Dark Cravings (20 page)

Julian’s hands curled into fists and he growled beside me.

Micah’s words came out in a low, guttural sound, “She is
mine, you bloodsucking asshole. She is my mate. How dare you touch her!”

Julian melted through the rain, phazing in and out. In an
instant, Julian’s fingers were wrapped around Micah’s throat. As if he weighed
nothing, Julian lifted Micah until his feet were off the ground.

“I will bathe in your guts,” Julian spat. “When I fuck her
in your blood, she won’t be your anything anymore. No one takes what’s mine.”

Micah tried to respond, but his words came out in a gurgle.

“Let him go, Julian,” I cried.

Julian glanced in my direction, his lips turned up in an
awful smile of victory.

Shall I tear out his throat? Or start with the entrails
you’d rather eat?

Before Julian could drop his smile, Micah wrapped both hands
around Julian’s arm, then gritted his teeth. He brought both knees into my sire’s
stomach. With a grunt and a splash, both men fell to the ground.

The silky blond strands of Julian’s hair were now dark with
mud. He slicked them back out of his face. “Did Ella ever tell you about the
first time I tore into her?” he taunted.

Micah punched him in the face. The injury didn’t impair
Julian’s ability to speak because he just kept on talking.

“Do you know long she bled the first time? I lapped up the
sweet nectar from her pussy and when she stopped bleeding, I bit her again,
just to savor the taste a little longer. She was always so eager to please.”

The green glow emanating from Micah’s eyes lit the night.
Micah threw himself at Julian. The two men collided and rolled in the mud, a
tangle of blood-smeared fists. They were both wearing black and the more they
coated themselves in mud, the harder it was to tell them apart.

Micah pulled his fist back, drove it into Julian’s face.
Crack.
Crack. Crack.
Julian threw Micah to the side, straddled his body. Blow
after blow, they rolled and cursed, jockeyed for position. They pounded the
holy living hell out of each other.

My insides knotted when Julian grabbed the back of Micah’s
head. Just before Julian could slam his face into a gravestone, Micah took hold
of Julian’s arm and tossed the taller man to the ground. Micah pulled the stake
he had holstered in his boot. I saw the fear and realization in Julian’s
widening eyes.

He was going to die.

“No,” I screamed.

I was thrust into the dark, deep tunnel in my mind. I found
myself across the graveyard and stuck in a macabre ménage-a-trois. Beneath me,
Julian stilled. Above me, Micah stared. I didn’t know why I’d phazed to protect
my sire. Castro’s words filtered through my brain,
vampires cannot kill
their sires
. Horror, disbelief and panic filled me while I looked
helplessly at Micah.

Micah’s stake came down, too late to stop, aimed at Julian’s
heart.

“No!” Micah screamed, with an anguish that shattered me.

I saw the split-second shift of Micah’s arm and prayed it
would be enough. The stake, which had been meant for my sire’s cold, dead
heart, slid through my flesh instead.

It was my turn to scream.

The smooth wooden stake plunged through skin, tore through
muscle and tendons. I stared into Micah’s wide, horrified gaze. My mouth opened
and I sucked in a breath I couldn’t release. Pain blossomed, invaded, spread
from my shoulder into my arm and chest.

Oh. Thank god.

I had never been so glad to be in such horrible,
excruciating pain. My shoulder. Micah had hit my shoulder. When the outline of
Micah’s face became fuzzy, then doubled, I blew out the breath I’d been
holding.

“Shit,” I groaned. “That really, really hurt.”

Beneath me, Julian braced my hips with his hands to keep me
from pitching to the side and doing more damage. At least, that was what I
chose to believe. This was not how I’d ever imagined being sandwiched between
two men would feel like. Our little three-way was anything but erotic. My
fingers found purchase in Micah’s shirt. I fisted wet cotton.

As a group, we looked at my shoulder and the stake
protruding from it. I took a moment to admire the smoothly polished wood and
the intricate designs carved into it. The image disappeared under a bubbling
gurgle of blood.

