A Hunters Promise (14 page)

Aislinn paced around the room. She couldn’t settle, hadn’t been able to settle since Charon had left. Something wasn’t right. She didn’t know what, but the more time passed the more unease crept over her skin and into her bones. She turned as Joelle burst through the door. The other woman looked disheveled and frantic. Aislinn knew, in her gut, something had happened to Charon.

“What?” she demanded. “Where is he?”

“He was hurt, bad. They tried to give him blood, but his body rejected it. It’s killing him.”

“Tell me what to do. I can’t lose him.” She refused to even consider the idea that Charon wouldn’t be okay. He meant more to her than her family ever had. And, as each day passed, he meant more still. He wasn’t going to die. She wouldn’t allow it.

Joelle grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the room. “We don’t have much time, but you’re his Liaison. It’s the same kind of bond Talon and I have. Talon can only drink my blood. If he drinks from anyone else, he’ll die. That’s what’s going on with you and Charon. If you care about him, you have to let him drink. I know you don’t want to. I know you’re scared. But it’s either that or he dies.”

Aislinn raced down the hallway, a billion thoughts flying through her mind. Drink? He needed to drink from her? She wasn’t scared of his fangs, but did she want them in her neck? She’d seen her roommate die; could she put herself in that position? But this was Charon. The man she…loved? Really? Could she love him? She’d never loved anyone before. No one had ever loved her. How did she even know what she was feeling was the real thing?

Could she live without him? Did she want to? She almost tripped on the thought. She couldn’t imagine going through her days without him. Not seeing him or talking to him, not kissing him or touching him. Not waking up next to him and watching him as he slept. If he wasn’t with her, she’d die or want to die.

Joelle threw open a door, and Aislinn raced in behind her. Charon was crouched against a wall, covered in blood. His fangs were fully extended, and he looked like every monster from her nightmares. But he wasn’t. She knew he wasn’t. He was warm and funny and caring. He protected her when she needed him to and taught her to protect herself.

Slowly, she pushed through the other men until she stood in front of Charon. His eyes tracked her. He saw her.

“Charon,” she said, “please let me help you. I need to help you. You promised me you’d stay safe. You promised me you’d come back to me.”

As she spoke, she eased down and scooted toward him. Someone said her name, tried to pull her back, but Charon growled and pulled her to him. She used her shirt to wipe the blood from his face, and though his eyes tracked her, she wasn’t sure he knew it was even her. It was as if the man she knew was missing, but he had to be there. He had to.

“Charon, I don’t know what to do, but you need to drink.” Terrified, she put her wrist up to his mouth.

He grasped her arm, and she couldn’t help but jump. He put his face close and breathed her in. Her scent caused another growl, but it wasn’t wild and angry. Instead, it was low and rumbling, the kind he gave when she touched him. Without hesitation, he opened his mouth and punched his fangs into her wrist.

Aislinn’s whole body erupted in fire, and an orgasm rushed through her system. She bucked against him, grinding her hips into his leg. Needing him, wanting him. She clawed at her clothing, trying to get it off because it hurt where it touched.

Joelle watched the couple and knew what was happening. She instantly turned to force the other Hunters out, but Talon was steps ahead of her. He made all the Hunters leave the room and closed the door behind them.

“What is going on?” Kenshin demanded as he ran up.

“Aislinn is Charon’s liaison,” Joelle said. “They’re working that out between them.”

“Is that what we’re calling that?” Grimm asked.

“Men are pigs,” she declared. “Yes, that is what’s going on, and that’s all we’re saying about it. Now go away and leave them alone.”

“If you even attempt to go in,” Talon added, “he’ll kill you.”

“Or she will,” Joelle said.

As the others walked away, Joelle put her arms around Talon. She hoped things went easier for Charon and Aislinn than it did for her and Talon. At least, they had someone to ask questions of and guide them. She and Talon had been on their own as they stumbled their way through the process. In fact, she had almost died before Quenton and Reaper came up with a possible solution, and even then, they hadn’t known it would work.

Humans did not drink vampire blood. Ever. The end. It killed them. But not when a human and Ancient were bonded. Then, and only then, the human had to drink from the Ancient.

“Are you thinking about what happened to us?” Talon asked as he nuzzled her neck.

“Yes.” She tilted her head to give him better access. As his fangs scraped against her skin, she grew wet. She wanted him; she always wanted him. The need for him wasn’t the craziness of the initial bonding, but it was still there, banked and waiting.

He pulled her up into his arms. “Let’s go back to our room. I want to drink from you and have you drink from me.”

She wrapped her arms and legs around him. “Go fast; I can’t wait.”

Charon came back to himself with the taste of Aislinn’s blood in his mouth. It was rich and sweet and filled him like no other. Immediately, he retracted his fangs from her wrist. He’d promised her he would never, ever drink from her, and yet, he had. She struggled in his arms, and, at first, he thought she was trying to get away. Instead, she was yanking and ripping at her clothes as the scent of her need washed over him.

“Take me,” she begged him. “Hurry.” She kicked her pants off. He leaned over and sealed his mouth to her hot female flesh. She screamed and thrust frantically against him, pulling and tugging at his hair. The scent of her was like a drug to his system. It was more lush and heady, just like her blood.

“In me,” she ordered, “I need you in me.”

He didn’t know what was happening; he didn’t care. He just knew she was frantic for him, and he was the same way for her. He ripped the rest of his clothes off and fell on her. With his knee, he thrust her legs apart, and without a second thought, he plunged inside of her.

The walls of her vagina clutched at him like a wet hot vise, and he shuddered at the sensation. If he were to die now, he would die happy. Only in Aislinn was he fulfilled, only in her was he whole. He began to pump slowly, shuttling his cock in and out of her body. He didn’t want to hurt her, but she had other ideas. She thrust her hips up to meet him, slamming against him as she dug her nails into his back.

