Immortal Craving (Dark Dynasties) (4 page)

Shampoo bottles. A woman’s gentle hands. Barking.

Tasmin opened his eyes and found himself staring into a furry black face only inches from his own.

He hissed in a breath and sat upright, startled. The big black dog rose to its feet from where it had been sitting and watching him, and gave a soft
wuff
.

“Easy,” Tasmin said softly, a command that did nothing to diminish the wariness he saw in the creature’s deep-set eyes. It was hard to blame him.

Tasmin looked around, keeping half an eye on the animal while he got his bearings. He had been lying on a large, overstuffed couch, where someone—no, he corrected himself,
Bailey
—had covered him with a soft knit blanket. The simple gesture surprised him. But then, all of this surprised him. That he was even in her home meant she had shown him more kindness than anyone, mortal or otherwise, had since he’d awakened. He had a vague recollection of being led to her car, of staggering in the door and being eased onto the couch, which was as far as he’d been able to make it without passing out again.

He heard the soft sound of footfalls on wood, and had only a moment to take in the warmth of his surroundings: the rich burgundies and browns of the furniture, the bright glow of the fire in the fireplace, the rich and somehow sensual palette of the rugs, the art on the walls.

Then she was there, and he was aware of nothing but her scent, the quickened beat of her heart, her every breath
as she entered the room. The dog immediately went to her side.

The woman, he noted, looked every bit as wary as the beast that guarded her.

“You’re awake,” she said, and not even her obvious nerves could mar the melody of her voice. Her hands fluttered together as she watched him, then pulled apart, quickly flexing into fists before relaxing again.

Tasmin was silent as he watched her struggle with how to deal with him, as struck by her beauty as he had been earlier. Bailey Harper looked nothing like the women who had once occupied so many of his thoughts, and yet he found himself unwillingly fascinated by every small detail. Her features were delicate, set in an oval face dominated by eyes as blue as the sky at daybreak, and the face itself was expressive, open. He had plenty of experience with deception—it was his kind’s stock in trade, after all—and he sensed, with bone-deep certainty, that whatever else Bailey might be, she was not a liar.

Small consolation for this disaster of a day, but a real one. He had never much cared for picking through mortal thoughts for answers when they refused to give them, though he was more than capable. There had just been too many times when he’d infiltrated someone’s mind and been utterly repulsed by what he’d found.

But then, those who had sought his kind had rarely been scrupulous.

“You brought me to your home,” Tasmin said, his voice as rough as it always was after his control had slipped and his… other side… had taken over, however briefly. His throat felt as though he’d been swallowing hot coals.

“I did. Do you remember any of that?” Bailey asked. “You were pretty out of it.”

He shook his head.
No.
The silence drew out between them while they studied one another, and Tasmin felt his unusually strong awareness of her intensify. She seemed uncomfortable in the quiet, so different from him. He’d never been one to fill up the empty places with meaningless words just to hear the sounds they made. And still, she fascinated him. Bailey Harper was as foreign a creature to him as the tongue she spoke had once been—a tongue he had awakened understanding, though he knew for certain he had never learned it before.

One more mystery, perhaps better left unanswered.

The firelight played over skin like rich cream as Bailey shifted, lifting a hand to tuck an escaped tendril of golden hair behind her ear. She’d twisted her hair up into a pile of curls that looked to be only moments away from tumbling down. Tasmin allowed himself, for just a moment, to imagine what she might look like with her curls loose around bare shoulders. An instant later he had to push the image away, suffused with heat that had nothing to do with the fire.

Perhaps silence wasn’t the best thing right now after all.

“Why?” he asked. “Why would you bring me here?”

She frowned. “Well… the hospital seemed like kind of a bad idea. So did dumping you out on the sidewalk.” A crease appeared between her brows as the frown deepened. “It’s kind of interesting that you’d want me to rethink that decision, but I suppose I can throw you out now if you’d like.”

Tasmin shook his head, frustrated with himself. Clarity was always a struggle for him right after awakening,
especially these days. And even now, the English thoughts often jumbled with the Hindi, making it more difficult to express himself properly.

