Hunger Untamed H3

by Dee Carney

  The scent of him, wild and masculine, mingled with the fragrant cinnamon smell coming from her, and she wanted to lap at his skin. Tasting him with her tongue until she’d memorized the uniqueness of Victor. The sound of his heartbeat, the way her mouth watered, the smell of their sex...all of it conspired to send her to a euphoria steeped in pleasure.

  His mouth moved over her lips, nibbled on the skin of her neck before he dipped his head down and found the tip of her breast. Her nipple beaded at the attention, sensation zipping between her legs. Her mind fractured under the assault of being loved thoroughly by this man’s intense efforts.

  The hunger burned higher and brighter, drowning her thoughts. “Victor... Victor.”

  “That’s it, do it for me,” he whispered hurriedly. The strain in his voice signaled his nearness, his desire to wait for her to tip over an abyss. “Let go.”

  He put his hands on her hips and tilted them up, opening her wider for him. The new position put her clit beneath his pelvis, and every thrust brushed against the oversensitive bundle of nerves. Lucy rolled her hips too and within moments, she had to slam her eyes shut as it became too much, too much for her to process and bear.

  Just when she thought she would shatter beneath the pleasure, she opened her eyes and found Victor’s brown eyes—gone midnight black—staring down at her. Her gaze skimmed over to the ropes of vasculature streaking down his neck and her vision narrowed to the plumpest vein. She teetered on an edge, but the hunger demanded more.

  Lucy reached up, grasped his head and brought his neck closer. He cried out the moment her mouth opened over his skin and she punctured it with her teeth. The taste of his savory blood poured out of the wound, and the first taste rocketed her into bliss. Beneath her grip, Victor shuddered as he met his own race to completion. Every spurt caused him to make a low groaning sound, one that wrapped around her heart and fill her with satisfaction. Her body accepted it greedily, her pussy clenching around his cock.

  This was nirvana. This was perfection.

  The more she drank from him, the more her appetite for him grew. She gulped down his offering, drunk on the high it gave her. While she would have continued to take from him, Victor gently eased his neck away. “That’s enough. Lick it over so it’ll seal.”

  She blinked at his instruction but did as requested. It wasn’t until she looked at the ravaged area, and felt Victor slowly withdraw his semi-hard cock, that the last several minutes came rushing back to her. The craving for his sex, the unnatural hunger and the supernatural thirst she’d sated.

  Her hands shot out and she shoved him away as revulsion crawled over her skin. “Oh my God...am I...am I a vampire?” Not waiting for an answer, at last she looked around and saw the familiar little room they’d spent so many intimate moments together over the course of the past week. Memories from the last time she’d seen Victor flooded back in, and she gasped, remembering the final seconds when she’d been at death’s door. The taste of blood lingered on her tongue, and she hated that she still wanted more. Hated. “You tricked me,” she cried. “You used my death as an excuse to turn me into a vampire. After everything you know about me, everything I’ve been through, you’ve turned me into one of you!”

  Victor’s eyes widened. “You were dying. I held you in my arms and felt the life slipping away from you. How could you expect me to let you go like that?”

  Lucy crawled from the bed, left the place where she’d been warm and content and in his arms. On legs made of rubber, she made it to the middle of the room and tried to wrestle with what all this meant. “I’m changing...” she whispered. “Changed.”

  “Lucy, I care for you. A lot. I did this with the very best of intentions. And I wouldn’t have done it without your permission. Do you remember that? Do you remember giving it to me?”

  Now wasn’t the time for sudden declarations of his feelings. Not now. Not after he’d done this to her. If she’d given permission like he’d said, the details were fuzzy. She grasped at memories, but they remained annoyingly out of reach.

  She had a sudden realization. “What about the spice in my system? Does this mean I’m going to have to live with the consequences of my exposure for the rest of my life?” However long that might be.