“Hard, harder. Do it harder. Charon, please.”

What little control he had shattered at the pleading in her voice. He wrapped his arms around her legs, pulling them wide apart as he began to plow into her. With each downward thrust, he felt his cock bottom out, going as deep as he could into her body. She wailed and thrashed, but he knew it wasn’t pain but pleasure, so much pleasure washing through her body. He could feel it, feel her in his mind. Her needs, her wants.

She pulled his head down to her throat. “Take me, bite me.”

He thrust again and again into her body, but still it wasn’t enough. The orgasm rose and rose, but never crested. Aislinn was afraid she would die from the wanting of it. His cock was like a heated bar of iron forcing its way in and out of her body. But still it wasn’t enough. She needed him. Needed him to take her, bite her, own her.

She tilted her head to the side and begged him to bite her. When he did, and the fangs slid into her neck, pleasure burst through her body. She cried and clawed at him, riding wave after wave. Without thought, she bit him on the shoulder, and something rich and spicy filled her mouth. She swallowed and swallowed again until the darkness claimed her.

Charon eased away from Aislinn’s limp body. The two of them lay in a heap of ripped clothes and blood. On shaky legs, he rose and picked her up. She turned into his body, but didn’t wake. Forcing himself to take one step then the next, he left the trashed room. He had to get them back to his room. He had to get them into a shower and cleaned up before she woke up. He didn’t want her to realize they were smeared head to toe in blood. It would be difficult enough to try to explain why he bit her.

The thought of Aislinn’s blood made him stumble. She tasted like nothing he’d ever had before, rich and lush and his. His. She was his. He’d never had anything that belonged to him before. Not a pet or a home or a family. But Aislinn was his, of this he was certain.

He opened the door of his rooms and was never so happy. All they had to do was shower and go to bed. He moved into the bathroom and turned on the taps. When water gushed out of the heads, he stepped in and let the water wash over the two of them.

“That feels good.”

He smiled at the slight slurring of her speech, but she was awake. He looked down at her cradled against his chest and found her watching him. She was confused, but glad he held her. And why did he know what she was thinking? Or was he hoping it was what she was feeling? Or was he just so damn tired that he was punchy and imagining things?

“You can put me down,” she said. “I can stand.”

He let her slide down his body, but didn’t let her go. When her feet hit the floor, she leaned against him and sighed. It felt so good standing with her, so right. The sense of contentment was a balm to his soul. Aislinn was the one who brought this to him, and because of that, he needed to care for her. He grabbed up the shampoo and squirted some in his hands. Slowly, he began to rub it into the heavy length of her hair. She sighed again and tightened her arms around his waist.

When he finished washing and conditioning her hair, he grabbed up a washcloth and soaped it up. He eased it over her body, making sure every inch was clean. Charon was amazed at just how perfect she was. Though her skin was pale and soft, her muscles were strong and made for fighting. He’d made sure of that. Now, the idea terrified him. He’d promised her she could fight, but he didn’t want her to. How could he? She was his, and he wanted her safe.

Once he finished bathing Aislinn, he did a quick job on himself and got them out of the shower. He quickly dried off, but took time with her. He brushed her hair and braided it so it would stay out of her way while she slept. Grabbing up a bottle of lotion, he carried her back into the bedroom. He laid her on the bed and, with careful hands, began to massage her. She sighed as he worked down her back. He thought if he could do this forever, he could be happy.

Soon, though, sleep pulled at him. Charon climbed into bed and curled around the woman who suddenly meant more to him than his life.

* * * *

Kenshin sat in his office and contemplated the glass of whiskey in his hand. He wasn’t normally a drinking man, but after the day they had, he needed it. Hell, if things didn’t improve, he might take it up full-time. Clusterfuck, he decided, was a gentle way to describe the events of the last few days.

He rubbed his face and wondered what would happen if Charon and Aislinn didn’t resolve things. Would the Hunters have to kill Charon? Dammit, Kenshin didn’t want to go there. The PIA only had five active Hunters and couldn’t afford to lose one. More personally, he couldn’t imagine not having Charon around. Of all the Hunters, he was the easiest to get along with, the easiest to talk to and joke with. Hell, Kenshin had shared meals with the man, and yet, if it came to it, he’d have to do what was necessary to protect the paranormal community.

Positive
, he told himself,
think positive
. He almost sneered as he tossed back his drink.
Sure, yeah, positive.
He was positive things were going to get worse before they got better.

His phone rang, and he glanced at caller ID. Quenton was on the line. First gut instinct was to ignore the call. Anytime Kenshin had received bad news over the last few days, it was always on the phone. He laughed. If he didn’t answer, the man would just come looking for him.

“Hello, Quenton,” he said as he poured himself another drink.

“I think I found Feral.”

“Who? This is Kenshin. Is that who you wanted?”

He heard the other man huff out an impatient breath. “Did you not see my email?”

“Sorry, I haven’t gotten around to checking my computer.”

“Well, then what the hell use is it to us if no one uses the bloody thing? I might as well use carrier pigeons.”

Kenshin smiled. Only Quenton had the ability to make him smile when everything was going to shit. “Do you want me to requisition them for you?”

“No, you ass, I want you to start reading your email. Whatever. Reaper and I had the idea that we might want to see if we can locate an Ancient with a true Liaison. The last one we found mention of was an Ancient named Feral and his human Lucian. This was about two hundred fifty years ago. I was able to access records from vampire historians, and I believe Feral is living in New York.”

“Do you have the name he’s using now?”

“It’s Liam Phillips.”

“Good. I’ll contact the PIA office there and see if they can get us a meet. Between Talon and Joelle and now Charon and Aislinn, we need answers.”