Eternal Hunger rb-1

by Laura Wright

  “Hey, Jerry,” Sara said, coming down the hall and pausing outside the door of one of her new patients, Pearl McClean.

  The short, stocky male nurse looked up from his charts and smiled. “Doc.”

  “How’s she been?”

  “Real quiet night. Took her meds. No drama.”

  Something Sara always liked to hear. “Any visits?”

  “No.”

  And something she didn’t. It was another tough truth, but kids who consistently acted out at home, self-mutilated, lied to their parents and were in and out of treatment tended not to have too many visits. Mom and Dad stayed away for a while, to catch their breath and regain their sanity.

  Sara pulled back the door and walked into Pearl’s room. She saw the girl right away, lying on her bed, looking up at the ceiling, her straight, pale hair spread around her head like the rays of the sun. At first glance, she appeared peaceful, but as Sara drew near, she noticed that the girl’s body was tense.

  Sara sat down on a chair next to the bed. “Hey, Pearl.”

  The girl said nothing, kept her eyes skyward.

  “How are you feeling today?”

  No response.

  Sara glanced down at the girl’s chart, checking to see if labs were back and if there had been any communication between Pearl and the nurses during the night. Nothing on the former or the latter, but Sara did see a note regarding the impressive physical improvement of Pearl’s cuts.

  “I’d like it if we could talk for a few minutes,” Sara said, reaching out and touching the girl’s shoulder gently. “What do you think about that?”

  “Don’t. Touch. Me.” Pearl yanked her arm away, turned her head, and pinned Sara with a venomous stare.

  “No problem.” Sara said the words calmly, as though she’d said them a hundred times before. And she had. She gestured toward the girl’s legs with her chin. “I understand you’re healing nicely.”

  Pearl’s eyes lost all of their fight and she looked very sad. “How do you know that?”

  “The nurse who checked you this morning.”

  Pearl’s light brown eyes filled with tears.

  “You don’t want your cuts to heal?” Sara asked.

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  The girl shook her head, but said nothing.

  “Pearl,” Sara began, her tone gentle, calm. “Do you want to talk to me? Tell me what happened.”

  “No.”

  “I know you must be feeling scared—”

  “You don’t know shit.”

  Wow. Okay. Sara shrugged. “I know you’re angry.”

  Pearl turned away, fixed her eyes to the ceiling once again.

  Sara continued. “I just want to help you.”

  “I don’t want your help.”

  Sara sat back, tried a different tack, one based solely on the truth. “Just for the record, I know what it feels like to be alone and scared, yet have to keep up some hard-ass front so you don’t look weak.” She saw Pearl’s fists unclench. “I know how it feels to hurt—and honestly, being hurt by someone you care about is—”

  “What is it, Dr. Donohue?” Pearl interrupted, turning to look at Sara again.

  Sara shrugged, but her tone was all seriousness. “It’s wrong, and it’s not your fault.”

  Something flashed in Pearl’s eyes, but Sara didn’t stop to analyze what it was. She was getting somewhere, getting through the girl’s metal-hard exterior and she needed to stay on the path. “You didn’t cause this or ask for it,” Sara said evenly. “I know it may feel like that, but—”

  The girl’s laughter halted Sara’s attempt at a dialogue. “You’re embarrassing yourself, you know that?”

  “Really?” Sara asked. “How am I doing that?”

  Grinning, though her eyes remained cheerless, Pearl lowered her voice to a whisper. “These.” She reached down, ran her hands up her thighs in an almost blissful sweep. “These are my emancipation.”

  “Your emancipation from what?”

  “Life.”

  That was the look in her eyes, Sara realized. Pleasure. Those cuts on her legs had nothing to do with punishment or releasing pain. They were all about creating pleasure.

  “Pearl, did you cut yourself?”

  The girl’s grin widened. “Not telling.”

  “If you talk to me,” Sara assured her, “tell me who did this to you, I promise I can keep you safe.”

