A Wicked Hunger (Creatures of Darkness 1) (14 page)

A hidden cellar?

She gulped.

“Don’t tell me there’s a dungeon down there and that’s where you plan to kill me,” Cora said to Mace as she stared bleakly into the darkened cellar. “Oh, man. I knew it. A vampire that wants to protect me?” She snorted. “How stupid am I?”

Mace sighed. “Don’t be so melodramatic. The staircase leads to an underground tunnel which in turn leads to the closest town. It’s an escape route in case…well, in case of anything. It was installed just afte
r the volatile revelation of my kind.”

“Oh.” Cora offered a small smile. “That’s…convenient.
And a little freaky, actually. How long is it?”

“Miles.
Eight to be exact.”

She whistled. “That’s a heck of a jog.”

“Not if you’re properly motivated.”

She conceded that point with a tight nod as she gazed down into the darkness. “What if someone were to come here from the other end?”

“No one but a well-trained witch, who knew what to be looking for and where, would be able to find the tunnel’s end.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because it’s magically hidden, just like the top floor.”

She blinked up at him.
“No way.” As if needing confirmation of his claim, Cora sprinted back through the dining room and out the front door. Mace followed, finding her gawking up at the spot where the second story should be.

Backing up for a better view, she bumped into the sedan. “You’ve got to be shitting me.”

She raced back into the house, and Mace heard her bound up the stairs. Then all sound of her disappeared, smothered by the spell that had been placed upon the cottage so long ago.

He crossed his arms and leaned against the hood of the car, waiting patiently for her to reemerge.

When she did, she appeared a bit dumfounded. “Mace, I was yelling at you from the window. Didn’t you hear me?”

When Mace explained the sound dampening effects of the spell, her expression became a mix of amazement and fascination.

“Being a witch is starting to look a little better now, yeah?”

She frowned. “I still don’t think you’re right about me, but if magic exists, real magic…well, that’s just incredible, isn’t it?”

He shrugged. “Incredible for some, bothersome for others.”

She cocked her head.

“Witches and vampires aren’t exactly BFFs of the supernatural world. We’ve had our…disagreements over the years. Imagine going up against a being that can overpower you with the flick of a finger, strip your will with a word. Imaging how disconcerting that can be.”

“I don’t have to imagine that. It’s how humans feel every single day with you vamps walking around.”

Mace lifted a brow. “Touché.” He strolled back into the house, and Cora followed. “There’s some non-perishable food in the pantry,” he told her. “Make yourself something to eat while I’m gone, and promise me you’ll stay inside till I return.”

“Where are you going?”

He hesitated. “I need to check the tunnel, make sure there’ve been no cave-ins. I’ll pick up some fresh produce while I’m at it.” He intentionally left out the main reason he needed to go; his hunger was not sated.

Cora might be opening up to a little flirtatious banter, but she was far from ready to allow a vampire, even him, feed from her. Plus, if the blood test was correct and she was indeed a witch, it would be wise for him to avoid sharing any more blood with her anyway.

The bond between them, he could tell, was already strong, making the idea of taking from another utterly repulsive.

He swore under his breath and headed out.

“Alright,” Cora replied, even as anxiety crawled up her spine. Was it because she knew she’d soon be alone here in this eerie cottage, or because she suspected the real reason Mason wanted to leave? And it wasn’t to get fresh produce. Her stomach turned at the thought of food. Was she getting sick? She was feeling a bit achy, but figured that was from driving for so long. She decided not to mention her nausea to Mason, worried he might suggest she take some of his blood to heal.

At the
notion, a jolt, almost like anticipation, shot through her. Why did it suddenly sound so appealing? She stubbornly buried that idea.

After Mace vanished down the dark staircase, the panel slid closed behind him.

Curious if the secret entrance opened only for Mace, she placed her palm on the wall in the same spot he had. The panel shifted once more.

As if expecting her, Mace stood facing her with his arms crossed tightly over his chest and a censuring brow
raised.

She frowned. “I was just checking.”

“Unless your life’s in danger, you’re not to step foot down here. Understand?”

She mimicked his stance. “I got it.”

He nodded once and then pushed the panel back in place.

For the next hour, Cora took it upon herself to explore the cottage, opening dresser drawers, closets, and any other noticeable compartments, finding nothing of much interest. In the dressers, there were a few folded shirts and pants, predominantly for males. The closets held a couple nice suits and jackets and empty hangers. There was a line of books on a shelf in the main room of the first floor, some of them ancient looking. One of the covers was so worn the title was no longer readable. She idly glanced at a few of the others: The Art of War, Gods and Generals, A Comprehensive Guide to Body Language. But the two that surprised her the most: Wuthering Heights, and Pride and Prejudice. Both well preserved, but aged so thoroughly they could pass for first editions.

Vamps reading for pleasure? Who knew? 

Growing bored with her unfruitful snooping, she found a linen closet and claimed a fluffy orange towel, then snatched a T-shirt and pair of sweats with a string-tie waist from one of the dressers.

She was ready to test out the shower.