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know?” Her already unstable legs might not support her anymore. Lucy reached for the closest chair, sliding it closer when she didn’t trust herself to get there instead. She all but collapsed into the seat.

  “Vampire physiology should heal you from all ailments. Remember that bite on your neck? The lacerations in your side? They’re all gone now.”

  For the first time, she took inventory and besides the lingering sexual satisfaction, she had to admit to feeling better. Perfect, in fact. He’d done a horrible thing to her, but Victor had given her something she’d never thought she’d have again. Her health. She could breathe again. One day would stop breathing altogether, the oxygen no longer needed by her transformed body. The miracle she’d been seeking.

  “I—I don’t know what to think. How to feel.” She had a second chance at living a normal—well, semi-normal—life.

  “I can’t tell you what to think or what to feel, but if I had the chance to do it a second time, I would. I know you want me to be sorry that I saved you, but I can’t be. Not when it means I get to spend another minute, another hour or another day with you.”

  Oh, God. What was she supposed to do with that kind of sentiment from him? Especially when similar feelings muddied her thinking.

  Her teeth pulsed. The same teeth she’d used to drink from him in the way so many others had used her in the past. She’d just become the same creature who’d used her, only to toss her aside when she was no longer convenient entertainment.

  She could now avenge Cindy. Time no longer a precious commodity running out on her.

  More time with Victor.

  A vampire.

  Minutes passed as she sat in silence, the indecision and consequence of her new iteration swirling through her mind. Finally, she sat back and opened her eyes. Although her heart clenched at her final judgment, she found Victor’s turbulent gaze and held it. “I’m sorry, but I would have never agreed to this under any circumstance. None. What you did was completely selfish.” She held up a hand when he moved to interrupt her. “I don’t remember what happened, how we ended up here, but I know that I don’t think I can forgive you for doing this to me. I think we should finish our business...and after that, just go our separate ways.”

  Victor sat on the edge of the bed and listened to his world crumble around him.

  Had he somehow seen something he’d wanted to see when she’d blinked at him, giving him permission to turn her? They’d been running out of time and the sands of her life were spilling faster than he could have ever thought possible, but he’d been so sure of his decision. Sure she’d awaken during transition and if not grateful, be at least accepting of this next phase of her life. He’d done it because he was falling in love with her.

  Which made her right. He’d done this for himself. Not for her.

  A woman who despised vampires turned into one.

  How did he now tell her that not only had he made a colossal mistake in turning her, but now she got to look forward to a lifetime on the run, where other vampires might be out to kill them both because he’d made an emotional decision instead of a smart one? Fuck. How did he fix this? He’d been terrified that she wouldn’t survive the transition, that she’d end up still broken, like him. Maybe not surviving would have been better in the end.

  “Wait here, but if you need anything, just yell. I’ll hear you,” he said to her, the words heavy. His gaze slid over her naked form, his abdomen pulling hard as the woman he desired shot him a look of pure disdain.

  It took him less than a minute to slip on a pair of sweats and then grab his phone. He left her alone with her thoughts while he went outside to make a call to the only person who might be able to o
ffer a minute amount of advice.

  The call rang twice before going to voice mail. Yeah, like he believed that.

  He stabbed the send icon again. Voice mail.

  A third attempt.

  “Fuck—what do you want?”

  “Cicero,” he said, struggling to keep his voice even, “I want to ask you something.”

  Silence greeted him from the other end at first. “People in hell want ice water. Since you’re gonna keep blowing up my phone, might as well get this over with so I can get some peace.” He sighed. “Go on, but know there’ll be a price to pay sooner or later.”

  He’d figured as much. “I need to know how much you know about the Council’s edicts.”

  “What? Hell, vampire, my job is to protect them, not concern myself with their politics.”

  “Yeah, but surely you’ve been able to listen to some of the stuff they talk about. What kinds of things they let slide and what they go after with an iron fist. I mean, they won’t go after every jaywalker, but they might go after the murderers, you know?”

