Hunger Revealed Page 3

  His wife laughed. “Then perhaps you might want to be a little more worshipful in your manner. You see how easily you can be replaced,” she said, a smile in her tone. Turning to Moira, she said, “Thank you, but I have never fed from anyone other than my husband.”

  Until she said it out loud, Corin hadn't recognized that fact. It made something inside him grow warm, and it inflated his pride to know that Jasmine reserved that intimate act for him and him alone. Dismissing Moira with a small wave, he slowly took in the vision of Jasmine in that little purple getup—so very see-through where it pressed against pink nipples and the dark V between her legs. Suddenly, she wasn't the only hungry one.

  Chapter Four

  The Reverent Father hadn’t lied. The fuzzy, slightly inebriated feeling seemed to have passed. Now that her common sense rushed back, Jasmine second-guessed staying in this potentially dangerous situation, regardless of how nice everyone seemed.

  Besides, what the hell was she wearing?

  More importantly, what was that look in her husband’s eyes?

  “If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking, I think you’ve got another think coming,” she said, still wondering what could have possibly have made Corin decide to stay here in the first place. Turning to the woman watching them with wide-eyed curiosity, Jasmine added, “I’m starting to get the big picture here and not much liking it. What’s supposed to happen at this celebration? Because so far, not seeing much in the way of spa treatment.”

  “My lady, it’s a simple celebration in honor of your mirac—”

  “Miraculous transformation. Yeah, I get that.” Jasmine’s mind cleared more and more with each passing second. “What exactly do you plan on doing at this shindig? Details.”

  The woman’s gaze kept bouncing between Jasmine and Corin, though Jasmine swore it might have lingered a little longer on her husband. “It really isn’t for me to say.”

  “Moira, I need to know that my wife isn’t in danger.”

  She twisted her hands together as she looked up at Corin. Just as Jasmine suspected, starry adoration beamed from her eyes. “The Reverent Father wouldn’t ever hurt her. Not ever. He’s said as much to all of us. I think maybe he’s going to partake of a very, very small amount so that he can share it with the others who have been deemed worthy.”

  Jasmine’s brow furrowed at the same time Corin’s expression straightened. “What do you mean by ‘partake’? As in feed from me?”

  “Just a little, my lady. So that your blood will flow in him. So that he can count himself as one divinely related to you.”

  Her spine chilled at the prospect. When Sijourn Vartan had taken her hostage, he’d swore he’d only needed a little of her blood too…right before the torture started.

  “For fuck’s sake,” Corin grumbled.

  “My husband has been the only one to ever feed me, and he is the only one I’ll ever allow to feed from me.” Her voice remained level, despite the shivers threatening to tumble through her body. She sent Corin a curt nod that he quickly understood. He rose to his feet, holding out a hand to assist her to standing. Still feeling the lingering effects of whatever drug cocktail they’d used on her, Jasmine swayed a little, and she sent a mental word of gratitude to Corin. She said to Moira, “Tell him thanks but no thanks.”

  “We’re gone.”

  They held hands as Corin led the way to yet another door she hadn’t noticed. She took comfort in threading her fingers around his, in basking in his quiet strength. They were a united front and had been from the very beginning. Whatever awaited them on the other side of the door had better be prepared. Or praying.

  The sound of harried footsteps hustled toward them. “My lady, please. You can’t leave because the Reverent—”

  Corin whirled, keeping Jasmine at his back. “Knows better than to get in my way. If he doesn’t yet, he’ll learn.” He faced forward before the final words rumbled out of his mouth.

  She reached for the knob, turned it, and pulled. Whether by reflex or design, Corin’s hand tightened on Jasmine’s.

  It wasn’t much of a surprise to find two men standing there. Whatever topic of conversation they’d been engaged in came to a jarring halt. Jasmine scanned their slacked jaws and widening eyes. After the shock wore off, each man’s expression hardened. Surprised, yet determined faces. Thank God, they both appeared human, ensuring some ease in either talking them down or taking them out.

