Undying Hunger (2 page)

“Well, hello, beautiful,” a deep male voice said, coming out of nowhere and catching her off guard.

Alex jerked her head away from the carnage and looked toward the newcomer. A few feet away stood a man wearing a dark leather jacket that stopped at his hips. Long hair that nearly matched the cowhide skimmed his slim shoulders, and skin the color of decadent chocolate gleamed in the dimly lit alley. He sauntered a little closer, his midnight eyes boring into hers. Unease crawled under her skin. The kind that said she’d be better off anywhere but here.

“Who are you?” Judging by his lack of surprise at the macabre scene playing out before them, he had to be a vampire. “What do you want?”

The stranger cocked his head as if puzzled, then a corner of his mouth lifted, forming a sly grin. One that revealed the sharp point of a fang.

“What the hell!” Guerin called out from behind her.

Glancing over her shoulder, Alex glimpsed the Enclave’s second-in-command as he yanked his dagger from the heart of the deceased addict, his glare pinned on their new arrival. The corpse sizzled and smoke billowed from the chest. Then it bloated, seconds before imploding, leaving nothing but dust. Alex blinked. Damn, she’d heard about the effects of silver driven straight into the heart, but this was the first time she’d witnessed the rapid decomposition.

“Enrique, you son of a bitch,” Guerin spat, his boots eating up the concrete between them. “Get away from her!”

“Enrique,” Alex mumbled, her blood running cold at the sound of a name she hadn’t heard since—since…

“Tell Markus he should keep a tighter hold on what’s his,” Enrique whispered, his voice closer than before, drawing her attention back to him as if she were a fish snagged on his line. He reached out, his fingers coming within a hairbreadth of her cheek before reflex had her knocking his hand away. “Or he just might lose it.”

Guerin slammed into the male with a hard
thud
. Enrique stumbled back, laughter rolling from him.

Eve rushed to her mate’s side, her weapon bloodied from her battle with the DEAD, but ready in her palm. “Who the hell is this?”

Enrique sobered and straightened, his focus narrowing on Eve. “Well, well… Who do we have here? A female Enclave warrior?”

“Marguerite’s former commander,” Guerin said. “Enrique—”

“Enrique Mateo,” the other male interrupted, and bowed. “And you are?” He tilted his head.

“She’s no one to you,” Guerin barked.

“Ah, of course.” Enrique chuckled. “Protective, are we?” He shook his head. “There is nothing to fear from me. I was just…passing through.” He shrugged. “Alexandria…”

Alex tensed, but nailed him with a hard glare.

“Please tell Markus I said hello, and remind him of what I said.” His lips puckered, and he kissed the air in her direction right before his form shimmered. He was gone.

A shiver raced up Alex’s spine as if death itself had brushed her soul. Flashes of images assaulted her mind. Her, in a small room, sitting on the edge of a bed. Markus standing in front of her, angry…so angry. His words clipped, heated, ricocheting off her skull like a mallet. But his bitter venom wasn’t aimed at her.
No.
Someone else hovered at the edge of her vision.

A male.

There, by the door…
Enrique
.

Markus’s rage was directed at him.

Oh God, she was in Marguerite’s den. Her heart raced with desperation. The primal urge to run singed her veins.
Get out!
her mind screamed. But she couldn’t move.

Trapped.

Dear God. I’m trapped here.

“Alex.” Guerin clasped her arm, yanking her back to the present. Her breath hitched, and her head swam. If not for the hold Guerin had on her, she would have stumbled. Alex blinked, forcing herself to comprehend what Guerin was saying.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “What?”

“I said, what the hell was Enrique talking about?”

That was an excellent question. She shuffled through the confusing array of memories once more. They were like pieces of a puzzle, but she didn’t have the picture to help decipher how to put them all together.

There was only one way to fill the voids in her memories and discover what Enrique was getting at. She couldn’t escape Markus’s presence in her daydreams, and now the traitor’s dangerous past was bleeding into her conscious reality.

Alex looked up at Guerin. “I want to see Markus.” And God help her, she wouldn’t leave his cell without answers.