“No. I mean, why would you put yourself at risk this way? You know what I am.”

A corner of her mouth curved upward, though the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You really think a pair of fangs would send me running? Even if I wasn’t close to Lily, Tipton has become vamp central these days.” She shrugged. “If you need the Lilim that badly, you won’t make the mistake of hurting me. Besides… you asked for help.”

She looked away, uncomfortable again as she wrapped her arms around herself. Tasmin watched her big black dog nudge her elbow with his nose. She immediately dropped a hand down to stroke the dog’s head. Tasmin watched the interplay of the beast soothing his mistress, feeling an unfamiliar sensation curling unpleasantly in the pit of his stomach.

He had never been jealous of a dog before. It wasn’t an experience he cared for.

“I don’t remember asking for help,” Tasmin grumbled, disconcerted by his reaction to the scene in front of him.

“Well, you did,” Bailey replied, her eyes narrowing. “And I don’t make a habit of walking away from
defenseless
creatures.”

Tasmin snorted. “I’m hardly defenseless.”

She didn’t look impressed. “Yeah? Well, you weren’t looking so hot back at the shop.”

He pressed his lips together, torn between affront and amusement. He was used to humans fearing him. He wasn’t sure what to do with one who treated him as an equal, much less a slightly annoying one.

Finally, he relented. A little. And only because he had to admit that she did have a small point.

“I… that much is true. I suppose I should thank you for your help,” he managed, trying not to hunch his shoulders at the admission. It was humiliating, that he should have
needed
her help, but she had given it nonetheless. And he was being supremely ungrateful about it.

“Yes, you should thank me, but I can see that’s about as good as I’m going to get.” She sighed. “Look, I’ve already left a message for Lily. You want her, you got her. I’m sure she’ll be here shortly.” She looked away and muttered, “I’m probably going to get a lecture about having you here too.”

Tasmin frowned. “I would prefer to greet her in her own court. It will offend her, being summoned to see me when it should be the other way around. She’ll consider it an insult.”

The last thing he needed was to get off on the wrong foot with the queen, considering his very limited options. But for reasons he couldn’t even fathom, Bailey laughed. The musical sound of it rippled through him, awakening parts of himself that were better left dormant.

“You mock me?” he asked, amazed that she would even dare.

Bailey angled her head at him, widening her eyes. She still looked amused. “Seriously?” she asked.

He leveled a cool stare at her. “I suppose I shouldn’t expect you to understand how things are done among my kind, despite the company you keep. You’re just a mortal.”

Bailey’s smile faded a little, but didn’t entirely disappear. She watched him closely as though he was a puzzle she was trying to figure out. Tasmin had to fight the urge to look away, to hide whatever answers she might find
on his face. What did it matter, what she saw? There was nothing to see. Just the shell of who he had once been.

And still, this woman’s gaze unnerved him in a way other mortals’ did not.

Finally, she spoke.

“Look, I’m not
mocking
you, so calm down. I don’t know what it’s like where you came from, but Lily doesn’t stand on ceremony. She won’t mind coming here, especially because she’s here a lot anyway.” Her mouth tightened, just for an instant, but the emotion behind it had vanished before he could even try to read it. “Well, she was. Regardless, this isn’t something that would bother her, and I wasn’t sure you were going to be in any shape to go anywhere. You seemed pretty messed up.”

Though he knew her words weren’t a conscious dig at his ability to handle himself, Tasmin pushed aside the blanket and got quickly to his feet, his pride stinging. He was no sickly thing, damn it! He was a hunter, a creature to be reckoned with. The difficulties he’d been having changed none of that.

His speed finally made Bailey look nervous, and the dog gave a warning bark.

“I am not
ill
,” Tasmin growled. “Spare me your pity.”

“But then why—”

“It’s not a sickness!” he interrupted her, his voice rising. “I’ve been asleep for over four hundred years! We were never meant to sleep so long!”

Tasmin watched her take a quick step back. He felt a nasty surge of pleasure that turned quickly to guilt. For reasons he couldn’t fathom, Bailey had taken a chance and brought him into her home. Yet here he was, snapping at her like a wounded lion, taking out his fury at his
weakened state on the only person who’d seemed genuinely interested in helping him in all these months.

