Undying Hunger (9 page)

“Over the next few days, you need to get them to trust you,” Enrique said.

“No problem,” Christian whispered.

“You get me everything you can find on that female.”

“Eve,” Christian said.

“Say again?”

“The female in the photo. They call her Eve.”

“Eve, then.” Enrique shook his head.
How appropriate, Marguerite. No one ever accused you of not being imaginative.
“Help me to get the information we need to get our hands on her, and I’ll make sure you’re a
very
happy man.”

The call went dead, leaving Enrique chuckling to himself. Why not promise the redhead anything he damn wanted? Didn’t matter. Because once the Enclave figured out who’d ratted them out, the male was as good as dead.

Shame, though, in a way. Enrique sighed.

He’d been a good fuck.

Chapter Ten

Alex leaned her head back and under the shower’s warm spray, working the shampoo from her hair. She was ready for tonight. For weeks she’d been training. Eve had finally given her the thumbs-up with Kenric, and he’d agreed she could go out on a trial basis with Guerin and Eve. Not that Elle hadn’t done everything in her power to dissuade Alex from the entire idea of becoming more than a resident of the Enclave.

Hell, no. Alex wasn’t about to back down. She needed this. Needed the purpose. The empowerment. Needed to feel like she truly belonged somewhere again.

Squeezing the water from her hair, she moved out of the stream. Her next obstacle would be to remain out of Markus’s path for as long as possible. So far, she’d managed to steer clear of him ever since their encounter in the gym. Despite her best efforts to keep the memory buried, it came barreling forward, knocking the strength from her knees. Alex leaned against the wall for support. Closing her eyes, she was helpless against the surfacing images. Markus over her, his hair brushing her arm, gooseflesh rising in its wake. His lips on hers, stealing her breath, her will. Her nipples pebbled, and her sex swelled. Even as a memory, Markus consumed her.

With her fingers splayed flat against her stomach, Alex glided her hand south over her wet abs. God, how she needed. She groaned. Just one touch and maybe the constant knot of tension—yearning—inside her would finally uncoil. Slipping her fingertips through her soft curls, she parted the moist folds between her legs, searching for the aching bundle of nerves at the apex. Her fingertip nudged the sensitive nub, and her breath hitched at the contact.

“Oh, God,” she sighed, squeezing her eyelids tight. A shadowed face loomed in her mind’s eye. Alex gulped.
Please. No. Go, away. For once. Why can’t you stay buried inside my head?

“You’re your mommy’s dirty little girl, aren’t you sweetie?”
The man chuckled. “Fuck, you’re a pretty thang.” The heavy weight of the man pressed down on her, nearly smothering her as he shoved her legs apart. His wide and calloused hand groped at her private parts. Alex chocked back a sob. “A dirty, dirty girl,” he drawled.

“No,” she cried out, and yanked her hand away from her groin. Curling her fingers, she straightened, but before she could consider the consequences, frustration had her slamming her fist into the wall. The tile released a loud
pop
beneath her knuckles and fractured. “Dammit!” Alex drew back, wringing her hand and flexing her aching fingers. “Stupid.” She shook her head and turned off the water.

After popping the door on the shower, she tugged a bath sheet from the bar, wrapped it around her, and stepped from the stall. Padding over to the counter, she grabbed the extra towel she’d left there and started drying her hair. She was almost twenty-seven years old. A grown woman. What had been done to her by her mother’s boyfriend had been almost twenty years ago. She flung the towel from her hands onto the counter, gritting her teeth. So why the hell did it still mess with her head?

Shoving the memories back into their temporary vault, Alex brushed her teeth. Even more frustrating was the fact that the only man who’d ever elicited the feelings of pleasure—sexual pleasure—from her and made her feel as if she could be a real woman was the man everyone hated.

She plopped the toothbrush back into its holder and twisted the faucet handles to their off position. Alex swiped a wide path across the mirror, revealing her reflection through the steam. Violet eyes, clouded with confusion and anger, stared back at her when something odd occurred to her. When she’d thought about Markus a moment ago and those who hated him, she’d referred to everyone else, excluding herself. When had that changed? Didn’t she still hate him? Shouldn’t
she
be at the top of that list?

She’d fought to hang on to her anger, the bitterness, but she couldn’t move forward if she still lived in the past.

Eve had taught her that.

Perhaps the message had finally sunk in. God knew she was ready to move on—do something—with the new life she’d been handed.

Pushing away from the sink, Alex tucked the thick cotton a little more snugly across her breasts and headed back to her bedroom. She’d left the bathroom door slightly ajar and, reaching out, she pulled it wider and crossed the threshold. And stopped dead in her tracks.

Markus leaned against the opposite wall of her room. Dressed in black from head to toe, his jaw revealed a dark shadow of a beard, minus the goatee. With his thick tattooed arms crossed over his chest, he looked like a coiled lethal weapon waiting to pounce on his prey. Her stomach flipped. Any woman with an ounce of common sense would hit the door and not look back. So why did the sight of him have the opposite effect on her? Instead of running, she had the crazy urge to toss her towel to the floor and drop to her knees at his feet.