Chapter Two

The mental compulsion holding his head in place and forcing his throat to convulse on the thick liquid pulsing into his mouth finally eased.

Markus Santini jerked away from Kenric St. James’s wrist. “Get the fuck away from me!”

The master vampire’s essence lingered inside his mouth and on his taste buds like sour milk. Markus lowered his head and spat, the putrid substance splattering the white tiled floor with specks of crimson near the other male’s boots. For more than a century, the lust for blood had fueled a hunger so fierce the pain of its absence had taken him to his knees until he had obeyed its call. Yet now…

Death held a more decadent allure than what his former master offered from his wrist.

“I don’t know why I keep this up—keep coming back, attempting to will my blood down your throat.” Kenric shook his head. “If you’re too much of a coward to live, I should just toss your sorry ass into the sun.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Markus drawled before lying back on his cot, rolling over toward the wall and closing his eyes. He didn’t get why Kenric kept coming back either. Markus, for damn sure, would have given up on someone like him after a couple of weeks, never mind almost a year later. The master was relentless with his insane idea and hope that Markus might one day return to the Enclave.

Fucking crazy.

The rest of the Enclave’s warriors would never trust him again or welcome his return to the fold. And with good reason.

He’d betrayed them. He was a traitor, and they weren’t idiots. Hell, if the right situation presented itself, who was to say he wouldn’t turn on them again? After the number Marguerite had done on his head… He didn’t recognize the male staring back at him from the mirror. Yet Kenric, even with all his power, couldn’t seem to comprehend the depth of the stain on Markus’s soul.

Markus sighed, and for a moment, he was mentally transported back to Fairfield. Silver bars had held him there as well, imprisoned by his fellow warriors after Arran and Elle had tracked him and Marguerite there during Elle’s search for her sister, Alexandria. That cage was just like the one that contained him now, in the basement of the Enclave headquarters/mansion. Except his current residence possessed three solid walls with the latticework of the poisonous metal hidden within the drywall to prevent his escape by phasing. Not a good idea, unless he wanted to materialize on the other side looking like a waffle fry.

Inhaling through his nostrils, Markus recalled that pivotal night, the moment Kenric had offered his “deal.”

“But there is another choice—a deal—one I’d be willing to make for Elle. For one of my former Enclave warriors.”

Kenric stood with one arm wrapped around his mate. Markus spun on his heels, facing them.

“A deal…” What the hell? And based on the shocked look plastered on the face of Guerin, his commander, whatever he’d cooked up wasn’t something that had been part of their little plan.

“I understand the physical pain involved in walking away from Marguerite, from her ancient blood. But mine, a master’s blood, is as potent as an ancient’s, if not more so.”

“Your point?” Markus stated, edging forward.

“I offer this: give us Alexandria back, and I will help you escape Marguerite’s hold.”

Rolling onto his back, Markus opened his eyes and stared at the drop ceiling’s tiles.

Alexandria.

His heart jerked behind his sternum at the sound of her name pinging off the inside of his cranium.
Dammit!
How many months—years—would it take? How long would ever be long enough to truly let her go? As hard as he’d fought against it, the dark-haired vixen had gotten under his skin. Made him feel something more than rage. He despised what Marguerite had aroused inside him, but he’d never regret the night he met Alexandria.

Fisting the thin cotton of his shirt over his breastbone, he twisted the material, his nails scoring the flesh beneath. If only he had the balls to shove his clawed fingers through, rip the defiant muscle from its hiding place, and be done with it. Be done with his fucked-up excuse for a life.

Physically, Markus had let Alexandria go as he’d promised. Released her mind from his psychological control, and had erased most of her memories of their time together. He hadn’t initially planned it, to take her memories. The mental hold on her mind had been enough of an assault on someone as strong-willed as Alexandria. But after everything she’d been through during her time with him and Marguerite, Alexandria had deserved a fresh start. A chance for at least some semblance of a normal life. And if he were honest with himself, part of the reason he’d wiped her slate clean had been purely selfish. She would already despise the fact that he was her sire, but perhaps she wouldn’t detest him—forever—if she didn’t know how far he’d gone. He’d not only been the one who’d destroyed her human side, but for a while, he’d also controlled her like a puppeteer. Her mind had been his. But the only reason he’d gone so far—taken her will away—was because if he hadn’t gotten control of the spirited female, Marguerite would have destroyed them both. And that was something he had refused to allow.