Looking at the length of the wood, I couldn’t tell how far
in the stake had been shoved. I don’t think it had penetrated all the way
through.

I moved my arm. Blood drained from my face. Holy fuck.

Micah lifted his weight off me in a slow push-up that I was
in too much pain to appreciate. When I didn’t let go of his shirt, he pried my
fingers loose. His eyes were dark and bottomless. The horror I’d seen just
minutes before was replaced with a burning anger.

Micah’s lip curled and he snarled, “Don’t touch her.”

The voice was unrecognizable. If I hadn’t seen Micah’s mouth
move I wouldn’t have known it was possible for him to make that sound.

Micah drew another gun and aimed it at Julian’s head. In the
same second, Julian took hold of the stake. The first thing my trembling
fingers came into contact with was the hard muscle of Julian’s forearm. I dug
my nails and breathed in quick, shallow pants.

“I’ll phaze her out of here before you can pull the trigger,
mongrel.” Julian sounded remarkably calm.

“He’s injured. I don’t think he can phaze us both. Shoot
him,” I insisted. I had no idea why I’d phazed between Micah and Julian, but
this had to end. Micah needed to end it.

Julian pushed the weapon deeper into my shoulder. I sank my
nails into his skin until I smelled his blood.

“Tsk, tsk. Behave, little hunter, or we will see how loudly
you scream. If Micah pulls the trigger, it isn’t me he’ll hit.”

I gritted my teeth. “He’s a good shot.”

“Do you know why you threw yourself in front of the stake
meant for me?” Julian asked.

“Because you’ve twisted her mind,” Micah answered.

Julian ignored Micah’s comment. “The sire-fledgling
relationship can be tempestuous. In order to preserve the species, fledglings
are incapable of killing their sires.” He smiled. “Or stand by and watch
someone else kill them.”

The gun in Micah’s hand dropped to his side. “You knew I
couldn’t kill you. Motherfucker. You were willing to sacrifice her life for
yours? He doesn’t love you, Ella.”

Julian held me more firmly against him. Micah’s nostrils
flared. “You have few options, hunter. Shoot and we’ll find out just how well
the sire-fledgling bond works, or walk away.”

“I’m not leaving without her.”

“You said I had twenty-four hours, Julian. Are you not only
a coward, but a liar?” I asked through trembling lips.

The scream I let out was a loud, piercing wail. Julian
stopped twisting the stake. The red-hot pain didn’t fade.

“I should kill you,” Julian whispered into my ear.

“Then do it, asshole.”

He didn’t kill me. Instead he grabbed the stake and plunged
it the rest of the way through my shoulder. Julian held me clamped to his body,
so when I tried to buck away from the pain, I couldn’t. My vision went black.
When I came to, I heard Micah yelling at me.

“Ella, god damn it, stop moving, you’re only making it worse.”

“What good is a king if his word cannot be trusted?” Julian
panted. “You’ve got twenty-four hours to decide.” He let go of the stake,
grabbed my head and pressed his bloody mouth against mine.

Micah hadn’t moved a single step before Julian vanished. I
sank to the earth. The tip of the stake hit the ground, forced the weapon up
and the torture began anew. “That went well,” I gasped when sanity returned.

“What in the fuck is wrong with you?” Micah yelled.

I shrank back and closed my eyes to avoid his glowing gaze.
I felt, rather than saw, Micah sink to his knees in front of me. When he
grabbed the stake, I tensed. I didn’t believe for one moment he would hurt me
on purpose, but the memory of Julian doing just that was too fresh.

Micah pulled. The stake didn’t just slide out. In some
places, my skin had already begun to heal around it. The flesh didn’t let go
willingly. I cried out and curled into a fetal position. “I’m sorry, Micah.” My
voice was small and hoarse.

“You’re sorry?” He was still yelling. “I staked you! Had to
rip it back out. What in the fuck are you sorry for?”

