A Wicked Hunger (Creatures of Darkness 1) (5 page)

“Forgive me if this hurts.” His expression became serious, his brows furrowing as he methodically worked. With the tweezers, he pulled a glistening shard and dropped it into the now empty cup. It made a dull thud.

Cora counted twelve more dull thuds before Mace set the tweezers aside, dumped the glass in the trash, and then returned to rinsing the excess blood.

Next, he drizzled shampoo into his palm, lathered,
then folded his fingers through her hair. She couldn’t help but close her eyes as he massaged her scalp, all the while thinking how surreal this was.

His hands moved to her shoulders, and he applied a slow gentle pressure with his thumbs. She had to suppress a groan. The warmth of his skin matched the temperature of the water, and for a second, she imagined him touching her lower.

She stiffened at the thought, and he paused.

“You alright?”

“Mm-hm,” she said, not trusting her voice. Her body remained tense, however, even as he continued rolling his thumbs between her shoulder blades. 

What was wrong with her, conjuring up such a scene?
Had rational thought been crippled by that accident?

And yet, she couldn’t stop
sensual pictures from invading her brain.

An internal thrumming started a low beat inside her, steadily growing stronger. She cursed her body’s wayward response and fought to get it under control, clenching her muscles. 

He must have assumed his actions were bothering her, because he stopped the massage and grabbed for the sponge again.

“Look at me,” he
commanded in a light tone.

She did so without really meaning to meet his gaze, but his grey irises captured hers. A lump formed in her throat. Was it her imagination, or did he
appear turned on?

To escape from his stare, she dropped her eyes to his mouth. Not a much better idea, but at least she didn’t feel like he had full access to her increasingly disturbing thoughts.

He curled his finger under her chin and moved her head to the side, then ran the soft sponge along the line of her jaw and down her neck. She closed her eyes and shuddered. Why did that feel so hedonic?

“Mason?” S
he sounded breathy and a little rough.

He froze.

“Please stop…I…” She didn’t know what kind of explanation she could give him. Her skin seemed hypersensitive to every nuance of his touch. Even the air, disturbed by the slightest of movements, seemed to brush her flesh like a caress. She shivered again. The thrumming that had started in her lower half was now a banging pulse that raced through her veins in a fiery rush. She needed to get her body under control.

“Right,” he
said, his voice more guttural than before. “You should be able to finish up.” He handed her the sponge and stood. “There’s a night shirt for you to change into in a bag out there. I need to run out for a little bit. Don’t leave this room, and don’t open the door for anyone. I’ll leave my number by the phone if you need me for anything, but I shouldn’t be long.”

“Um, alright.”

He left, closing the bathroom door behind him. She didn’t fully relax till she heard the motel room door open and close.

A pent-up breath left her in a rush.

Cora
peeled off what was left of her outfit to finish bathing properly. By the time she was done, the water was stained pink by her blood. After stepping out, she pulled the drain, wrapped herself in a towel, and then glanced at herself in the mirror for the first time tonight.

Just above her temple, a rough hook-shaped scar ran into her hairline. To her surprise, it already looked as though it
was few months old. There were other, smaller marks, almost like splatters, that marred her skin just around her eye, undoubtedly where the glass had embedded into her flesh.

She couldn’t remember most of the accident. She hadn’t even seen the guy who hit them. But there was no way it was a coincidence. No doubt, whoever it was had hoped the crash would kill her. They couldn’t have hoped to kill Mace. Taking a vamp’s life was much more difficult than that. Witnessing Edgar’s death had been a frightening experience to say the least.

So, all in all, one thing was certain: Her life was in danger, and as crazy as it sounded to her, a vampire—the thing she always thought she feared more than death—might be the only thing keeping her from it.

Outside the bathroom, she found the cheap, plain white gift-shop shirt in a bag on the chair and put it on. It was an XL, which hung to her knees. She searched the bottom of the bag, saddened to find no clean panties, or any other garments for that matter. The only pair of underwear she had
were drenched from the bathwater. She decided to let them dry on the towel bar in the bathroom, then slipped under the covers of the king-sized bed.

That thrumming that had started with Mason’s touch had not yet dissipated. In fact, it seemed to be growing worse. The soft synthetic-cotton shirt whispered over her breasts, kissing the taut skin of her nipples, making them bud into tender nubs. The sheet glided over her legs like silk rubbing against silk.

Against her will, unwanted, impossibly urgent, and undeniably carnal desire pooled between her legs.