  “I am safe.” Pearl’s brows lifted. “But if you push me any more on this, Doctor, I’m not so sure about you.”

  Sara exhaled heavily, grabbed the file from the side table, and jotted down a few notes. Threats were a common form of mental illness in teens, even on the smallest of scales. Gaining Pearl’s trust would take time, as it did with most.

  After she left the room, Sara headed back to her office, making a quick stop at the nurse’s station to get the number of Pearl’s social worker. “Can you get Melanie Abrams on the phone for me?” she asked one of the nurses. “I don’t have her direct line at my desk.”

  “Of course, Doctor.”

  Sara barely had the time to take in the quiet solitude of her office before the call came through.

  “Ms. Abrams on three, Doctor.”

  “Thank you.” She picked up the receiver and punched in line three. “Hey, Mel, it’s Sara Donohue over at Walter Wynn. I wanted to see if you might be coming by this afternoon.”

  But the voice that came through the receiver was not female. “Sara.”

  No. It was all male: deep and sensual and so comfortingly familiar that her shoulders relaxed down into their proper place for once.

  “You left without saying good-bye, woman,” he growled.

  Sitting back in her chair, Sara couldn’t help but smile. “You were gone from the room when I woke up.”

  “Duty called,” Alexander said, his tone regretful. “I wish I had been there with you, beside you. I wish I was there with you now.”

  Me too.

  “But have no fear, there is someone watching over you.”

  Sara sat up abruptly, her shoulders back up near her ears once again. “What?”

  Alexander chuckled. “Just to make sure you’re safe in my absence.” His voice dropped. “Sara?”

  “Yes?”

  “I miss you.”

  Sara closed her eyes and inhaled. She had patients, charts, phone calls to make, but she was pretty sure that if he kept talking like that she was going to forget them all and enjoy the sound of his voice for the next ten minutes.

  “So,” she began, very consciously egging him on. “What’s your next step with this Eternal Order?”

  19

  It was close to sundown when the brothers descended the stairs that led to the tunnels beneath SoHo. They had spent the day strategizing, attempting to locate Dare’s hideout, and mapping out several sections of the city. It was a far cry from the captains-of-industry gig they’d been living for the past seventy years. Building companies and acquiring enough funds to last a hundred lifetimes, they were content, pleased even, to give up the day job and return to the battlefield once again.

  Alexander dropped to the bottom step with an exaggerated thud, and breathed in the familiar cold, dusty scent. He itched to turn right and head for his cage. He needed to feed before they went aboveground, and like it or not, he could never get cow’s blood down unless he was inside that steel piece of shit.

  He scowled. He really was like a fucking dog, wasn’t he? Addicted to his abusive metal master.

  “It’s been a long time since we’ve shed blood in the name of war,” Nicholas said, coming up beside him and dropping a hand on his shoulder, steering him away from the tunnel leading to his cage.

  “Too long,” Lucian muttered, moving around both of them to take the lead down the dark passageway.

  “I’d hoped we’d find a way to get back on the front lines,” Nicholas continued. “Just didn’t think it would be in the service of the Order.”

&nbs
p; “The only ones we serve are ourselves,” Alexander said.

  Up ahead, Lucian chuckled. “Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.”

  A rare growl erupted from Nicholas. “Listen, Luca, once we engage in this fight, Alexander is your commander and you will come to heel.”

  Lucian turned then, started walking backward, one pale eyebrow raised. “I thought this was a democracy, boys.”

  “I’m not bullshitting you, Little Brother. Disrespect will not be tolerated. And we’ll deal with you as we did the last time we went to war.”

  “What was that, then?” Lucian stopped, his brow furrowed. “First World War? With the Aboriginal trackers? Damn fine and bloody time that was.” He turned and began walking down the tunnel again, calling back, “You did wield that spear with perfect accuracy, Nicky, if my ass recalls it correctly.”

  Shaking his head, Nicholas chuckled softly, then caught site of Alexander, who remained impassive as he stalked past the guards. “Has the hunger returned, Duro?” Nicholas asked. “You look ready to spring.”