Micah pulled me into his arms, lifted me up so I could crawl
into his lap. My forehead found the hot, damp skin of his neck. I clutched his
shirt and let out the first sob trapped in my throat. Then the dam broke. I
bawled against him as my battered heart struggled to keep beating through the
pain and raw helplessness.

“I hate him so much. I saw the fear in his eyes when you
leapt on him. And then I don’t know what happened. I just…”

“Shush,” Micah soothed. He rubbed his hand up and down my
back. Where he touched, heat seeped into my skin. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“We have to kill him. You have to kill him.”

Micah pulled me back, held my cheeks so he could look into
my eyes.

“He’s dead.” His gaze searched my face, catalogued the
bruises and other injuries. “Aside from the stake through your shoulder, did he
hurt you?”

I shook my head. “Only my pride. I got my ass kicked and I
have a feeling Julian wasn’t even really trying. How is your head? Did he hurt
you?” I asked.

Blood trickled from his split lip and a cut on the red,
swollen ridge of his right cheek. Purple splotches of a forming bruise ringed his
left eye.

“Only my pride,” Micah replied, smiling.

Micah rose and set me on my feet. I teetered and reached for
his shoulder to steady myself. The gesture was a measure of how far we’d come.
I looked up at the night and tried to judge how long we had until sunrise. An
hour, maybe.

I stayed close to Micah on the silent walk back to the car.
Without the stake in the way, the wound in my shoulder was healing properly,
and the other various stings from the night’s adventures were fading fast.

The moment I sat in Micah’s car, the side of my head found
the window and my eyes drifted shut. I must have slept because when my eyes
opened, the rain had stopped and we were in front of Micah’s building.
Confused, I sat up a little straighter and looked around. Micah was staring at
me, a turbulent churning in his eyes.

“How long have we been sitting here?” I yawned, heard my jaw
crack.

He shrugged. “A few minutes.”

While the rain had cleaned most of the blood and dirt from
his face, there was something the water hadn’t washed away. A savagery remained
etched in the hard planes of his face. He was bruised and rugged. He was a
warrior fresh from battle. He had never looked more handsome. My stomach
fluttered.

“You were watching me sleep?” I smiled. “That’s kind of
creepy and a little stalkerish.”

As he leaned across the seat, his shoulders bunched. “Maybe
I’m obsessed.”

I moistened my lower lip. His gaze traced the wet trail of
my tongue.

“In a good way, I hope,” I said.

“It isn’t too late for me to take you to your uncle’s.”

“Why would I go there?” I swiped my wet palms on my pants.

“If you come upstairs with me, I’m not going to be able to
stop from touching you, from stripping you naked. You’re tired and hurt and I
can’t promise to be gentle. The darkness.” He drew in a breath and corrected
himself. “The demon wants you tied to my bed, wants you screaming and so drunk
with pleasure you won’t be able to walk away from us. You’re ours. The man and
the demon. We need to claim you.”

The man and the demon.
His husky, sex-drugged voice
brought my thighs together in anticipation. My pussy was slick and swollen. The
scent of sex permeated the air.

“I don’t want to go to Roy’s.”

Micah nodded, rubbed the tip of his nose along mine. I
lifted my head, searched for his kiss. He kept just out of reach. Micah
grinned, came close enough for me to lick his lower lip. I tried to suck the
lip into my mouth but Micah moved away.

Before the disappointment could sink in, Micah helped me out
of the car and we entered his building together. None of the bums we passed
said one word or even looked at us twice as we mounted the stairs. This time I
wasn’t overwhelmed by the bouquet of piss and vomit. The only thing I smelled
was the subtle scent of Micah’s desire.

The moment Micah’s apartment door closed behind me, we
stripped off weapons, shoes and clothes. When I lifted my arms and Micah helped
me pull off both my sweater and tank top, my shoulder gave only a twinge of
protest.

