Vampire Instinct (51 page)
Authors: Joey W Hill
Tags: #Vampires, #Horror, #Paranormal, #General, #Romance, #Fantasy, #Erotic Fiction, #Erotica, #Fiction, #Occult & Supernatural
After nearly seven days of unrelenting lust, she was surprised she didn’t feel his normal reaction when she was firmly seated on his groin. It discomfited her somewhat until those sensual lips curved again. “Hussy,” he murmured. “Think I’m tired of you already?”
Flustered, she tried to push herself off his lap, but found herself held fast as he made an incoherent noise, a command to be still.
Remember, we keep sexual vibes low around the fledglings. They’ve had too many bad memories associated with that, for one thing. For another, they have an abundance of those hormones. Because of their abnormal ages and physical makeup, it manifests itself in violent and destructive ways when roused.
Remember, we keep sexual vibes low around the fledglings. They’ve had too many bad memories associated with that, for one thing. For another, they have an abundance of those hormones. Because of their abnormal ages and physical makeup, it manifests itself in violent and destructive ways when roused.
Of course. She should have figured that out herself, and was a little embarrassed that he had to tell her.
I don’t expect you to know everything, Elisa. That’s my job.
While her snort was automatic, it made his eyes spark with affection at her impertinence.
I’ll be sure and prove that to you later; never fear.
While her snort was automatic, it made his eyes spark with affection at her impertinence.
I’ll be sure and prove that to you later; never fear.
Fortunately, the radio crackled then, pulling his attention away, since Elisa was concerned she might start emanating some of those inappropriate vibes in response to that heavy-lidded look he gave her.
While no message came through on the radio, Mal’s attention turned inward in that way he did when he was listening to a message from one of the staff. He helped her to her feet. “I need to take the girls back to the enclosure.”
“Is there a problem?”
“Nothing to worry about.” The girls had attended him instantly upon rising, and he gestured to them. “C’mon, you two. I have to go back to work. I’ll bring you back another day; never fear. You did very well.”
It was short, dry praise, but coming from him, it was significant. Nerida and Miah immediately obeyed him and, while Elisa saw wariness, she didn’t see blatant fear as the two girls clasped hands and walked to the doorway. Mal pointed them toward the Jeep.
“Why don’t I go with you? I can stay at the enclosure with them while you go take care of whatever the problem is.”
“Not this time.” He nodded toward Kohana, an unspoken message. Following him out as far as the porch, she noted he didn’t have the girls get in the cage in which they’d been brought. He instead gestured them into the Jeep seats. The amazement and then delight on their faces was a wonder to see, something that distracted her until the Jeep pulled out. Nerida looked back at her, raised a small hand, and Elisa waved back, feeling her heart strings tie in the usual knots of hope and worry. For once, though, hope for the girls’ future outweighed the worry.
After the Jeep was out of sight, she turned on her heel and moved to the kitchen. They’d worked the beaded strip around a braided strand of Kohana’s hair, and it actually looked quite handsome there, though the man gave her a much abused look about it.
“I think Chumani will really like that,” she observed. “Kohana, what’s going on?”
He’d had a retort for the first comment, but instead he pressed his lips together.
“It’s about the fledglings, isn’t it?” She slid around the counter. “If he didn’t tell you not to tell me, then you’re not defying any rules.”
“With Mal, there’s no difference between an implied command and an actual one, and you know that.” However, he sighed, gave her a shrewd look. “He’s pretty agitated tonight. Chayton thought Mal might want to come down and check on him.”
Jeremiah had been withdrawn and temperamental since Leonidas. The worry came back, but she tamped down the overwhelming urge to follow Mal. She had to trust him. “All right. I’ll talk to him about it when he returns. Do you need help gathering more eggs?”
“No, but I could use some meat from the smokehouse. Bring me a few of those sides of ham.” Giving her a speculative look, he added, “It’s handy, having you all strong and mighty these days.”