  Hunger came rushing back, a forgotten urge, but Jasmine tamped it down with swift fury. A few minutes ago, the urge to feed seemed paramount. It would wait.

  The first man dropped a hand to his hip, but he held it there as if torn on his next actions while staring at Jasmine. She chanced a glimpse of what he reached for, heart thundering when she realized a gun dangled from a sling and now was within reach. “We don’t want any trouble,” Jasmine said in a low voice. “We just want to walk out of here, intact.”

  Corin couldn’t be bothered with words. He released his hold on Jasmine, barreling toward the second man with murder spelled on his face. A flare of emotion rushed through Jasmine, unwanted arousal at seeing stark masculinity at play.

  The second man threw up his arms, trying to block Corin’s attack, but the vampire kept going. They both stumbled, the human driven against the wall as Corin brought a knee into his stomach while slamming double fists into his back.

  That seemed to shock the man with the gun into action at last. Before he could swing it around though, Jasmine charged him. His head punched the wall as she brought her forearm to his throat, holding him down with more pressure than necessary. Enough to make a point. “I will rip out your throat and leave you here to bleed. Don’t make me do that,” she said in what she hoped was a calm voice. The more reasonable she appeared, the more likely they’d do what she commanded without putting up a fuss.

  “Please…please, my lady.” Moira hurried to Jasmine’s side, putting trembling fingers on her shoulder. “Just let the Reverent Father come and talk to you, and you’ll change your mind. I know you will.”

  They wouldn’t kill anyone unnecessarily—it went completely against Jasmine’s instincts as a nurse—but Moira didn’t need to know that. “You give him our regrets. We’re walking out of here. And we’re doing it now.”

  Jasmine snatched the gun from the man’s hip, yanking hard on the strap until it snapped free. He wheezed noisily when she dropped the arm previously resting on his Adam’s apple, but at least he still breathed. The man next to Corin stood bent at the waist, doubled-over and moaning in pain.

  Two down. How many more to go?

  “To me before someone else comes,” Corin called. He swept a dangerously slanted gaze around the room. When he stiffened, Jasmine’s attention followed his.

  “Oh shit,” she muttered, then slowly raised her hands in the air.

  ~ * ~

  Corin flexed his fingers, keeping the circulation flowing. Dampness from the walls seeped into his skin and bones, but he ignored the chill in favor of focusing on more important matters. He peered down at his wife, still wearing that purple piece that threatened to stop his heart every time he studied it. “I never got the chance to tell you that I really like that outfit you’re in now.”

  Jasmine barked out a laugh. “Better than the blue piece from the store?”

  He hummed a low noise. “Something about the purple excites me.”

  A slow smile curved her lips while she winked. “I’ll keep that in mind. When we get out of here—” another tug on the chains wrapped around her wrists proved they hadn’t miraculously slackened “—I’ll get an identical outfit.”

  They hadn’t bothered to struggle when the Reverent Father showed up with a dozen men, all armed to the teeth. Had it been his life alone on the line, he might have fought back, but he would not risk hers unnecessarily. So far, they’d stuck to their word of not harming her; the most heinous act being to tie her arms behind her back with chains. He’d been shackled against a cold wall
, bound at the neck, wrists, and ankles. They’d been taken from the house to a cement walled shed of sorts, which couldn’t have been any more opposite the sensual room they’d first been first housed.

  They’d been an almost identical situation like this before, one that seemed an impossibility to escape from. Yet they had. And would do so again. Corin only had to bide some time.

  The Reverent Father ignored their banter back and forth, although Corin hoped their lack of concern shook him a little. He went about his preparations as if in no great hurry. Matchsticks were used to light tall, elegant candles surrounding a table draped in purple and gold velvet. Wax dripped down the sides of the golden candles, sometimes splashing on the cascading flowers also decorating the surface and floor next to the table. No—not a table. An altar.

  Corin’s concern ratcheted up.

