An Unwanted Hunger

by Ciana Stone

  Was that just another of Bram’s lies? Tears threatened, making her squint her eyes tightly to fight them back. How could he have ordered her death? He, who claimed to love her like a daughter? What kind of sick, twisted love was that?

  Or was it love at all? Had it ever been? Perhaps she’d never been anything more than a weapon for him to hurl at his enemies. As expendable as any of the many blades and arrows the Alliance had manufactured for their hunters.

  Apparently her instincts about Pandora were right. She had spoken the truth. Nothing was what it seemed. And that meant that everything she’d ever believed in or held to be true was a lie.

  She pushed back the pain that sought to overwhelm her. She would not grieve for Bram, for any of them. The Alliance was little more than a lot of liars, an organization founded on greed and deception. They might try to hide the truth but she’d discover it despite their efforts. She didn’t want or need them. She could make it on her own

  And suddenly the enormity of it hit her. Without Bram and the Alliance, she was completely alone. They’d clean out her house, her bank accounts. Probably even erase her identity. Make it impossible for her to survive. That way she’d be easier to dispose of.

  There was no way to stop them. She’d have to find a way to survive. To stay one step ahead of them.

  But right now she needed to discover where she was. She sat up and saw him. Sitting in a chair by the window, writing in a small journal, occasionally dipping his old-fashioned quill pen into an inkwell that sat on the window ledge. Shafts of moonlight from the window slanted across his face, giving sharp contrast to the lines and angles, the strong patrician nose and chiseled jaw.

  Had he any idea how utterly beautiful he was? Even from across the room, his magnetism pulled her, flooded her with longing.

  “Where am I?” she asked, wrapping the sheet around her as she stood.

  “My home,” he answered simply, closing the book and laying aside the pen. He rose to walk to her, placing the book on the chair he vacated. “You should rest,” he said, placing his hands on her upper arms.

  “I’m fine,” she replied, the heat from his touch making her body flush. “How long was I unconscious?”

  “Three days.”

  Three days? His answer stunned her. “That’s impossible!” Her eyes moved to her forearm and saw a bandage covering it just below the crease of the elbow. “You found the tracking device the Alliance implanted.”

  “Yes, it was removed before you were brought here.”

  “I hope whatever place you used to have it done was abandoned, because the Alliance will be all over it like white on rice.”

  “I assure you I did not place any of my people in harm’s way.”

  She nodded and looked around. “Nice place. You live here alone?”

  “Hardly.”

  “Then I better go.” She looked around for her clothing. “Where’re my clothes?”

  “It would be wise if you waited until you’ve fully recovered. You’ll be happy to know that you were correct in your statement, Resa. Apparently you are far more like me than anyone imagined.”

  “Meaning what?” she asked, letting him guide her back to the bed.

  He pushed her down gently on the bed and sat beside her. “Your mother may have been human, but you are far more like your father than your mother. Remarkably so. My physicians and scientists find it quite…intriguing.”

  “Your physicians and scientists?” She slung her legs off the bed and stood to face him, clutching the sheet to her chest. “What, you had me…studied while I was unconscious?”

  “Had I not, you would have died.”

  “I’ve been wounded before.”

  “But not with an iridium-tainted weapon.”

  She blew out her breath in frustration and sat back down. “Okay, sorry. So what’s the deal with doctors and scientists? Why does a Vampyre need people like that?”

  “I am not a Vampyre.”

  “Yes you are.”

  “No, I am most definitely not. That is a heinous word invented by humans to try to label something they do not understand.”

  Resa’s eyes narrowed fractionally at the ire in his voice. “And it pisses you off.”

  Constantine’s frown vanished and a chuckle escaped his lips. “In a manner of speaking.”

  “Well, I’m sorry. But if you’re not a Vampyre then what are you?”

  “I am Constantine Belenus of the D’Harahn, Heir Apparent to the Throne of Shadallah, and the crown prince of V’Kar.”

