Undying Hunger (14 page)

To any other person with half a brain, the fact that she was standing on the other side of the door would change nothing. More than likely, leaving her access to the outside world had more to do with his confidence that she was still too weak to get away.

Yet for Alex…the warm twinge of relief said she wanted to believe there was more to it.

That didn’t mean she wasn’t ready to get the hell out of there. She’d deal with his bruised feelings and disappointment that she hadn’t obeyed him later. Basically, he would have to get over himself.

Slowly, Alex made her way up the steep flight of stairs. Not a pleasant experience, considering her abdomen felt as if it wanted to split with each step. At the top, another door greeted her. This one locked from the inside and released by a single twist of the knob.

Thank you, Mr. Santini, for your show of good faith.
Or for whatever had made him forget to lock up.

Opening the final door, Alex crossed the threshold into the last place she’d ever expected: the kitchen of a log cabin. She stepped farther into the room, breathing in the earthy scent of cedar and oak. Based on the worn appearance of the floors and the dilapidated state of the minimal furnishings, the home appeared quite old.

The idea of Markus, the male who seemed to appreciate the finer things in life, ever owning or living in a cabin didn’t gel. Yet he’d claimed this was his. She sighed. The history lesson as to why he owned the place would have to wait for another time. She had to get out before he came back.

Alex hurried across the small living space toward the door. After making quick work of the dead-bolt latch, she flung it open and exited onto a narrow covered porch. And into the darkness of a foreign wilderness.

“Markus,” she whispered. “Where have you taken me?”

Chapter Fifteen

Brilliant orange and yellow ribbons painted the tops of the trees in warning of dawn’s approach as Markus coalesced in the den of his cabin. The familiar scent of the wood beams and floors infiltrated his nostrils as the view of cobwebs clinging to faded blue drapes assaulted his retinas. Sights and smells from a time he’d long tried to forget. But for the last twenty-four hours his timeworn refuge had once again served him well.

Ghosting through the interior door to the basement, Markus reappeared on the stairs on the other side. After a repeat visit to the streets of the closest town off the mountain, Markus had once again refilled his system with a blood supply. With any luck, after this evening’s feeding, Alexandria should have what she needed to complete her healing.

Then what?

He paused on the wood planks and stared down at the soft glow of light below him. How the hell was he supposed to convince her that staying put with him—the male who’d, yet again, taken her from her friends and family—was in her best interest?

Stealing her away to a safe place to heal, then returning her, was something she’d probably give him hell about, but eventually would get over. Abducting her, healing her, then holding her here against her will… Yeah, that was a shit sandwich he’d have to feed her, and he doubted he’d ever get the flavor to pass as Subway.

Sighing, he glided the remainder of the treads to the bottom. There, he spotted the raven-haired vixen asleep where he’d left her on the bed. Her long locks fanned out behind her on the pillow like an obsidian wave of silk. His palm literally itched to run his fingers across its surface.
Fuck.
He’d give his right nut to feel those tresses glide down his chest. Skate over the head of his shaft. His cock twitched at the thought. A low rumble vibrated in his chest. Fantasies better left suppressed, since that’s all they’d ever amount to: wishful thinking—no matter how he felt about her.

Markus lowered the satchel in his hand to the floor and Alexandria stirred, a soft exhale leaving the perfect curve of her pink lips. He closed his eyes at the sound, willing the rush of blood swelling his rod to back the hell off.

Her lashes fluttered, and it didn’t take much to realize the moment her vision had cleared and settled on him. Alexandria rolled to her back, tugged her sheet a little tighter with one hand while managing to push up with her other.

“You’re back,” she said, and cleared her throat.

“You stayed.” Markus sauntered farther into the room.

“Like I had a choice.”

“I didn’t lock the doors.” He settled on the padded seat of the chair near her bed.

“Of course you didn’t.” She glared at him. “Why would you, when there was nowhere for me to go? Unless I wanted to go up in flames under a pine tree while hopelessly lost in that damn forest.” She tucked the hair falling in her eyes back behind an ear. “Bastard.”

“Maybe.” He shrugged. “But you’re alive. And I think you’d prefer to stay that way.”

“Where am I, Markus?”

“The only place I’m sure my enemies will never find you.”

Her gaze narrowed on him, a violet wand of electricity lifting the hairs on his arms. “By enemies, you mean Enrique.”

Markus stood, his lack of response all the answer she needed. With his back to her, he shrugged off his leather jacket.

“You still haven’t actually answered my question. Where is this place?”