* * *

The sun slowly melted into the horizon, and the sky morphed from blue to navy. Mace strolled through the main street of the small seaside town with the strut of a man who belonged without question, drawing little attention.

The heavy, pungent fragrance distinctive to ocean water filled his nostrils and could almost be felt gliding over his skin. He wondered if Cora had ever seen the ocean up close and imagined what expression she might take if he brought her here. Would she smile as brightly as she used to when she’d been under the illusion the rough parts of her life were behind her? Would she offer that same smile to him in gratitude? Maybe allow him to hold her as they watched a sunset over the water?

He mentally scoffed at himself. When in the hell had he become a namby-pamby romantic?

Yet he couldn’t corral his thoughts. He moved on to how she might display her gratitude for such an evening. Perhaps later in the night she would thank him with a kiss.
A touch. Perhaps allow him to pet that pretty body of hers.

He ran a hand down his face and cleared his mind so he could focus on
his current objective. He was supposed to be hunting, not fabricating ridiculous fantasies…with an alleged witch no less. Thinking of Cora like that—as his—was rousing his hunger, while making that dark-haired female on the corner just up ahead appear less than appealing.

The woman watched him as he approached. He made no attempt to hide his lengthening fangs. She smiled and arched her body, visibly accentuating her curves, clad in a tight pair of plastic orange shorts and thin, white gauzy top, sans bra.

A blood hooker.

The town was full of them. In fact, most of the towns that lined the Pacific had their share of blood hookers to accommodate the large population of vampires resided along this coveted stretch of land.

In a breathy voice, she introduced herself and Mace subsequently forgot her name. She leaned into him, rubbing herself against his chest. She smelled of sex and blood. Another vampire had been here shortly before him.

Repelled, he set her at arm’s length.

Her brow furrowed at the abruptness. “What’s the matter, baby?”

In all his time as a vampire, he had never experienced such a strong aversion to a potential blood donor. If he fed from this woman, he might literally retch. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I thought you were someone else.”

As he walked away, she called after him, “I can be anyone you want.”

No, she couldn’t. No one could mimic the obstinate, strong spirited, sometimes coy, and always sexy
Coraline.

Mace scrubbed his palm down his face.
Seriously? When the fuck had he become such a pansy? And when the hell had Coraline become his version of ideal? Dammit! He was going to be screwed six ways to Sunday if he didn’t force her from his mind.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

He retrieved it and glanced at the name before greeting, “Hey, Trent. I was going to call you shortly. Any leads on the mole?”

“None yet, but I have many feelers out at the moment. If there’s a traitor in our midst or among the humans, I’ll find him. How goes it with you? Have you decided on a location yet?”

“Is this line secure?”

“It is.”

Mace glanced around, making sure no one was within hearing distance. “I’ve taken her to the enchanted cottage.”

“No shit? You think she needs that much defense?”

“After the attempts on both our lives, don’t you agree?”

“I suppose. It’s just a surprising place to bring a witch. What if she manages to dip into the centuries-old magic surrounding that place? She could use it against you.”

“About that. I think we should do another blood test on Cora, with a fresh sample. She denies any knowledge of being a witch.”

Trent snorted. “And you believe her?”

“I…I’m not sure. All I know is that she has yet to use magic, even when her life might have depended on it.”

Trent sighed.
“Very well. I’ll see if I can spare someone in the morning.”

“I’d prefer it if you came yourself.”

“I’m a little busy here, Mason. I might have uncovered a new lead into Brayden’s disappearance. I need to keep on it.”

“Fine then.
Just be sure whoever you send is trustworthy.”

Pause.

Trent’s voice hardened. “Watch yourself, Mason. That was just shy of an order.”

Mace cringed, glad that Trent couldn’t see it.
“Apologies, sire. You know I trust your judgment.”

The line went quiet for another moment. Then Trent replied, “If I can spare the extra hand, I’ll have someone there by tomorrow.”

Without another word, he hung up.

Great.
What a perfect time to piss off his maker.

* * *

With her hair wrapped in a towel, Cora stretched out on the sofa, stomach down, knees bent with her feet hovering over her behind, and a copy of Pride and Prejudice open to chapter four. Elizabeth Bennet had just had her first run-in with Mr. Darcy.

When she heard the front door creek open behind her, she decided to tease Mace a little. “I never would have taken you for a closet romance novel junkie.” She laughed.

“’fraid those don’t belong to me,
cher
.”

Cora froze. That was not Mason’s voice. She swiveled around. The book slipped from her grasp and fell to the floor with a dull thud.

In the doorway, thick arms sheathed in a black leather jacket folded over a broad, powerful chest. Light, grey-blue eyes contrasted drastically with the dark, raven hair that was pulled back in a tight braid that cascaded down his back. The sides of his head were sheered to within an inch of his scalp.

Cora’s heart began to thud in her chest.

The wild-looking vampire twisted his features into a predatory grin, fangs prominent. “I thought I smelled something sweet.”

Her throat worked overtime to suck in air, but the essential muscles seemed to be malfunctioning. The vampire’s eyes flashed, and she realized he was reacting to the furious spike in her pulse.