  “Say what?”

  “I am Constantine Bel—”

  “Yeah, I heard you, but what the heck is the Dah—Dah…”

  “D’Harahn.”

  “Yeah, the dah-ha-rahn, and what’s the throne of Sha-dall-ah and…crown prince of…”

  “V’Kar.”

  “Right. Vah-car.”

  “It is a rather lengthy tale.”

  Resa scooted back, propping pillows against the thick, carved headboard so that she could recline in comfort. “Well, since I don’t have a job—or probably a home or bank account or car or, shit, maybe even an identity anymore—I guess I have plenty of time.”

  The corner of Constantine’s mouth moved up in a humorous smirk. “For someone who has just been robbed of all they knew, you are remarkably calm.”

  “It is what it is,” she said, refusing to give in to the panic that lurked in the dark recesses of her mind. “So, you were saying?”

  Constantine made himself comfortable, lying on his side, propped on one arm. “It is difficult to know where to begin.”

  “How about what exactly the D’Harahn are and where you’re from?”

  Constantine told her of the star system of V’Kar and the catastrophe that had befallen it. He spoke of the three surviving worlds and their people and how his people had come to be known as the Pureblood or D’Harahn. He told her of the sickness that threatened to wipe out the entire population of the star system, a sickness caused by residual radiation from the cosmic cataclysm.

  He omitted telling her of the Vox Narr, saying only that the scientists had discovered a cure for the radiation sickness and that the cure had wrought unexpected benefits.

  The D’Harahn were gifted with the powers of telepathy including varying degrees of mind control and telekinetic abilities. Along with that came the ability to physically transform or shape-shift.

  The Valians also developed the ability to shape-shift and their telepathic abilities were strong, as strong as that of the D’Harahn. They did not possess telekinetic powers but were capable of moving at incredible speed.

  Telepathic abilities were greatly enhanced in the Nurians. Their powers of mind control far exceeded those of the other races of V’Kar, as did their telekinetic abilities. They could not shape-shift but could move at incredible speeds.

  No one had ever been able to determine why the abilities were not equal. Perhaps it had to do with the environment in which the three races lived, or the genetic mutation caused by the sickness.

  When, hours later, he paused, she stared at him in amazement and disbelief.

  “This is…a little unbelievable, to be honest. If you really are some…alien, then why are you here? Seems to me you’d still be on Shadallah if you’re a crown prince. Why would you or any of the V’Kar be here on Earth?”

  Constantine smiled and opened his mouth to answer but a knock sounded at the door. He turned to look in that direction. “Enter.”

  A handsome, dark-haired man stepped into the room. “Your attention is required, Your Majesty.”

  Constantine nodded. “I will join you momentarily.”

  The man bowed his head respectfully and left, but not before casting a curious glance in Resa’s direction.

  “Your Majesty?” she asked with a bit of derision.

  “A title of respect,” he said in a somewhat harsh tone that had her sitting up a bit straighter. “Do not doubt what I have revealed to you to be the truth, Resa. I
am of royal blood and command the respect and allegiance of many. And with my position comes responsibility that you do not, as yet, understand. But in time you will. That I promise you.

  “However,” he added as he stood and bent over with his hands propped on the bed. “For now, you will remain here and rest. Upon my return we will speak more of the truth you seek.”

  “You mean I’m a prisoner?” she asked, not liking the idea in the least.

  “A guest,” he corrected. “Albeit a rather unwelcome one at the moment. Do not suppose for an instant that you are not known to my people, or have not earned great animosity. Even a crown prince finds it a challenge to change such ingrained hatred.”

  Resa hadn’t considered what a precarious position she was in. How could she not have realized that she was as much in enemy territory here as he would be in an Alliance stronghold?

  “Is your rule sure enough that you can guarantee my safety? If not, then give me my weapons so I can at least defend myself if the need arises.”

