A Hunger So Wild

  Unsure of whether their support lay with Lindsay or Elijah, Vash caught Raze’s gaze. “Take her to him.”

  Raze glanced at Syre, who stood unmoving for a long moment before giving a curt nod. All heads turned to track Lindsay’s progress. The smell of fear became thick and oppressive.

  No one in the room doubted that her well-being was tied to theirs. Adrian’s wrath was something no one wished to incite.

  When she disappeared through one of the office doorways lining the rear wall, the room as a whole seemed to exhale in a rush.

  Syre pivoted and disappeared behind another door. The latch engaged with a quiet click, but the sound struck everyone like a gunshot report.

  “What the fuck were you thinking?” Salem snapped behind her.

  She shoved a hand through her hair. “I wasn’t.”

  The tension in the room was so brittle it scraped along her skin. Making a beeline for the locker room and a much-needed shower, Vash fled the consequences of her inexplicable actions.

  Elijah stirred from a half-conscious state when the door to his makeshift infirmary opened. “Vash?” he croaked through a dry throat.

  “No.”

  He stilled, his nostrils flaring. Opening gritty eyes, he tried to blink through the fog of pain. “Lindsay?”

  “Hi, El,” she said softly, lifting his hand from the bed and gripping it. “You look like shit.”

  Fuck. Had the Sentinels rooted them out so quickly? He pushed the concern aside, finding he cared less about that than Lindsay’s welfare. He lifted his other hand to scrub at his eyes. Trying again to see, he looked toward her voice and found worried vampire irises glowing down at him.

  “Jesus. You are a vamp,” he managed, taking some comfort in the fact that he smelled Adrian all over her. The Sentinel really hadn’t turned his back on her when she was returned to him as something different from what she’d been when she was taken.

  “Yeah, imagine that.” Releasing him, she picked up the water cup on the table beside the bed, twisting the straw around to offer it to him.

  He drank deeply and gratefully, soothing his parched throat. When he’d emptied the cup, his head fell heavily into the pillow. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m overdue for blood donation and I heard you were in line for a transfusion.”

  His chest tightened as the import of her words sank in. “Lindsay…”

  She glanced over her shoulder at Raze, then offered a small smile to Sarah. “Would you two give us a minute, please?”

  Both Raze and Sarah hesitated.

  “It’s okay,” Elijah said, hating that he was so weak the others feared leaving him alone. “She’s a friend.”

  Once the door shut, he studied Lindsay’s face. Her hair was still styled in short blond curls that framed a breathtaking face. Delicate brows and dark lashes framed eyes that had once been chocolate brown but were now the honey hue of a vampire. Her generous mouth was curved in an affectionate smile that revealed no fangs at present, but he could imagine them there.

  “Kinda weird, right?” she said wryly. “I’m still getting used to it.”

  “I was told you wanted the Change. Was I lied to?” Nothing would save Syre if that was the case. Elijah would kill him the moment he was strong enough to do so.

  “It was the only way.” She settled into the seat by the bed. “There were two people inside me—two souls—and one of them had to go. That’s why I had that crazy inhuman speed as a mortal. That’s also what I need to talk to you about.”

  He listened to Lindsay’s explanation of the possible hazards to accepting her blood before he asked, “How the hell did you get here? Where’s Adrian? How did you find me?”

  “It was Vashti who brought me.” All the warmth left her face. “What did she do to you, El? If she’s just going to hurt you again, healing you isn’t going to be enough. You have to tell me what I’m dealing with here.”

  “Vash found you?” His eyes closed on a shaky exhalation. Christ. “Why?”

  “She came after Sentinel blood. She said she needed it to save you, but she wouldn’t tell me why you were hurt in the first place.” She gestured toward the door. “I smell other lycans out there. Are they using you to control the others?”

  Fuck…He’d do just about anything to not disappoint Lindsay. Anything except lie to her. “She didn’t do this to me, Linds. We were working together and I got jumped by a pack of vamps. She tried to get to me, but she couldn’t.”