A panicky whimper rushed past her lungs. She reached under the hem of her shirt to alleviate the pressure, but it soon became clear there would be no end to this torture.

She’d felt physical need before, but nothing like this. It was as if release was detrimental to her sanity. As though, if she didn’t orgasm soon, she’d explode.

* * *

Mace sank his fangs into the dazed waitress he’d lured into the dark alley behind the late-night diner. She let out a little moan from the erotic effect of his bite, making the trade of blood beneficial to both parties. It wasn’t sexual on his part, not this time.

It was necessity.

Breathing in Cora’s essence had brought forth his true nature, his hunger…as well as his inexplicable animalistic desire for her. Yet the woman who fed him now did nothing for him. She looked wrong, she sounded wrong, she even smelled wrong. Nonetheless, he needed to slake his hunger before returning to the motel room.

Not that he doubted himself around Cora. He could control baser instincts better than most. But still, Cora did something to him that he couldn’t describe, made him crave more than just her vein and a quick fuck.

Giving her his blood hadn’t helped matters. A connection was always formed with the blood-gift, which was why it was so rarely done, and always with a mutual understanding of what to expect.

Taking
from humans was a different matter. There was little to no risk of solidifying a bond. Ultimately, their essence wasn’t strong enough to leave a lasting mark. Taking from other vampires, however? That was a whole other bag of problems. Mace, himself, had never shared blood with one of his own kind. Bonds like that went both ways and, depending on the strength of the vampires and the frequency of the act, took longer to fade.

Whatever nexus Cora gleaned from his blood would resemble the spirit with which it was given and wouldn’t last more than a
few weeks. If anything it should help her to trust him, at least for the time being.

He hoped she hadn’t ingested too much, though. Her wound had appeared worse, slathered in her own blood, than his examination had revealed. The good news was that it should heal fairly quickly and leave no scar behind. However, too much vampire blood, without proper faculty, would overload the system and bring on…specific urges.

He sucked the woman’s vein more deeply.

He’d suspected as much when he’d been cleaning Cora’s wound. The massage, he had to admit, had been a misstep. He wasn’t the only one to become aroused. 

He needed to be strong, mentally prepared, to deal with the situation in a detached, chivalrous manner. There was no doubt in his mind she would never trust him again if he couldn’t manage that. Not to mention, if he took advantage of her now, it would enforce her already forged hatred of his kind.

Not nearly satisfied, but no longer thirsty, he compelled the waitress to forget him and sent her on her way. He retrieved the to-go bag that he’d ordered beforehand and walked the twenty yards back to the eclectic single level motel with cracked faded paint and burned-out parking lamps. The lot was empty but for the stolen motorcycle in front of room one-oh-three and what looked like the husk of a pre-uprising hick-mobile. Rust eaten and dilapidated, the truck perched at the end of the lot like a sad memorial to bygone days.

When he entered the room, Mace was relieved to find Cora already in bed. Her head was sandwiched between two pillows with her arm slung over the top. Maybe he hadn’t given her too much of his blood after all.

He crossed to the table and set the food down.

“Mace?”

The tremors in Cora’s voice made him
go tense. She peeked at him from under the pillow. From what he could see of her expression under her fluffy shield, she appeared to be in pain.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Something’s wrong. I feel…I’m…I can’t…”

Mace squeezed his eyes shut. “Shit.”
Definitely too much blood. The scent of her desire invaded his nostrils. He clutched the back of a nearby chair. The aroma was like an electroshock wake-up call to the section of his brain that was purely primordial. He went instantly hard. His fangs lengthened, more from anticipation than hunger.

Cora continued sputtering, her cheeks flaming. “I-I…need to…” She let out a frustrated sound and buried her face back in the pillow.

“You don’t have to explain,” he said. “It’s my blood that’s affecting you now. It should pass in a few hours.”

She smashed the pillow into her face with her palm and exhaled a protesting scream. Then she flung the pillow away.
“A few hours? I can’t stand this a second longer. I ne…uh…need your help. Need you to make it stop.”

He shook his head, pity burrowing into his gut.

“Please.” She squirmed uncomfortably under the covers.

“I won’t do that. You wouldn’t be happy about it in the morning.”

Her lip quivered. “Please, Mason. I’m going to go insane.”

Generally, Mace thought of himself as a vigilant, uncompromising individual, but he had never wanted to fold so quickly.