  He smiled and leaned down lower to graze her lips with his. “You have my word, Resa Vânător. No harm will come to you as long as you are in my domain.”

  The soft kiss was enough to ignite a fire inside her. She reached up to take his face in her hands, initiating a kiss that was not gentle or shy. She heard a groan in his throat a moment before one hand moved to the back of her head, fisting in her hair to pull her head back. She may have initiated the kiss, but he quickly became the dominant, plundering her mouth then moving down her neck, leaving a trail of fire in the wake of his lips and tongue.

  When he reached the crook of her neck, he paused, nipping lightly at the skin. “You tempt me so,” he whispered against her skin.

  “Not tempt,” she whispered in return, wanting more. “Invite.”

  He pulled back, releasing her. “Then rest well, my huntress, for when I return your invitation will be accepted.”

  She smiled and lay back. “Are you saying I’ll need my energy, Vamp—sorry, Prince Constantine Belenus?”

  “Indeed,” he said with a smile sexy enough to fans the flames of desire higher.

  “Then hurry back,” she urged.

  He gave her another smile, and passed his hand from her forehead, over her eyes. “Sleep, my huntress.”

  Resa fought the sudden lassitude that claimed her, making her eyelids heavy, too heavy to keep open. With a sigh of surrender she gave in to the pull and slept.

  Chapter Five

  Everyone stood when Constantine entered the room. Twenty-seven heads bowed in respect as he strode through the room to take his place at the head of the massive conference table.

  Once he was seated, his consul, Madron, addressed him. “Your Majesty, there are matters of grave importance that require your attention. We have received word that Leonidas’ encampment in Madagascar was attacked by the Alliance. Thirty were killed and a dozen taken prisoner.”

  Constantine’s eyes narrowed at the news. Leonidas, the exiled Heir and firstborn son of the Praetor of Nuria, the desert world of V’Kar, was not an ally to the D’Harahn. But the idea of the Alliance killing any of the V’Kar on this planet filled Constantine with a cold anger.

  “Why take them prisoner?”

  Madron looked to a man across the table. Dark of hair but older than most of the assembly, Azarth was the leading scientific authority of the D’Harahn. He’d volunteered to go into exile on Earth when the Emperor decreed that his firstborn son would suffer exile as a demonstration of the Emperor’s determination to end the war between the worlds of V’Kar and discover a solution to the plague that threatened their entire star system.

  A select few knew that imperial edict had far more to do with the Emperor’s fear than making peace. He and his contemporaries, the leaders of the other two worlds, had held power for a long time. It was well known that the people favored their Heirs, looked upon them as new hope for peace and finding a solution to the problems that threatened the lives of all their people. Perhaps they could succeed where their fathers had failed.

  But the Emperor would not allow his power to be usurped, not even by the Crown Prince. Sending the Heirs of the three worlds into exile was a means of protecting himself, while outwardly appearing to the people as a sacrifice. He was so eager to end the war between the worlds that he would remove those who promoted it, even if it meant sending his beloved son into exile.

  “It has long been known that the Alliance seeks a means of accessing the abilities the races of V’Kar possess. They have recently recruited new minds to their cause, men and women who profess to be able to unravel the genetic code and replicate it in humans.”

  “And your stance on such claims?” Constantine asked.

  “They will fail.”

  Constantine considered the news for a moment. “Leonidas’ reaction to the attack?”

  Madron referred to another man farther down the table. Gaius, general of Constantine’s security force on Earth. “According to latest intelligence, his people are poised to move on a stronghold of the Alliance within days. A remote but strategically important fortification in the Bavarian Alps.”

  Constantine nodded. “And what of the priest? Any word from him?”

  Madron nodded. “A communiqué was received this morning, disavowing any knowledge of the impending attack and offering assistance to the Nurians in terms of resources, not manpower.”

