Jared (14 page)

However, continued technological developments could
soon endanger the weres. Weres hunted by scent and energy. The Sanctuary now
had found ways to circumvent both. If the Sanctuary ever found out the secret
entrance to this place and they could cloak their energy while attacking, the
element of surprise could give the Sanctuary the edge they needed to overwhelm
the fierce clan. That couldn’t be allowed to happen. There weren’t many packs like
the D’Nallys. Old-fashioned, with a sense of honor that went as deep as their
history went back, they made deadly enemies and loyal friends. They saw right
and wrong in black and white, something Jared appreciated along with the fact
that when push came to shove, a D’Nally would always do the right thing.

A light went on in a house down the street. A pale
gray light seeped between the clouds and the edge of the high peaks. Dawn was
coming. He lowered the light-blocking shades and pulled the curtains closed
over them. He dropped the reinforced bars on the front and back doors before
heading to the spare bedroom. A rustle of sheets and a moan drew him up short
as he passed the master bedroom door where Rai slept. He touched the smooth
wood, sending his energy through it, seeking the edge of Raisa’s.

Pain.

Sharp and swift, the reality lashed at him. She was in
pain. He opened the door, his vampire rising. Raisa tossed on the bed, a frown
on her face, her hands clenched around her stomach. She turned onto her back,
almost tumbling off the mattress, another moan slipping past her lips. Her feet
drew slowly up toward her hips, making a tent of the covers. A thick swathe of
hair obscured the right side of her face from his view. She didn’t open her
eyes. Either she was so exhausted that even pain couldn’t wake her or she was
so used to the pain it no longer registered as abnormal enough to wake her.

Which made it his turn to frown as he approached the
bed. When he’d put her to bed, he’d positioned her in the middle. Now she clung
to the edge as if the middle were a place to be feared. Or, he reconsidered, as
if she feared the precious seconds it would take to get from there to the edge
in case she needed a fast exit. He tucked her hair behind her ear, his fingertips
lingering on the outer curve, tracing the near point at the top. Her flesh was
cool to the touch. She twisted on the bed and hitched over to her side. Her
cheek settled into the curve of his palm, as if made for that spot.

Jared slipped his other hand beneath the covers,
beneath hers, to the soft flesh of her abdomen. She was warmer there, softer,
the lack of musculature reinforcing her vulnerability. Ian was right. She
needed a husband.

He rubbed his thumb across the smooth expanse of her
abdomen. Her skin was very different from his. As was her energy. More gentle
than aggressive. Smoother, rather than rough and jagged. He opened his palm
over her stomach, sending his mind into hers, slipping through the cracks in
her defenses, letting her emotions pour through him, searching for the source
of her pain.

Hungry. She was so hungry her very cells cried out for
nourishment. Along with the current cry he had impressions of others from
episodes past. Thousands of previous cries for nourishment that went ignored.
He didn’t know how she lived with the constant scream without going insane. But
at least he knew why she had such compassion for others. Living with that agony
for 270 years was enough to make anyone sympathize with almost anything.

He smoothed his thumb over her eyebrow. “Rai?”

She shook her head against his call and pushed his
hand away, rolling all the way to her side, her legs dragging the opposite end
of the covers to the middle of the bed in a rumpled pile of blue as she pulled
her knees into her chest. As Jared watched, an unfamiliar feeling of
helplessness keeping him company in the dark, a shiver shook her from head to
toe. She was cold and hurting. He didn’t know what he could do with the latter,
but he knew he could do something about the former. He kicked his boots off and
unbuttoned his shirt. Tugging off his socks, he lifted the covers and slid
beneath, slipping his arm under her head, spooning against her back. She
mumbled a protest. He raised his body heat, tucking his thighs under hers, giving
her at least one thing she craved. Warmth.

Sleep.

She moaned and snuggled into the pillow. Jared opened
his palm over her stomach, letting her pain flow into him, following the path
back to the source, finding the bits of debilitating energy rapping out calls
of distress and muting them. He sighed with relief right along with her as the
rigidity began to leave her muscles.