“Cora,” he warned. “Think on this. You know you don’t want me touching you.”

She started to respond, but he tuned her out. He had to put some distance between
him and the sweet scent of her arousal. The bathroom wasn’t far enough, but he wouldn’t risk leaving her alone in this state.

He ran the tap and splashed cool water on his face. When he reached for a towel, he found, instead, a soft bit of cloth. He fingered the material and let out a guttural sound. Christ, she was out there in bed, no panties, and begging for his cock. Even if he didn’t have a special attraction to her, any man would be hard-pressed to resist.

Her moaning pleas assaulted him mercilessly from the other room. She sounded both tormented and salacious—the sweetest sound that had ever graced his ears. He braced his palms on the counter and lowered his head, cursing. Who was he kidding? He wouldn’t be able to deny her for another minute, let alone a few hours.

He reentered the room a defeated man, but Cora’s pleas continued uninterrupted. Unshed tears sparkled in her eyes. It broke his heart.

“Mason, please,” she implored, looking miserable.

“
Coraline.” He paused at the edge of the bed. “I don’t want you to hate me for this in the morning.”

“I won’t hate you. I won’t even be mad. I promise. Please…I’ve never felt like this before. It’s too much.” She shoved the blankest away and ripped the shirt
over her head, tossing it to the ground.

Normally she was a little shy and reserved. He always liked that about her. Now she was completely lost to lust, and fuck if he didn’t like that too.

Selfishly, he feasted on the vision of her lush curves, while at the same time feeling like a deviant. She crawled toward him, stopping with her knees on the edge of the bed, her hands urgently roaming his chest and shoulders.

This wasn’t her. This wasn’t the kind, bashful female he had come to know over the last few months. He realized in this moment, he would take her in any form.

But only with her full, rational consent.

She reached for his fly and had his zipper down before his body caught up with his resolve. He stayed her hand. She responded with a tiny sound that bordered on a sob, her beautiful eyes pained.

“I won’t be having sex with you tonight, Coraline. But,” he added swiftly, before she completely lost her shit, “there are other options. Ones that you might approve of later, when you’re in your right mind.”

“Like?” she urged.

His gaze dropped to her mouth. He brought his hand up to rest his palm on her cheek while his thumb caressed her bottom lip. Unabashedly, she sucked his thumb into her mouth.

The little witch nearly broke him then and there.

With his free hand, he clutched the hair at her nape, and slowly extracted his thumb. Cora froze. Somewhere deep beneath the predominant lust, there was fear behind her eyes. His extended fangs probably didn’t help that.

However, he didn’t loosen his hold. “I want it noted that I could have had you any way I wanted, and you would’ve begged
me for more, but I restrained myself. For now, stay still while I make you come.”

  Before she could manage a response, he gripped the backs of her knees and yanked
her body out from under her. Her back met the mattress, leaving her legs spread wide for him, her ass hanging over the edge of the mattress. Foreplay was obsolete at the moment. He knelt to the floor and placed his mouth directly on her heated core. They both groaned in unison. The exquisite fragrance of her arousal penetrated his mind, making him drunk with the need to hear her scream from pleasure.

Deliriously, he
laved her tender folds, sucking her clitoris between his teeth, mindful of his throbbing fangs. The urgent sounds she made had his cock straining painfully against his partly undone jeans. He shoved the material down and ran his palm over the length of his shaft as his tongue rode her undulating hips. She was utterly lost now, writhing, taking from his willing mouth what she needed.

He pumped his fist in rhythm with her movements. Her body shuddered violently, mindlessly, from their cresting passion. In the next instant, a harsh cry erupted from her. She barricaded a hand over her mouth. Mace was on the verge of following her climax and continued his sensual assault.

Too late, he realized this was ready to cross a line he hadn’t intended.

As Cora cried out from a second orgasm, the beast in him took over. He turned his face toward her inner thigh and sank his fangs deep. Cora’s moan deepened, her body arching as if an electric jolt had seized it.

His mouth filled with her succulent blood. Euphoria scrambled his brain. All his thoughts reduced to mush. All but one: she tasted better than he could have ever imagined.

His ecstasy slowly abated, leaving behind an almost mind-crippling pleasure. His orgasm came so fiercely, his vision faltered. It took him a moment to realize he’d removed his fangs from her thigh and was hunched over, his hands on the floor, trying to cope with the intensity of what had just happened.

Absently, he muttered, “Every bit of you is like heaven on my tongue. You have me addicted already.”