Eternal Hunger

3

The puny male squirmed in Alexander’s grasp. He weighed less than nothing, his jabs little more than the delicate slap of a butterfly’s wings. Alexander’s fangs quivered against his lips, the stinging pain from his burns fueling his ire.

“Please,” the human begged, his watery brown eyes wide and scared. “Let me go.”

Alexander lifted his brow. “She asked for release, didn’t she, cockroach?”

“What?” he sputtered. “What? I don’t—”

“The woman asked for release,” Alexander roared. “And did you listen to her? Give her what she asked for?”

Trembling like a wind-up toy, Tom stared at Alexander, his bulging gaze moving from one branded cheek to the other.

Alexander grabbed the bastard’s neck with both hands and growled, “Speak, human! Did you give her what she asked for?”

“No,” Tom croaked.

“No. You terrified her. Wounded her.” Alexander brought the man’s face close to his own. “You deserve no less than that.”

Tom started to cry. “Please . . . no.”

Unfazed, Alexander leaned in and sniffed the air around the human. His nostrils flared angrily. “Weak blooded and pissing in your pants. You should be grateful you didn’t manage to kill her, human. I would like nothing better than to end your miserable—”

Alexander’s skin began to vibrate and arrows of pain shot through him, making him wince. He looked down, at the hands that encircled the human’s neck, and his jaw went rigid at the sight before him. The sun-seared burns on his wrists and forearms were fading, shrinking into permanent tattoos—the markings that identified him as a morphed male, just as the ones on his face forever identified him as a progeny of the Breeding Male.

How had this happened to him? A Pureblood paven didn’t go through morpho until his three hundredth year. He had another century, for fuck’s sake! His fingers dug into the thin skin of the human’s neck. Just a few days ago, he’d been a creature of the night and of the day—of a life that was his own. Then the hunger hit, followed by the sun . . .

A sound, nothing more than a sigh really, floated up to Alexander. The woman. She stirred. Alexander glanced down, and his temper ebbed slightly. The human woman who had heard his thoughts, who had saved his life, now writhed in slow motion on the wood floor several feet away, her heart-shaped face contorted in pain.

Alexander changed his grip on the male, one hand slipping under his arm, the other remaining around his throat. He squeezed, just enough. Killing the piece of shit, pulling the breath from his body, would surely be a proper punishment for what he’d done, but Alexander knew that such a temporary wave of satisfaction would lead to big problems, problems he and his brothers had made every attempt to avoid—that is, until the premorph hunger had claimed him.

He released the man, and with a defeated sigh, the skinny human passed out and slid to the floor, his long body hitting against the wood with a dull thud.

Alexander went to the woman and dropped to one knee beside her. She breathed comfortably, but the red bruise on her pale cheek was already starting to darken and swell. Rage rippled through him like the aftershocks of an earthquake, and his hands and fangs trembled with the desire to tear into the flesh of the human passed out behind him.

The woman stirred again, her full lips moving, her brow coiled with tension. Her color was good, but she needed rest and a doctor. Until then, Alexander would offer her what comfort he could. In addition to new powers morpho provided, individual gifts were also given to each Pureblood paven. Alexander already understood his as well as he understood his own name. He brushed back the woman’s long, dark hair and placed two fingers on her temple, breathed calm into her blood, then watched as her body relaxed. When he believed her to be sleeping gently, he reached into the pocket of his coat for his cell phone. Dammit. It wasn’t there. He looked around the room, his gaze quicker than it had been only hours previously. Near the threshold leading into the kitchen, he spotted the cordless. He reached in its direction and muttered a terse, “Come.” The phone shook against the ground, then flew across the room and into Alexander’s waiting hand. He stabbed at the numbers, then pressed the receiver to his ear.

“Alex?” Nicholas’s voice was laced with panic. “Where are you?”

“I need two cars at 340 West 11th, off Hudson. Garden apartment.”

“Why?” Nicholas demanded harshly.

