Dark Cravings (12 page)

Minutes passed before we spoke.

“I should let you bite me more often.” He nuzzled my neck.

I stiffened. What had I done? “We can’t do that again.”

“The sex or the biting?”

I got off his lap and wished for a larger space. There was
nowhere to go. The scent of sex and blood overwhelmed me. How could I have just
let that happen? And this time, I had no lust spell to blame it on.

“Neither.”

Micah exited the bathroom in a trail of dripping water
before closing the door behind him with a bit too much emphasis. The dark
shadows I’d seen in his eyes told me I’d screwed something up between us. I was
pretty sure I’d done the river dance on any warm and fuzzies he felt.

While Micah brooded in the other room, I stayed in the
shower until the hot water went cold. Being me, I did what I was best at. Avoidance.
Hell, I’d managed to avoid Julian for seven years.

After I was numbed of any and all feeling in my limbs, I sat
under the spray and watched the water spiral into the drain. I didn’t get out
until my fingers and toes looked like a two-hundred-year-old mummy’s.

Wrapped in a towel saturated in the scent of Micah, I eyed
the pile of my clothes heaped in the corner of the bathroom. The stench of old
blood and poison put them on the “To Be Burned” list. Dignity be damned, there
was no way I was putting those back on.

With my head held high and my emotional armor in place, I
pulled the towel tighter around myself and left the safety of the bathroom. I
blinked, eyes adjusting to the soft glow of light coming from the candle on the
dresser. I stared at the bed. With Micah in it, the mattress looked much
smaller. The blanket had been pulled up to his waist, so the only thing I could
see was the back he’d turned to the door.

What was once smooth, tanned skin was still marked by the
scratches from our stay at the Lazy Eight. Served him right. At least his marks
were fairly neat lines, which could be explained as just about anything. I had
a few nice indents of his teeth in my flesh that still hadn’t healed. Roy, who’d
poked and prodded at the mark on my neck, couldn’t tell me if they would fade.
The marks Julian had left on my throat had taken three years to heal, so I was
still hopeful about Micah’s. The tattoo was another story.

It wasn’t until I started pondering about how other men
would interpret the marks on my body that I realized I was stalling. Micah and
I hadn’t really discussed me spending the night. Hell, he hadn’t really invited
me here in the first place. In fact, he’d told me to leave.

It was now or never. I dropped the towel and jumped when it
hit the carpet. My nerves were shot. I strode to the bed. Micah had changed the
white sheets to well-worn flannel linens a shade of blue that reminded me of
the sky. A sky I wasn’t going to see. Exhaustion slammed into me. I wanted to
be in the bed so bad it hurt. The second I hit the mattress, I knew I’d fall
asleep.

Sleep? I couldn’t go to sleep. Julian was waiting. I bit my
lip, looked across the room into the kitchen and stared at the coffeepot.

“Just get in,” Micah grumbled. “I won’t touch you.” He
lifted his head, punched the pillow he had cradled with one arm and lay back
down.

“That’s not what I was afraid of, you jackass.”

With what sounded like an exasperated sigh, he rolled from
his side to his back so he could look at me. I don’t think he’d expected me to
be naked.

All it took was the familiar gleam of lust in his eyes for
my nipples to pucker into tight, needy buds.

“The boogeyman?” he guessed.

I was oddly pleased he’d remembered.

“Maybe.” I was too tired to pretend.

Micah lifted the covers. I didn’t need any light to see what
was under the blankets. He wasn’t wearing any clothes either. “Get into bed. You’re
so exhausted you probably won’t even dream.”

He had a point. Not that I’d admit to it.

I slid in between the warmth of the sheets, which were as
soft as they looked, and the heat of the comforter. I sighed out loud. Thanks
to the blood, and maybe the orgasms, the pain in my shoulder had dulled to an
ache and I couldn’t even feel the gashes on either my back or my front. I was
in nirvana. Heaven got a whole lot closer when Micah erased the distance
between us, wrapped his arms around me and molded our bodies together.

Skin-to-skin contact—the witch had been onto something.
Electric currents ran between the points where our bodies touched. Heat infused
me and, oddly enough, it wasn’t sexual. It felt comforting. Safe. What a
dangerous sensation. I settled back, wiggling my butt against the length of his
erection before I realized what I was doing and stopped.

