A Wicked Hunger (Creatures of Darkness 1) (26 page)

“Pull over, and see if you can make me,” Knox
challenged.

She caught the look they shared in the rearview mirror, but, by far, it didn’t match the sense of mutual hate she received from both of them through the bond. It went beyond her, as if it had been forged in a distant past, perhaps even long before she was born.

The original emotion that formed her perception suddenly cut off. It was as if a wall slammed down so hard, she was surprised she was the only one in the car to jump from the noise.

Taken off guard, she glanced back at Knox. He returned her puzzled gaze with one full of hostility.

She turned away.

It was then that she realized he could conceal his emotions from her.

Was that learned, or innate? Was it possible she could block her emotions from him?

She wouldn’t dare inquire.

Surprisingly, after the exchange, Knox quieted. Yet the duration of the trip was steeped in thickly tense silence, bubbling with tempered aggression.

Outside
Saraphine’s shop, Mace pulled up to the curb and stepped out. Cora joined him on the cracked, uneven sidewalk. She was sure to keep Mace between her and Knox, but at the moment, Knox didn’t seem to be interested in her.

His attention was on the two-story building with its slightly dilapidated storefront. For the first time, Cora noticed the sign over the door. The words Wicked Wares had been inscribed into a slab of wood that hung from a protruding iron rod. The letters were embellished with fanciful swirls and had been painted, but the color that could have once been vibrant red was dulled to a rusty burgundy and were cracked and peeling.

She glanced around, taking in the town that had previously eluded her interest as well. Crude buildings hinted at a once glorious past. Dirt and other natural debris stained the streets and walls fronted by a road that could have been a main street, but was empty of vehicles. She’d once seen part of an old western flick and half expected to spot a tumbleweed cross the street at any moment.

“
This the hovel where your pretty witch friend lives?”

Mace turned a withering gaze on Knox. “Why don’t you disappear for a while? Go do something useful?”

“And what would that be?”

“Trent said Cora should continue to eat. There’s not a lot of food at the cottage right now.”

“You want me to food shop for your little witch?” Knox balked, then laughed outright. “We never bargained for that.” He rolled a dark gaze toward Cora. “If you want to renegotiate—”

She cringed.

“Forget it.” Mace directed Cora inside.

Knox strolled in behind them.

Saraphine was sitting at the register, her feet up on the counter. The black tank top she wore was designed to look like a corset with black string laced down the front and was framed by a pattern of white and pink skulls. Her arms were covered by a sheer pantyhose material that left her pale shoulders exposed. Her jeans were tight and low on her thin waist, which inspired a bit of feminine envy in Cora. When Saraphine looked up, her feet flopped to the ground, boots landing loudly as she stood.

“
Hiya, Cora!” she said. She glanced past Cora and Mace, and her expression fell. A hint of green took over the color in her face.

Knox loped farther into the room. His emotions were totally blocked from Cora. Not that she wanted to experience what he was feeling…ever. But it almost seemed as if whatever wall he’d put up between them had just been solidified.

Mace, too, had noticed a change in the atmosphere, but he was focused on Saraphine. “Everything alright?”

“’Course.”
She smiled at him sweetly, then quickly added, “I finished the potion this morning.” She reached under the counter and produced a small teardrop vile filled with a purple liquid that seemed to glow from within.

“What do I do with it?” Cora asked as she moved closer, almost mesmerized by the container. An unexpected excitement unraveled inside her.

“You just drink it.” Saraphine replied. She began to wring her hands together.

Cora picked up the vile and removed the stopper. The scent of lilac engulfed the room.

She was on the cusp of something wondrous, her mind insisted. Dangerous, maybe. Frightening, for sure. But wondrous nonetheless. Would she discover herself to be a powerful, extraordinary witch…filled with an astonishing, magical ability imparted upon her from birth? Would she finally discover the means of protecting herself, rather than cowering or relying on others?

The possibilities swirled in her head.

She paused. “Is this going to hurt like your last spell?”

One of
Saraphine’s shoulders lifted, the gesture miniscule yet packed with significance. “Most spells come with some physical effect. Not always painful.”

She didn’t miss the purposeful avoidance of the question. “Good to know. But will
this one
hurt?”