“That’s it, sunbeam. Relax.”

He felt the hunger twist through her, calling for
relief. Everything in him rose to answer. The beat of his heart sounded louder
in his ears, the rush of his blood felt hotter in his veins. Every one of her
breaths against his wrist whipped across his flesh like a lure.

Wrong.

The word whispered through his mind in a memory. A
warning. A clue.

Ian had been wrong for her. The men she’d fed from
before had been wrong. It didn’t mean every man was wrong. Just the ones she’d
tried until now. Her cheek rubbed on the artery on the inside of his wrist as
his heat permeated the chill surrounding her. His pulse centered at that point,
eager, willing, throbbing in invitation. His heart rate increased, pushing more
blood through his arteries and veins. More than enough to feed her. His body
was ready, more than ready to supply what she needed.

Jared rested his head on the pillow behind hers,
tucking his legs under hers, cocooning her in his strength. He took a breath.
Ian was right. Rai did smell incredibly sweet, like the first day of summer.
Like wildflowers in bloom. Like temptation. Like hope.

A sharp edge of pain sliced outward from her to him.
She groaned and pushed at his hand, his leg. Her cheek turned away from his
arm. A bead of blood appeared at her temple. It was natural and right that he
kiss it away. Her taste spread through his mouth. If she smelled of a summer’s
day, she tasted like Kentucky sipping whiskey. Hot and potent with a kick that
took a man’s legs out from under him. He wanted more.

Wrong.

The warning whispered across his conscience. Raisa had
been through hell already once tonight, when he’d forced her to take Ian’s
blood. She’d never survive that torture twice in one night. Another bead of
blood welled at her temple. Vampire sweat. Vampire stress. Vampire agony, and
she’d been enduring it alone for more than two centuries.

His heart twisted. She should never have been alone.
Not for one year, one month, one day. He held her to him as he stole that
evidence away, his lips lingering on the fragile skin with the tracery of veins
beneath. But she wasn’t alone now. His arms were around her, his strength
protected her. Another bead of sweat welled. More of her taste spread across
his tongue. Arousal joined the need pounding in his blood. There was no need
for her to suffer while he was here. The longer he held her, the deeper the conviction
grew. The longer she shuddered and ached, the more his vampire roared. She
needed, and he needed to provide. It was his right.

Right.

Yes, the thought resonated in his mind. Her lips
quivered against his arm, inches from an artery. It was very right. He pressed
up. The edge of her fang stung his skin, not deep enough to draw blood, just
enough to alert the vampire in both of them. He adjusted his arm so her lips
were positioned directly above the artery.

“Jared?”

His name sighed between her lips, against his pulse,
kicking it up to a hard pound.

Raisa was waking, pain passing from her subconscious
to her conscious mind. In the half life between sleep and wake, her instincts
took over. He felt her tongue lap delicately, her fangs graze inquisitively
before they tested, clenched, prepared to penetrate.

Wrong. This was wrong. He caught her shoulder and
pressed back. Her anguished “No” as she rolled to her back away from his blood
scraped his conscience raw. “Easy, sunbeam, just give me a minute.”

“So hungry.”

“I know.”

A tug and she was rolling toward him. Her shoulder got
caught on his chest. He lifted her, giving her room to face him. A swathe of
her hair fell between them, blocking her mouth from his skin. He pushed her
hair away from her face. The wild curls just sprang back, getting between his
flesh and her mouth, hot licking barriers of silk that were too soft, too
delicate for his hypersensitized flesh that wanted the sharp, hard bite of her
fangs. He gathered them up in a loose ponytail in his fist, anchoring her mouth
against his chest.

Her energy surged and ebbed, the edges darkening with
panic as she became more conscious. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.” He arched her neck back. Her fangs, as
dainty as the rest of her, flashed a brilliant white. “It’s right.”

