Laura Wright - Eternal Hunger

In the silence that followed, an expression crossed Alexander’s features, dimmed the fierce strength in his eyes; it was something achingly close to emptiness, and it made the residual fear that still remained in Sara’s heart dissolve.

“You saved my life,” he said softly, simply.

Sara’s gaze locked with his then, a mutual understanding passing between them. He wished to do the same for her . . .

“But you will fight me,” he said. “Why is that? Why are you so stubborn, Sara Donohue? Have you never let anyone care for you?”

His words made her throat ache, but she pushed the quick emotion away. “I don’t need anyone to take care of me.”

Alexander reached out then, brushed his fingertips over the quick pulse at the base of her throat. “Maybe not, but you will stay with me until this man is caught.”

Sara fought for control over herself, but the heat of his touch mocked her resolve. Goddammit! For years—forever it seemed—she’d given her life over to one purpose, one goal, one person—and it had been a worthy path, still was. But Tom Trainer had forced his way into her world and she had to deal with him. After he was off the streets and no longer a threat, she could return to that state of normal, but for now, she needed to think about her own self-preservation. This man—this vampire who stood so close and touched her so tenderly—would keep her safe. She knew it. She knew it like she knew her own name.

Her gaze held his. “There’ll have to be some rules.”

“What rules are those?”

“I have a life, work, patients who need and depend on me.”

Without another word, he left her and strode over to the door, which opened before he even reached the panel of wood. Once there, he turned to face her, his tone and expression grave. “Your work is your own,” he said. “I swear I will not keep you from any of it.”

She didn’t move. “But you’ll be watching me?”

The hard, possessive flash in his merlot eyes said it all.

As if forcing her to make a move, the stench of death inside her apartment grew suddenly worse. “All right, vampire,” she said, walking past him and out into the frigid New York City night. “Let’s fly.”

Nicholas walked into the library, his stoic exterior masking the raging hard-on he had to rip out the jugular of the first beating heart he saw. Unfortunately, the only thing in the room happened to be not only pulseless, but family.

Seated in a huge leather armchair, legs splayed, eyes trained on his laptop, Lucian didn’t even look up. “Is Trainer dead?”

“No,” Nicholas said.

“Good, I don’t want the Order up our asses any further than they already are. Is he at least scrubbed and put away for safekeeping?”

Nicholas paced the floor, pausing every few seconds to speak. “I couldn’t find him.”

“Well”—Lucian’s gaze lifted—“that’s unfortunate.”

It was more than that, Nicholas thought. It was a first. In his hundred and fifty years, he’d never lost prey. “His scent is so weak to me now. He must be deeply hidden. But I will find him.”

“I have no doubt.”

“And when I do, he’ll be begging me to end his life. The Order cannot detect torture within the Eternal Breed, only death.”

Lucian grinned, impressed. “This human is bringing out a side of you I haven’t seen since we were on the front lines. Up until now, you’ve quelled the animal buried within.” Suddenly, his almond gaze changed from pride to unease. “Should I be concerned about this new development? Is there more? Has your hunger grown?”

“No. Nothing like that.” But, Nicholas mused, he had felt a shift in himself as of late. Not hunger, but aggression and a burn for gravo , the poisoned vampire blood his mother had abused when he was just a balas , the drug he had gone to great and painful lengths to purchase for her before her death—the drug he had consumed in impressive quantities for several years afterward. He plunged his hands through his hair, attempting to rid his brain of the thoughts and images running through it. He caught Lucian staring at him, a suspicious frown playing about his mouth. He would do well to keep this new and slow burn inside of him a secret; no doubt it would pass in time.

He came around his desk and opened his own laptop. “Where are you with the Hollow of the Shadows?”

Lucian’s frown deepened. “There’s so little on the location of the Order. When I lived in the third credenti , I heard nothing of their whereabouts. From what I’ve been able to find—which isn’t much—they seem to live between worlds. Finding them won’t be easy.” He looked up, his eyes filled with disgust. “Alexander may indeed have to visit his old credenti and question his ... family to get the information.”

Nicholas stilled, his fingers twitching over the keyboard. It was a life, a reality they had sworn never to return to, and now the Order had forced them back in. “Don’t text him, Luca. Let him come home and we will go together, find it together—stand together.”

“He won’t allow us to help.”

Looking up from his screen, Nicholas raised one black eyebrow. “I don’t care if he allows it. Do you?”

A slash of smile hit Lucian’s full mouth. “Blood brothers we are, Nicky.”

There was a knock on the library door and Evans entered the room. The servant looked from one brother to the other and said formally, “I am sorry to disturb.”

“Not a problem,” Nicholas said. “What is it, Evans?”

“A note has been delivered, sir.”

“From Alexander?” Nicholas asked.

“No.”

Nicholas stilled, glanced at Lucian, whose gaze was narrowed and fixed on the ancient Impure. Notes were never delivered to the house, not once in the sixty years they’d lived there. Business mail went to a box at the post office, and from time to time they would receive junk mail at the SoHo address, but nothing personal.

“From your human, Nicky?” Lucian quipped darkly. “Perhaps he’s come out of hiding and is turning himself in.”

Nicholas made a signal for Evans to hand him the letter, and when the butler placed the gray formal envelope with the gold seal in his hands, Nicholas’s blood froze in his veins. Kettler. One of the highest-ranking families in the Eternal Breed, model citizens, purest of pure, and residing in the Boston credenti . His eyes found his brother’s. “Kettler seal.”

“What?” Tossing his laptop to the rug, Lucian jumped to his feet, his pale almond eyes now a blazing fire of gold. A growl . . . “No.”

“From a Bronwyn Kettler.”

“Fuck me.”

Nicholas opened the envelope.

“It begins,” Lucian said vehemently as Evans backed up to the door. “The Order has leaked our whereabouts. If one can find us so easily, the rest will follow.”

Nicholas read the note once, then again. “She has called for a handfasting.”

“You’ve got to be shitting me!”

“A traditional Eternal Breed handfasting. She wishes to live here, remain here all three weeks, in preparation for mating.”

“With who?” Lucian demanded, coming to stand beside Nicholas, so he too could see the letter.

“Alexander.”

“Well, thank Christ for small favors.”

Nicholas shoved the letter in his brother ’s hand and returned to his laptop. He needed to feed. Soon. Something to calm himself and whatever was scratching on the inside of his brain, desperate to get out and pounce.

“She says she’ll be here tomorrow.” Lucian snarled, then turned to the butler still hovering near the library door. “Evans, send a return note; tell the veana to stop packing her bags. She will not be living here in preparation for mating with Alexander or anyone else. Tell her we are no longer part of the credenti —we don’t play by their rules.”