Blood Hunger (An Adult Paranormal Romance) (Deathless Night Series #1)
Read Blood Hunger (An Adult Paranormal Romance) (Deathless Night Series #1) Online
Authors: L.E. Wilson
BLOOD
HUNGER
(Deathless Night Series #1)
L.E. Wilson
Copyright © 2014 by L.E. Wilson
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, email the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons – living or dead – is purely coincidental.
ISBN: 978-0-9863633-0-6
Ebook Edition
Publication Date: December 2014
Copy Editor: Nicole Middleton
Cover Design: amycovers
This book is dedicated to my family, and their ability to fend for themselves while Mom is writing. But especially to my husband, Joe, whose love, support, encouragement, and knowledge of websites and marketing has saved me from a lot of hair pulling. I love you all!
Books by L.E. Wilson
Deathless Night Series
(The Vampires)
Blood Hunger
-
Will Nikulas release Emma to live her human life, giving up his own in the process?
Blood Vengeance
-
One bound by chains and one bound by love, Luukas and Keira are forced into a nightmare, with no end in sight -
Coming Summer 2015!
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Table of Contents
Rural Pennsylvania
Emma heaved a sigh of relief as she walked in the front door, locking it firmly behind her.
Home. Finally.
Kicking off her cheap, low-heeled pumps and hanging up her keys, she dragged herself into the kitchen, flicking on lights as she went, and put her tote down on the island.
She thought she’d never get out of that madhouse of an office today. One of the major accounts hadn’t balanced and the entire department had been in a tizzy all day trying to find the missing funds. It was a wonder she’d made it home as early as she had. “Early” being 8:27pm.
She scowled at her bright yellow kitchen. She hated Accounting. And she hated the happy, sunflower wallpaper that covered every inch of the walls in here.
And it was only Wednesday.
Grabbing a clean glass from the cupboard, she stuck it under the filtered water dispenser on the fridge and took it upstairs with her, flicking on more lights as she went. A long, hot shower was definitely in order. In spite of the uproar at work, she’d managed to sneak out at lunch and fit in an intense kickboxing class, but hadn’t had time for the normal speed shower afterward. Instead, she’d just splashed cold water on her face and did a quick re-apply of her deodorant. Her blouse and skirt had stuck to her sweaty skin all afternoon. It was totally gross. But the workouts were necessary for her sanity, and her ability to keep her life under control.
Hitting the sanctuary of her bedroom, she peeled off her damp clothes as soon as she walked through the doorway, not bothering to close the door. No one else was there. And no one else would be coming in.
Unlike her kitchen, which was her mother’s taste in decorating, her bedroom was completely her creation. Small, but cozy, her queen sized bed took up most of the room. Simple, clean and modern, it had no other decoration but a simple fabric headboard in warm brown. The pillow top mattress was covered with an old, blue, pieced quilt, and the numerous pillows all had soft, white covers on them.
A small nightstand held her alarm clock, a small lamp with a built in nightlight, and the latest historical romance she was currently reading for the third time.
At the foot of her bed was an old, antique dresser she’d picked up at a consignment store for a deal, the color almost, but not quite, matching the fabric on her headboard. A small T.V. sat on top of it, along with a glass dish that held what little jewelry she owned.
The walls were painted a soft, warm, honey beige, and were undecorated other than a print of New York City in the fall. Her parents had purchased it for her from a street vendor the one and only time they’d gone there.
But her favorite part of her room was the giant bay window opposite the doorway. Well, the window, and the window seat in front of it. It was her favorite reading nook. She’d sit there for hours and hours on Sundays, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her skin, watching the snow, or listening to the drizzly rain while she sat bundled in a blanket on the plush cushions, lost in the lives of her favorite fictional characters. They were so much more interesting, and less depressing, than her own.
Leaving the glass on her dresser, she headed into the bathroom in nothing but her cotton panties. Keeping her back to the mirror to avoid what she would see there, she turned the water on, shucking off her underthings as she waited for it to warm up. When the water was warm and steamy, she gratefully pulled back the plain, white curtain and stepped under the showerhead.
Ahhhhh.
It was an unconscious action after all these years, avoiding mirrors.
