Laura Wright - Eternal Hunger

The love Alexander had for her transcended his need to torture himself at that moment, and he allowed himself to say the words that hovered on his tongue. “Healing his mind . . . it wasn’t your fault, Sara. You couldn’t have fixed him—not the way you wanted to.”

Sara stilled beside him, her brows coming together. “What do you mean?”

He shook his head. “His memories were too thickly ingrained. Blood drain was the only way.”

“What?”

He hesitated, feeling as though he were unleashing a world of new problems onto her. But what was the alternative? She would know soon enough.

“Alexander?” Her eyes implored him to tell her the truth.

He reached up, brushed his knuckles over her cheek. “I saw your mother.”

“What?”

“In Gray’s mind. As I was trying to find the fire, I saw her.”

“Okay. Well, that makes sense. You saw her because she was in his memory—”

“Sara, I recognized her.”

The stillness in the air held them both hostage for a moment; then Sara started shaking her head.

“She was a teacher in my credenti ,” Alexander continued, knowing no other way through this but the truth. “The one I told you about the night in the lighthouse, remember? She was an Impure, a half-breed. The Order had called on her, as they do all Impures—it was her turn for sterilization. She wanted a new life as much as we did. I helped her escape.”

Sara stared at him, looked as though she’d been punched in the stomach. “That’s not possible.”

“I felt the same way when I first saw her,” Alexander said gently, but he was afraid nothing would soften the blows he’d already given and the ones that remained. “She cared for us: Lucian, Nicholas, and I. She was like a mother in ways our own could never be. But she disappeared one day—we thought she’d died. We searched, but—”

“My mother is a vampire!” Sara blurted out, her words echoing off the rock walls.

Alexander watched her pale face, the panic, the mental attempts to make sense of what he was telling her. Finally, he nodded. “Yes.”

Her mouth ajar, Sara’s eyes fell to the floor. “My brother ...”

“Yes.”

She was silent for at least a minute, and Alexander just waited, waited for it all to sink in, then come up again. What would her response be? Would she despise what she was—would she despise him for telling her the truth? When she finally spoke, it was a soft, mumbled clutter of thoughts. “This explains everything . . . what’s been happening to me . . . how I’ve been feeling after . . . how desperately I wanted your blood . . . and how I haven’t stopped wanting it, wanting you.”

He hated having to be the one who laid this burden at her feet. “I’m so sorry, Sara.”

She looked up at him, shaking her head, her nostrils flaring. “Damn right. You should be sorry. You jackass!”

“I know. I wish to God I had never—”

She grabbed the collars of his shirt, roared, “You said you loved me.”

“I do.” What the hell?

She yanked him forward, and although she had considerably less strength than him, he allowed her to do it. “You realized I was a vampire and you ran from me?”

“You’re not angry about this?”

“Not at finding out what I am. Shit, I’m relieved. I knew something was going on with me, that something had changed. I thought I might be losing it. Then I thought it was about your blood, that I had ingested it.” She jerked him away, released him. “I’m angry with you.”

“What?” He stared at her, stunned.

“It was safe to tell me you loved me when you thought I was just a human, when you couldn’t have me—when you couldn’t risk trusting me.”

His face blanched.

“Because, that’s what this is really about, isn’t it?” she tossed out, her ire fueling her passion. “Trusting me with your heart, trusting me with your hunger?”

Alexander felt his fangs elongate. Oh, damn, her scent. The angrier she became the deeper her scent flowed. “Don’t do this.”

“Don’t do what?” she yelled at him. “Call you on your shit?”

Alexander couldn’t stop himself, he grabbed her shoulders and forced her onto her back. Poised over her, he flashed his fangs, his mind racing, his blood craving, his cock straining in his pants. “Stop. Now.”

Looking up at him, Sara felt the coil of heat that always slammed through her when Alexander had her on her back. She knew him now, knew that he would never release the animal inside himself, truly give it over to her if she didn’t push him to the very limits. Yes, she was angry—furious at her mother for never telling her the truth, furious at herself for not making at least one illogical guess about this outcome after that first taste of Alexander’s blood. She stared up into his charged, ravenous face, eyes that were deadly and hungry, but were filled with a pain she understood, the pain a child, a soul, a heart feels when it believes itself unworthy of love, and she forgave him.

“It wasn’t a mistake,” she said softly, as her paven breathed fire above her, his face tight with emotion, body shaking with need. “How we met, how close we’ve become, the wound on your shoulder—how it opened whenever I was near. Your blood knew the truth—it called out to me—it belonged with me, with my blood, coursing together.”

“The wound closed up again—”

“When we weren’t together. Kind of like your heart—open to me, closed to the rest of the world. We have a bond that’s proven itself to be unshakable. It’s how it was meant to be.” She raised her head and kissed the key-shaped brands on each of his cheeks, smiled when his body jerked in response. “I love you, Alexander Roman. I was always supposed to love you—and you me.”

His groan was laced with both pain and pleasure. But that was okay. It was as it was supposed to be.

Her eyes filled with tears. “I will never keep myself from you. I will never discard your love like trash.” Her voice caught with emotion. “And I will never starve you.”

Alexander’s eyes glittered with feeling. “I can’t ...”

“You can. You have to.” She tipped up her chin and kissed him, soft and loving and hungry, her tongue slipping into his mouth, playing with teeth, the tips of his fangs. “Drink from me. Mark me. Make me yours.”

Against her mouth, a moan of raw, desperate pleasure escaped Alexander’s throat. “Not in here.”

“It has to be in here.” She reached between them and started removing her clothes. “Help me.”

For one moment, Alexander looked ready to refuse; then he pushed back and with hands that shook, he stripped her naked.

Sara lay back on the cold rock floor and beckoned for him. “I’ll stay in here until you’re starving,” she said passionately, “until you understand you can trust me, that I give to you unconditionally, out of the purest love. I’ll stay here until this cage becomes a place of peace, of pleasure—not torment.” Her eyebrow lifted. “I will stay in here until you can’t resist me.”

“I could never resist you.” His eyes burned cherry black fire.

“Good. I’m counting on it.”

“Wait! No . . . Sara!”

He reached out to stop her, but it was too late. Sara had her wrist to her mouth, her teeth bared. She bit down into her own flesh, then sucked in air as two pinprick holes delivered not only pain, but the specks of blood she needed to tempt him. A growl erupted from Alexander as he watched, his eyes trained on the blood, his fangs descending even farther.

Reveling in the glorious sting, Sara dragged her fingertip over the skin of her wrist, then lifted her finger to his mouth, swiped the bloodstained pad across his bottom lip.