Caressed by a Crimson Moon (Rulers of Darkness) (19 page)

He lurched forward, his clawed fingers splayed across the surface of the hidden refrigerator. Its façade blending with the line of pristine, white cabinets. Throwing open the door, he snatched a bag of blood. His fangs ripped into the plastic, freeing the crimson liquid. At once the rush hit him, seeping into his starved cells. Images of Eva assailed him, sweeping him away. Her cries of ecstasy still rang in his ears, the heat of her body still clung to him and the intoxicating scent of her arousal drowned his senses.

Hadrian tore into a second bag. Eva, he could see her beneath him. Her face flushed with pleasure, her eyes sparkling with desire for him, only him. Her lips parted as she gasped for precious air, her climax claiming her. She had thrown her head back in sweet abandon as her body convulsed around him, drawing on him, milking him. 

He groaned low in his throat as he reached for another bag allowing the second to join the first, empty on the floor.

The demon howled for Eva. Enraged. Craving. Her. Only her. Only Eva.

The chilled blood settled like a rock in his stomach as the tangy flavor of plastic filled his mouth.

One taste,
the vampire pleaded
, just one taste of heaven, of Eva.

Hadrian growled, forcing himself to swallow the repugnant blood.

The demon railed even as his hunger ebbed. Hadrian raised a shaking hand to grab another sack of blood. More, he needed more. He needed Eva. He needed her soft touch, the soothing sound of her voice, the warmth of her soul.

When he released the last drained bag, he stumbled back. His legs buckled, but he caught himself, clutching the edge of the marble countertop.

His teeth gnashed together as is chest pumped, frantically drawing in unnecessary breath as he waited for the crazed hunger to wane. His muscles began to relax and his fangs slowly retreated. He could feel every cell in his body swell with life as the nourishing blood flowed through his system.

He cursed himself for being a selfish idiot. He should have known better. He had told himself he would feed regularly, a lie. He had intended to keep his bloodlust at bay while Eva resided within the fortress, but a part of him still refused to drink. He had no longer enjoyed the act of feeding, had only taken sustenance when it was vital he do so. He loathed the contact required to take directly from the source, from humans. It was too intimate. Sinking his fangs into a bag of blood was just as revolting. But deprivation only breeds destruction.

Power coursed through him like lightning, as he grew stronger. The demanding storm of hunger faded as a hurricane of overwhelming, unidentifiable emotion tore through him. His body pulsed, his heart thundered, and his soul…he could
feel
his soul. For the first time in centuries, he could feel the flutter of life within his chest, warming his heart. The broken pieces of his soul blazed, the heat so intense as they began to weld together.

Eva. She had somehow triggered this change within him.

What did it mean?

For hundreds of years he had existed void of all real emotion, knowing his soul was damaged. He had known no love, no true joy, only anger, sorrow and guilt, the demon’s favorites. But Eva made him feel everything in a flood. Even hope, a sensation he believed he would never know again. And rightly so, he did not deserve love or happiness, especially not hope.

His heart ached and swelled as his soul burgeoned with life and a strange, euphoric sense of contentment settled over him.

Gods, what was happening?

The lights suddenly flipped on, sending him reeling back. He buried his claws in the smooth, polished surface of the counter. His vision blurred as bright colors burst all around him. Hissing, he raised a hand to shield his sensitive eyes.

“Hadrian?” Falcon called from the doorway.

Hadrian muttered a curse when the knight rushed forward.  He knew he looked like hell: naked, his face smeared with blood. 

“My Latin is rusty, but I’m not a snake born of a whoring bitch,” Falcon said with a light laugh. “You look terrible.”

Prying back one finger at a time, Hadrian removed his hand. He blinked trying to clear his vision.

“This is the last place I thought I would find you, especially in this condition.”

Hadrian scowled.

“Here.” Falcon unzipped the duffle bag he carried and tossed Hadrian a pair of loose workout shorts.

Hadrian caught the clothing on reflex alone, his vision still blurred. His claws retreated and he leaned his weight against the cabinets behind him, his legs still weak.

Falcon glanced about. “Is Eva with you?”

“No.”

He ignored the knight’s frown and stepped into the shorts.

“Where is she?” Falcon demanded, his tone harsh, all humor gone.

Against his will, Hadrian’s senses sought Eva. He found her easily.

“I believe she is heading towards her room,” he answered as nonchalantly as possible, even though he longed to flash to her. Was she going to shower? He longed to join her. Or was she going to change and search for him. He felt a twinge of heat rise in his cheeks. He had ruined her clothes.

“What happened?”

Hadrian growled, the demon not liking Falcon’s accusatory tone.

“That does not concern you.”

“You spelt with her.”

Hadrian said nothing as his fingers skimmed over the counter, searching for a towel. When he found one, he wiped the blood from his mouth.

“For god sake, Hadrian, she is mortal.”

“The girl is unharmed, if that is what worries you.” Folding the now ruined cloth, Hadrian straightened, his now sound and strong body. “I’m not a total beast.” His words, spoken in defense, suddenly struck him as truth. He had managed to be gentle, to hold himself back, to deny his very nature for Eva, for her pleasure. He had not ravished her, though he could not deny he still wanted to devour the sweet half-breed.

Falcon rubbed his nape. “I didn’t say that you were. It’s just, well, I’ve known you for so long. You aren’t exactly known for…I mean,” he sighed, “shit.”

Hadrian held up a hand, stopping his friend. He knew what Falcon was trying to say, he was not known for being a tender lover. “People can change.”

Falcon’s eyes narrowed. “Yes,
people
can change.”

Hadrian shrugged off Falcon’s implication and pushed the secret, blood stocked refrigerator closed, the door seamlessly blending with the cabinets.