Turning around, she let the hot water beat down on her sore shoulders, blissfully thinking about absolutely nothing as her muscles loosened up and relaxed. She stayed like that for a long time, until her growling stomach urged her to get a move on it.
Grabbing the shampoo, she quickly lathered and rinsed, doing the same to the rest of her body. Turning off the water regretfully, she grabbed her towel and briskly dried herself off. Her nightshirt was hanging on the back of the door, and she pulled it over her head before turning towards the pedestal sink and the large mirror above it. Picking up her wide-tooth comb, she ran it through her wavy, shoulder-length hair, letting it fall where it wanted. She threw her dirty underthings in the hamper in her small closet, pulled on her old robe, and headed downstairs to get something to eat.
Maybe, someday, she’d have something to smile about again. But that day was not today.
The grass in the field has grown above my knees and tickles my bare legs. It catches on the bottom of my short, summer skirt as I run, pulling at the flimsy material. But I don’t care because my older sister, Keira, is chasing me! I laugh as I chance a look back over my shoulder. She’s about to catch me! So I squeal and run faster! Behind her, I can see the white lights of the ferris wheel lighting up the night sky. It’s so pretty.
I can still smell the funnel cakes and popcorn all the way out here. We’ve stuffed it all down our throats, until we couldn’t go on another ride, worried it would all come hurling back up. I hear the shouts of the carny people, calling out to the dwindling crowd, attempting to lure them over to their stand. Come try one last game before you leave!
The tinkling of the carnival music fades as Keira and I run towards our car, parked at the edge of the field by the woods. Laughing, we zigzag through the grass, trying to catch each other, stumbling every so often on the uneven ground.
I glance back again to find that Keira has stopped running. The stuffed dog I’d won for her hanging limply at her side. Out of breath and giggling, I shove my hair out of my face and stop too. “Come on, Keira!” I shout, but she doesn’t move, doesn’t look at me. Gradually, my smile begins to fade. Keira’s eyes are open wide, white-ringed with terror. I stare at her, confused.
“Keira? What’s the matter?”
As I stare at my sister, waiting for some response, the hair on the back of my neck starts to rise up eerily in warning. Someone, or something, is behind me. Something that has scared my normally brave sister into immobility.
Slowly, reluctantly, I turn back around to face this thing that has so rudely intruded upon our night. The first fun night we’ve had in months.
The sight I see before me takes a few seconds to sink in, as it is made of the stuff of nightmares. Staggered along the tree line are monsters. Actual monsters. Grotesque creatures with skin oozing the rotting smell of death, and bleeding, bulging eyes. Their bodies are tall and muscular, yet emaciated at the same time. Powerful arms hang down almost to their knees. Long, yellowed claws curl at the ends of their fingers. They wear no clothing, and their genitalia hang obscenely between their legs. The one in front opens its mouth wide, and saliva drips down sharp, pointed teeth. It pushes its nearly hairless, distorted head forward on its neck and hisses loudly at us. I scream as Keira yells, “Emma! RUN!!”
RUN!!
Emma jerked violently awake. As her gaze shot wildly around the room in the soft twilight of early morning, reality slowly came back to her. She found herself in familiar surroundings.
She was upstairs in her childhood bedroom, in her very own bed. Not in a field. Her old “Can’t Touch This” T-shirt, her favorite thing to sleep in, was now stuck to her back and under her breasts with the leftover sweat of fear. She glanced out her bedroom window to see that the sun hadn’t started to rise yet.
She was safe. Safe in her room.
But her sister, Keira, was really gone. Not dead, but taken. Taken by the monsters in her nightmare. For they weren’t just figments of her imagination. They were real. And they’d stolen her sister that night.
The hissing one had hurtled itself around Emma as she screamed. Throwing Keira over its shoulder, its claws had dug into the backs of her legs to hold her still. As her blood ran in rivulets down her thighs and dripped onto the high grass, its tongue protruded from the gaping hole of its mouth, greedily lapping up whatever it could reach. Hissing a final time at Emma, it had lurched off into the woods. The last thing she remembered was her sister screeching at her to “Run, Emma!
”
as the remaining monsters closed in on her.
Emma had spent three months in the hospital after her “bear attack”, and the next year single-mindedly searching for her sister. And just as determinedly, burying deep inside what had happened to
herself
that night, until she could recall nothing of what had happened after the monsters appeared. But her own injuries weren't important. What was important was finding her sister.