“The mountains,” he said. It didn’t really matter if she knew or not. She was too far away to phase directly home.

“Dammit, Markus. I swear you must be king of the nonanswer.” She chewed the words out. “I figured that much out myself.” A long and forceful breath exited her lungs. “At least tell me why you feel all this is necessary to protect me from Enrique? I couldn’t be any safer than with Kenric and the rest of the Enclave.”

“Is that so?” He snarled, spun, and closed the distance between them in two large strides, not stopping until his shins slammed into the bed rail. Her eyes widened at his swift, driving approach. But she didn’t flinch. Of course not. Alexandria wouldn’t dare risk revealing a weak spot in the wall he knew she’d built in his honor. “Then how the hell do you explain the hole you got in your gut?” He pointed at her abdomen and raised his brows. “Because that’s how I found you with
your
Enclave, wounded and flat on your back in an alley.”

“They’re
your
Enclave, too,” she said, her voice low and hoarse-sounding.

“Used to be, Vixen.” He curled his fingers and retreated. “Past tense.”

“So what’s your brilliant plan?” she huffed. “How long do you plan on us staying here?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“How long it takes for me to put an end to Enrique and whatever game he’s trying to play.”

“You know it’s only a matter of time before my sister hunts you down. She found me before when I went missing in Fairfield.” One delicate eyebrow arched in an arrogant taunt. “And if you think she won’t find me again…” She shook her head, smiling. “You’re dead wrong.”

“Not this time, Vixen.” He grinned. “I can assure you,” he added, making sure his tone conveyed the rigid confidence in his words. The edges around her smile faltered. Message received.

They wouldn’t find her because he’d never told anyone about his cabin embedded in the rock at the top of Grim-Reaper Mountain—the name adopted by the locals because of its treacherous slate face, and the number of people rumored to have never been seen again after attempting to explore its steep forest on the opposite side. The legend possibly created and supported in later years by a certain vampire who’d resided at its peak. One who had wanted to be left alone.

Not even his father had known about his sanctuary. Markus’s stomach pitched at the mere thought of the Santini family patriarch. The cabin on Grim-Reaper Mountain had been the one thing that was truly his when he’d been human. A quiet place in the world where he could escape when the noises inside his head became too much to bear.

Markus strode to her bedside. “Move over,” he ordered.

“What?” Her brow crinkled. “You’re not getting in here with me.”

“I need room to sit,” he said. “Not to fuck you.” She blinked, looked up, and Markus couldn’t help but challenge her stare with one of his own. “Unless there’s a different kind of feeding you had in mind.” He shrugged. “I aim to please.”

Alexandria slowly shook her head, her violet eyes darkening. “Is asshole the only language you speak?”

“Nope. I’m bilingual. But when I’m around you, it’s the only language you seem to respond to.”

“God, you’re just so…” She groaned, driving her fingers through her hair. “I’m still baffled as to why Kenric let you out of that cage,” she spat.

“It’s my hidden charm, sweetheart.” Markus stroked the overnight growth of stubble on his chin. “If you’re real nice, I’ll show it to you.”

“Oh, please,” she drawled. “Spare me.” She crossed her arms. “Why can’t you just go around to the side of the bed?”

“Because, if you don’t mind, I’d like to alternate which wrist you’re sinking your fangs into.”

“Fine.” She relented and scooted over a few inches on the king-size bed.

Settling on the spot next to her, Markus dug deep, tightening the reins to his control in preparation for her touch. Feeding and caring for her before had always been a challenge. During that time, he’d made sure she was his responsibility alone to keep nourished. No other male had dared to touch her without fear for his continued existence. From day one, something about her had triggered his primal side. An immediate connection he couldn’t explain because he’d never experienced it with another female before. He’d wanted her, body and soul, but there had been Marguerite, so he’d been motivated to keep a certain…distance.

But this was a different situation.

Ever since Kenric had released him, Markus had found that the more he was around her, the harder it became not to give in to his primal urges. Harder not to take her beneath him and make her his in every way fathomable. Bury himself deep inside her over and over again until the desire for his next breath, the next moonrise, was irrelevant.

But that was impossible.

Because if he ever spilled his seed inside her—marked her—he’d be lost. She’d own not only his heart, but his mind.

He’d never let her go.

Alexandria deserved so much more than the stained monster that was Markus Santini. And he wasn’t talking about the fact that he was a creature of the night, but who he’d been before and after the change.