A new voice answered; an older voice Cora had never heard before. “It
gonna hurt like a bitch. You may even think yer dying. But it will set you free.” An ancient looking woman stepped out from the back room. She pointed a stubby, thick-knuckled finger at Knox. “Threaten my granddaughter again, vampire, and I’ll string yer teeth into a necklace.”

Arms crossed over his chest, Knox’s features twisted into a wry grin. He shifted that same droll expression toward
Saraphine and it tightened around his mouth. “
Lurela
?”

“What did you do?” Mace demanded, facing Knox.

“What you and Trent are too pussy to do. You think we’ll ever be free of her when she gains her powers?”

All at once, Cora understood. A dim memory rushed to the forefront. Knox had argued with Trent and Mace about unbinding her magic. He’d wanted to keep her weak. Maybe even kill her.

She shuddered at that.

Had he hunted down
Saraphine? Threatened her? Harmed her? If so, Saraphine was truly brave to have defied him and created the potion anyway.

“I don’t want to be free of her,” Mace replied, practically growling.

Cora’s jaw went slack on a gasp. Mace sent her a fleeting glance then turned back to Knox.

“Well I do,” Knox growled. “By allowing this, you’re signing both our lives away.”

Mace gestured to the door. “Walk away. No one’s stopping you.”

Knox sneered at Cora, then at the bottle in her grasp. The barest fissure cracked into his wall, and she read his intend. Before he could lunge for it—her salvation!—she tossed the
contents of the vile back, gulping it down. He bellowed out a harsh cry and kept coming. Mace threw himself in the way, holding him back.

Unexpected
pain lacerated her every nerve, and she doubled over. White-hot tendrils of burning agony slithered over her flesh, scorching its way inside as if to her very soul. Her skin felt as though it were being flayed and ripped back, exposing the muscle underneath. Spasms cut through her. Fevered agony ignited, seeming to boil the blood in her veins and searing off the sweat on her forehead.

The blazing inferno ate away all thought, devoured hope, leaving behind only misery and pain.

She was pure anguish. Suffering, her purpose. Agony, her friend. If she breathed, she didn’t know. If she cried, she didn’t know. If anyone mourned for her, she didn’t know, for this was surely the end, and in the end, there was nothing but infinite torture.

A glorious touch of cold patted her forehead, dripping over her scalp and into her hairline. She moaned softly as residual pain simmered under her skin. Her body was struggling to make a way for oxygen to enter her throat. Something hard was pressed into her back…the floor? Gravity was being a bitch at the moment. Its pull to the Earth seemed to have increased tenfold. Her chest felt concaved. She was spinning wildly, growing nauseous. Whatever was happening, she begged for it to stop. It begged back for her to open her eyes. She tried, but failed. Blinding light sent tiny swords through her brain.

A hand slapped down on her face, and she realized it was hers. Her limbs were finding it difficult to follow orders. Gaining a bit of control, she rubbed her aching head with clumsy fingers.

Another breath found its way into her lungs, blowing them up like a balloon that was too full, but it was necessary. She needed more. She concentrated on making that happen while a crisscrossing of voices mingled around her.

“She’ll be alright now,” one assured.

“She’d better be,” another threatened.

“The worst is over,” a third added.

For some reason she expected there should be a fourth, but the first began again. “Be wary. She’ll be ill-equipped to use her powers, and mayhap they’ll manifest involuntarily.”

The fourth voice finally spoke.
“Just fucking great.” This voice sounded farther away than the others hovering directly over her.

“Bring her back here in one month’s time, and I’ll learn her best I can.”

Pause. Breath…

A scuffling sounded along the floor moved away from her, then returned in the same manner.

“What is that?” The second voice sounded alarmed now. “No more of your spells! She’s had enough.”

“This’ll sooth. Bring sleep. Dull the pain.”

Yes, she thought.
Dull the pain…no more pain
.

She must have verbalized the last, because those around her went quiet.

There was a deep sigh. “Okay, love. The old…uh…Ms. Windshaw is going to give you something else to drink. Do you think you can swallow?”

“No more pain,” she pleaded in answer, her eyelids still too heavy to open. A tear tracked down her cheek.