She shook her head. “It’s never right.”

The curve of her lower lip beckoned. “But this is.”

Her big brown eyes widened as he raised his head,
kissing the plump flesh before running his tongue over her teeth, lingering on
those feminine fangs, feeling the shock waves go through her as he did. “Taste
how right it is.”

He sealed his mouth to hers, his energy to hers,
riding rough-shod over her fear, searching for the base instinct that thrived
in everyone, vampire, were, or human. The instinct that overrode fear of pain
and failure. The instinct for survival. Hers was very strong and got stronger
with every brush of his tongue, every thrust of his belief.

Right, sunbeam. He reiterated.

“Oh God!” The despairing whisper escaped the seal of
their lips. “Don’t do this to me.”

“I’m not doing anything,” he whispered back. “This is
us together.”

“You’re making up fairy tales.”

“Fairy tales are good. They always end in happily ever
after.”

“Not for me.”

This time, for you.

He didn’t know how he knew that, but he was sure.

He raked his pinkie nail across his chest. Blood rose
immediately. Raisa whimpered as the rich, life-giving scent blended with the
scent of their desire. He urged her mouth to his chest, anchoring her with his
fist in her hair, his belief. Her tongue touched his skin just below the cut, a
hesitant step toward trust. Fire burned outward from the spot. Her need
screamed. His vampire roared.

With a thrust of power, he implanted the order in her
mind. Take from me.

With a helpless moan, she did. Those fangs sank
erotically deep, drawing from him everything he ached to give, letting him
provide for her needs the way a man should provide for his woman, replacing
pain with pleasure, starvation with sustenance.

His head dropped back as he merged his mind with hers,
listening for that echo of agony, ready to pull her away if he heard it, but
swallow after swallow, second after second, there was only the elated scream of
her cells as they finally, finally, got the nourishment they needed.

Jared opened his palm on her skull, supporting Raisa
as she fed, his pulse finding and matching the rate of hers, slowing hers when
it got too fast, steadying her through the heady experience, accepting the
stroke of her energy across his nerves, her hands over his back as she took
from him what she needed.

Yes, baby. Feed.

He felt everything she thought, everything she
experienced. Joy and elation as his force poured into her. Amazement as, for
the first time since she had turned vampire, she felt the flush of power that
came with the turning. And then he heard it, that quiet little voice in her
head he’d been dreading, the one that confirmed his worst fear. In a gentle
statement colored with the roll of her accent, it whispered, Right.

As much as Jared wanted to argue, he couldn’t.
Whatever this was between them was right.

IF she wasn’t careful, Rai was going to find herself
in trouble. Jared wiped the snow from the back of his neck and turned to find
Rai standing a few feet away, packing another snowball in her hands. In the
early evening dark, her cheeks were rosy with health, her eyes bright with
mischief. Her energy reached to meet his, vibrant with the renewed health his
blood had given her, warm with her increasing regard.

Around her stood four male weres, one of which was
Creed. Each of them wore a smug smile. Creed held a sled. Jared mentally gave
him a “Fuck off.” He didn’t like their presence around Raisa any more than he
liked the way she made him feel. Uncomfortably possessive, on edge, happy.

“She’s falling in love with you.”

Jared turned to Ian, ignoring the flick of Rai’s
energy that indicated disappointment in his refusal to play. “I know.”

The were’s eyebrows arched at the dryness of his tone.
“Most men would find that a good thing.”

Jared shrugged. “She’s just caught up in feeling good
for the first time.”

And he wasn’t stupid enough to believe that meant any
more than it did, but he wanted to.

“You don’t find it significant that she can take only
your blood?”

He was trying not to. There was a whole lot about
Raisa he was trying not to attribute too much significance to. The woman was
experiencing the way her life should be for the first time. Just because he was
the one who had given her the blood that allowed her to do that didn’t give him
special rights over her. His conscience-less, possessive vampire hissed a
mental, Yes, it does.