Hunger Awakened Page 13

  She shook her head. “That doesn’t make any sense. How can you be on the verge of extinction when according to the movies, you guys are supposedly superior?”

  She said the latter with such distaste, he found himself smiling. “We live for such a long time that the Council has seen to it that we don’t overpopulate. No new vampires without their consent. Face it, you’re food. And if we run out of food...” He shrugged. This probably wasn’t the most appealing of topics for her.

  Alice didn’t seem to focus on being relegated to nothing more than a cheeseburger. Her gaze became a little vacant. He studied that look. “So if someone, a human, was sick,” she said softly, “it needn’t be a death sentence. The person could be fixed. You could make him—or her—a vampire, right?” Her face canted away from his.

  “I can’t.” He almost choked on the words.

  She peered at him. Cautious. “What do you mean?”

  His throat tightening, Bast considered how much to tell her about this thorn in his side. “I’m...” He struggled to find the right word. One that wouldn’t break him to say. “Flawed.”

  The fingertips that caressed his jaw were gentle. Soothing. “Sebastian?”

  “It’s doubtful I’d be able to turn someone and even if I did, if they’d survive it. The Council would never approve any attempts to find out.”

  “But if you didn’t ask first? If you just tried it?”

  “Both that person and I would be executed.” He watched a riot of goose bumps cover her skin. And there was a curious flickering in her expression. As if shutters had closed behind her eyes. “Never mind. It’s not worth even talking about,” he continued. “The plane’s coming in for a landing. Unless you plan on walking out like that, maybe you should put your shirt back on.”

  He didn’t know why, but he had a feeling the woman who climbed down from his lap moved now as she struggled against a heavy weight. She turned back around suddenly. “If you had a good reason, might you try? To make someone a vampire.”

  After a moment’s pause, he shook his head. “No. There isn’t reason enough to risk the wrath of the Council. They’re ruthless in their pursuit of those who break our laws. There’s a team of us whose sole mission is their protection. There’s also a team of men and women whose sole purpose is to punish law breakers.”

  “Execute them, you mean.”

  “When appropriate, yes.”

  Alice took a step forward, relentless in her persistence. The plane began to tilt, but she rode its descent as if on a surfboard. “But there must be ways around those laws. Reasons why an individual might be allowed to live.”

  Bast pushed a hand through his hair. Why was she so dogged in her questioning? Didn’t he make it clear? Even if he wanted to turn someone—even her—he simply couldn’t. The Council and its controversial measures aside, he simply didn’t have the physiology. His blood couldn’t initiate the process.

  Hybride.

  “Maybe. Perhaps they could be convinced. There was a rumor about a woman who’d supposedly received a stay of execution about a year ago. Rumor, though.” He trailed off, trying to remember the details just out of his recollection. Supposedly the woman had been marked for execution but then ended up being mated to the vampire sent to eliminate her instead. The stories surrounding them both were fantastical and difficult to believe.

  “Would you think about it then? Maybe consider trying it in the future or at least some way around the Council’s rule?”

  “For you?”

  She nodded, not looking him in the eyes. His heart clenched.

  “You wouldn’t want this life,” he said quietly. They could be lovers for as long as she was willing to stay with him. But as mates...it was an impossible scenario. “It’s not easy and not even remotely glamorous. Books make it seem romantic and erotic. I promise you, it’s not.”

  “Don’t make a decision yet. Please. Just...just think about it.”

  His gaze narrowed. “Is there something you’re not telling me? Some reason why you want me to consider it? I can promise you so many, many things, but this is beyond me. I’m an officer of the Council. I am bound by blood and by oath to uphold their laws. Even the ones I don’t agree with.”

  Alice crossed the aisle to her seat at last, only dropping into it after shrugging on the T-shirt. She continued to avoid his gaze as she worked on getting the seat buckle secured around her waist. “It’s not important.” She looked up, her lips curved into a smile, but he saw the force she used to plaster it there. Immediately, Bast also noticed the dark circles beneath her eyes and the fatigue making her body limp. “I think I’m just looking for an escape, is all.”

  He wanted her hands in his at this moment. To hold. To provide comfort. “I wish I could do that for you. I really do. The best I can provide is a temporary reprieve from what you once knew. When we get home, I’m going to tuck you in for a nap because you look exhausted. When you wake up though...”

  Her expression changed, a wry grin slowly blooming. “Yes?”

  “I promise you sexual oblivion.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Bast listened at the door until the rhythm of her breathing changed. After his promise, she tried to argue her way out of being sent to bed, but it only made Bast smile. She’d been yawning through most of the car ride home from the airport, her lids half-drooped. Even the fast food he’d bought for her had barely been consumed because of the way she nodded off after finishing only half. It almost pained him to wake her to make sure she finished, but she needed the pounds and the fuel.