“This had better work.” Dark implication surrounded the phrase.

Something cool touched her lips. Liquid filled her mouth. She choked as it slid down her throat, her body instinctually rejecting it. Someone ordered her to swallow. She did. And, as the pain melted away, so did the rest of her.

Mace watched with staggering anxiety as Cora went slack. The fact that she still breathed kept his murderous tendencies in check. Knox was smart enough to stand out of the way, taking up the farthest corner of the room. The two witches appeared wary, but not as fearful of him as they should be. For a brief moment as Cora had writhed with agony on the floor, he’d suspected them all of plotting to murder her, and he’d been ready to end the lot.

“You should have warned me that would happen.” Mace glared at the old woman.

“Warned the girl, weren’t yer ears open? ’Sides, didn’t know it would be so bad,” Ms. Windshaw countered. “Put the gun away.”

Mace looked at his hand. At some point he must have slipped the gun from its holster. He replaced it and then gathered Cora in his arms. “What do you mean you didn’t know?”

“No spell works the same for every witch. Bindings especially. This one was particularly strong. Cast by her mother, I hear.” The old woman looked at Cora thoughtfully. Under her breath, she muttered, “Tough life, this one. Powerful as she be, I don’t envy her.” The old witch sobered. “She’ll be needin’ you. Don’t turn yer back on her.”

“I would never turn away from her. She’s mine,” Mace replied. His tone brokered no debate.

The old woman appeared unconvinced. “For now. Not always.”

That sent a chill crawling down Mason’s spine. Violent denial squashed it. “Learn when to hold your tongue, old woman, or someone might hold it for you.”

“Got plenty more in the back.”

From behind, Knox released a deep chuckle.

Mace ignored him, keeping his focus on the witch. “Before I leave here, you’ll remove that spell you placed on me.”

Her wrinkly features became stern. “Won’t be
removin’ nothing. Get back to your cottage and let the girl rest. And let that cat in. She’ll be needing it, too.”

“Cat?”

Knox took a menacing step forward. “How do you know about the cottage?”

Ignoring them both, the old woman turned and disappeared into the back room. Mace rushed after her, holding Cora steady as he went, but when he crossed into the other room, he found it empty. A sharp sulfur scent lingered in the air.

Returning to the front, Saraphine just shrugged at him, slanting wary glances toward Knox. He hadn’t budged from his spot, but his narrowed gaze was fixed on her.

“Knox, go outside,” Mace ordered.

Surprisingly, Knox didn’t argue as he headed for the door.

“See you around,
Saraphine,” he muttered on his way out.

Saraphine
turned pale, the color starker than ever against her black makeup.

He was going to have to keep a closer eye on Knox.

* * *

Cora soared on the fringe of consciousness and mentally slapped herself awake. When she opened her eyes, she expected to see the ceiling of Wicked Wares, not yet realizing that the padding at her back was far too soft to be the wooden floor.

Something dark hovered overhead, blocking her vision. A misty grey apparition? She blinked, and it vanished. Must have been the grit in her eyes.

A constant vibration down the length of her chest drew her attention. A small grey fluff-ball of a kitten, ears too big for its body, lifted its tiny head and peeked at her with wide green eyes. When she met its gaze, it let out a half meow, half yawn, revealing miniature teeth. At the same time, little paws stretched out, exposing sharp claws before retracting.

“Well, hello there,” she cooed.

The bed shifted, and she quickly rationalized that she was back in her room at the cottage, and that Mace was lying next to her.

“Cora?” He propped up on his elbow. “How are you feeling?”

She surveyed her body. “Good. Where did this little guy come from?”

“Found it scratching at the door when we returned. I gather it belongs to you.”

Cora stroked a hand down its silky spine. When she brought her hand closer to its ears, the kitten nuzzled its entire head into her palm. “What makes you think it belongs to me?”

“Nipped at my heels as I carried you up here and hasn’t left its makeshift nest since.”

“Since when?”

“We returned yesterday. You’ve been out nearly a whole day.”

“Is Knox still here?”

Mace scowled. “Yes. He denies having threatened Saraphine.”

Cora snorted and rolled her eyes.

