A Wicked Hunger (Creatures of Darkness 1) (13 page)

“I wasn’t saying those things to be cruel,
Coraline, or to make you uncomfortable.” His tone was gravely. The steel of his erection pressed against her lower belly.

She fought a renewed wave of desire.

“I said them because you turn me on so fucking much, and I can’t keep it to myself anymore.”

Her mouth dropped open. That infernal heat was back, full-force between her legs, this time dulling her mind. His eyes dipped to her lips, and she knew he was about to kiss her. Adrenalin flushed through her system, bringing with it cognition in the form of a pathetically tiny voice. “Mace, I’m scared.”

“I know, baby. I don’t want to scare you.” He offered a crooked smile. “But you ruined my meal back there, and as detestable as that meal was, I think you owe me a boon.”

“W-What do I owe?” Her mind turned to ravaged flesh and flowing blood. Her heart sped.

“A kiss,” he said.

Though her body relaxed, her heart kept pace as fear was replaced by anticipation.

His eyes turned dark with lust, indicating he might want much more than just a kiss.

Her rebellious brain screamed,
I do too!
She had to get control of herself. “A regular kiss?”

He nodded.

“T-That’s it?”

“For now.”

She swallowed, finding no moisture in her throat. “Okay.”

His hand slipped to her nape, and she struggled to breathe evenly.

He dipped his head, and their lips came into contact like a brand searing flesh—hot and, she feared, a little permanent. Nobody kissed like Mace. He was the example to which all other males should be measured. His tongue expertly delved past her lips even though she hadn’t planned on letting him in. His body was like warm pliable steel folded around her, making her aware of every corded muscle.

Instantly lost, she opened her mouth wider for him, and he growled with pleasure, taking the invitation. The feel of his tongue on hers caused a jolt that traveled straight to her clitoris. She let out a soft moan.

Determined not to be totally overtaken by the moment, she swirled her tongue in step with his, matching his every wicked thrust. A strong hand palmed her backside, giving an appreciative squeeze. His hips rolled forward, managing to stimulate her through her…panties?

Her skirt had somehow gotten hiked up past her upper thighs, and Mason’s hand kneaded the soft flesh of her ass.

She pulled her head away and gasped for air. “This is more than a kiss.”

“Not one of my kisses,” he growled and claimed her mouth again, this time a little more urgently, a little more brutally, a little more perfectly.

Holy goddess, he could make her orgasm just with his tongue in her mouth.

The sound of honking interrupted them, and they both looked to see a car approaching. The young passengers laughed and leered at them as the car zoomed by, kicking up a fine cloud of dirt from the road.

Cora coughed as she worked to catch her breath. Then she noticed her fingers were digging into Mason’s shoulders, and one of her legs was curled up by his hip.

She hurried to right her clothing.

Mace stepped back, his expression smug.

“Does that make you feel macho?” She turned to continue her trek around the car.

Mace slapped her lightly on the ass. “No, but that does.” At her glare, he added, “I changed my mind. You’re driving.” With that, he reclaimed the passenger seat, leaving her dumfounded and fuming…and desperately wanting more.

It soon became clear why Mason wanted her to drive. He wanted to continue flirting with her without any distractions. As he navigated, his voice dropped a couple of octaves and it made everything he said sound overtly sexy, even when telling something as simple as
make a right here
. It kept her off guard having to keep an eye on the road while contending with his every remark.

Aside from that, having her in the driver seat gave him leave to study her continuously.
Having his eyes on her was almost physical, especially when he lowered them to examine her legs as she applied pressure to the gas or brakes, which he did regularly. It was both unnerving and titillating. The urge to take her hands from the wheel and tug down the hem of her skirt affected her often.

“You handle this vehicle masterfully,” he commented after he directed her onto a dirt road banked by thick trees that screened out the setting sun. “I wonder what else you are able to handle so well.”

She was inclined to believe he did it on purpose, but she wouldn’t call him on it just to have him accuse her of being the one with a dirty mind.

What was worse than Mace coming on to her? Some rebellious part of her
had taken over her vocal cords and was countering his every remark. “Oh, I can handle just about anything I get my hands on.”

He grinned. “I’ve no doubt you’ll demonstrate that for me later.”

She stifled a flustered gasp. “Sorry, all demonstrations have been canceled until further notice.”

“I have a feeling something will pop up.”

Of their own accord, her lips curled upward. She forced a frown, but Mace noticed.

