A Mate for Griffin (15 page)

He grabbed ahold of her and roughly pulled at her bra. “I need to try and get hard for you. Not easy considering who you’ve opened your legs to. I’m not a fucking pervert like Chester. I’m not doing this for myself, I’m doing this to help you.” He was certifiable. A favor? Really?

“No, please. You don’t have to help me. You don’t have to do this. I didn’t have sex with any vampires. I left because I wasn’t happy. I’m not a whore.” She squeezed her eyes shut. Griffin would forgive her for the lie. The words tasted bad on her tongue. “I didn’t want anything to do with them.” A tear ran down her cheek.

“Oh and look at that”—he looked down at his now hard member—“I got it up for you in the end.” He turned her onto her stomach, his hands rough. Something hard and heavy dug into her back, holding her in place. It was his knee. It hurt. Her whole body was pushed into the mattress.

She twisted so that she could see him. The asshole was rolling the condom onto himself. It looked like he still planned on raping her regardless. Sickos like this were the lowest of the low, the most depraved bastards of society. It shouldn’t surprise her that they were rapists as well as kidnappers. This asshole had convinced himself that it wasn’t rape. That he was doing her a favor or something and it didn’t matter what she said. He would do it anyway. He would convince himself that it was okay.

“I’m not a total bastard.” he snickered. “I’ll make sure that you come since this is your last time. If you keep this between us, I’ll keep the others away from you.” He winked at her.

“Please don’t. Please.” He lifted her and started pulling on her underwear. Sarah tried to keep her legs together.

“Let me take them off or I’ll fucking rip them. It’ll be more difficult to stop the others if your pussy is out there for everyone to see.” She made a choking noise born of anger and frustration, but held still as he slid her panties down until they were around her knees.

He cursed. “We don’t have a whole lot of time but I want you wide open for me.”

“No. Please.” Sarah gasped. She was holding onto her last piece of sanity. Her legs were still tied loosely together at the ankles. Earl worked on the knots. Her arms were still bound tightly behind her back and her head was shoved into the mattress. “I beg you not to do this. Please, Earl.”

She tried to get up but he clasped a hand around her neck and squeezed. “I can hurt you badly without leaving a single mark. It’s up to you how this goes down. We can make this fun or it can hurt, Sarah. Think carefully about which you would prefer.” His voice was cold and indifferent. He meant it.

Then he pulled her underwear the rest of the way off. On reflex, Sarah kicked back. Maybe she could nail him in the head and knock him out. Her heel connected with something meaty but he didn’t so much as grunt, he gripped her by the ankle and twisted. Sarah cried out. It felt like her bones were crushing. He yanked on her leg and shoved a knee between her thighs. Sarah felt her thighs part. His knee was between them so she couldn’t close them again. She tried to twist out of his grasp. Choking, mind numbing panic raced through her.

She screamed.

“Still fucking bleeding,” the male muttered. “Strange fucking creatures. Dead and bleeding. Makes no fucking sense.”

His head bashed against another rock. The ground was damp.

“Heavy fucker.” The elderly male grumbled as he sucked in a lungful of air. He grunted and groaned as he continued to pull Griffin along the uneven terrain.

Griffin had begun bleeding profusely as his heart started back up. He felt his lifeblood drain. There had been initial panic because if his wound didn’t heal soon he would die all over again and this time there was definitely no coming back. It had shocked the fuck out of him that he had come back at all.

This time when the pain had seared him it had been welcome. Every time the old fuck turned away to catch his breath, Griffin had moved. A finger or an arm. Just a twitch of a muscle. Sarah was on the forefront of his mind. It helped him through the blinding pain.

Griffin felt drained. Useless as fuck. Even the tiniest movements were a hardship. He was sure that if he gave into the sleep that beckoned, that he would never awaken. It couldn’t happen. His female needed him.

The need to kill these fucks was all consuming. Frustration gnawed at him. His limbs felt like they weighed a ton. His head felt big and his tongue thick. Every part of him hurt. At least he was alive.

The male dropped his arm and he felt his fingers hit the soft earth. When the other male used the bottom of his shirt to wipe his face, Griffin stretched out his leg. He grit his teeth to prevent himself from crying out. The pain was excruciating but welcome. He would move every fucking muscle if it killed him. Griffin had to hold back a laugh. He was on the verge of death. So close that he could feel its hold, its subtle embrace. Its promise of peace. Fuck peace. Fuck rest.

He forced himself to clench his fists. It was difficult to hold back the desire to gulp for air. Slow, shallow breaths. Easy. The only advantage he had was surprise.

It was normal to remain in a state of paralysis for a time. To allow the body a chance to heal. There were no such luxuries today. As soon as he became conscious he had fought for movement. Now he fought to regain control of his limbs. Thankfully, the grievous wound to his heart no longer bled as much. The wound to his chest cavity and belly had begun to heal as well.

