Feral Hunger (2010) (2 page)

She studied his face and he waited while she perused him. It was often that way with women. They found his looks pleasing. Many of them had told him so. They found his dark brown curls appealing and his even darker brown eyes more so. Apparently not this one though, because she was staring at him with something close to horror.

The sight of the terror in her wide green eyes unnerved him. He never had to work to earn a woman's regard. And for some reason he couldn't quite fathom, he wanted her to like him.

Vlad studied this unfamiliar feeling for a moment and decided he didn't like it. Do you remember anything about what happened?

She shook her head.

Nothing at all?

Nothing that makes sense. Just frightening images.

He could well imagine what those were. Accusation hung in the silence between them. This wasn't how it usually went. He must be off his game tonight. Normally, he'd have a woman in his large coffin in the bedroom by now. Believe me, I've never had to force a woman to get blood. He sounded petulant, even to his own ears.

Great, she snapped. Just like other men, even male vampires have huge egos.

Vlad bit back a sharp comment. The last thing he needed was more screaming. That would get him in trouble with the condo association, who wasn't all that pleased to have a vampire resident in the first place.

Look He put as much compulsion into his voice as he could. I can help you, but you have to try and remember what happened.

She shook her head. It's mostly a blank.

He was a pretty good hypnotist. But would it work on someone who was already becoming a vampire? Vlad tried again, lowering the timbre of his voice. Okay, let's start with the beginning of your evening. Where did you go?

The blonde stared past his shoulder as his voice took hold of her. I don't remember anything after going to the club.

What club?

The Pit, she said groggily.

He knew that club. It was one of his favorite haunts. It attracted a Goth contingent, many of whom were agreeable to some genuine vampire companionship. Okay, let's start with you arriving at The Pit...

The dark vampire's voice soothed Jaelyn, even though she was desperately afraid. A pulsing cramp squeezed her stomach. But that lilting voice pulled her into the past, opening up the bolted door to her memory.

Goth really wasn't her scene, but her friend Mandy wanted to go to The Pit. So she'd gone along. It was almost Halloween. A trip to The Pit seemed like an enjoyable seasonal event. And the club hadn't disappointed. Its black and red interior had been decorated with black pumpkin candles on every table. Clubgoers wearing black lace and black velvet were packed in like inky sardines. The music was good. It had been fun. Until...

She'd danced with that guy with the long black hair. She hadn't wanted to, but something in his almost black eyes had made her say yes. Mandy had encouraged her. The guy was drop-dead gorgeous, she'd said. How could she refuse?

What harm could a dance do? And he'd been a great dancer. He wore his sleek black hair tied back in a ponytail. The butter-soft leather of his dark trench coat had caressed her skin as he led her to the dance floor. She'd almost given him her regrets again, but he'd pulled her firmly along with him. As they'd danced, she'd gazed up into his face and caught a glimpse of black eyes tinged with red.

After that it all grew hazy.

Something horrible had happened. She whimpered at the half-memory.

It's okay. The vampire's breath was warm against her ear. Which meant he'd fed recently. She tried to wrestle from his grasp, but he held her with arms like steel. You're safe here. It's all right to remember.

Her mind didn't want to relinquish the memory. But his voice insisted. She rifled back through her thoughts. The dance floor ... dark, red-rimmed eyes boring down into hers.

And then a blast of cold air. A hard body shoving her against the rough brick. The tearing pressure. And worst of all, the wet sounds of his convulsive swallows.

A huge void stretched through her memory after that. She had the sense a great deal of time had passed, but she couldn't be certain. Vaguely, she recalled someone lifting her and the worn leather of a sofa against her back. Someone urging her to drink... and the taste of copper and salt on her tongue.

Jaelyn cried out in protest at the recollection.

Okay, that's enough for now. The vampire's voice thrust her back into the here and now.

The room rocked precariously. Another wave of nausea-tinged dizziness threatened to overcome her. She pulled away from him, and this time he let her. What have you done to me?

He leaned back against the sofa and sighed. Trust me, I don't like this any more than you do.

Jaelyn looked at him incredulously. Oh, I doubt that. She studied him some more. He wasn't the

vampire from her memory. He didn't have her attacker's chilling good looks or his predatory grace.

You got a name? Knowing his name might help as well. Her fractured memory refused to divulge

whatever name her assailant had given her. Something exotic, she seemed to recall that much. Vlad, said the vampire beside her. My name is Vlad.

If she hadn't been feeling like she might faint, she might have found that funny. Vlad as in Vlad Dracul? Vlad the Impaler? Of course it is, she said before he could answer. That would explain the Goth apartment with its black piano and dripping candelabra.

No, not like that. A flicker of embarrassment crossed his face. He opened his mouth as if debating telling her something. My real name is Leslie, he blurted finally.

Leslie? He looked so appalled at having revealed this to her she couldn't help sympathizing a little. High school must have sucked for you.

He shrugged. High school was a long time ago. Suffice to say my real name just didn't go with my new life.

Jaelyn glanced around the black-shrouded living room. Even that small movement gave her vertigo. But that didn't stop her from sniping, I can see why.

He ignored the barb. You haven't told me your name.

Jaelyn.

Jaelyn. He repeated her name, making it sound exotic, though she couldn't find any trace of an accent in his speech. Maybe he affected one when he went out clubbing as Vlad Dracul.

He pressed a hand to her forehead. You feel clammy.

I feel awful.

You need to rest. He paused. And then you need to feed again.

The significance of his words sank in like a lead weight. Feed ... how?

Feed as in drink more of my blood.

She drew back from him. Okay, Vlad, tell me what you've done to me?