“Lets you be more lazy, more like.” Though of course just the opposite was true. The staff had a variety of unspoken strategies to ensure the man sat down on occasion without sacrificing his pride. If he overdid things, his stump could get to hurting, as well as his back and other leg. A second-mark’s healing ability couldn’t solve everything. Chumani had made it clear things had changed between them yesterday with her newest strategy—sitting down on his lap before he could get up to start clearing the table. She’d hooked an arm around his neck while continuing to chat with Tokala, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And of course, seeing them together, it was. There’d been a lot of grins exchanged, and Kohana’s face had gotten red for a moment, but then it was as if it had always been that way.
Elisa moved to the back door, stepped out into the night and paused, taking a steady breath. It would be okay. She refused to believe Jeremiah might be getting worse, headed down the same path as Victor and Leonidas. He was just having a hard time dealing with what had happened with Leonidas. Mal could have told her where he was going. She needed to talk to him about that. She wanted him to trust her. Her emotions wouldn’t go haywire in this type of crisis.
She took three steps toward the smokehouse, and pain drove her to her knees. It erupted in her mind, an agony that stole her breath, knocked her to her side in the dirt. So overwhelming, it took several seconds to realize it wasn’t her pain. A cry of need and desperation, an explosion of fear, like a drowning swimmer being swept out far beyond the shoreline, losing everything he knew, nothing to hold on to. She reached out on instinct, and gasped at the sense that her wrist had been grabbed in a bruising grip. Red finger marks appeared on her outstretched forearm, an imprint of need so strong it translated to a physical mark.
Kohana stumbled down the stairs in his haste, but he recovered and was at her side in a blink. She caught hold of his shirt, fighting the pain. “Tell Mal we have to come to them. We have to come now.”
30
W
HEN they pulled up in the Jeep, she managed to get past the chaos in her head to see Jeremiah. He was writhing on the ground in the communal enclosure. His elongated fangs had torn open his bottom lip, but he’d also gnawed at his arms, for there were bloody punctures up and down them.
HEN they pulled up in the Jeep, she managed to get past the chaos in her head to see Jeremiah. He was writhing on the ground in the communal enclosure. His elongated fangs had torn open his bottom lip, but he’d also gnawed at his arms, for there were bloody punctures up and down them.
“I need to get closer to him,” she said, the moment Mal joined them at the vehicle. “He needs to know I’m here.”
To see Mal’s face she had to squint through the blinding ache in her head. The vampire was in her mind, knew what was happening. Not for the first time, she appreciated how much time that bond saved, though when his gaze fell to her clawed arms, Kohana had to step in.
“She didn’t do that,” the Indian said shortly. “I didn’t see it happen to the first arm, but the marks appeared on the second as I was bringing her here. He’s doing it somehow.”
“He didn’t do it on purpose. Mal.” Elisa bent down over her stomach, which was churning in agony. “Please.”
Mal lifted her out of the Jeep. As he hefted her up against his chest, she spoke into that muscled wall. “He’s in my head,” she whispered. “He’s afraid. He’s so afraid, Mal. I know you can’t let me in there, but you need to get me close as you can. And please . . . go to him.”
He took her inside the first gate, Kohana bringing a stool so she could sit in that secured space. If her head wasn’t so full of Jeremiah, she would have flashed back unpleasantly to the last crisis that had trapped her in this small area. But she wasn’t trapped this time. This was different, entirely, and her focus was all on Jeremiah.
Mal, please go to him.
He was still holding her, bent next to the stool, but now he nodded. She got a hazy glimpse of his serious face as he gestured Bidzil to open up that inner gate. Jeremiah rolled over, tearing up the ground, and a sob caught in her throat. She hadn’t seen Victor’s or Leonidas’s impulse control and rationality defeated by full-blown, incessant bloodlust—the battle had already been lost when she came into their lives. She hadn’t witnessed this; a mind with a conscience and moral structure deteriorating, a soul who’d been through so many nightmares already that it should have been lost long ago. And would have been, except for the will of the boy who refused to let go, hanging on with bare fingernails.
He was fighting it, fighting so hard . . .
