaving you here.”
“I’m not your concern.” Ellis wrapped his arms around his shivering body and Rune saw that he was dressed much too lightly for the cold night. That boy needed a keeper.
She had a feeling those two wouldn’t appreciate her spying—and it was finally occurring to her what was going on.
“You’ll always be my concern.”
Oh fuck. How could she not have known?
Levi was the man Ellie had fallen in love with.
Levi was the one who couldn’t return Ellie’s love.
She closed her eyes for a second, aching for her best friend. How terribly painful to love someone who could never be what you needed them to be.
It was time for her to show herself. She stepped out from the shadows and strode toward them, thinking only to wrap her arms around Ellis and somehow comfort him.
But again, Levi did exactly what she’d intended to do.
He wrapped his arms around the smaller man and pulled his resisting body against his chest. “God, Ellie,” he murmured.
Once again Rune stopped dead in her tracks.
Ellis began to cry and finally, he let Levi lead him to his truck.
After he put Ellis inside, Levi walked to the driver’s side. But before he climbed inside he looked over his shoulder, directly at Rune.
He’d been aware of her all along, exactly as a Shiv Crew member should have been.
They stared across the street at each other for a long, silent moment. At last, Levi sent her one curt nod, climbed into his truck, and drove Ellis the fuck out of there.