  “Ever the peace seeker,” Constantine commented and earned more than one chuckle from the assembly. Octavian Vazanti, successor to the throne of Ishban Shamurz Burahn, the Monarch of Valia, was not a warrior the likes of Leonidas. His people favored battles fought with subterfuge and intrigue, but they were every bit as deadly as the Nurians.

  As High Priest and sole male member of the Order of the Sisterhood, the Sybelle De’Fane V’Kar, Octavian wielded much power and posed a considerable threat to all of the D’Harahn. While Constantine’s people and the Nurians might make scornful comments on the virility and battle skills of the Valians, all secretly feared the stealthy Valians and their leader here on earth, Octavian Vazanti.

  “Finally…” Madron turned Constantine from private thoughts. “There is the matter of the Dhampir.”

  More than one person held their breath as Constantine turned his eyes on Madron, the dangerous glitter making Madron blanch.

  “There is no matter to be discussed,” Constantine announced, trying to stem the sudden pang of need that lanced through him at the mention of her name. Even now, separated by numerous walls, he could feel her like a fire in his veins. “Resa Vânător is under my protection.”

  “Forgive me, Sire, but is that wise?” Madron asked. “How many of us has she killed or tried to kill? She’s one of the foremost hunters of the Alliance and to take her into our midst—”

  “She risked her life to save mine,” Constantine cut him off. “Killed her own to save me. Do you suggest that I should reward such an act of courage and sacrifice with deception or death? Do you dare suggest that I dishonor one who has sacrificed all that I might live?”

  Madron looked away, seeking support from the others at the table. But no voice was raised. Constantine looked around at the assembly. “Resa Vânător is, as you have stated, one of the most skilled of the hunters of the Alliance. And having been trained by Bram himself possesses much knowledge of our enemy. Turning her, gaining her loyalty would be of enormous benefit to us in defeating this age-old enemy.”

  Azarth spoke up. “I must add a word here. According to the genetic tests I’ve conducted, Resa Vânător is also unique among the Dhampir. Her genetic code not only proves that she carries the blood of the D’Harahn, but she carries a Vox Narr within her.”

  “How is that possible?” Madron asked.

  “A question I am waiting to hear answered,” Constantine added.

  “I have no answer,” Azarth replied. “What human code she possesses is diluted and small in comparison to her V’Karian makeup. She could hold an important part o
f the puzzle we’ve been trying to piece together for a millennium. I’ve never encountered a mutant bearing the Vox Narr.”

  There was a moment of silence. Constantine knew the news would unnerve as well as intrigue everyone assembled. It was unprecedented. And something Azarth and the scientific minds beneath him were eager to study.

  “You think she holds the key to our infertility problems?” a woman across from him asked.

  “Possibly,” Azarth replied. “And that above all is paramount to the survival of all V’Kar. If there is a way to breed with humans and produce beings with dominant D’Harahn genetic codes that can host the Vox Narr, then there may be a possibility of altering that code to erase the human portions. And if we can do that, we can then create a new race of breeders and repopulate our world. Unless,” he paused and looked around, “you’d prefer that we relegate ourselves to breeding with humans and diluting what we are forever.”

  A chorus rose at the comment. No one of V’Kar wanted to lose what made them unique in the Universe. Their inability to reproduce had plagued them for longer than humans had walked their world, and they were still unable to find a remedy. If there was a chance, any chance that Resa held a key then her value to all of them was increased exponentially.

  Constantine stood, his hands on the glossy surface of the table. “Azarth speaks true. We need her. So hear me and hear me well. Any hand that is raised against her will incur my wrath. She will be treated as an honored guest.”

  Azarth gestured to get his attention and Constantine nodded in his direction. “It is vital that we know if a Dhampir can be successfully impregnated.”

  Constantine felt a chill wash over him and spoke before Azarth could say more. “Then,” he said with a sly smile, “I shall put that to the test.”

  There was laughter. Everyone assumed he would take Resa as they had all taken human females. Mesmerized them, coupled with them, taken life force from them and left them, moving on to another, caring not if a seed was planted.