  “Working together,” she repeated. She slumped back into her seat, her gaze stark and sad. “What about Micah’s death? Was that part of some plan between you two?”

  “No! For fuck’s sake. You know me better than that. We’re working together in spite of Micah’s murder, not because of it.”

  She looked him straight in the eyes, then nodded, as if she saw the truth of what he said on his face. “Tell me honestly. Are we enemies now? Are you gunning for the Sentinels?”

  “Never. I’m just trying to save as many lycan and mortal lives as possible.” He thought of the wraith ambush and a chill moved through him. What kind of world would they be living in if such attacks were commonplace? “The vamp infection we saw in Hurricane is spreading. Vash is trying to stop it.”

  “Why couldn’t you stop it with us?” Straightening, she set her elbows on her knees and leaned in close. “Why did you have to revolt?”

  “I didn’t want this.” He pled for her understanding with his gaze. “But once it happened, I couldn’t not step up. Those who want to work with the Sentinels will find their way back to Adrian. The rest need an Alpha or they’ll die. I couldn’t just turn my back and let that happen.”

  The door opened and Vash walked in. “How cozy. I’m not interrupting an intimate moment, am I?”

  Elijah felt the knot in his gut loosen at the sight of her. She was fresh from a shower, dressed in her trademark stark black with her damp hair pulled back in a ponytail. Her skintight pants barely clung to her hips, while her short sleeveless vest was small enough to pass for a bra. It was a testament to how incapacitated he was that his dick couldn’t muster more than a semi in appreciation.

  “You’re a crazy bitch,” he said gruffly. He glanced at Lindsay. “You, too. Adrian can’t be happy about this. Shit, I’m not entirely happy about it. You’re too exposed here.”

  “What was I going to do?” Lindsay shot back. “Let you die? Couldn’t do it, El.”

  Vash gave an exaggerated sigh and rolled her eyes. “My god, the way women fawn all over you.”

  Lindsay snorted. “So says the vampress who fought off Adrian to get blood for him.”

  The ringing of a cell phone had Lindsay pushing to her feet. She dug it out of her pocket and answered. “Adrian…Yes, I’m fine.”

  As she moved into a corner to talk, Vash stepped closer. She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “How do you feel?”

  “Like hammered shit.”

  “You look like it, too.”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  Muttering to herself, she reached out and pushed her hands through his hair, brushing the strands back from his face. He nuzzled into her touch, moved by what she’d done for him. He was a man sworn to kill her, yet she had risked her life to save him. “You went to a lot of trouble, Vashti. Put a lot on the line.”

  “Don’t read anything into it,” she muttered. “We need the lycans, and you’re a package deal.”

  “Hmm…”

  “That’s all this is,” she insisted, scowling.

  “We don’t know what this is,” he said softly. Somewhere along the way, in an impossibly short span of time, their higher reasoning in regard to each other had been subverted by impulse.

  Lindsay returned. She gave Elijah a searching glance. “Are we going to do this?”

  He knew what she was asking, whether or not he wanted to risk the possible hazards of her blood. After what she and Vash had gone through to get it for him, it was a no-brainer. ??
?Yeah, let’s do this.”

  Needing air, Syre left the building. It was dusk now, the desert sky painted in shades of orange, pink, and purple. A streak of lightning arced through the sky, then another. Out of place, he thought, but beautiful.

  The sizzling heat of the day had abated, as had the fury of his earlier mood. His second-in-command had put every vampire at risk by her actions, but part of him was secretly relieved to see her fighting for something beyond her vengeance. She’d been twisted by bitterness for so long. Long enough that it had become the only thing she lived for.

  He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed Adrian. When the call went to voice mail, he left a message. “Adrian,” he said darkly. “Vashti’s actions today weren’t sanctioned. Nevertheless, I’ll go to the wall for her. If it’s vengeance you want, you know where to find me. Leave her out of it.”