“I know. I’ll figure out how to deal with him later. For now, I must apologize to you.”

Her brow furrowed.
“For what?”

“I’ve been neglecting your needs too long. You must eat.”

She focused on the state of her stomach. “I’m still not really hungry.”

“Even so, you’ve been losing weight. You were much too light in my arms. Before we left town yesterday, we picked up some produce for you. It’s in the kitchen.”

“You and Knox went to the market together?” Cora couldn’t help but smile at the image.

“Hardly.
I sent Knox while I kept watch over you in the back seat of the car.”

“And he was okay with that? Getting me food, I mean.”

“I wouldn’t say he was happy about it, but the gun in my hand was fairly persuasive.”

“You sure the food isn’t poisoned?”

“It’s not. I tested it.”

“You tested it?
How?”
Don’t tell me
—

“By eating some of it, of course.”

“What?” She shot up, displacing the little kitten to her lap. The only protest came in the form of a surprised
murrow
? “What if it
had
been poisoned?”

He cupped his hand over her cheek. His lips pressed lightly to hers for a split second of bliss before he pulled back. “Then I would have hurt for a time, I suppose. But nothing
like what I went through watching you suffering yesterday. Are you sure you’re better? Do you feel…different?”

Oh, that’s right! She’d nearly forgotten the point of that agonizing potion. Mentally, she registered, sorted, and categorized every nuance of her body, her mind, even glanced at her bare arms and hands, flipping them this way and that…searching for any sign that magic was now a part of her.
Hers to control.

Disappointment made her shoulders hunch. “I don’t feel any different at all.”

He returned her disgruntled expression with a thin-lipped smile, yet he appeared…relieved? At her look, he admitted, “To be honest, I’m glad. I feared you’d be a completely different person when you woke.” He playfully nudged her shoulder. “Like a witch or something.”

She laughed. “But aren’t I supposed to be? Maybe that blood test really was inaccurate.”

Mace disagreed, explaining what Ms. Windshaw said while she’d been out. The prospect of training to master her powers did nothing to quell her disappointment. She had hoped for something a little more…instantaneous. 

Mace didn’t allow for much wallowing. He left her side and walked around the bed to stand before her. Then he offered his hand, with it, a wicked smile. “Let me care for you.”

A thrill scored through her at his rumbling voice. Who’d have thought she’d ever be hot for a vamp. And she wasn’t even hopped up on the red juice.

Cora set the kitten aside, gave one last scratch to its head, and then placed her palm in Mason’s hand.

* * *

After Mace had thoroughly “cared for her” in the shower, on the counter, against the wall, Cora shuffled through her newly purchased wardrobe with a towel around her body. She had the undeniable urge to wear something Mace would like. And she knew just the thing.

After a short hunt, she found what she was looking for. Knowing full well that Mace greedily watched her from the bed—still hadn’t had enough of her by the looks of him—she hooked the red thong around one finger and nonchalantly held it up for his observation.

The kitten was perched in his lap, sleeping.
Mace’s big hand dwarfed the feline as he petted it. How cute was that?

At the sight of the undergarment, he let out a low growl, his eyes going dark. The kitten lifted its head.

“You mean to keep me here forever, vixen.”

A shiver ran through her at the prospect. When Mason’s fangs began to elongate, she bit her lip, recalling the pleasure those incisors had provided only moments ago. But then he seemed to mentally shake himself.

“No more distractions. You need food. So does your little furball.”

She sighed.
“Alright.”

After stepping into the panties, she dressed in a tan blouse with delicate frills down the front and a pair of denim jeans that stretched over her hips like a glove. Mason’s eyes had gone dark again. With sure steps, she sauntered toward him and then claimed the kitten, cradling it in her arms.

Still seated, Mace swore under his breath and then grabbed her backside hard, a hand on each ass cheek, pulling her close. The pressure sent a shock of pleasure up her spine, straight into her brain. She stifled a moan. Mace appeared nearly savage as he gazed up at her adoringly. As though he were starving, and not for her blood.

It was the first moment in her life she’d felt powerful.

It was heady, seductive, addictive.

Merrow
. The kitten ran its cold nose along her forearm followed by a sand-papery tongue.