Micah groaned. “Ignore it.”

“Ignore what? I don’t feel a thing.”

His chuckle was rich, warm and so sincere, the sound made me
grin even wider.

Micah chose that moment to run his hand up my stomach. I
arched into him. He cupped my right breast, the one covered in the mating mark.
He brought my body closer to his and nuzzled his chin back and forth against my
neck.

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just insult my manhood.
Sleep. I’ll keep the monsters away.”

He was true to his word. The moment my eyes closed, a warm
darkness, filled with the smell of Micah, penetrated the mental shield I held
in place at all times. I relaxed into it and watched ivy grow along the walls,
fortifying them. I imagined the strands being the same shade as Micah’s eyes.
Teal. Micah would be there to keep guard when I couldn’t.

To my utter surprise, I had the best sleep of my entire
life. Damn it. How was I ever going to go to bed again and not think about how
right it felt to have Micah’s large, warm body spooned against mine? He was a
living, breathing electric blanket. Bastard.

I have no idea how long we slept or what exactly it was that
woke us. A smell? A shift in the air? Maybe it was the tingling sensation you
got when someone was looking at you. I finally realized that it was the third
heartbeat in the room that triggered my protective instincts. I reached under
Micah’s pillow for the gun I knew was there. Micah beat me to it. Considering
my dislike of firearms, it was probably a good thing.

In a blur of movement that rivaled my own speed and
dexterity, Micah was on the ground in a crouch.
The strength, healing and
instincts of a demon.
The witch’s words rang in my ears. Micah’s gun, like
an extension of his hand, was trained on the man standing patiently at the foot
of the bed.

Richard McGregor. Micah’s father.

“You see, Ella,” Micah said, eyes never leaving his target,
gun never wavering, “this is why guns are better. If there had been a knife
under my pillow, it would now be sticking out of my father’s chest and we
wouldn’t know why he was here. You like to act first, think later. Dear old Dad
here would have learned a hard lesson about breaking and entering.”

He had a point.

I looked over the man in the three-piece suit and
contemplated the wonders of genetics. The last time I’d seen Richard had been
at my hearing, right after I’d been, oh how did they put it? Infected. Richard’s
thinning blond hair and beady brown eyes made me wonder if there was any
credibility to the rumor that this man might not be Micah’s dad. Maybe Mrs.
McGregor had had some secret lover. A secret
demonic
lover.

Richard’s narrow face was too thin to give him the
confidence the tailored suit attempted. He wasn’t wide enough in the shoulders,
or tall enough, to pull off the look. Maybe it was the stench of fear pouring
off him that ruined it.

“Breaking and entering? Hardly. The door was unlocked. I’ve
been standing here for five minutes watching you snuggle.” Richard spat the
last word out. Brave words for someone who was terrified. “Knife or gun,”
Richard continued, “it wouldn’t have mattered. If I’d had the inclination to
harm either of you, there would have been no challenge. You’re getting sloppy,
Micah. But you always were, weren’t you?”

Micah didn’t lower his gun. “I’ve got wards. They keep
unwanted guests out. How long did it take you to break them?”

The gleam in Richard’s eyes was one I’d never seen before.
His gaze had a sick kind of glee lurking in it. This was not the same man I’d
seen leading the Shadow Agency—this man was darker somehow. The mask had been
removed.

“Child’s play,” Richard replied.

“Why are you here?” Micah asked.

I looked back and forth between the two, Richard in his
finery, Micah stark naked with a gun. It was a bit dysfunctional. For the first
time I found myself questioning the relationship between father and son. I’d just
assumed they were two peas in a demon-hating pod. Things were not right between
them. The testosterone filling the room had a very violent taste to it and I
wondered if they’d ever actually come to blows before.

“I must say, I’m rather disappointed in your choice of
housing. This building should be condemned. Really, Micah, what would someone
think if they saw me coming into this place?”

“Like I give a shit, old man.” When Micah gave him a half-smile,
I got why he lived in this dive. What a rebellious little snot. I liked it. A
lot.

The cold look Micah got in response dropped the temperature
in the room and I was painfully reminded that I was naked. I pulled the sheet
just a little bit higher over my chest. Too bad my sudden movement drew Richard’s
attention.

