Eternal Hunger

27

Sara felt drugged, sensations and emotions whipping through her at a clipped pace as she tried to figure out what had just happened. Alexander was still inside of her, hard and pulsing, and yet her eyes remained on the gash in his wrist.

“What happened?” she asked, licking her lips as her mind conjured images of closing that wound herself.

“It’s no good.”

“What?”

“It’s not working. Your blood. I have to have it ...” He pulled out of her, panting, his eyes cherry black and ravenous.

Without him, she felt so cold. “In the cage, the meat . . .”

“It’s too late.” He was backing away. “It won’t hold me now. Something’s happened. Something’s been triggered.” He shook his head. “This was . . . a mistake.” He doubled over, gasping. “Fuck.”

She started to go to him.

“No!”

He turned on her, his eyes blazing. His gaze fixated on her breasts, on her nipples still hard and glistening from his kiss. Then his gaze dropped, to the curls between her thighs, wet from his come. His fangs dropped and he roared a painful cry. “Go. Back to your room. Now. Before I bleed you dry.”

Tears pricked her eyes. She grabbed her clothes and ran. She hoped she was going in the right direction, was wearily thankful when she saw the staircase and the door leading to the main house. At the base of the stairs, she dressed at lightning speed, then dashed up the steps and through the door.

Dillon stood there, right in her path, an unreadable expression on her face. “Have fun?”

“Fuck you,” Sara uttered, pushing past her and hustling toward the stairs, wishing she’d never followed Evans, yet at the same time hoping Alexander would come after her again. God, she was stupid. By the time she got to her room, the anger had downgraded into something resembling pathetic despair. Her body felt so empty, her mouth dry. What the hell was happening to her? She pressed her head against the wood, listened to her heart knock inside her throat. The blood. His blood. Shit. Had she triggered something inside the both of them by ingesting it? Even those tiny drops?

She brought her hands up, palms splayed on the door. Oh God, she scented him. He was near. Her mouth watered. No. no. She pushed away from the door and ran down the hall. Up. She needed up. She took the stairs two at a time, her breath coming quick. At the top, she turned and ran down the hall toward his room. But something stopped her in her tracks—a figure, crouched near the wall. She began to walk slowly toward it, realizing the closer she got that it was Alexander huddled there. He was outside Bronwyn’s door, his hand gripping the handle. He looked desperate, ravaged, like an injured animal.

Tears welled in Sara’s eyes and she shook her head. “Just do it.”

He looked up at her, his eyes unnatural, filled with a passion that had nothing to do with sex. “You don’t understand,” he uttered hoarsely.

“No?” She moved closer, until her feet were nearly touching his. “Tell me, then.”

“The hunger is too great.” His eyes rolled back as he sniffed the air. “What happened between us destroyed my control.”

“So you want to fuck me and feed from her.”

“No.” He shook, his muscles rippled. “I want only you.”

She stared down at him and whispered the word “Impossible.”

“Sara . . .”

“Remember that word? Impossible? It’s how you thought of us.”

Before she had a chance to take another breath, Alexander reached out, grabbed her wrists, and pulled her down to him. He looked at her, every inch of her face until he held her gaze. His words had an edge to them, a bitter growl. “There’s nothing I want more than to be inside you again, so deep you can barely breathe.” He may have been on his knees, but he was still a creature to be feared. “I want to drink from you while I make you come again and again.” His grip on her tightened; his mouth inched closer, just inches from her own. “But if I feed from you, I won’t be able to stop—not until I’ve consumed every drop of your blood, not until I’ve quieted your heart. With all that you care for in this world, are you willing to take that risk?”

Sara held her breath, tears falling from her eyes onto her cheeks as she fought the need of her body and her heart with the promise she’d given long ago.

“Are you?” he demanded coarsely.

She shook her head.

He leaned in, brushed his mouth against hers. “Impossible.”

Sara pulled away from him. “I can’t stay here.”

“Sara.”

“I won’t stay here and watch while you go into another female’s room and feed from her.” She backed up, tears streaming down her face. “I’m a fool, but I’m no masochist.”

“It’s a feed,” he called after her. “It’s nothing. It’s you going into your kitchen and taking a steak from the—”

“No!” She shook her head. “It’s not.”

She turned and walked away. She wouldn’t glance back. If she saw Bronwyn open her door and touch him, she wasn’t sure what she’d do. It was impossible to deny. Since ingesting Alexander’s blood, a change had occurred within her—just as he had said it would. But the change wasn’t into a corrupt Imiti—not yet anyway. It was into a female who felt entirely too comfortable with the idea of slamming her fist into the face of anyone who got too close to her vampire.

She started to run, didn’t stop until she was inside her room. She packed her things in a haphazard manner—wet toothbrush with dry underwear. She didn’t care. She had to go. The danger inside the house had just become greater than the one that waited for her on the outside.

Bags in hand, she left her room and walked down the hall, praying she didn’t run into anything with fangs on her way out.