Torture by way of thick, husky voice and sexual innuendo; that was his plan.

And she was enjoying it.

A vamp was teasing her, and she was actually responding in kind? A vamp had kissed her, thoroughly, brutally, carnally, and she had kissed him back with equal fervor.

Was she mad?

How had things flipped on her so quickly?

“You’re going to have to handle your own demonstrations for the time being,” she responded, determined to keep her head.

The dirt road shallowed into something more of a trail. She eased off the gas slightly. 

“Oh, I’m not one to work alone,” Mace replied. “I prefer
to have a helping hand.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. I bet you’d be quite proficient at it if you gave it a shot. Taking charge might even help to stroke your poor neglected ego.”

“It’s not my ego that needs stroking.”

Cora swallowed. The innocent banter was moving uncomfortably toward something transparently
tawdry. She attempted to derail the conversation. “Tell me more about this witch theory of yours.”

From the corner of her eye, she thought she saw him frown. “It’s not a theory. DNA tests confirm you’re part of an ancient line of witches.”

DNA
? “I thought Trent was only checking for dark cells in my blood.”

“At first, yes.
But when he found such an abundance of dark cells, he ordered further testing.”

“Alright.
So when you say witch, you mean, like, a religion or something. Another word for gypsies, maybe? My family did travel a lot.” The road took a wide turn and then crossed over a shallow stream.

“How is it you don’t know any of this?” Mace asked. “Your parents never told you about your heritage?”

She shook her head.

“You sure they were your biological—”

“Of course,” she interrupted irritably. “I mean…I’m pretty sure.” Doubt suddenly plastered her mind and she slumped. “They must have been,” she finished lamely.

“Doesn’t matter.
Something isn’t right about your situation. That’s for sure. I’ve never heard of a witch being born without some innate magical tendencies. Your powers should have come to fruition long ago.” He gestured to the busted back window. “And no witch, no matter how inept, would have tolerated a shotgun blast practically up the rear.”

“Have you ever seen a so-called witch use actual magic?”

His expression answered for him. “I was at a club a few years back, you know, one of those vamp-friendly blood donor joints. There was this attractive girl in tight black leather dress that showed more skin than it covered. Sleek blonde hair. Great eyes. Just my type. Smelled enticing.”

Cora gritted her teeth and gripped the steering wheel tighter, concentrating hard on the road.

“You look fiercely agitated, Cora. Something bothering you?” He sounded amused.

“Nope, just trying to stay on the road.”
And fighting back a wicked case of jealousy!
What is that about?

Mace chuckled. “Anyway, I solicited her. She was in the donor section of the club after all. But she wasn’t having it. I ended up
being slammed through a wall, just like our redneck friends in the truck back there, but without the armored shell. When I looked up to see which bruiser had pile-drived me sideways—it couldn’t have been that wee thing—she vanished before my eyes.”

“That’s all circumstantial. She could’ve been really strong, and then you could have been blinded by a light or something and just imagined she’d vanished.”

“Unnaturally strong. I’ll agree to that, if she had
touched
me. But she hadn’t laid a single finger on me, and neither had anyone else. As for a light blinding me? I know what I saw. Being tossed like a ragdoll by a creature that wouldn’t weigh a hundred pounds sopping wet tends to stick in your mind.”

Cora’s brow furrowed.
“A creature?”

“Witches are not human. Well, not fully.”

She snorted. “So you believe I’m not even human?”

“Don’t sound so offended. Being human isn’t all that. I know from personal experience, and I don’t recommend it. They die too easily, get sick,
can barely heal a paper cut on their own. If you have some claim to the supernatural, embrace it and milk it for all it’s worth, I say.”

Cora went quiet.
Supernatural? Inhuman? Creature? She didn’t feel like any of those things. There must be some sort of mistake. More likely, her blood sample had somehow been tainted, or tampered with. “I don’t know if I trust that blood test. I need a second opinion.”

“Agreed.”

Cora’s head snapped toward him. “Really?”

“You were expecting an argument? I’d like to be sure as well.
Especially since you’ve displayed no magical abilities whatsoever.” He pointed ahead. “Slow down, there’s another turn coming up.”

She made a left onto an even more compact pathway with a rocky terrain and thick overgrowth. She had to push the car along at a whopping two miles an hour for fear of bottoming out on a sharp rock or dip. As they went, low branches scratched loudly along the side of the car. Cortez’s paint job would be screwed at this rate. Mace didn’t seem concerned.

