Laura Wright - Eternal Hunger

“You were attacked.”

“I know that, but why am I here and not in a hospital?”

He leaned forward, his eyes glowing. “Unfortunately, that little bastard who attacked you got away, and I’m fairly certain he still wishes you harm.” Alexander growled softly. “He will be found and dealt with, but until then I want to make sure you’re safe.”

The news that Tom was still walking around Manhattan and not locked up in a jail cell devastated Sara, but she didn’t show it. She had another problem to contend with, an immediate problem. “I’m not safe here.”

“You are,” he assured her.

“No. I want to go to a hospital.”

His expression was sympathetic, but there was an immovable flicker in his gaze. “I can’t allow that. I’m sorry.”

“You can’t or you won’t?”

He sighed. “I’m bound to protect you, Sara.”

With those words, the vibration and the calming heat from a moment ago moved from her chest to her belly, then threatened to dip lower. She ignored it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, or who you think you are—but I don’t need your protection. If Tom’s still out there, and he goes after me again, I’ll call the police. Have them deal with it.” She watched his eyes flash in the firelight at the suggestion. “Where’s my phone?”

“Back in your apartment, I’d imagine.”

“Then I’ll use yours.”

The man stood and walked to her. His size, like a cross between a linebacker and military badass, was unnerving.

He gestured to the end of the bed. “May I?”

She swallowed hard, but refused to show her unease. “Do I have a choice?”

The mattress dipped low with his weight. “Listen, Sara.”

“How do you know my name? And how does the doctor know my name?”

“I know this is an unusual situation—”

“You think?” she said darkly.

“But I need you to trust me for just a little while longer.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.” She gritted her teeth and said slowly, “I want a phone, and I want it now. I have a hospital full of patients and a crime to report to the police.”

His face grew serious. “I’m afraid I can’t bring the police into this.”

“What?” Sara sat up, struggled against the dizziness in her head. “Why the hell not?”

He paused a moment, his eyebrows lowering to meet a dangerous gaze. “I think perhaps you know why not.”

“I’m not a game player, Mr. Roman.”

“I cannot allow myself and my brothers to be exposed.”

“Exposed,” Sara repeated, surprised at the sudden jump in her heart rate. “What are you talking about? Who the hell are ...”

Sara’s words petered out as an image flickered in her mind. It was fuzzy and there was confusion and shock attached to it, but as the seconds ticked off, the hazy memory came slowly into focus. Startled, she looked up. “You!”

The man before her suddenly opened his mouth and revealed two white, blade-sharp fangs.

Pure, white-hot terror assaulted Sara and she shook her head, drew back against the pillows as far as she could manage. “No ...”

The man’s jaw relaxed and his gaze remained even with Sara’s. “It was unfortunate that you had to witness—”

“No.” She kept shaking her head like an idiot. It was the bump on her head. She was delusional. “No. It’s not possible.” Yet there it was. He had fangs.

I AM WHAT YOU THINK I AM.

“Don’t do that!” Her temples throbbing, she stared at him. “This is impossible. You don’t exist ...”

Alexander’s eyes clouded over and he uttered softly, “There are many who would agree with you on that.”

Cold fear rippled through Sara like a dozen icy waves—the heat and comfort of his presence completely dead to her now. Her skin bristled and her heart thundered in her chest, keeping pace with the pain that pounded in her head. This wasn’t happening. Everything in her education and experience screamed at her that this couldn’t be happening, yet her gut whispered otherwise.

What did she do now? Her head was throbbing so badly she felt like she might throw up. She hated how weak she felt. She dropped back against the pillow.

“You need to rest,” he said, his voice as gentle as a kiss. “Have something to eat and drink.”

I need to get the fuck out of here! “I need a hospital . . . I need my phone.” Her words slurred and she forced her eyes to stay open.

“Your former patient is not going to give up, and until he’s caught, I ask that you stay here.”

“Fuck you!” she shouted, but the sound that left her throat was little more than a squeak. She wanted so badly to remain tough and resolute, but she was so tired. “I have patients. My—”

“That asshole wants to kill you, Sara. He won’t stop until he does. I felt it. I felt his need for your blood.”

“You . . . what?” She shook her head, refusing to listen to any more of that. “If you think you’re going to keep me here against my will, a prisoner—”

“Not a prisoner, a guest.”

“A guest?” she repeated. “You’re insane.”

“A very welcome, very honored guest.” Alexander put his hand over hers, and the heat that traveled up her arm found its way into her belly, curling deliciously inside of her. She looked up at him, hating herself for wishing this feeling would never go away. “You saved my life,” he continued. “And all I ask is that you allow me to do the same for you.”

The confusing warmth of his touch was too much for Sara. She should be thinking about escaping, not wishing she could crawl up into his powerful arms and fall asleep.

She yanked her hand from his grasp. “I don’t know who you are, what you are—the only thing I want is to know where the front door is.”

Before Alexander could answer, there was a knock on the door, and an older man’s heavily accented voice rang out, “I’m sorry for the interruption, sir, but Lucian and Nicholas are in the library. They ask that you meet them there as soon as possible.”

“Who’s that?” Sara demanded. “And who the hell are Lucian and Nicholas?”

“My brothers.” Alexander stood, inclined his head. “I have to go. Please try to sleep, and if you need anything just press the call button on the bedside table.”

As soon as he was out the door, Sara pushed herself into a sitting position. Instantly, she gripped her head, her brain pounding mercilessly inside her skull. She was so exhausted, nearly sick with it, but there was no way she was lying down and resting. She had to stay awake, alert—she had to find a way out of this insanity—this nightmare her mind, and the bump on her head, had created.

Alexander entered the mahogany-paneled, twenty-thousand-volume library with a newly acquired speed that he reviled. In the coming weeks, he would see more evidence of the powers morpho provided, along with the many shackles that accompanied it, and the thought darkened his mood.

For a century now, he and his brothers had lived unfettered among humans; the only thing separating the two species was the brothers’ need for blood. But everything had changed. He could no longer walk in daylight, and though he had escaped the bonds of a Breeding Male’s debauched and violent future, he would soon be hit with the irresistible need to find his true mate—the one he was destined for, the one who bore his mark.

“Drained the woman yet?” Lucian asked, descending the spiral staircase from the second level, several ancient tomes in his arms.

“Fuck you, Luca.”

“How is she, Alexander?” Nicholas asked. The tall, black-eyed middle Roman brother was sitting at a long metal desk, his head partially obscured by his computer screen as he furiously typed.