Hunger Revealed (4 page)

“I mean it.” Hard to be stern when she
looked so damned happy.

His attention swung to the opposite
side of the room where the entrance the Reverent Father had used
quietly opened. Muscles tight and ready for anything, Corin still
didn't let down his guard when Moira, the saleswoman from the
lingerie shop, strode into the room. Her chin was elevated, but he
detected a subtle undercurrent of fear rifling through her. “Yes?”
he barked a little sterner than he'd intended.

“The Reverent Father said the goddess
was hungry and needed to be fed.” Her voice wavered with the same
worried wariness trembling her hands. “I'm here to offer myself for
her needs.”

“Wish they'd stop calling
you a goddess,” he grumbled to Jasmine, almost beneath his
breath
—
except he
didn't breathe. “Shit's gonna go to your head.”

His wife laughed. “Then perhaps you
might want to be a little more worshipful in your manner. You see
how easily you can be replaced,” she said, a smile in her tone.
Turning to Moira, she said, “Thank you, but I have never fed from
anyone other than my husband.”

Until she said it out loud,
Corin hadn't recognized that fact. It made something inside him
grow warm, and it inflated his pride to know that Jasmine reserved
that intimate act for him and him alone. Dismissing Moira with a
small wave, he slowly took in the vision of Jasmine in that little
purple getup
—
so
very see-through where it pressed against pink nipples and the dark
V between her legs. Suddenly, she wasn't the only hungry
one.

Chapter Four

The Reverent Father hadn’t lied. The
fuzzy, slightly inebriated feeling seemed to have passed. Now that
her common sense rushed back, Jasmine second-guessed staying in
this potentially dangerous situation, regardless of how nice
everyone seemed.

Besides, what the hell was she
wearing?

More importantly, what was that look
in her husband’s eyes?

“If you’re thinking what I think
you’re thinking, I think you’ve got another think coming,” she
said, still wondering what could have possibly have made Corin
decide to stay here in the first place. Turning to the woman
watching them with wide-eyed curiosity, Jasmine added, “I’m
starting to get the big picture here and not much liking it. What’s
supposed to happen at this celebration? Because so far, not seeing
much in the way of spa treatment.”

“My lady, it’s a simple celebration in
honor of your mirac—”

“Miraculous transformation. Yeah, I
get that.” Jasmine’s mind cleared more and more with each passing
second. “What exactly do you plan on doing at this shindig?
Details.”

The woman’s gaze kept bouncing between
Jasmine and Corin, though Jasmine swore it might have lingered a
little longer on her husband. “It really isn’t for me to
say.”

“Moira, I need to know that my wife
isn’t in danger.”

She twisted her hands together as she
looked up at Corin. Just as Jasmine suspected, starry adoration
beamed from her eyes. “The Reverent Father wouldn’t ever hurt her.
Not ever. He’s said as much to all of us. I think maybe he’s going
to partake of a very, very small amount so that he can share it
with the others who have been deemed worthy.”

Jasmine’s brow furrowed at the same
time Corin’s expression straightened. “What do you mean by
‘partake’? As in feed from me?”

“Just a little, my lady. So that your
blood will flow in him. So that he can count himself as one
divinely related to you.”

Her spine chilled at the prospect.
When Sijourn Vartan had taken her hostage, he’d swore he’d only
needed a little of her blood too…right before the torture
started.

“For fuck’s sake,” Corin
grumbled.

“My husband has been the
only one to ever feed me, and he is the only one I’ll ever allow to
feed
from
me.” Her
voice remained level, despite the shivers threatening to tumble
through her body. She sent Corin a curt nod that he quickly
understood. He rose to his feet, holding out a hand to assist her
to standing. Still feeling the lingering effects of whatever drug
cocktail they’d used on her, Jasmine swayed a little, and she sent
a mental word of gratitude to Corin. She said to Moira, “Tell him
thanks but no thanks.”

“We’re gone.”

They held hands as Corin led the way
to yet another door she hadn’t noticed. She took comfort in
threading her fingers around his, in basking in his quiet strength.
They were a united front and had been from the very beginning.
Whatever awaited them on the other side of the door had better be
prepared. Or praying.

The sound of harried footsteps hustled
toward them. “My lady, please. You can’t leave because the
Reverent—”

Corin whirled, keeping Jasmine at his
back. “Knows better than to get in my way. If he doesn’t yet, he’ll
learn.” He faced forward before the final words rumbled out of his
mouth.

She reached for the knob, turned it,
and pulled. Whether by reflex or design, Corin’s hand tightened on
Jasmine’s.

It wasn’t much of a surprise to find
two men standing there. Whatever topic of conversation they’d been
engaged in came to a jarring halt. Jasmine scanned their slacked
jaws and widening eyes. After the shock wore off, each man’s
expression hardened. Surprised, yet determined faces. Thank God,
they both appeared human, ensuring some ease in either talking them
down or taking them out.

Hunger came rushing back, a forgotten
urge, but Jasmine tamped it down with swift fury. A few minutes
ago, the urge to feed seemed paramount. It would wait.

The first man dropped a hand to his
hip, but he held it there as if torn on his next actions while
staring at Jasmine. She chanced a glimpse of what he reached for,
heart thundering when she realized a gun dangled from a sling and
now was within reach. “We don’t want any trouble,” Jasmine said in
a low voice. “We just want to walk out of here, intact.”

Corin couldn’t be bothered with words.
He released his hold on Jasmine, barreling toward the second man
with murder spelled on his face. A flare of emotion rushed through
Jasmine, unwanted arousal at seeing stark masculinity at
play.

The second man threw up his arms,
trying to block Corin’s attack, but the vampire kept going. They
both stumbled, the human driven against the wall as Corin brought a
knee into his stomach while slamming double fists into his
back.