The look he gave me was too intimate for strangers. I
remembered what Roy had told me about the marriage petition when I’d been
fifteen. My gut began a slow boil.

Richard’s smoldering look managed to make me feel both cheap
and easy. When his gaze trailed over the column of my neck, then over my
exposed shoulders, I began to panic. How had I never picked up on this pervy
vibe before now? This man was just fucking creepy.

“Nice matching tattoos,” Richard drawled.

A drawer scraped open, cotton rustled. The next thing I
knew, a tee shirt landed in my lap. I turned just in time to see Micah pull up
a pair of athletic pants.

“Get dressed.” Darkness moved within Micah’s eyes. The
predator was awake and if the tic in Micah’s jaw had anything to say about it,
it was pissed.

Richard leered at me. “Don’t bother on my account.”

Never letting go of the sheet, I pulled the shirt over my
head and shimmied into the tee. Only then did I get out of bed. The lecherous
old man looked me over, paused on my breasts and moved to my bare legs. Where
were my weapons when I needed them?

“Micah, would you lend me your gun?” I gave Richard my best
smile as I said it.

No one paid any attention to me.

Richard jerked his gaze back to Micah and took a step closer
to the bed.

Micah’s finger tightened on the trigger.

“There seem to be a great many details you’ve left out in
your report. I didn’t know I needed to bring a stake with me. How long has she
been a full-fledged vampire? And how long have you been the blood whore’s play
thing?”

“Is there something you actually wanted, Father?” Substitute
the word
father
with
asshole
, because that was what I knew Micah
really meant.

“I find your lack of respect appalling, son.” Richard said
son
,
yet I knew he meant
ungrateful brat
. Touché.

Micah let out a manic laugh. He lifted his gun and I watched
Richard look at the weapon with unease. Surely Micah wouldn’t shoot him. Right?

“Respect?” Micah asked when he stopped laughing. “Let’s talk
about that for a second. You came into my apartment in the middle of the night,
uninvited.”

“It’s two o’clock in the afternoon. That’s hardly ‘the
middle of the night’.” Richard cast a scathing look in my direction, the lust I’d
seen a few moments ago now replaced with hatred. “Obviously you were otherwise
occupied and failed to notice the time you were, as usual, pissing away. I see
nothing has changed. Cheap room, cheap woman. Tell me, are you drunk as well?”

I took two steps closer, the curl of my lip exposing my
fangs. My gaze landed on the surging pulse at Richard’s neck. I fantasized
about tearing into his flesh. I could almost feel the skin beneath my teeth,
taste the blood that I would spit on the floor at his feet. When my hands began
to tingle and my head started to spin, Micah’s voice pulled me back from doing
something incredibly stupid.

“Ella,” Micah warned.

“I can see you were right. She is reckless, stubborn and a
danger to society. Thank goodness we have all those reports you submitted to
back our claim. Now that she has broken her oath, her extrication should be
exceedingly simple. We don’t allow parasites into the Shadow Agency.”

“Is that why you’re here, to ‘extract’ her?” Micah asked. “If
it is, you’ve come severely unmanned if you think you’re going anywhere with
her.”

“One fuck and now she has you wrapped around her finger? I
must say you were singing a different tune a few months ago when you stated,
and I quote,” Richard smiled cruelly at me, “‘Ella has no regard for the Agency’s
rules or regulations. She kills indiscriminately and with a ruthless savagery that
makes her a danger to others’.”

A horrible weight settled in my stomach. My palms got
sweaty. My heart started to pound.

“Ella, don’t listen to him. He’s taking things out of
context.”

I felt like I was going to puke.

Stupid. I was so fucking stupid. Any little bit of trust I’d
started to harbor vanished.

“So you didn’t try to get me ‘extricated’ from the Shadow
Agency?” I asked, my voice a whole lot steadier than I felt.

“Yes. No.”

“Which is it, son?”

Something broke inside Micah, I saw it, felt it. The air
shimmered and the dark shadow inside—the feral part of him—eclipsed his eyes.
He crossed the few short steps to his father and without any preamble brought
his fist back and smashed it into Richard McGregor’s face. Blood sprayed into
the air and splattered across Micah’s naked chest.

The older man crumpled, fell to the floor in an ungraceful
huddle. In any other circumstance the sight would have been comical.

With the blood dripping down his torso, Micah looked savage.