“I have two unconscious humans and no protection.”

“No protection?” A stunned silence vibrated across the line. “What have you done?”

“Protection from the sun,” Alexander said angrily.

“What?”

“I’ve gone through morpho.” The words were bitter on Alexander’s tongue.

There was a pause. Then Nicholas uttered a curt “Impossible.”

Yes, Alexander mused, as the brands on his hands and face twitched with residual pain. “Get the hell over here. I need to find out what’s going on.”

Ten minutes later, Nicholas and Lucian walked through the door. Both standing well above six feet, both broad and lethal, they surveyed the one-room apartment and its contents with the same military vigilance they’d relied upon in battle more than a century ago.

“Damn,” Lucian said, his severe sand-colored gaze shifting from the man on the floor to the woman on the couch. “You did it.”

“Did what?” Alexander snapped, standing sentry beside the woman, monitoring her physical condition.

Lucian tossed the black cloak he’d brought with him, a makeshift sun shield for Alexander, over one arm of the couch. “Drained them both.”

“Bullshit,” Alexander growled. “The woman’s blood is untouched.”

“And the man?” Nicholas asked, walking over to Alexander, his stride heavy with predatory grace.

“In a coma, I believe,” Alexander said.

When Nicholas reached his eldest brother, his black gaze moved over Alexander’s face and forearms. “Have you seen yourself?”

“No,” Alexander said, his jaw tight.

“It’s not pretty.”

“Then not much has changed, has it?”

A quick grin touched Nicholas’s lips, showing off the tips of his fangs. It was gone in an instant. “You have the markings of our father.”

The circles branded into his cheeks screamed “I am descended from the Breeding Male.” Alexander nodded. “Yes.”

“And of your true mate,” Nicholas said, eyeing the key-shaped markings within the circles. “Is this good news or bad?”

Alexander sniffed. “You mean am I relieved that I don’t carry our father’s gene to screw and impregnate any female that crosses my path?” He heard Lucian snort with amusement behind him. “Yes.” He was glad of that, and had felt deep concern for the day he would morph and find out what future he had been given. But was this good news? Instead of a Breeding Male’s empty circle, he had the mark of a true mate inside of his, and his body, without his consent, would soon be on the hunt for her.

“Going through morpho explains the extreme hunger,” Nicholas said. “Is it gone now?”

“It is different,” Alexander said. “I have more control, but the blood I desire isn’t as random.”

Nicholas’s ink black brows drew together in concern. “What are you saying? You must be selective in the vein you choose? Not just any female will do?”

“The hunger remains, but it too has morphed into something I’m not exactly sure how to feed.” His nostrils flared. “Blood has become the appetizer ...”

“Not the main course,” Nicholas finished for him.

Alexander said nothing.

“Sounds great. Can we finish the question-and-answer portion of this game show later?” Lucian said, impatience registering in his tone. He looked at Alexander, arching one pale brow. “Are you going to tell us what went down in here?”

A growl began to build low in Alexander’s chest. “Take care not to push me today, Little Brother. I don’t feel so good.” He raised his chin and inhaled deeply, trying to rid himself of the unnecessary aggression surging through his blood. “Sun came up and I needed shelter.” Alexander looked at the woman, felt a deep tenderness roll through him. “She provided it. Without question.” His voice conveyed a hint of awe.

“What about the man?” Lucian asked.

“He was waiting for her. The little prick attacked her.” Alexander stared at the bruise on the woman’s face as she slept peacefully. A low snarl escaped his lips. “I should have drained him.”

“Good thing you didn’t,” Lucian uttered tightly. “That would’ve been another problem we don’t need.”

Sensing another round of morphed male hostility in the air, Nicholas asked a practical question. “What do you want to do with the man?”

Still hovering close to the woman, Alexander eyed his brother. “You take care of him, Nicholas.” He lifted one thick eyebrow. “Make sure he never comes back here. Make him forget that she even exists.”