  Killing the call, he rounded the corner of the building and came to an abrupt stop. Raze leaned against the metal siding of the building’s exterior, his arms crossed and massive biceps bulging. His gaze was riveted to the slender female silhouette just a few yards away. She was pacing, as if agitated, and speaking on a phone. To Adrian.

  Syre waved the Fallen captain away and shoved his hands in his pockets, taking up the watchful position he’d dismissed Raze from. Syre’s emotions were a morass of pain, guilt, sorrow, grief, and anger. As he watched the woman who’d supplanted his beloved daughter in every way—the woman who was the greatest vulnerability of his oldest adversary—he realized he had no idea what to say to her…or do with her. If anything.

  “I can tough it out,” she was saying. “I’ll be home soon, neshama. Please don’t worry…Yes, I know that’s impossible. That’s why I’m here, isn’t it? Because I’m worried about you…I will…I love you, too.”

  Ending the call, she stared down at the phone in her hand and sighed. There was something in the sound, a note of regret and weariness that struck a chord in Syre.

  Pivoting, she faced him and saw him standing there. She froze, her eyes blinking in the waning light. She was a fledging, still growing into her new senses.

  “How are you feeling, Lindsay?”

  She shoved her hand through her curls, a habit he remembered she fell into when discomfited. Her mouth opened, then closed. She shrugged. “Not so hot.”

  He stepped closer, slowly, approaching her in a nonthreatening manner. As he neared, he saw the fever brightness of her eyes and her rapid, shallow breathing. “How much blood did you give the Alpha?”

  “A pint. Maybe a little more.”

  “It’s too soon after the Change,” he murmured, lifting his hand cautiously toward her face. “Can I?”

  She nodded.

  He found her skin burning hot. “How often is Adrian feeding you?”

  “Every few hours.”

  “How long has it been?” He caught her chin when she looked away. “How long, Lindsay?”

  “Six. Maybe seven.”

  “You need to eat.”

  She shook her head.

  Syre remembered how the act of drinking blood had so horrified her. She’d almost died by refusing to feed. He was surprised to find that he was relieved she’d survived after all.

  He blew out his breath. “Come inside.”

  Reaching into her back pocket, she pulled out a bandana and began to tie it around her head, covering her eyes.

  “That’s not necessary,” he said.

  “It’s safer for me. And for you. If something happens to me, Adrian will go ballistic. The less risk I pose, the better for everyone.”

  “All right.” Gripping her elbow, he steered her back into the building and toward the office he’d commandeered as his own.

  As they crossed the vast space, lycans who’d been sitting at various points around the open warehouse pushed slowly to their feet, eyeing him with hostile suspicion. Old habits die hard, he thought. Going head-to-head with Adrian and the Sentinels wasn’t something they were willing to risk yet. They weren’t going to let him incite a war with Adrian over Lindsay.

  Syre shut them out by closing his office door, then tugged the bandana off her face. Although his night vision was excellent, he was struck by the sight of her in the harsh glare of the fluorescent overhead lights. She was nothing like Shadoe, but still…he felt oddly soothed in her presence. Something that had been vibrating with disquiet inside him settled down. She sank into one of the two chairs positioned in front of the utilitarian metal desk and he took the one beside it.

  She studied him boldly.

  His brows rose in silent inquiry.

  “I was scared the first time I saw you,” she explained. “Afterward, I was distracted and then very ill.”

  “You’re not scared now?”

  “You’re being very careful that I won’t be.”

  His mouth curved and her breath caught.

  “You’re…very attractive,” she admitted. “I’d forgotten how young you appear.”

  Leaning forward, he set his elbows on his knees and got to the most pressing point. “You drank from me once before. Will you do so again?”

  “Why?”

  “You need to eat. Fledglings are easily damaged by lack of blood. It’s been too long between feedings and you’ve given some of your blood away.”

  “That’s not what I meant. I know why I should want to, but I don’t know why you would.”

  Syre looked down, gathering his thoughts. “I don’t know. It’s a combination of things, I suppose. You’re as close as I’ll ever be to Shadoe. Until I pass on.”

  “I’m not Shadoe.” Her voice was soft and compassionate, earning his appreciation and respect.