“As soon as we’re settled, I’ll report to Trent and have him send someone trustworthy to gather another sample.”

“Settled where?” she asked, just before the forest gave way to a picturesque, grey stone cottage. The irregular stones that made up the walls were marked by time, discolored and weather-stained. Thick wooded shutters, bleached by the sun, closed in several of the windows. A dark slate roof topped off the one-story building, adding a foreign aesthetic. It appeared to be very old, yet built to last the ages.

“When was this built? Seventeen-oh-ancient?”

Mace snorted. “It’s not that old.”

“Older than me, I’d wager.”

“Most everything is older than you.” He smirked. “And be glad it is. Almost everyone who knew of its secrets is long dead.”

“That sounds ominous. What secrets?”

He pursed his lips, indicating he wasn’t about to speak on the subject. Instead, he replied, “We’ll be safe here.”

Okay
… “So…” She hesitated as she parked the car in front of the cottage. “How old are
you
?”

His smile widened.
“Older than you.”

She rolled her eyes and stepped out of the car. Her feet sank into layer upon layer of dampened leaves, shielding her against the muddy earth below. The aroma of freshly fallen rain hung in the air.

An eerie sensation crept along her skin, raising the hairs on her arms and back of her neck. She shivered and glanced around.

The surrounding forest appeared thick with life, the tall trees probably hundreds of years old. Movement caught her eye. A shadow scurried behind a bulky shrub. Just an animal, she told herself.

Mace was already to the door, seemingly unaware of her unease as he prepared to enter that fossil of a building and leave her out here alone. She rushed after him.

The main living room was twice the expected size, and the stone design, which resembled the exterior, reminded her of what the interior of a medieval castle might look like, complete with a set of buck heads mounted on the wall ahead of her and deer antlers to her left.

As she walked farther into the room, she expected the wood floor to creak under her feet, but it remained silent. An ornate Chesterfield sofa and matching love seat with flared arms fronted a hearth that boasted a flat-screen television directly overhead.

“No bear skinned rug?” she said. “I’m disappointed.”

Mace gave her a wry look.

An archway on the opposite end of the room led to a large dining area and kitchen combination. The kitchen occupied most of the room with the fridge directly against the back wall in front of her. To the left of that, dark wooden cupboards lined the two adjoining walls. Underneath the cupboards, a black marbled countertop wrapped those same walls and then broke away into a J shape, creating a small bar. There was also an island counter situated near the center of the room and angled toward the smaller dining space to the right where an antique-
ish iron chandelier hung from the ceiling just above a thick square wooden table and chair set.

When she returned to Mace in the living room, something caught her eye that she hadn’t noticed upon entering.

A set of stairs decorated by an ornate wooden banister rounded its way to a second floor, disappearing behind the wall that housed the hearth.

She paused and looked a Mace.
“A second story?” From the outside she’d assumed there was only one story to the cottage.

Mace just shrugged. When she realized she would receive no explanation, she climbed the stairs.

Seemingly content to let her explore, Mace waited on the first floor.

As her foot landed on the top step, that odd sensation crept over her again; an almost cool feeling yet warm at the same time, as if her body couldn’t decide between the two.

She rubbed her arms in an attempt to get rid of it.

Down the lengthy hall
that was only decorated by a small, square table under an old-looking  mirror, she found four rooms, two on either side and each with a bed, writing desk, closet and dresser, and a set of large windows she hadn’t seen from the outside. She peeked out of one, spotting the car where she’d parked it. Weird.

All four rooms had their own bathrooms as well with a sink, tub, and separate walk-in shower. It was as if the top floor had been designed to be rented out. Maybe Mace’s “
safehouse” was, in fact, a quaint lodge. Probably for high-class patrons with a taste for skiing who like to get away for a weekend. Though it was summer now, in a few months, snow would cover the surrounding hills and mountains.

That cold/warm sensation hit her again. After it passed, she rejoined Mace downstairs. “It feels weird up there. Is this place haunted or something?”

One corner of his mouth lifted. “Not haunted, no.”

“Well something’s giving me the shivers.”

He studied her for a moment, then headed into the kitchen, gesturing for her to follow. “Like I said, this place holds a lot of secrets.” He pressed his palm into a section of the wall, and a panel shifted sideways, revealing an opening the size of a door. She stepped forward to peer inside. A darkened staircase led down to a gravel covered floor.