Kohana leaned over her, closed his hands on her arms where she’d started to dig into her own flesh. When she looked up, Mal was moving with purposeful strides toward the boy.
She was disoriented and suddenly terrified that he would deal with it as Danny had dealt with Victor that long ago night, that same determined look in his eye as she’d had. But that wasn’t her fear. It was Jeremiah’s, a trapped and wounded animal.
No, Jeremiah. No, don’t, love.
But he was on his feet, making agonized grunts of pain, running away. He charged the opposite end of the enclosure. As she cried out, he hit the fence hard enough to knock him backward. He rose again, rushed at another side, with the same result.
Jeremiah, he’s not going to hurt you. Come to me. Come to
me
.
me
.
Suddenly he was there, thrusting his arm through the small metal opening of the gate, scraping his knuckles. Mal was right behind him, but Jeremiah was fully in her head, so she saw what he was about to do right before he got there. She met him, closing both hands over Jeremiah’s bloody one. In a blink, he’d reversed the hold and yanked her off the stool, so she was on her knees on the opposite fence side.
It’s okay. It’s all right. I’m here, Jeremiah . . .
Mal’s hands closed on the boy’s shoulders, but not to yank him away. He was in her mind with Jeremiah. He could see the boy’s intention was not to hurt her. In fact, Jeremiah would have been holding her hand against his chest if the fence wasn’t in the way, his forehead pressed so hard into the metal it was cutting into the skin. She threaded her other hand through, cupped it over the back of his head.
“It’s all right,” she whispered. “It’s all right, dear boy. We’re here. We’re all here. No one’s abandoned you. It’s okay.”
Jeremiah was panting like a dog. Now a shudder racked him, and his hands flexed, sending shards of pain through her gripped fingers. She didn’t try to draw away a bit as Mal knelt behind him, put his hands over their locked ones, eased that grip. “Walk it out, boy,” he said quietly. “You’re a vampire; you can’t drown. You just hit bottom and walk back to shore. Walk out of those waves.”
Just like with Nerida and Miah, the two of them were perfectly in sync, holding the fledgling between them. In this moment, she could imagine a lifetime of doing this type of thing. With fledglings, with wildcats, learning each one’s unique needs. She could truly help him, so he wouldn’t have to be alone in it.
That was an odd thought, for sure, because he had a close relationship with his staff. But it was different, even closer with a third-mark, wasn’t it? Mal’s gaze flickered up to her, a brief thing where she couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but then her attention was back on Jeremiah. She flooded reassurance into him, showing him the two of them were in lockstep around him, holding him so it didn’t take him under.
She tightened her grip on his skull, digging her fingers into his hair, which reached his shoulders now, a silky blond mane. When it was his turn to come to the house, she hoped to cut it for him, hoped she could give him some of the same experience Nerida and Miah had had tonight. If she could offer him one night of normalcy, a chance to see what was possible, it could lend him hope, strength against this.
I know you can fight this, Jeremiah. This isn’t who you are.
A strangled cry wrenched from his throat, his body shuddering anew, but the episode was lessening, his thrashing now becoming more of a rocking between them. She saw blood in the center of the enclosure and knew he’d thrown up, yet she sensed no hunger to him as the seizure ebbed. Just . . . weariness. A weariness so deep and profound she wasn’t sure if there was much difference between it and death.
No. I won’t let you give up.
“Things are getting better, love,” she whispered, stroking his hair. “They really are. You should have seen Miah and Nerida tonight. They helped Kohana with his eggs. Brushed my hair. Things can be different. I promise. It’s your turn tomorrow. I’ll teach you to play checkers, if you don’t remember or know how. You can see all of Mal’s wonderful books.”
“Things are getting better, love,” she whispered, stroking his hair. “They really are. You should have seen Miah and Nerida tonight. They helped Kohana with his eggs. Brushed my hair. Things can be different. I promise. It’s your turn tomorrow. I’ll teach you to play checkers, if you don’t remember or know how. You can see all of Mal’s wonderful books.”
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