She swooped down to collect the empty bags of blood. Popping open the lid of the trashcan, he tossed them inside, concealing the evidence of his frenzied feeding.

His senses strayed again, finding Eva still in her room.

“Eva’s scent.”

Hadrian frowned as Falcon’s words cut into his thoughts. He shook himself. How long had the knight been speaking? What had he said?
Eva’s scent, he had followed her scent to the kitchen,
he thought.

“The car is packed and the main house is awaiting our arrival,” Falcon continued.

“Miss Maldonado will not be joining you,” Hadrian said.

“Listen, Hadrian, I understand there is…something happening between you two, but you must think of her safety.”

“I am,” he stated as he walked down the length of the cabinets to the main fridge. His fingers wrapped about the stainless steel handle, with a simple tug, the bright light within flashed on, momentarily burning his eyes. Squinting, he scanned the contents. Various deli meats and cheese rested in drawers below a shelf of plastic and glass containers. The chef they had hired only came to the castle once a week. She kept the kitchen stocked and prepared complete meals for Eva.

“I thought we agreed it would be best if she stayed at another property until the coronation ball.”

“No agreement was reached. You expressed your concerns for our ward’s safety and suggested that she leave.”

“But—”

“The girl stays,” Hadrian snapped, his fangs flashing.

Waves of violence pulsed through the air. Falcon held up his hands, palms out.

“Okay, fine. Topic dropped.”

Hadrian nodded and pulled a bowl of green grapes from the fridge along with some cheese and thick slices of turkey, left over from the meal Eva had the night the before.

Falcon watched the king as he opened one cupboard after another, withdrawing a plate, a glass, and some crackers. He filled the glass with water, then arranged grapes, cheese, saltines, and meat in a circle on the plate. Surely he was not planning on eating. In all the years he had known Hadrian, he had never seen the vampire eat.

“Will you tell me what’s going on?” Falcon asked.

“When you administered aid to Eva’s wound, did you notice anything unusual?”

Falcon frowned. What did Eva’s injury have to do with anything that just took place between his king and their ward? It was clear Hadrian had not fed from her, if he had, there would have been no reason for him to suck four bags of blood dry.

“No,” he answered. “I washed her hand with some soap then applied a Shaw salve.” Falcon’s words lodged in his throat as realization slapped him, dropping his jaw. “Her hand healed immediately. As a mortal it should have taken at least thirty minutes for her skin to repair itself.”

Falcon wondered how he had not noticed. He should have recognized the sign.
Well, my thoughts were preoccupied with Hadrian and worrying if he had gone on a murderous rampage in town.

“There is much more to our ward than even she knows.”

Falcon sank onto one of the stools that lined the breakfast bar of the island.

“What do you mean?”

“Eva is of Shaw heritage.”

“I don’t…how…that is…” Falcon shook his head, trying to organize his thoughts. “I don’t understand.”

“It is simple, her mother was Shaw, her father a shifter,” Hadrian explained with a shrug, his gaze on the plate. Should he rearrange the cheese and cracker? Maybe put the grapes in a bowl?

“What does this mean? Do you think Eva will experience the change?” Falcon leaned forward, his elbows resting on the counter. “No, she shouldn’t. Witch magic is stronger than shifter.” He dropped his head in his hands. “I’ve never heard of such a match.”

“Eva is truly unique,” Hadrian agreed.

“We should reach out to the Shaw. Perhaps they have some record or knowledge about her kind. They may even want to claim her. As a witch, her father has no right to her.”

“I already contacted the witches.”

Falcon waited for Hadrian to continue, but instead, the king returned to the fridge and removed a glass container of sliced strawberries and mangos.

“And,” Falcon prompted.

“I received a visit from the Shaw High Priestess herself.”

Anxiety gripped Falcon’s heart, the pain spreading through his chest, piercing his lungs. The High Priestess did not make house calls for the hell of it.

“There have been others like Eva.”

“Did she say what happened to them?”

“Yes,” Hadrian answered, his voice cold.

The king’s tone sent warning signals off in Falcon’s mind.

“All experienced the transition. None survived.”

Falcon dropped his head to his hands. He felt the blood drain from his face. Eva was such a sweet girl, despite all the crap she had been through in her short life. It did not seem right that she should die, yet biology worked against her. Witches can’t take another form while shifters must in order to survive.

“Eva’s shifter side has lain dormant, waiting for her to reach full maturity. Tonight, when the full moon rises, her shifter cells will awaken and her body will war with itself.”

“The witch in her will fight to suppress the shifter while the shifter will struggle for release,” Falcon said, nodding in understanding. Eva’s body would destroy itself. “Is there something we can do to save her?”

“Yes,” Hadrian’s voice was rough, demonic.

Falcon’s head snapped up, his muscles tensing as he sensed the darkness shift within Hadrian. The king’s eyes flickered between bone chilling black and hell fire ruby. His fangs sharpened as bloodlust radiated from him.

“What?”

Hadrian ran his tongue over his canines. Every second drew her transformation closer. He knew her taste would be unforgettable, just like everything else about her.

You cannot keep her. She is not yours,
he reminded himself. He knew making love to her had been a mistake. He should never have allowed her to kiss him. He should never have crushed her to him and he certainly never should have teleported her to his room. No, he would not regret what happened between them, but he could never let it happen again. She was of Shaw decent, she was not bound to the law of the pack nor could she be used for the treaty. She could leave whenever she liked and he would let her. Wouldn’t he?

Hadrian’s thoughts turned dark as he considered the possibilities. He would make sure she lived, he could unite their life forces and he would help her start anew, away from his Clan, her father’s pack, and away from him.