Markus stretched his arm and offered her his vein. Delicate, soft fingers encircled his wrist. Her hands were so much smaller, her touch more gentle. Yet at that moment, he was grateful to be sitting, because unbeknownst to her, she alone held the power to wobble his knees.

Lowering his eyelids, he braced himself for the sharp, excruciating pleasure of her bite.

“Do you like being a vampire?”

Opening his eyes, Markus cocked his head at the beauty beside him. She held his arm in front of her mouth, yet her focus wasn’t on her next meal, but him. Her stare held that familiar look Alexandria got when she’d mentally dug her heels in and had no intention of moving on until she’d gotten her answer.

Shit.

Talking about himself was his least favorite activity. Yet he didn’t believe anyone had ever asked him that question.

“Sure.” He shrugged. “Who wouldn’t like being more powerful and essentially immortal?”

“Why am I not convinced?”

“Why regret what I can’t change? I am who I am.”

“How old are you, anyway?”

“What the hell is this?” He pulled his arm free and stood. “An interview for your school paper?” He didn’t do this. Looking back never did a damn bit of good.

“Touchy much?”

“I’m not a heart-to-heart kind of guy.” He rolled his shoulders, loosening the knots. “It’s not my thing.”

“All I asked was your age. Not when and to whom you lost your virginity.”

Shit.
She was right. Not that he’d tell her.

Glancing over his shoulder, he glared down at her, meeting her dogged stare. One that said
come on, you ass, loosen up
. A message telegraphed to him from the only person on the planet who could pull it off and live.

“One hundred and forty-five.”

Her eyes widened and a satisfied smile bloomed on her face. Yeah. She’d won this round.

“You’re an old man.” Her smiled morphed into a sly grin.

“I like to think of it as experienced,” he said.

“Oh, I see.” She nodded. “That’s how it is.”

“How what is?”

“You’re sensitive about your age.”

“I’m not ‘sensitive.’” If she were a male, that word would have been the last thing he ever uttered.

“If you say so.” She shrugged.

A low growl of frustration erupted from his chest.

Alexandria pointed at him. “I make my case.”

“Bullshit.” Markus waved her off and plopped back down on the bed. “You’re supposed to be feeding, not talking.” He shoved his wrist back in front of her. “Please, put this in your mouth.”

“Are you trying to tell me to shut up?”

“Oh, don’t tempt me, Vixen.”

She laughed. Actually laughed. With him. And it was the most glorious sound he’d ever heard. It filled his ears and wrapped his body in an electric veil of warm sunshine. Christ. What he wouldn’t give to hear that every day for the rest of eternity and to be the one to cause it.

“As you well know, when it comes to my memory of what happened while you and Marguerite held me, I’m a little sketchy,” she began, her violet gaze going somewhere distant before coming back to him. “But I’m willing to bet this is the most civil conversation you and I have ever had.”

“You’re probably right.”

“It’s nice. Don’t you think?” Her expression transformed, becoming soft and warm. Damn near inviting.

And dangerous as hell.

“For a change of pace,” she added.

Unable to take another second more, he looked away. “Yeah. It’s good.”

Too damn good.

“Tell me more about you,” she said, and the request hit him like a sucker punch to the ribs. Totally unexpected and temporarily knocking him speechless.

She’d lowered his guard and come in for the kill. Yet on his next breath, and before he could stuff it all back down where it belonged, he found himself spilling more than he ever had about himself.

“I was born in America—New York—but my mother and father were Italian immigrants.” What the hell was he doing? He didn’t think about, much less discuss, those days. To anyone.

Out of the corner of his eye, Markus noted the expectant and pleased look on the face of the female—the only person in the world that he’d lay down his life for. So, for her…he’d talk.

“Born and bred in South Carolina,” she said. “But I’ve always wanted to go to New York.”

“You wouldn’t have liked the city I knew back then,” he said.

“Not a nice place when you were growing up?”

“That’s being kind.” He stood, unease growing under his skin like a prickling rash. He had to move. She was too damn close, his proximity too near to the only thing he knew that was
nice
and good in the world, especially when touching the ugliness of his past.

“Tell me,” she softly urged.

“You asked me a moment ago if I liked being a vampire.” Markus eased back around, facing her. “To be honest, I really don’t know how to answer that question.” He reached over and tugged the chair over until he could lower onto the seat. Settling his forearms on his knees, he allowed his mind to roll back. “I was twenty-five when I stumbled onto my first vampire. His name was Phillip Durand, and I thought that he intended to kill me.” He lifted his head, meeting Alexandria’s attentive gaze. “And I was so fucking glad.”