  “No. I have no fucking clue what you’re talking about.”

  Victor gripped the phone tighter, tempted to crush it in his fist. He couldn’t say for sure why he’d reached out to Cicero, other than knowing he needed an in on the way the Council worked. He’d never been good at subtlety though. How to come out and ask for help with evading Council notice eluded him.

  “I’m just saying, sometimes they might let things slide because they’ve got bigger and better things to worry about.”

  “I don’t know, man, what is this about? Maybe, I think... Yeah, there was this one thing I know about, but only because it involved an executioner, which is maybe one step away from being a guard. A guy who turned someone.”

  Victor perked and worked to keep any excitement out of his voice. “Yeah? What happened?”

  “I don’t know. Gerulaitis, like the tennis player. He turned a woman, ended up marrying her. Thought for sure the Council would have sent more executioners after them, but all you have to do is mention that name and vampires are suddenly reassigned, the matter dropped. Don’t know how he managed it, but he put the fear of God in that group.”

  “Know how I can get in touch with him?”

  “Wait, what? Whoa. What kind of shit are you getting yourself involved in, merc? Last time we talked, it was about Sage, which was scary enough. I just told you that people start disappearing when they bring up this guy, and you want to get involved with him?” A pause. “Wait a minute. You’re not thinking about going after him for a payday, are you?”

  If that would get him the information he needed, sure. “Could be. You think they’d pay up?”

  “Maybe. Like I said, it’s a touchy thing. I can let you know what I find out—”

  “Great—”

  “For a finder’s fee.”

  He expected nothing less out of Cicero. “Ten percent.”

  “Thirty.”

  “Fifteen.”

  “You know we’re both going to agree to twenty, so let’s cut this off right here. Twenty percent of whatever the Council pays you. I’ll text you when I know something. Maybe an hour.”

  “Yeah, fine,” Victor said. “You’re still a dickhead.”

  Victor disconnected the call to the sound of Cicero’s chuckle. The consequences of their conversation continued to sink in. Someone out there had defied the Council’s edict of never turning a vampire without their expressed permission first. Killing off vampires didn’t meet the same consequences because, face it, fewer predators competing for food.

  Never before in his life had he worried too much about the Council or their actions, because what he did stayed beneath their radar. He didn’t engage in politics of any kind, never before had reason to consider progeny. For Lucy, he would engage all of them. He’d done this to her and would find a way out of this mess for her sake.

  Still, for now, it pained him to face her inside that tiny house where her disappointment lay between them like a living thing. He went to the Mustang, sat on the hood and replayed in his mind those final moments. The minutes when he’d been forced to watch her life slip through his fingers. He heard himself asking—begging—her to accept the gift of vampire life and waiting for the reply. His heart had stopped working right while he anticipated her rapid blinking. Had he jumped the gun? Maybe, desperate for her response, he’d allowed himself to see something that wasn’t there?

  By now, the werewolves had written him off as any kind of ally. After wounding a number of Locke’s people, killing two at least, nothing he said or did about Sage would ever ingratiate him in their graces, so he might as well say goodbye to that, not that it mattered. At some point, he’d lost whatever loyalty he had for them and had given it all to the tiny human with the courage of a lion.

  His heart began to double-thump, a change he’d noticed from the moment Lucy had stopped breathing and the vampire blood in her system began to blossom. He didn’t know a whole hell of a lot about transition, but he knew a sire could always recognize the nearness of his charge when that telltale heartbeat began to race.

  He looked up to see her approach and was once again struck by her amazing beauty. She’d been unreachable before transition and now, in the throes of transforming into a preternatural creature, she’d left the human plane to become otherworldly. A goddess among plebeians.

  His own imperfections set him so far away from her, he shouldn’t be allowed to exist on the same planet. In making her, he’d pushed her away to a place he’d never be able to reach. His soul splintered beneath the realization.

  She hoisted herself onto the car hood beside him, but for the first time since he could remember, they didn’t touch. “Are you still going to help me?” she asked while looking into the distance.