He hated it—hated himself for what he’d done—but at the time, he couldn’t take the chance of Marguerite becoming suspicious that his feelings for Alexandria went beyond a temporary curiosity.

What happened back then needed to stay buried. She’d loathe him even more than she already did if the truth ever came out. Luckily, Alexandria’s sister, Elle, had felt exactly the same way.
“Alex is better off never remembering how you manipulated her mind.”

He wasn’t the only one keeping secrets from the raven-haired vixen. And he couldn’t help but wonder how much destruction that bomb would wreak on Elle’s relationship with Alexandria if it ever surfaced.

A grunt that relayed a mix of frustration and disgust came from Kenric, tugging Markus back to the present. “I’m out of here,” the master said.

Opening his eyes, Markus listened as the soles of the male’s boots thumped off the tile, telegraphing his exit. The cage door clanked shut, and the sound ricocheted off the walls and washed over Markus with a stinging, icy wave. He shivered. From the sound? The hunger? Who the hell knew? It wasn’t like it fucking mattered, anyway. Soon he’d cease to exist, to breathe, his brain cells dormant, and Kenric would put him to ground.

He’d be free. Finally free from the demons riding him inside his head.

The exterior door
snick
ed open. “I want to see him,” a female said.

Alexandria.

He’d know that voice anywhere. Even from his grave.

Every neuron in Markus’s brain fired. What the hell was she doing here in the basement of the Enclave mansion?

“Tell her this isn’t a good idea, Kenric.” It was Guerin who spoke up. Of course. The bastard hated him.

“What’s going on?” Kenric asked. “Why do you need to see him?”

“I just need to talk to him,” she said.

“We ran into some DEADs tonight,” Guerin said, “and Enrique popped in.”

What the fuck?

That dose of info made what blood he had left in his veins surge, laced with adrenaline. Markus rolled over and up onto the side of his bed, his joints rebelling.

“Enrique?” Kenric rumbled. “I had no idea the asshole could function without Marguerite’s direction. What in hell did he want?”

“You’ll have to ask Alexandria,” Guerin replied.

“What does that mean?”

“He mentioned something about Markus to me,” she patiently added, but Markus didn’t miss the sound of growing frustration in her voice. “I just need to speak to him first. Then if you want, we can talk.”

Markus’s pulse roared inside his head.
What had Enrique told her?

Closing his eyes, he drew in a calming breath, his mind returning to the female who stood only a few feet away. It had been at least a year since he’d last seen her. How would Alexandria look? Had she changed? Did the fire still burn in her violet gaze?

“Fine,” Kenric said. “I’ll take you to him.”

“No.”

She wanted to see him. Alone. Markus pushed from the mattress, steadying himself on his feet. Anticipation hummed inside his veins.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Kenric said, his tone firm.

“Are you implying he’s dangerous—even from the other side of your silver cage?”

A corner of Markus’s mouth curled. The little vixen hadn’t lost her fire. Alexandria had never taken no for an answer.

Kenric sighed. “It’s not that he’s dangerous per se. Not in his current state—”

“Then I’d like to speak to him in private,” she said. After a second or two of tension-filled silence, she added, “Please.”

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re a tad stubborn?” Kenric asked.

“Maybe once or twice,” she said. “But I like to think of it as being relentlessly determined. Will you give me some time to speak with Markus…alone?”

“We’ll be on the other side of that door,” the master vampire said. “Call out, and we’ll be in here before you can blink.”

“This may take a while. I need some answers from him about a few things, and I’m pretty sure getting him to cooperate won’t be something that happens quickly.”

“Getting Markus to do anything that isn’t his idea is never an easy task,” Kenric said.

“Exactly,” she said. “Give me a little time, okay? Like you said, he can’t hurt me from the other side of the bars.”

“I don’t like it,” Kenric replied. “But if this is something you feel you really need to do, I understand.”