Micah began to unbutton his Levi’s. Muscles I was all too
aware of bunched and flexed on his exquisite body. My eyes moved over the light
sprinkling of hair on his chest. Denim hit the ground. I followed the trail of
hair down his stomach until I found the stark crimson tattoo on his hip. I
traced the lines until my gaze settled on his hard cock. He was long and thick.
A pearly drop leaked out of the slit on his penis and I licked my lips.

With a single finger, Micah reached out to touch the shiny
pink scar that marked where he’d staked me.

“Do you normally heal this fast?” he asked.

I shook my head. “No.”

“You’re going to need blood.”

“Not tonight.” I didn’t want this, what we were about to do,
to be about feeding. I wanted to forget about vampires and bloodlust. I just
wanted him to love me.

I don’t know who moved first but the moment our bodies came
together, our mouths fused. Unlike the drugged, desperate kisses from the club,
Micah stroked his tongue along mine in a slow, sensual tango. His palm smoothed
from my shoulder, down the center of my spine. The way the width of his fingers
spanned my entire back made me feel very feminine. He cupped my ass, pressed
the hard ridge of his erection against my belly.

I rose to my tiptoes, curved my leg against the soft,
springy curls on his calf. Everywhere our bodies touched, electric currents of
warmth gathered. Now that I was aware of it, I could sense the energy building between
us. My caress danced over his chest, up his neck. I scratched my nails through
the damp strands of his hair and leaned into him just a little bit more.

He walked me back, our mouths and bodies intertwined, into
the dark bathroom and then into the tiny cubicle of the shower. The water was a
cold drizzle that neither of us paid any attention to. With Micah’s hot, hard
body against mine, I knew I’d never feel cold again.

Despite his urgent arousal, his every caress was gentle and
slow. Micah kissed me harder, deeper. He touched me as if he loved me. The
emotion was in every stroke of his tongue, it was in the way he moved his
fingers along every inch of my body. For long minutes we kissed and touched
under the gradually warming spray of water.

Micah turned me, brought my back against his chest. The rasp
of his chin scratched the back of my neck, the curve of my shoulder. His lips
touched my skin and a delicious shiver moved down my spine. I felt every hot
breath when he drew his mouth along the column of my throat. When his tongue
soothed the punctures Julian had left, my knees went weak.

“I’ll never let him hurt you again.” The words were fierce
and such a contrast to the way he caressed me.

The thought of Micah by my side, protecting me, loving me,
eased the darkness. He would be there for me. Always.

Micah nibbled my throat and pushed his thumbs into the tight
knot at the back of my neck. He pressed into the muscles and began massaging
down the column of my spine. I moaned. I rested my forehead against the cool
glass wall. The rich smell of Micah’s soap filled the steaming air. With a
tenderness I hadn’t known him capable of, he washed every inch of my skin,
kissed every scratch and bruise and scar. He shampooed my hair and when he
rinsed out the conditioner, his lips found mine.

I turned in to him. The hard tips of my nipples slid against
his arm and then through the soft hair on his chest. The erotic tickle made me
quiver. Our kiss grew, became something more than desire, more than passion. We
were becoming one. As he’d done to me, I soaped every inch of him, kissed every
scar I’d ever admired for the last six months.

Against his lips I smiled and my hand on his stomach moved
lower. I palmed his cock, let the water lubricate the path I took from the base
to the crown. My touch curved over the tip, slid back down the shaft. His dark
eyes watched me and liquefied my bones. I stroked faster. His breathing
quickened.

I dropped to my knees and nuzzled his cock against my cheek.
I drew in his scent, memorized each component of it. His body blocked the spray
of water so when I looked up at him, my view was unobstructed. I opened my
mouth to take him inside, but Micah shook his head. He pulled me to my feet and
crushed his mouth to mine.

“You don’t deserve to be on your knees. Not tonight,” he
said.

Micah knelt and drew his open mouth down the center of my
chest. He looked up, ran his tongue inside my navel.