  “Of course,” he said, studying her face. Memorizing it for the last time. “Nothing’s changed about that. We started this with one goal in mind, and I don’t stop until you tell me to.”

  Lucy turned sharply to regard him. “That will never happen.”

  He nodded. “Then I’ll still help you. Between now and then, we go back to training and coming up with a plan for getting to him.”

  “The clock’s not ticking anymore, though. I don’t have just weeks to—”

  “You do only have a few weeks, maybe only a few days to work with.” Victor glanced skyward for help in explaining this. “It’s bad. There are consequences to making a new vampire without permission and as a result, they’ll come after me. And you.”

  “Who?” Her eyes widened, the blue now flecked with white that made her eyes seem like diamonds.

  “The vampire Council.” He went on to explain their laws and how they’d eventually deal with Victor and Lucy. By the end of it, he thought she’d be fearful or even livid over the upcoming days on the run.

  “So let me get this straight,” she said in a soft voice. “You’ll kill new vampires because control, but poison a bunch of humans—also messing with your food source—and not blink an eye? What kind of fucked-up logic is that?”

  Victor’s phone chimed. His mouth parted, his brain working hard to come up with some sort of reasonable explanation for her, but he had nothing. The dark woods surrounding them blasted a chorus of crickets, as if nature decided he needed a soundtrack at the moment. Thanks for that, Mother Nature.

  He swiped the screen and read the display. His brow furrowed. The address Cicero texted him couldn’t have been more than a two-hour ride by car. They could get to the former executioner in person while staying mobile and less of a target for both vampires and werewolves. “Go grab some supplies. Food and clothes for yourself for at least two days.”

  “I thought I’d be drinking blood forevermore,” she said dryly.

  “You can, but it doesn’t have to be the only thing you consume. Besides, you’re still in transition. The entire process takes three days plus or minus some hours. Nothing exact. It could be a while yet before you stop being hu
man. In the meanwhile, you might get the munchies.”

  Lucy nodded, then hopped down from the car. She tucked her hands in the back pockets of her jeans, and he couldn’t stop himself from watching her ass as she moved away.

  His gaze raised when she stopped and turned to face him. “You know, no matter how this all turns out, I know that I’m not hurting anymore and I have you to thank for that. I don’t like how you did it, but I am grateful to you for feeling normal again. So...I guess, thank you.”

  She gave him an odd look after that, one that suggested that maybe she felt conflicted on the dissolution of their partnership. Maybe it was more wishful thinking on his part, though.

  Once he managed to remove the price on their heads, he’d try to repair what remained of their tattered relationship.

  First, remove the threat from the Council. Then remove Sage.

  Victor had some calls to make.

  Chapter Twenty

  The car ride with Victor left Lucy more confused than ever. At least listening to the GPS give directions provided an excuse for staying quiet and focus on her roiling thoughts. They’d traveled by day this time, the change in schedule leaving her disoriented and fatigued.

  Yet, for the first time in months, her breathing came easily. Nothing hurt. Nothing. She could stretch without being aware of every muscle and bone involved in the process. The brush of her clothes against her skin didn’t make her want to curl up into a ball and sob. She’d forgotten what it felt like to be normal until he’d given that gift back to her.

  But the price she’d paid for it seemed too high. Way too high. How could she condemn vampires with her last breath when she now counted as one of them? The vitriol she’d felt toward them, slowly developing over the last several years, now left her thrown. If given the chance to drink from the most exquisite, would she take it?

  She chanced a glimpse of Victor. This beautiful, imperfect man.

  He made her heart squeeze with longing. Even now, when she wanted to hate him for forcing her into a life she would have never considered before. She’d been raised around vampires, lived a luxurious life because of them and never once ever thought it glamorous or fashionable. Let authors turn them into fantastical beings worth romanticizing. Men like Sage had ultimately taught her better.