“It is.”

A moment later, the exterior door thumped shut. And Markus found that the desire for his next breath had vanished. He shoved the thick strands of dark hair partially covering his eyes back, then coiled his fingers into a tight fist at his side. Then she was there.

Alexandria strode in front of the cage’s door. She wore her blue-black locks loose, the ends curling, nearly brushing her firm, denim-covered ass. Damn. His cock swelled. Her hips swayed with every step, the heels of her boots clicking off the cement floor. He raked the female with a gaze from the slender curves of her legs and the swell of her calves hidden behind the black leather all the way back up to the narrow belt sitting low on her hip bones. A short black leather jacket covered her arms, but the tail of her purple blouse didn’t quite make it to her waistband, leaving a tantalizing peek of smooth, creamy skin for him to obsess over. He flexed his fingers at the sight, the pads itching to stroke her exposed flesh. Would she quiver under his touch?

She stopped, but didn’t turn in his direction. Instead, Alexandria continued to stare at the wall, inhaling deeply as if she were building up her nerve to face her maker.

Come on, Vixen. Look at me. Let me see your face.

Slowly, she rotated on her heels, searching the expanse of his room. Searching for him. At last, her head swiveled, and he didn’t need his sight to know when she found him. The gasp exiting her lungs told Markus the moment it happened. He glanced down at his arms to where the skin hung loose on his bones. Opening and closing his fist, the knuckles appeared bulbous compared to the frail-looking digits extending outward from the hinges. He had to look like shit. Death-on-a-stick pathetic.

“Markus?” Her voice was hushed as if she were afraid if she spoke too loudly he’d break.

Shit.
He wasn’t that damn fragile.

“I may not look like you remember, Vixen, but I’m pretty sure I can endure a conversation.”

“Vixen?” A perfectly arched brow rose on her heart-shaped face. “Is that what you used to call me?” She scoffed, narrowing her eyes on him like daggers, and assessed his form. If she’d been anyone else, he would’ve told her to fuck off. But this was Alexandria. If she wanted to throw actual knives, he probably wouldn’t even duck.

“I’m not sure what I expected,” she continued. “My memory isn’t quite clear on the details of when I was your prisoner.” She stepped in closer to the bars, her violet stare unwavering. “That’s why I’m here.”

“Is that so?” Markus closed more of the distance between them. “And here I thought it was because you missed me.”

“Dream on.” One small fist curled at her side.

He couldn’t help but chuckle at her defiance. Everything had been a battle with Alexandria. She’d never willingly given in to anything he’d wanted of her. And she’d been exhilarating.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t hear my discussion with Kenric at the door.”

“Humor me.” Markus shrugged. “Tell me exactly why you’re here, Alexandria.”

“While I was out with Eve and Guerin tonight, Enrique popped in.”

Shoving his fists into the pockets of his loose sweats, Markus steadied himself, doing his best to appear collected, unaffected by the news she’d delivered. Truth was, he was anything but cool knowing that Enrique had come anywhere near her. Steeling his expression, he waited for her to reveal the rest.

“He told me to tell you hello.”

“How thoughtful,” Markus said, making his way over to his cot. After having a seat, he glanced back up. “Is that all?”

“No.” Alexandria eased nearer to his side of the room. “He also wanted me to relay another message.” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “He said that you should keep a tighter hold on what was yours or you might lose it. What the hell did he mean by that, Markus?”

“Ouch! Such language, Vixen.”

“Oh, please.” She rolled her eyes. “Like I’ve offended your delicate sensibilities. From what I’ve heard about you, I doubt you have any.”

Placing a hand over his heart, Markus grimaced. “You wound me.”

“Quit playing games and just tell me what I want to know,” she snapped.

“You could at least ask nicely.” He cocked one brow.

“Oh my God,” she muttered, her eyelids lowering. “Why would Enrique insinuate that I was yours?” She opened her eyes. “Please,” she bit out from between her teeth.

“I think you’re asking about more than what Enrique said tonight.” It was happening. A part of him had known that she wouldn’t be content with the few paltry memories from that time.