  “I’ve heard some families of organ donors keep in touch with the transplant recipients.” He glanced up at her. “There’s a bond there, whether it’s real or imagined.”

  “Is that healthy?”

  It was his turn to shrug. “Who can say? There’s something else, though, that would lead me to make this same offer. I Changed you, Lindsay. In that respect there’s no doubt I sired you.”

  The space between her brows was marred by a frown. “How long does that sense of obligation last?”

  “I really can’t say. I’ve only Changed two individuals in my life: Shadoe, who didn’t complete the transformation, and you, who won’t if you don’t feed.”

  Her eyes widened. “Only two of us? How is that possible? There are so many vampires.”

  “If each vampire infected just one other person, our numbers would be great. Of course, there are those who Change far more than one.” His mouth curved wryly. “Are you disappointed I’m not more evil?”

  “Not disappointed, but I’m struggling with it. Not just about you but about all vampires in general.”

  “Adrian’s brainwashing.”

  “Adrian has nothing to do with it. Vampires killed my mother in front of me. They held me down…made me watch as they brutalized her.” A violent shiver moved through her, followed by the immediate stiffening of her posture. “My feelings about vampires are my own, based on my own truths and experiences.”

  Syre reached for her hand and was pleased when she let him take it. “There are minions who lose their sanity with the Change. They’re the most responsible for the spread of vampirism, not the Fallen.”

  “We were on a picnic in the park on a cloudless day. They were either Fallen or the kept pets of one—or more—or they couldn’t have tolerated the sunlight.”

  He inhaled sharply. “Tell me everything.”

  “Why? I’m not Shadoe,” she said again. “Still, I feel…a connection to you. I have memories of you and her together that feel like they’re mine. It’s messing with my head.”

  “So is blood loss.” Sinking his fangs into his wrist, he stood and came around her, setting one hand on her head and lifting his bleeding wound to her mouth.

  She might have been able to refuse him if he’d expected her to make the punctures herself. But with the coppery scent
of blood filling her nostrils, her instincts kicked in and she was too much of a fledgling to fight them. Cupping the back of his wrist with both hands, she drank greedily, her eyes rolling back in her head before she closed them.

  He would’ve preferred she ingest more than she did, but somehow she found the fortitude to pull away. He admired her strength of will. Most fledglings that hungry would’ve had to be ripped away for the safety of the donor.

  “Better?” he asked.

  Nodding, she licked her lips. Already the unnatural brightness of her eyes was softening and a healthy flush stained her cheeks. “Thank you.”

  “I’m glad you accepted.” He leaned against the desk and crossed his arms. “I would be even more grateful if you’d trust me with what you remember of the attack on your mother.”

  He listened as she described a trinity of vampires who sounded remarkably like Vashti, Salem, and Raze.

  “It wasn’t them,” he said quietly when she finished, having no doubt as to their innocence.

  “I know that now. When I bit Vash—”

  “Ah, yes. I won’t forget that.” He smiled inwardly, recalling how infuriated Vashti had been at being bested by a fledgling. His second hadn’t fought back, of course, out of deference for his paternal feelings. Which only made it more concerning that she’d brought Lindsay to heal the Alpha. It seemed Vashti had been focused on the lycan’s health to the exclusion of every other consideration.

  “Adrian searched through my mind and he concurs with my description, but says the memory is faulty. Too murky. More of an emotional impression than a photographic one.”

  He settled in his chair again. “I’d see for myself if you hadn’t lost enough blood already. I could’ve looked when I drained you for the Change, but I didn’t want to personalize you. I know how cold that sounds.”

  “I appreciate the truth.” One side of her mouth lifted. “Hot or cold.”

  “But it doesn’t matter whether I see the memory myself or not. I believe you. I’ll investigate and see what turns up.”

  “I— Thank you, again. For obvious reasons, I’d love to know who they are.” She took a deep breath, then released it in a rush. She looked away quickly when he caught her gaze, but he’d seen how her eyes were shadowed and haunted.