Now what was he going to tell her? There was no delicate way of putting it. The woman was turning into a vampire. And he was the one who'd donated his blood to start the change. What on earth had possessed him to tell her his real name? The name he hadn't used in decades. It hadn't been so uncommon when he'd been born. Still, a vampire named Leslie would get laughed out of any Goth club in the city.

He gazed down at his unwanted guest, wondering what it was about this woman that attracted him. She was pretty enough with her blonde hair, sea-green eyes and curvy figure. But all the women he brought to his lair were pretty.

She was still staring up at him, waiting for an answer. She deserved the truth, even if it came with more screaming.

He took a deep breath, ready to clamp a hand over her mouth if she uttered another shriek. You're in the process of becoming a vampire.

Her eyes widened. Her mouth fell open. His hand tensed.

You made me into a vampire? she asked in a horrified whisper.

No more screaming... yet. That was a good sign. You'd been savagely bitten and lost a lot of blood. I had no choice other than to let you die.

They have hospitals to deal with that these days.

It was too late. You'd lost too much blood. The hospital wouldn't have been able to help. Says you.

Look, I can understand your anger, but I'm not the one who hurt you. I was just trying to help. Why, he still had no idea.

She was quiet for a long moment. Well, Vlad, or Leslie, or whatever your name really is, I'm going to find out who did this to me and I'm going to make him pay.

Chapter
Three

His new roommate slept fitfully in his guest bedroom. Actually, it was his bedroom, Vlad thought darkly. He never slept in the coffin in the room at the top of his spiral staircase. It was just for show, for seduction. Women found it exotic.

Except for the one in his bed. She didn't seem to notice anything exotic or seductive about him. He sat on the side of the bed and studied her.

A light sheen of sweat beaded her forehead. She tossed and muttered in her sleep. Her eyes flew open, staring blankly at the wall behind him.

Vlad called her name. Jaelyn?

She moaned something unintelligible.

He reached to brush an errant lock of blonde hair from her face. It's okay. You just need a bit more blood.

She shook her head, refusing his precious gift. The change was well underway now. No denying that. She had to drink to finish the process.

He bit into his own wrist, tasting the salt on his skin. The keen sharpness of his teeth stung briefly until he brought his wrist to her mouth.

She shook her head. I can't. But the scent of his blood drew her. Her eyes glinted red in the candlelight. Her head turned slowly toward him.

Vlad gasped as her mouth closed over the wound. Her tongue flicked across his skin. The painkillers in her saliva numbed the discomfort. The touch of her tongue brought a tight heaviness to his crotch. Her reluctance vanished at the first taste. His hand slid behind her head to cradle her against him as she drank.

Nothing had prepared him for the feeling of her drawing nourishment from him. The movement of her lips against the tender skin of his wrist made him wish they were entangled in the satin sheets of that wide coffin. He imagined their sweaty bodies entwined, sharing their lifeblood along with their passion.

He would be her sire. After tonight they would be forever blood kindred. He realized suddenly that thought didn't bother him as much as it should have.

Vlad yanked his arm away. He couldn't actually be feeling something for her ... could he? He looked around his bedroom, feeling his unencumbered, easy life flowing away from him. Since she'd arrived on his doorstep mere hours ago, he'd felt the gears of fate grinding on his existence. Things were changing.

And he hated change. Last night he'd been a free vampire. This morning he had a vampire offspring. Fate be damned, he decided. He wasn't going to change, no matter what.

The new influx of blood had calmed Jaelyn. Her transformation was nearly complete. She lapsed back into slumber. An easier sleep this time, he noticed.

He laid her down against the soft pillows. Now that she'd drunk her fill, she'd sleep deeply while the change ravaged her body. He rose and turned away from the bed. That left the double-wide coffin for him. It was either that or the couch, which was far too narrow for his broad-shouldered frame. The coffin had never been meant to give someone a good night's sleep. It impressed the women he brought home, but they rarely spent the day, leaving him to sleep in his Egyptian cotton sheets alone.

Well, it was the coffin now. Making sure the drapes were closed for his new soon-to-be-vampire visitor, Vlad wandered down the hall to the master bedroom. For a moment he stared at the shiny black monstrosity in the center of the room. What on earth had possessed him to buy such a thing? He'd even had it ordered specially. Once vampires had become public knowledge, people had become interested. Women in particular had been fascinated by his vampiric existence, giving his love life a much-needed boost. At the time, he'd thought the coffin was an affectation that would help with the mystique. He'd never intended to sleep in it.

Resigned to just that fate, he lifted the lid and crawled inside. Cool satin chilled his skin. He lay back against the satin pillow and closed his eyes.

Without warning, the lid slammed shut.

Vlad sat up, banging his head. He pushed against the heavy lid, but it remained stubbornly stuck. Hey! His voice echoed back at him in the small space.

He shoved again, earning himself a wrenched shoulder for his efforts. Even his vampiric strength couldn't budge the thing. His day couldn't get better. He called again, but, seized by the change, Jaelyn slept like the dead.

The lid had a mechanism that locked it in the upright position to prevent accidents like this. He'd meant to entice women, not scare them to death. Although, a little fear sometimes added to the mood. Something must have happened to the folding bar that held the lid open. He envisioned trying to explain it all to Jaelyn and winced. As her sire, he should try to maintain an air of mystery and wisdom, not look like a buffoon who'd locked himself in his own coffin.

Resigned to staying there until Jaelyn awoke, he laid his head back against the pillow. But again he misjudged the distance. His head hit the wooden bottom with a jaw-rattling thump.

Oh, the humanity, he thought with a groan.