  There was hunger there, Alexander thought, taking a quick inventory of his mood, but it was not just for blood—it was a hunger for her, the woman. And a weakness perhaps, as though he didn’t feel entirely whole when she wasn’t around, when he couldn’t hear her voice . . . even across a phone line. “I’m worried about Sara,” Alexander said, his tone as tight as the fists at his side. “If something happens ...”

  “You have someone on her?” Nicholas asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Who?”

  “Dillon.”

  Nicholas uttered a grunt of surprise, his breath visible in the frosty air of the tunnels. “How did you make that happen?”

  “There was a debt I requested be paid.”

  “Isn’t Dillon working for that human senator from Maine?” Lucian called from up ahead. The vampire had impeccable hearing when he chose to. “Running his security detail?”

  “They brought in a temporary replacement,” said Alexander, picking up his pace, stalking past another set of guards and down the final passageway. He needed to get there, feel the cool metal weapons in his hands, feed his need to hunt in the only way that was available to him.

  “Here we are,” Lucian announced, placing his palm against the keypad and waiting for the identification system to read his print.

  There were two loud buzzing sounds and then the metal door slid back and the brothers walked into the ten-by-ten room. Their gazes were quick as they checked each shelf to make sure their weapons stockpile was intact. Guns, knives, swords, bayonets, ammunition—from ancient world to modern world, there was everything and anything needed to extinguish the heartbeat of either human or Impure.

  Alexander palmed an ancient Egyptian dagger, a favorite of his, and slipped it into his waistband, then grabbed two Glocks and turned to his brothers, raising an eyebrow. “Pick your poison, duros, and let’s get to work. We need to find Dare ASAP or the both of you are going to be sunlight intolerant and bugged by the Order for all eternity.”

  “Nicely put,” Nicholas said, loading himself down with ammunition.

  “And no fucking pressure at all,” Lucian muttered as he slipped a handmade tribal spear into the waistband of his jeans.

  Sara rode the elevator to the lobby, wondering what, if anything, would be waiting for her when she stepped out of the metal box. Alexander had said she was being watched, but that was only during daylight hours, right? Did that mean he might show up to take her home? Be in the lobby, holding a bouquet of flowers like guys did at the airport sometimes. Get a grip, Donohue. Jeez. Sara laughed to herself and shook her head at her juvenile thoughts. Yeah, flowers and a ride home because they were both in junior high . . . The door to the elevator opened and she and several others walked out into the lobby. First thing she saw was the red blaze of sunset streaming in through the windows and hitting the white tiles on the floor. Sun isn’t down yet, girlfriend. Even if he’d wanted to, Alexander wasn’t going to be waiting for her.

  She moved through the crowd and headed for the doors. So where was he, then? Home, chatting it up with the hot little vampire in the room next to his? And if he was, she thought, pushing through the double doors, could she blame him? Beautiful, great personality, same species, and believed they were destined for each other. Throw in the killer breasts and she was really the perfect girl.

  The blast of winter air hit her square in the face and she quickly pulled her coat closed at the neck. For one moment, she contemplated not going back to the house in SoHo, making it easy on all of them. After all, she wasn’t a drama-loving kind of girl and the thought of engaging in some sort of love triangle just screamed pathetic, desperate chick. But she couldn’t go home. It would be stupid and irresponsible, two things she was not. She could get a hotel room—but then again, what protection did that offer? She wasn’t a fool. It was either Alexander’s way or going to the police, and she’d missed the window on the latter. If she went to the cops now they’d call her a nut job and kick her vampire-loving ass out onto the street.

  She walked to the curb, ready to hail a cab, but before her hand made it into the air, a sleek black car pulled up in front of her. She moved away from it, farther down the sidewalk, but kept glancing back to check on its progress. Suddenly, the back door opened and a woman got out. She looked like a lawyer or maybe someone who worked on Wall Street. She was dressed in business clothes, and had shoulder-length auburn hair, nicely curled under at the bottom. Her face was pale and oval shaped, and when she turned her gaze on Sara, her hazel cat eyes narrowed. “Good evening, Dr. Donohue.”