  When they met, it would be after her body was energized and ready for his advance. Once he began loving her—and he would take her more than once—there would be no stopping him. He knew her spirit was willing, but he needed her flesh in the same state. It would be hell enough restraining himself from hurting her because of his superior strength.

  No, they would wait, and the experience would be that much better for it.

  As he turned away and headed toward the back of the house, he pondered his decision. Just over a day ago, Alice had been nothing more than a homeless waif whose existence he overlooked without passion or mercy. Yet not only had she discovered him vulnerable, she’d selflessly cared for him as well. Even after she discovered what he was. Did he feel a sense of obligation toward her? Yes. But there was something more there. Not just the obligation of returning a favor, but also a lethargic kind of attraction.

  Lethargic, hell. What compelled him toward her was nothing short of full-frontal assault.

  He changed direction to go to the kitchen. There was a disquiet within him and perhaps a good old-fashioned snack of cookies and milk would help calm what ailed him. Of course, it didn’t take a psychiatrist to tell him that the munchies had little to do with food or even blood.

  “What’s gotten into you?” he muttered to himself as he stood at the large butcher block island. When was the last time a woman—damn it, especially a human—made him feel this way?

  There was a full sleeve of Chips Ahoy sitting in the pantry, untouched, but Bast knew he could plow through a dozen of them and that achy craving wouldn’t be sated. His elongated teeth hummed, his brain supplying him with the sensual memory of tasting Alice in the throes of her passion. Christ, he wanted another taste of her again. Just as she’d been. Her skin flushed, her lips parted. Shuddering and moaning...

  “Fuck,” he snarled.

  A quick turn of his head provided him wit
h what might be some way to kill time. And perhaps the cold would kill the swelling in his cock. Without thought or pause, Bast strode outdoors, discarding his clothing and allowing them to land wherever. When he dove into the pool, the pristine water swallowed his nude body.

  The water parted for him seamlessly and he stayed beneath its depths, at once relieved by the cool spread surrounding him. As he’d needed, his muscles involuntarily pulled in, an instinctual effort to keep his vital organs warm.

  After the first lap of butterfly strokes, he could still hear Alice’s soft moans when they kissed. By the tenth lap, his still fingers tingled with the urge to touch her soft breasts again. On the fortieth lap, his memories had dulled to just that of her taste. Somewhere around seventy, his body begging for relief, he’d lost himself to the rhythm of arms rising and falling. Chest lifting and descending. Legs kicking and straightening.

  He flipped onto his back, letting the water carry him. Gliding through the cool water and thinking about nothing. Fatigue kept him wrapped in its embrace, and Bast was grateful for it. Just a few minutes’ reprieve was all he needed. There were a million things he needed to do, another billion tasks he needed to follow up on, but right now he relished this peace.

  Only the tug of his body’s internal clock, set to the sun’s rise and fall, nudged him to the pool’s edge. Bast hefted himself out of the water, sitting on the cold concrete for a full minute before rising. The swim had been perfect.

  His gaze sought out the east, daring to peek at the change coming over the horizon. Pain, sharp and swift, immediately stabbed him in the eyes.

  “Jes—” An artificial breath, one made from habit and not necessity, ripped out of his mouth. What the fuck?

  Squinting, Bast peeked at the horizon again, bracing against an impact he shouldn’t have felt. The sun usually meant certain death for born vampires; for blood vampires it was rarely fatal. His half-born self had never before felt the sun’s sting, but he preferred the night anyway. Right now though...what the hell was going on?

  Fingers curling into fists helped him focus. There was pain, to be certain. Indescribable. Breath-stealing.

  Mushrooming misery started in his eyes, spreading through his limbs. His gut joined in the attack, the raging fury not to be contained. The illness he’d forgotten, the illness he’d chosen to ignore, was back. And the fucker had brought friends.

  Bast staggered toward the back door, his mind wrenched in two directions. Some part of him begged him to find Alice. To cower in her comfort. Another part of him though, a deeper, darker part, assured him if he ran to the human for help, neither would survive it. This was something he had to face on his own. A part of him he had to combat and win.

  The taste of sulfur swelled in the back of his throat, and some memory whispered that he remembered this taste. He swallowed reflexively several times, trying to push it away yet savoring the flavor simultaneously. It was acrid. Beautiful. Familiar.

  The moment passed and heat wrapped around his neck. It swelled, bloomed and then spread until he couldn’t imagine a single hair having survived.

  One knee buckled under a new weight of agony and Bast went down. His palm slammed against the concrete, keeping him from collapsing altogether. He let the wet cold be a place to focus. His thoughts had gone wild, rendering decision-making almost impossible.

  Pain. Sulfur. Fire. Misery. Heat.

  His muscles pulsed, even his back now crawling with sensation. Perspiration rolled down his face in fat droplets, the slight cool so pleasure-inducing, he willed the rest of his body to sweat. Anything—anything at all—to help him.

  He balled one hand into a fist, the other fingertips pressing into concrete. Much longer and there’d be five perfect indentations on his patio. Like he needed a memento of this thing that had claimed him.