  “I was worried you’d prefer me in red or maybe black,” Jasmine said. She lifted a dark brow as she spoke, and Corin caught her message. He physically blew out a breath to try and shake off his own worry. If she could see the anxiety making him tense, then so would the Reverent Father. He would not tip their hand in any way.

  “Vampires in black? A bit clichéd, don’t you think?” Corin returned. Forcing his gaze away from the man at the center of the room, he searched through the throng of acolytes. Although many wore cowled hoods, others had chosen to leave their heads uncovered. Most of the crowd was human from what he could tell. Vampires lined the first row, their unnatural stillness giving them away. “Besides, you’ve got great taste in clothes. You know what looks good on you.”

  “You really think so?”

  The wonder in her voice brought Corin’s gaze back to his wife. “Yeah, I do,” he said softly.

  She smiled bright, enough to make his heart trip. “When this is over, we need to talk.”

  “I’m always at your disposal, mellita.”

  Emotion flickered across her face when the Reverent Father stepped in between them. Jasmine drew back as far as the chains would allow, but he gripped her by the jaw, twisting her face away from him. In his struggle to get to her, Corin’s bones almost snapped through his muscles when the man began to drag something down her neck. Corin bellowed, “You fucker, leave her alone. Come to me! To…me!”

  Both the Reverent Father and the congregation ignored him. The others moved in closer, crowding around Jasmine as the vampire leader used a marker to draw a red line down both sides of her neck. Jasmine’s lips lifted away from her teeth as he continued the lines over both arms. He even shoved aside the lingerie and starting at her crotch, drew similar parallel lines down her thighs and calves.

  What the hell?

  They unshackled her without ceremony, and led a struggling Jasmine to the table where she was forced to lie. Half a dozen hands held her in place while she kicked and scratched until she could be secured by leather ties.

  “Whatever you’re going to do, please don’t,” Jasmine whispered. Each word filled Corin with torment because he heard the undertone of something desperate in them.

  The Reverent Father stood at her head. “Today, we welcome the goddess Jasmine. Ushered to us when the vampire nation is at a crux. When the oldest of our kind has weakened, and the newly created have become lost and in need of guidance. She is mother…”

  The acolytes began to chant with him now. Their combined voices making Corin’s hair stand on end.

  “…Creator. Origin for us all. She sustains us with her blood and offering.”

  Corin strained against his chains when the vampires began to lower their mouths toward Jasmine, teeth bared.

  “…She is our mother…”

  The lines. He recognized them now. Blood lines. Arterial lines. Markers for the vampires to use when they began to bite her. She’d bleed out in minutes.

  It didn’t matter how hard the chains dug into his wrists and legs. Corin began to choke against the tether around his neck, but he struggled against it anyway. If he didn’t get to Jasmine first, it wouldn’t matter what happened to him.

  “…Origin for us all…”

  His vision blurred when the first vampire latched onto her arm, fingertips digging into her flesh until it blanched white. His stomach heaved, but Corin yelled above their chanting. Yelled to get their attention because it would be him—not her. They would take him. Please gods. Him.

  “No! Jas! Jas…” His head whipped around as someone touched his cheek. It was a slight caress, and in his frantic struggling, he should have missed it.

  “If you can help her, go. This wasn’t what was supposed to happen.”

  One of the acolytes stood dangerously close, a cowled hood blocking her identity, but he heard and recognized her voice. Only as he looked into Moira’s frightened eyes did he realize that he could move his neck freely, as well as his feet. A soft snick later, and the chains at his wrists went slack.

  “Thank you,” he rasped before launching himself toward the men holding his wife.

  Chapter Five

  Corin would have paid good money to have his ash stakes in hand, ready to plunge them into the hearts of the men intent on bleeding out his wife, but there were other ways to kill a vampire. Just took a little longer.

  He grabbed the closest vampire by the head, wrenching until something popped. There hadn’t been enough time for the man to fight back. Before his body hit the floor, Corin slammed an elbow into the next guy’s face. When he dropped, a gap formed between bodies, big enough to wedge himself into. Corin grunted as he yanked on a tie, the sudden snap a moment later sending a wave of hope through him.