That seemed to shock the man with the
gun into action at last. Before he could swing it around though,
Jasmine charged him. His head punched the wall as she brought her
forearm to his throat, holding him down with more pressure than
necessary. Enough to make a point. “I will rip out your throat and
leave you here to bleed. Don’t make me do that,” she said in what
she hoped was a calm voice. The more reasonable she appeared, the
more likely they’d do what she commanded without putting up a
fuss.

“Please…please, my lady.” Moira
hurried to Jasmine’s side, putting trembling fingers on her
shoulder. “Just let the Reverent Father come and talk to you, and
you’ll change your mind. I know you will.”

They wouldn’t kill anyone
unnecessarily—it went completely against Jasmine’s instincts as a
nurse—but Moira didn’t need to know that. “You give him our
regrets. We’re walking out of here. And we’re doing it
now.”

Jasmine snatched the gun from the
man’s hip, yanking hard on the strap until it snapped free. He
wheezed noisily when she dropped the arm previously resting on his
Adam’s apple, but at least he still breathed. The man next to Corin
stood bent at the waist, doubled-over and moaning in
pain.

Two down. How many more to
go?

“To me before someone else comes,”
Corin called. He swept a dangerously slanted gaze around the room.
When he stiffened, Jasmine’s attention followed his.

“Oh shit,” she muttered, then slowly
raised her hands in the air.

~ * ~

Corin flexed his fingers,
keeping the circulation flowing. Dampness from the walls seeped
into his skin and bones, but he ignored the chill in favor of
focusing on more important matters. He peered down at his wife,
still wearing that purple piece that threatened to stop his heart
every time he studied it. “I never got the chance to tell you that
I
really
like that
outfit you’re in now.”

Jasmine barked out a laugh. “Better
than the blue piece from the store?”

He hummed a low noise. “Something
about the purple excites me.”

A slow smile curved her lips while she
winked. “I’ll keep that in mind. When we get out of here—” another
tug on the chains wrapped around her wrists proved they hadn’t
miraculously slackened “—I’ll get an identical outfit.”

They hadn’t bothered to struggle when
the Reverent Father showed up with a dozen men, all armed to the
teeth. Had it been his life alone on the line, he might have fought
back, but he would not risk hers unnecessarily. So far, they’d
stuck to their word of not harming her; the most heinous act being
to tie her arms behind her back with chains. He’d been shackled
against a cold wall, bound at the neck, wrists, and ankles. They’d
been taken from the house to a cement walled shed of sorts, which
couldn’t have been any more opposite the sensual room they’d first
been first housed.

They’d been an almost identical
situation like this before, one that seemed an impossibility to
escape from. Yet they had. And would do so again. Corin only had to
bide some time.

The Reverent Father ignored their
banter back and forth, although Corin hoped their lack of concern
shook him a little. He went about his preparations as if in no
great hurry. Matchsticks were used to light tall, elegant candles
surrounding a table draped in purple and gold velvet. Wax dripped
down the sides of the golden candles, sometimes splashing on the
cascading flowers also decorating the surface and floor next to the
table. No—not a table. An altar.

Corin’s concern ratcheted
up.

“I was worried you’d prefer me in red
or maybe black,” Jasmine said. She lifted a dark brow as she spoke,
and Corin caught her message. He physically blew out a breath to
try and shake off his own worry. If she could see the anxiety
making him tense, then so would the Reverent Father. He would not
tip their hand in any way.

“Vampires in black? A bit clichéd,
don’t you think?” Corin returned. Forcing his gaze away from the
man at the center of the room, he searched through the throng of
acolytes. Although many wore cowled hoods, others had chosen to
leave their heads uncovered. Most of the crowd was human from what
he could tell. Vampires lined the first row, their unnatural
stillness giving them away. “Besides, you’ve got great taste in
clothes. You know what looks good on you.”

“You really think so?”

The wonder in her voice brought
Corin’s gaze back to his wife. “Yeah, I do,” he said
softly.

She smiled bright, enough to make his
heart trip. “When this is over, we need to talk.”

“I’m always at your
disposal,
mellita
.”

Emotion flickered across
her face when the Reverent Father stepped in between them. Jasmine
drew back as far as the chains would allow, but he gripped her by
the jaw, twisting her face away from him. In his struggle to get to
her, Corin’s bones almost snapped through his muscles when the man
began to drag something down her neck. Corin bellowed, “You fucker,
leave her alone. Come to me! To…
me
!”

Both the Reverent Father and the
congregation ignored him. The others moved in closer, crowding
around Jasmine as the vampire leader used a marker to draw a red
line down both sides of her neck. Jasmine’s lips lifted away from
her teeth as he continued the lines over both arms. He even shoved
aside the lingerie and starting at her crotch, drew similar
parallel lines down her thighs and calves.

What the hell?

They unshackled her without ceremony,
and led a struggling Jasmine to the table where she was forced to
lie. Half a dozen hands held her in place while she kicked and
scratched until she could be secured by leather ties.

“Whatever you’re going to do, please
don’t,” Jasmine whispered. Each word filled Corin with torment
because he heard the undertone of something desperate in
them.

The Reverent Father stood at her head.
“Today, we welcome the goddess Jasmine. Ushered to us when the
vampire nation is at a crux. When the oldest of our kind has
weakened, and the newly created have become lost and in need of
guidance. She is mother…”

The acolytes began to chant with him
now. Their combined voices making Corin’s hair stand on
end.

“…
Creator. Origin for us
all. She sustains us with her blood and offering.”

Corin strained against his chains when
the vampires began to lower their mouths toward Jasmine, teeth
bared.

“…
She is our
mother…”

The lines. He recognized them now.
Blood lines. Arterial lines. Markers for the vampires to use when
they began to bite her. She’d bleed out in minutes.