Nicholas nodded quickly. “Done. And what about her?”

“I’ll take care of her,” Lucian offered with a wicked grin.

“No!” Alexander snarled, his upper lip lifting, exposing his fangs. “No one touches her.”

“You sure the hunger’s eased, Alex?” Lucian said, his grin widening. “You’re acting like an animal over a feed. Perhaps she has the vein you desire?”

Nostrils flared, Alexander stared at Lucian, ready to strike with either words or fists.

“Easy there, boys,” Nicholas said dryly, stepping between the two. He eyeballed Alexander and said in a low voice, “Duro.”

The tender word for “brother” barely registered with Alexander. Blood was rushing in his ears as he tried to keep himself under control. This was not the debilitating pangs of hunger; this was something altogether different—a barely restrained ferocity when it came to the woman who’d saved him. Jesus, how could he even think about striking his brother? The brother he’d protected and cared for, for more than a century?

Nicholas broke through his thoughts. “We need to act swiftly, Alexander. Where do you want to take her?”

“Home.”

“Isn’t this her apartment?”

“Our home,” Alexander clarified. He knew the decision wasn’t a wise one, but he couldn’t stop himself.

Nicholas and Lucian stared at him for a good thirty seconds. Finally Lucian shook his head and muttered, “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“She’s unconscious, Alexander,” Nicholas said, attempting to reason with him. “She needs a doctor.”

“She remains unconscious because of me. I sedated her. Her mind is protected, unharmed, and, for the record, we have a doctor.”

“She needs a doctor who treats humans,” Lucian said sharply.

Alexander covered the ground between them, stood nose to nose with the white-blond vampire. “She’s coming with me, Little Brother, so if you have a problem with that, you’d better get over it in the next five seconds.”

Lucian stood his ground, his nostrils flaring. “We have a covenant, Brother. No humans in our home—”

“Screw the covenant,” Alexander snarled. “This is different.”

“How?”

“She’s mine!”

“Stubborn ass.” Lucian backed away, signaled for Nicholas. “You talk to him.”

Nicholas had been a lion on the battlefield, but in business matters and family squabbles, he could always be counted on to remain the closest thing to unruffled and rational. “Alexander, you know what we risk if she—”

“She saved my life, Nicky!” Alexander roared, his tone as passionate as it was fierce. “But for her, I would be the dust on your boots.”

The words coated the air around them, and after several moments of silence, Nicholas nodded and said, “All right. For now, she is welcome in our home.”

Alexander’s gaze shifted to Lucian. “What about you?”

His jaw rigid, Lucian locked eyes with Alexander. “Do I even have a say here?” A century of fighting side by side, of helping each other escape a childhood of daily nightmares, of finding the courage to reject the race who had held them captive, had built an unshakable bond between them. At their very core, they were not only brothers—they were best friends. Finally, Lucian nodded and muttered, “Fine,” but his almond eyes remained wary.

“Luca,” Nicholas said, his tone serious and purposeful. “Check the sidewalk. It’s early yet, but I don’t want an audience when I’m hauling the human to the car.”

After Lucian left, Nicholas turned to Alexander, his expression grave.

“Say it,” Alexander urged, grabbing the black cloak and throwing it on.

“It cannot be for long.”

“It will not.”

“And above all things, you cannot bind yourself—”

“I know,” Alexander said tightly as Lucian walked back into the apartment and announced that the way was clear.

“Okay. I’m out of here. See you back at the house.” Nicholas lifted the bony male human into his arms and was out the door in seconds.

In the most gentle of ways, Alexander gathered the woman in his arms, feeling an odd pleasure at her supple weight.

Lucian watched him. “You look like a monk in that thing.”

“Flip up the hood, will you?”

“It won’t fully protect you,” Lucian said.

“It’ll have to do. We need to get her home.”

With a wary expression, Lucian did as his brother asked, then checked the street and sidewalks once more before they all made a quick escape into the waiting BMW.