Griffin wasn’t sure he was strong enough to take this fucker down. It was going to be tough. Maybe even impossible but he would try. The male had a knife in his belt and there was a holster on his chest. His hair was a shock of white and his face was lined. It was lucky that the weaker of the males had been sent to bury him.

If he was going to do this, he needed blood and lots of it. Rest would be good too. A couple of weeks in bed might do the trick. Rest would have to wait but blood could not. It disgusted him to even think of drinking from this bastard but he would do it if it meant having the strength to rescue Sarah. The trick was to injure the male but not to kill him, then he could drink his fill. The problem was if he didn’t hurt him enough, he might not have the strength to fight him a second time. He could do this.

He knew he needed to wait until the last possible moment to strike. To give himself as much recovery time as possible. Hopefully, his heart would have healed sufficiently. The bullet had torn open the organ and if that tear was not properly knitted by the time he made his move, all bets were off and Sarah would be lost. It couldn’t be allowed to happen. Their plans could not be carried out. Griffin had no idea what they were exactly, but he knew that they were no good. He could smell evil on this male. He could smell Sarah as well. Her scent was strong, he used it to fuel his anger.

“Here we are.” The old man grunted, while giving him a final hard pull. “The hole is deep enough.” he grumbled. “That bastard can go to hell. Better yet, he can come and dig himself if he wants a deeper grave.” He hawked and spat onto the ground next to Griffin’s head. “Dig a deep enough grave and don’t come back for at least two hours.” The male spoke strangely. Griffin suspected that he was mimicking someone else’s voice. “Two whole fucking hours. Can you believe that?”

The male leaned over him and for a second Griffin thought that he was actually speaking to him. That he had realized that he was still alive. “I’m going to bury your ass and then I’m going to sit under the shade of that tree and—”

Griffin didn’t wait to hear what he had to say. This was the right time to strike and he did. Using the last vestiges of strength, Griffin wacked the male across the head with a closed fist. There was a loud thud followed by a crack. The male slumped over him, the air leaving the elderly male in a whoosh.

For a few seconds, Griffin was too dazed to register anything except that his own chest rose and fell in quick succession. His eyes were closed. His body ached.

Then he felt a warmth where the male covered him followed by a noseful of stench. Even though the male’s heart had just stopped beating, he leaned forward and sank his fangs into his arm.

Griffin almost gagged. Dead for a few short seconds and already the blood was turning rancid. It was still warm and would still offer sustenance though. He forced himself to choke down a few mouthfuls. Then forced another down before gagging. By some miracle he managed to hold it down. Not nearly enough but it would have to do. He hit the male too fucking hard.

His chest still heaved. His eyes were squeezed shut. His teeth were clenched. It nauseated him that the human was touching him, but there was sweet little he could do about it. One minute passed and then two. He felt the blood flood his system, warming him. It was like a small candle in a deep, dark cavern. Unable to light up the entire space, but enough to at least drive away some of the gloom.

Sarah.

He had to get to her. One down and at least three to go. He wouldn’t be so arrogant as to say that he would not underestimate the humans again. To assume to know their strengths and numbers. The truth was, he was still fucked. He would need to rely on gut instinct and luck. He would prevail because his female was depending on him.

On a low growl, he pushed the male off of him. The fucker had pissed all over him. He groaned as he turned onto his belly. Bit back another groan, as he pulled his knees under himself. Griffin sat upright. He swayed, seeing dark spots behind his eyes. It was like the world was turning on its axis. His whole body screamed for him to lie the fuck down. To close his eyes and sleep. Just for a few hours. Just for…

No!

He forced his eyes back open. It was fucking dark. The head torch the old fuck had been wearing was no longer on. Shit! He wasn’t in great condition that was for sure. To be so affected by the dark. Even his basic senses were failing him. Nonetheless, he forced himself to his feet and staggered and swayed for a minute, before he managed to gain sufficient control. His sight improved, marginally. He needed to proceed slowly and carefully.

The small amount of blood continued to warm and strengthen him. It wouldn’t sustain him for long. Trying his best to be quiet, Griffin moved towards the direction of the cabin, not having to go for long. The whole clearing was floodlit. It made it difficult to see the roof. That was where the fucker had been waiting for him earlier. It meant that they had either seen him drive up or they were careful. If it was the first, he might just make it to the cabin, since they thought he was dead, but if it was the latter, he would probably be gunned down again.

There didn’t seem to be movement in the house. If he really strained, he could make out voices. It was too far and too muffled for him to tell how many or if they were male or female voices. He was breathing hard. Even standing upright was difficult.

A scream pierced the air. It pierced him just as surely as a knife into his gut. It was Sarah. There was no fucking doubt. She was in trouble. The scream told him of fear and panic. Of anguish. Adrenaline surged. He was through the front door of the cabin before he even realized that he had moved.