  Sara had her purse open and pepper spray in her palm in under five seconds. “Do I know you?”

  “I’m assisting Alexander Roman.”

  As the woman walked toward her, Sara was grateful for the heavy street traffic. “Assisting him with what?”

  “You.”

  “You’re the one watching me?”

  She clipped a nod, then gestured toward the town car. “Please. Get in.”

  Sara laughed, but the sound held little humor. “Yeah, like that’s going to happen.”

  The woman lifted one manicured eyebrow. “You’re not going to give me trouble, are you?”

  “I might.”

  The woman’s face remained impassive, but her hazel eyes hardened.

  “Listen,” Sara began, releasing her NYC-tough-bitch attitude on the woman, “whoever you are—”

  “Dillon.”

  “Okay. Dillon. You’re a woman, right?”

  “Veana.”

  Great, another female vampire. “Whatever. How smart would it be for me to get into a car I don’t recognize with someone I don’t know?”

  “You take cabs all the time, don’t you? Same thing.”

  No. Not the same thing at all. Sara put her hands up and shook her head. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’ll walk.”

  The veana cursed under her breath. “Alex didn’t tell me what a pain in the ass you were.”

  Alex? How friendly were they? “That’s too bad. Could’ve saved you the trouble of coming here.”

  Sara turned and started down the street, the icy wind finding its way inside her coat. For several seconds she heard nothing but street noise as she walked, then behind her, near her left earlobe, came the hushed words “Don’t be a fool.”

  She stopped, whirled around, her heart pounding like a mouse with its tail caught in a trap. The female stood in front of her, breathing slow and easy.

  How the hell?

  Dillon cocked her head to one side and said in a low, deadly voice, “My assignment is to bring you back to the Romans’ compound and I always complete my assignments. So if you’re thinking of going anywhere else but there tonight, think again.”

  Fear pulsed in Sara’s blood. Calm and dignified, with nary a hair out of place, Dillon didn’t look all that big or tough, but Sara knew in her gut that she was as lethal as a gun to the head.

  “You and Ale
xander . . . ?” Sara began, but Dillon knew where she was going and cut her off.

  “We are nothing.”

  “Friends?”

  “No.”

  Sara didn’t buy it. “Then why are you doing this?”

  “I owe him.”

  “He save your life in ’Nam?”

  “No. Spanish Civil War.”

  “What?”

  Dillon’s face hardened. “Let’s go, Doctor.”

  Sara didn’t know if the female vampire was lying or telling the truth, but it didn’t really matter. Her main objective was getting through any and all potentially dangerous situations so she could care for Gray. If she was gone, Gray’s treatment would be put in someone else’s hands, and she would never allow that to happen. This veana in front of her was on a mission to keep her safe, and apparently the vampire would not be dissuaded from it.

  “Fine,” Sara said, lifting her chin. “I’m going back to SoHo.”

  “Wonderful,” Dillon muttered, turning around.

  “But,” Sara called out, “not in that car.”

  The female vampire stopped, growled, “Fucking New York women,” then headed for the black town car.

  After repositioning her shoulder bag, Sara turned and resumed her walk down 12th Street toward SoHo. Behind her, the gentle hum of a car’s engine reminded her that Dillon followed at a snail’s pace.

  20

  Ethan Dare had a love affair with the mafioso. He thought the ways they did business, carried on relationships, and handed out punishments were perfection personified. And so when he’d hatched the plan to bring down the Eternal Order, he’d adopted many of their traditions, one being their particular way of dealing with a problem employee—or in Ethan’s case, a problem recruit: dark restaurant, large table, hidden weapons.

  “You have two objectives,” Ethan began, his gaze connecting with each of the six recruits at his table. “To find and recruit other Impures. And to impregnate humans, Impures, and, if we’re very lucky, Purebloods. My question is: Why isn’t the latter happening with greater speed?”