She’d harassed the police, the local officials, anyone she could think of. Completely useless, all of them. Angry tears pricked her eyes just thinking about it, even after all this time. Lifting her hand, she quickly dashed them away. She was so tired of crying, tired of wondering.
After that first year, the authorities had pretty much given up, and her sister’s disappearance was buried in the back of the file room with all of the other unsolved cases. But Emma wouldn’t give up. Keira was all the family she had left, and she was going to find her come hell or high water.
She just didn’t know how anymore.
She’d contacted the city and gotten the name of the company who’d put on the carnival, and the employees who’d been there that night. Hunting them down one by one, she’d spoken to all of them, questioned them repeatedly. Nothing. No one remembered seeing anything or anyone unusual. No one had even noticed them leave the carnival. It’s like Keira had disappeared into thin air. She’d posted missing person alerts across the country every year. She’d spent hour upon hour online, trying to find evidence that these creatures existed. Again, nothing. She’d exhausted all of her resources.
She didn’t know why those things had taken Keira, and she didn’t know where they’d taken her, but she believed her sister was still alive. She had to believe it. Or what else would she have left?
In spite of their two-year age difference, the two sisters rarely fought. In fact, they’d always been the best of friends. Maybe because they were each othe
r’
s
only
friends.
Even when they were really young, and their mom would take them to the park, they never played with the other kids. It’s not that they didn’t want to, but the other kids always kept their distance. Almost instinctively.
The girls never understood why the other kids acted so weird around them. They would lie in bed at night in the room they shared, long after they should have been asleep, and whisper to each other about the “mean kids”. And how they didn’t need them anyway. They had each other.
As they got older and started school, nothing changed. They were shunned, avoided, and sometimes made fun of. They were never invited to sleepovers, or asked out on dates. They were always the last ones to be picked for teams in PE class, and only ended up on a team at all because the teachers made them.
“Special” is what Mom and Dad told them, when they asked what was different about them.
“Freaks” is what the other kids at school said about them.
They weren’t picked on, or bullied, or threatened by the other kids. If they had been, Emma would’ve felt more normal, but they weren’t any of those things. They were just ignored. The other students, and even some of the teachers, acted like they weren’t even there. It was like they were invisible, and no one else saw them. They only saw each other, and it created a bond between the two girls that nothing could break. Except death. If Keira was dead, Emma would know.
She glanced at the clock on the nightstand. 5:14am.
With a sigh, she got up, threw on her soft, blue robe, and made her way downstairs to the kitchen for a new glass of water. She didn’t need any lights, she knew her house like the back of her hand, but she turned them all on anyway.
It was a small farmhouse, built with her father’s own hands. Two bedrooms upstairs, each with their own en suite baths, took up that entire floor. Downstairs was the kitchen, a half bath, laundry room, and a cozy living area. An old wood stove located at the bottom of the stairs heated the entire house in the winter.
Winters got pretty cold in northern PA, especially out here in the country. She was glad spring had finally arrived and the weather was warming up.
She and Keira had grown up here, and they’d stayed in the house after her parents had died years ago, in spite of the way they were treated by the rest of the town.
Although some people wouldn’t like being surrounded by ghosts, to them, it was home.
Emma leaned up against the counter with her water in one hand, listening to the birds as they fervently welcomed the new morning.
A little premature, aren’t we?
She thought, as it was still dark. But it wouldn’t be long before the sun would be coming up, so she may as well take their cue and get started on her day.
She wouldn’t be getting any more sleep, she knew, so she took her water and headed back upstairs to throw on the running clothes she had laid out the night before. She pulled off her robe and nightshirt, hanging them on the hook behind the bathroom door, and pulled on her black running pants and a sweatshirt. Pushing her hair back with a hair band, she grabbed her iPod off the dresser and her sneakers out of the closet, and headed back downstairs. Lifting her key off the wall hanger to lock the door behind her, she headed outside just as the first rays of the sun were about to come up over the horizon. Earphones blaring
Beautiful People
by Marilyn Manson, Emma stretched a bit and then headed out her long driveway at an easy jog.
She didn’t notice the glowing, silver-blue eyes watching her run by from the cover of the pine trees that edged her drive.