He burst through the door of a side room and his blood ignited in his veins. Griffin roared as the male, with a hand around Sarah’s neck turned around, his eyes wide.

He was on the male before he could draw a breath. One of the fucker’s hands still clasped his female by the hip.
His female. His
. The dickhead had no right to touch even a single hair on her head. The slime wasn’t good enough to breathe the same air as Sarah.
Touch her
? He dared fucking touch her. Griffin yanked him away from her feeling bone crush beneath his fingers. He growled.

The male sucked in a wheezing breath as he fell to the floor. He screamed and clutched his injured arm.

Griffin snarled as he kicked the male, feeling ribs cave in beneath his boot. On the next scream, blood sprayed from the male’s open mouth. Fucking excellent. The scream quickly turned into a gargled rasp and he slumped back. Although his chest still rose and fell, Griffin knew that he was finished. Death would not be far behind.

Shit! The effects of the adrenaline surge left him and Griffin fell to one knee. The warmth of lethargy coursed through him, making him feel numb and slow. He blinked, his eyes having to strain to reopen.

“Griffin.” Sarah called, but he couldn’t get his head to turn to her. He fell back.

“Griffin.” She called a second time or maybe it was just his imagination. Hands touched him. Whisper soft. Although his eyes were open, he struggled to see.

“Blood,” he croaked as his eyes drifted shut. “Blood,” a faint whisper before he passed out.

****

“Griffin!” Sarah shouted watching as his eyes rolled back in his head. He was covered in dirt. His chest was slick with blood. There was more crusted on both his shirt and pants.

His chest moved, but barely. She couldn’t believe that he was here. “Don’t you dare die on me.”

There was a noise to her right. Earl was trying to get his gun holster open. His fingers kept scratching against the clasp. His eyes were wide. His chest rose and fell in quick succession. It was a rasping, gargling sound that made her feel ill. From the way his chest was caved in on the one side, it was safe to say, that one of his lungs was filling with blood.

She tried to ignore him and concentrated on Griffin instead.
Blood.
He needed blood and she would give some to him. Sarah looked around the room. She needed a knife. Sarah looked at the bodies on the floor with a shudder. She couldn’t bring herself to search them. Hopefully, there would be one in the next room. She rushed into the living room, scanning the area. There was a small kitchen area to one side. She opened the drawers, until she found what she needed. A small paring knife. Sarah ran back and almost dropped the thing when she saw the gun in Earl’s grasp. He was trying to aim it at Griffin, but the weapon was too heavy.

“Don’t.” She warned. “Put it down.”

“Bitch.” Earl spat, not even looking in her direction. His lips were coated in blood, but he continued to fumble with the weapon.

She kicked it out of his hand.

“Fuck”—he gave a few rasping pants—“you!” he said, grimacing. Fresh blood splattered onto his lips.

“My name is Sarah.” Her voice was clear. “I’m a pre-school teacher. I am daughter to Fred and Lewis Lane. Yes, you heard right, Lewis Lane. My mom gets teased a lot. My dad is jokingly called superman, or at least he was back when his hair was still black and thick. My sister is Samantha…Sammy for short. My best friend’s name is Paige.”

His eyes were wide as he struggled to draw in breath after breath. He blinked every so often. His good arm continued to probe the floor around him for the weapon.

“I am a person with real feelings. With loves, hopes and desires. I dream. I feel. I am a human being. I’m not a whore or an object.” Her voice broke but she cleared her throat. “Shame on you for treating me that way.” She paused. “Shame on you.” She repeated when his eyes moved to hers.

They were clouded with pain, but they also still glinted with determination. Sarah shook her head as she watched him feel for the gun, until his hand brushed the metal.

“Don’t do it.”

The rasping and gargling noises had grown louder as his breaths became all the more shallow. The cold look of determination seemed to overtake the pain.

She watched how his fingers closed over the handle. Earl groaned as he lifted the weapon. It looked like he wasn’t going to give up. There was no getting through to him. Sarah swallowed hard and plunged the knife into his throat.

His legs thrashed and he dropped the gun. His broken arm lifted and then he fell back, eyes wide, chest still.

A sob was torn from her. She glanced at Griffin. His chest still rose and fell, but his breathing was shallow. She took a couple of deep breaths trying to calm herself down. This was no time for falling apart.

She took ahold of the hilt of the knife and gagged as she pulled it free. There was a closed door in the room. She ran for the door and only just made it to the toilet. Sarah threw up. The bile was bitter and burned her throat.

Once she was finished, she washed her hands and the knife before rinsing her mouth. Griffin was just as she had left him. Overly pale. It looked like his wounds had stopped bleeding though. She went to her knees next to his head. Gritting her teeth, she pulled the blade across her wrist.