Such a pretty thing… maybe we should have a taste
…

Tasmin shook his head at the ugly impulse that drifted up from the murky depths of his mind.

No.

He slid his hands into his hair as his temples began to throb, a dull ache he was now well acquainted with. A warning. Bailey’s scent, sweet as spun sugar at first blush but with something much more complex and decadent beneath, wound itself around him until all he was breathing was her. Tasmin pressed his fingers into his skull, wincing as the hunger slammed into him. She smelled so good. She would taste a thousand times better.

I’m in control. I can stop this. I CAN.

“Hey, are you all right?” Bailey asked, her voice echoing in his head.

“Don’t,” he murmured, so soft only he could hear it. Then she was coming to him, the foolish woman’s instincts the exact opposite of what they ought to be where he was concerned. Tasmin tried to take a step back to get away from her and landed right back on the couch. The surprise of the fall cleared his head, at least for a moment. Bailey stopped short only a couple feet away. Tasmin looked up at her from where he was sprawled, astounded that he appeared to be the only one in the room with any sense of self-preservation.

“Aren’t you afraid of me at all?”

“Yes. And no.” She sounded as confused by the answer as he was.

“It’s a wonder you haven’t gotten yourself killed.”

“You know, it’s awfully hard to be nice to you when
you’re being such an asshole,” she said, whatever fear she claimed to feel overridden by a sudden burst of temper. A loose curl tumbled over one eye, but she seemed to be too busy glaring at him to notice. “Do you have any other nasty comments to make about mortals in general or me specifically?”

He could only stare for a moment. Mortals didn’t challenge his kind. Ever. This one acted like she found him about as intimidating as a pet kitten. Finally, he mustered a response.

“You have a foul mouth, woman.”

Bay looked irritably back at him. “
Now
are you finished?”

“I-I… yes.” She didn’t react like a normal human. Tasmin didn’t have a clue what else to say.

Bailey stared at him, took a deep breath, and tried to brush the errant curl back into her hair.

“Okay then. Tasmin,” she finally said, the sound of his name on her lips sending an unexpected shiver of pleasure skimming down his spine. “What I was going to say before you went all
‘Beware, foolish mortal!’
on me was that I really think you should see a doctor or a healer or something. You might think you’re all right, but you
really
don’t seem like you are.”

Once he was fairly certain Bailey wasn’t going to try to come to his aid, Tasmin stood again, this time slowly, carefully. “I don’t need a healer,” he said. “I need to see the queen of the Lilim. I need to find out what happened to my people.”

He saw a softening in her expression, an innate compassion that was so misplaced when it came to a creature like him. Guilt pricked at him. She might be an inconsequential
human, but abusing a woman’s good nature was beneath him.

“Your people,” Bailey murmured. “You said you’re a…”

“Rakshasa,” Tasmin said. He lifted his hand to pull aside the neck of his T-shirt, baring the mark of his line: the lion’s paw, created of flame. Bailey’s eyes dropped to it, and he swore he could feel his skin warm where her gaze touched. Quickly, he covered his mark again. When her eyes met his again, he wasn’t surprised to see her confusion. Saddened, but not surprised.

“Is that a dynasty?” she asked. “I haven’t heard anyone mention it, but Lily said there are a number of bloodlines that don’t come here.”

His mouth curved into a small smile at the innocent questions, though it was borne of bitterness, not amusement. Once, the name of his kind had been whispered in reverence, in fear. Now, it was so much dust in the wind.

“It was,” he said softly. “Many prides, one mark. Now, there is only me.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, and he was surprised to see her sympathy was genuine. Sympathy was something he had never seen much of, not even before he had fallen prey to whatever had left him in that cave. Few shed a tear when a Rakshasa died, no matter how sought after they were in life. It hadn’t helped that the prides were so isolated from one another… The cruelest elements of his kind tainted the legacy of them all.

Bailey’s sentiment was so odd to him, especially from a mortal, that he didn’t quite know how to respond to it. Suspicion, as it usually did, won out first.