  “Jasmine—move!”

  Her blue eyes were round with pain and fear, but she followed through. Jasmine lifted her free hand and pushed it into the hair of the blonde whose lips were latched onto her wrist. Jasmine squeezed her eyes shut, but pulled hard, releasing a soft cry of triumph when the woman yelped. Ignoring the bleeding wound, Jasmine worked on freeing her hand.

  Satisfied that she could work on getting out of the ties, Corin barreled into two more men, lifting them off the ground to slam their bodies against the concrete floor. He whirled, incisors bared, a growl rumbling from his throat ready to face any more attackers. “Mate?” he called. A red haze covered his vision as he scanned their surroundings.

  There were so many people in the room. Too many. He could continue to take down the vampires, but he wasn’t stupid enough not to realize that the humans could overrun him if they wanted.

  “Almost done!”

  The Reverent Father stood ramrod still at the end of the table, farthest away from Corin. They locked stares, and in that moment, Corin knew the face of a zealot, determined to let his faith guide all of his actions, even if any of those actions drove him straight down the road to hell. He glared back at Corin. “She is a miracle to be shared with the world!”

  “You idiot,” Corin growled back. “The only miracle is that she agreed to be my wife. Her transformation was as mundane and common as dust.”

  Jasmine’s head snapped up. “Hey!”

  Her indignation snagged the Reverent’s attention. He grabbed her from behind, beneath her chin, fingers curling into the skin of her neck. Her hands scrabbled against his, futilely trying to get him to release her. One leg remained tethered to the altar, and there was no way she could obtain the leverage she needed to get away from the madman.

  Paralyzed with indecision and fear for her safety, Corin stood at the opposite end of the altar, trying to sort the best way to get to her. The Reverent Father’s supernatural strength could easily snap her neck should he so desire.

  In a nauseous wave of feeling, Corin was transported back to the last time Jasmine’s life had been in danger. The complete feeling of helplessness that overwhelmed him at hearing the woman he loved cry out in pain and terror. As if thrown back to a year ago, he heard her screams echo in his ears, louder than the rush of blood going through them now.

  He looked into her face…and she was smiling at him.

&
nbsp; Smiling.

  “Jas?” Confusion wrapped around his brain.

  Her blue eyes held none of the doubt and worry assaulting him now. She’d stopped struggling, keeping her hands gripped on the Reverent Father’s wrists. A petite woman, she’d never before seemed as fragile to Corin as she did in that moment, but there was an inner strength in her that shone like a beacon. It wasn’t just strength, he realized. She radiated trust. Trust in him.

  By the gods, he would not lose that trust.

  “You and me,” he said in a low voice to the Reverent Father. “Let’s you and me dance and put an end to this.”

  “I have no quarrel with you, executioner. Allow us to revel in who she is and to share her miracle.”

  Corin almost shook his head in disbelief. The asshole just didn’t get it. And probably never would.

  Without another word, Corin vaulted on top of the altar. He deliberately landed on top of his wife, knocking her from the Reverent’s grip. She fell back against the table, but immediately curled in, staying out of his way and away from the Reverent as much as possible.

  The vampire took too long to recover, and Corin struck with a right hook. When it connected with the Reverent’s jaw, Corin felt the tremor vibrate down through his toes. Sharp pain flared in his knuckles, but he mentally tamped down the discomfort to something he could tolerate it without distraction.

  He didn’t want to leave Jasmine unprotected on the table, but he had to take care of the immediate threat. This had to end once and for all.

  Launching himself at the fallen vampire, Corin grabbed him the lapel of his shirt, dragging him up from the floor. He brought their faces to within an inch of each other. “Yield,” he snarled at the man. “Call this off and yield.”

  The Reverent Father bared incisors dripping with saliva and blood. “She is a…miracle…”

  Corin’s stomach curled with realization. So long as the Reverent Father lived, he would continue this quest.