  Growling, he pushed up. Demanded his body to heed the command to rise. There was a split second of victory, when he was certain he could move without collapsing again. But as he looked toward the back door, figuring it would only take half a dozen steps to make it inside, his vision narrowed and pain exploded down his back.

  Bast screamed, unable to hold back the cry of being tortured by a body that was no longer under his control.

  The odor of sulfur, thick and viscous, seemed to weep out of him. His mouth. The pores of his skin.

  Every part of him was hypersensitive again. Almost as if he could feel each individual cell mutating. Changing. Becoming something new. Something different.

  His insides began to claw. Push toward the surface. His skin was a barrier that would be barrier no more if he couldn’t stop it now. There would be nothing left of the vampire in minutes. Maybe seconds.

  Bast cut his eyes to the door again. His hope, his lifeline fast asleep in a bedroom within. Taking one step seemed an impossibility. Getting to Alice simply unimaginable.

  He swore he heard the crackle of flames then and the only thing he could do was scream.

  * * *

  Groggy, Alice sat up, pushing away both covers and the blanket of fatigue still hovering over her. Sebastian had insisted transitioning to a nocturnal schedule would be difficult at first. Frequent napping would be expected. Still, he’d made a promise before tucking her in, and she damned well wanted to cash in on it.

  Already her body tingled with anticipation, knowing that being with the vampire, having his body over hers—in hers—would be exquisite.

  A year ago she could have never imagined the past twenty-four hours. Driving an insanely expensive car. Having full run of a mini-mansion. Being aboard a private plane. And the vampire thing...wow.

  She hadn’t met just a vampire either. There was the whole werewolf matter she had to wrap her mind around as well. A new world existed outside of her reality and slowly, she would be getting to know it. What other creatures...

  Her mind was blown with possibilities.

  Sebastian’s family tree. Jeez, she’d been so focused on the fact that he was a vampire that it had never crossed her mind to consider more otherworldly creatures. What else existed out there that might explain the branch he’d spent years trying to grasp? He wanted so badly to be a vampire. With near-manic eagerness driving his every decision, was it possible that he’d somehow bypassed the obvious?

  Alice swung her legs over the edge of the bed, letting out a little shriek as toes met cold floor. It took only a minute to grab some clothes and head to the guest bathroom to freshen up. She had an idea to explore, but she also had a gorgeous man to meet too.

  Once done, a quick circuit of the large house proved Sebastian wasn’t anywhere to be found. Her heart sank with each empty room she encountered, but something within her felt reassured he wouldn’t leave her alone. It wasn’t until she’d gone into the kitchen to snag an apple that she peered into the dark wilds of his backyard.

  Her gaze immediately went to the form swimming with an exotic beauty in the center of the pool. From this distance, she could discern the way Sebastian’s muscles rippled as he swam. He was doing some sort of complicated maneuver that seemed as natural to him as breathing. The water barely had a chance to dribble down the smooth expanse of his skin before he dipped beneath its depths again. She could have gazed upon him for hours, mesmerized by this definition of masculinity, while crunching on the apple. Instead, she let her sights move beyond the pool—still so very aware of Sebastian at its center—and took in the copse of trees surrounding the perimeter of concrete. They were lined well
beyond the pool yet somehow didn’t clash with it. Whoever had designed the landscaping knew how to weave nature into the background seamlessly.

  Alice moved forward, lured by the beauty of the night, intent on holding Sebastian to his promise. But as she moved closer to the door, the pale light of the moon became its own beacon. As quickly, the reason for finding the vampire in the first place became of renewed importance. For with the moon’s bold face, she remembered the existence of werewolves.

  When she met him for their tryst, maybe she could bring some little piece of hope about his existence. It was impetus enough to wait just a few minutes longer to touch Sebastian again. To kiss him. The glide of his fingertips a pleasure of its own...

  Damn. Better get going now or have hormones make a different type of decision altogether.

  She turned on her heels and headed to the laptop in Sebastian’s office. Google wouldn’t boot up fast enough for her, and she drummed her fingers against the wooden desk. As she waited, she ran through a list of otherworldly creatures, trying to pinpoint one capable of being Sebastian’s forebear.

  After typing in a search term, the first result came courtesy of Wikipedia. The list of supernatural creatures was surprisingly small and unusable. She quickly dismissed ghosts, demonic possession, witches and extraterrestrials. Trying “preternatural,” “paranormal” and “supernatural” in the search engine proved equally useless. It wasn’t until she stumbled upon an entry for “mythical creatures” that she struck gold. “Here we go,” she exclaimed.

  The more she read, however, the less elated she became.

  Some of the creatures were common enough: banshee, centaur, dragon, elf, gremlin. Some of the others had to be someone’s idea of a bad joke. Hibagon? Magnathorax? “Phooka” had probably been named by some thirteen-year-old who’d giggled the entire time he’d been writing it down.