Hadn’t she thought the word “crazy”?

“You weren’t invited in here,” she said, her tone icy.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said and moved away from the wall, bringing himself closer.

Alex had always believed her room was large, more room than she really needed. But at that moment, the four walls weren’t nearly wide enough. Markus’s presence absorbed all the oxygen in the confined space. Her heart galloped at his approach. Finding her next breath was more difficult with every beat.

“Yes, I have,” she said. “So get out.” She dodged left, but Markus countered, halting her escape.

“No,” he said, smiling.

Glaring up at him, heat from her rising temperature radiated up her neck and into her face. “No?”

“Not yet.” He shook his head.

Fire sparked in her veins and with an open palm, Alex swung for his face. But before her flesh met his in a satisfying
whack
, Markus’s long fingers cuffed her wrist. He jerked her forward, and her chest slammed into his, punching the air from her lungs. Yet she had a feeling the sudden vacating of oxygen from her cells had nothing to do with the impact and everything to do with the man himself. Her jaw dropped, and she did her best to form coherent words. A rebuke for his actions, but for the life of her, she couldn’t find her voice.

With his free hand, Markus pinched her chin with his thumb and forefinger, forcing her to look at him. His nostrils flared, and fire swirled around the storm clouds of his irises. God help her, that shouldn’t be so damn sexy, but the sight made her knees wobble.

“How else am I supposed to get a chance to talk to you alone?” One dark slash of a brow lifted. “Besides, I heard a bang coming from your room when I was passing by. I knocked, but you didn’t answer. I checked the door handle, discovered it was unlocked, and I let myself in. You were in the shower, and it sounded as if you were okay, so I thought there was no time like the present for us to clear the air.”

“You’re just so damn innocent and heroic, aren’t you?” she spat. “That still didn’t give you the right to sneak into my room.” Then it dawned on her how long he’d been waiting for her. “Oh my God…” she muttered. “You’ve been out here this whole time. Watching me.”

That did it. Her claws were out. Alex yanked hard on the hold he had on her wrist, wrenching it. With her other arm, she punched in the region of his kidney. Yet her struggle only culminated with him wrapping himself around her, drawing her tight against him. Using his larger legs against hers, he moved her in reverse, not stopping until her back was pressed against the wall. She might as well have been a Fiat going head-on against a tank. Arching, she shoved her hips into his upper thighs. The unmistakable hard outline of his erection pressed into her lower abdomen.
Oh God.
Her heart stuttered, and as if someone had vented the lid on her rage, the fight drained out of her.

Hesitantly, she glanced up from under her lashes. Markus stared down at her, unfazed. His expression an unreadable mask. He had to know she’d felt his arousal. Yet instead of taunting her with its presence, he loosened his grip on her and cupped her cheek.

“I know you’re pissed at me,” he rumbled. “I’m a bastard. I get that.” He lowered his head, his mouth too damn close to hers for her brain to handle. Alex tugged her lower lip in with her teeth for strength. “What I want to know, though, is why there are fresh bruises on your knuckles?” He slid his hand into hers and brought it up between them, her fingers on display as evidence. “You weren’t scheduled to spar this morning.”

How had he noticed that small detail? More importantly, how did he know her schedule? Mentally she rolled her eyes. What was she thinking? This was Markus. Devious was his middle name. “That’s none of your business.”

He gently squeezed her hand. “Does this have something to do with the sound I heard outside your door?”

Glowering, she evaded and searched for some kind of quick excuse. Damn, at times like these, she wished like hell she were a better liar. Even when they’d been kids, she’d never been able to fool Elle. Their mom? Well, that was another story. Getting away with stuff had been easy since her mother had spent most of her days stoned out of her mind. But the man before her was nothing like Anita Stevens.

“Maybe?” She shrugged. It was the best she could come up with under the pressure.

“Talk to me,” he demanded.

“Kiss my ass,” she snapped. She wasn’t about to tell him the reason for her bruises. That she’d hit the wall out of frustration because she hadn’t been able to masturbate—to orgasm—
ever.

“Don’t tempt me.” He flexed his hips, pressing his swollen length into her, reminding her of their position.

“You need to get out of my face.”

“Why?” He smirked. “I kind of like having you like this. Up against a wall. My body against yours. You all nervous and hot. Your pulse strumming away inside my head.”

He’d gotten one thing right. She was about to jump out of her skin. “Stop it,” she demanded.

“When did you last feed?”

“I-I…” She blinked from the sudden change of subject. “I don’t know.” She thought back for a moment. When had she last fed? “A few days ago. Maybe a week?”

“That’s what I was afraid of.”

“You?” She arched a brow. “Afraid? My, my, will wonders never cease?”

“Don’t get used to the idea.”

“Don’t worry.”

“You can’t go out tonight at less than full strength,” he said.

“I’ll do whatever the hell I want. I’m not your prisoner any longer.” She shoved against him, but the effort had little effect on him.

“You need to feed,” he stated, his words as firm and immovable as his body. “Now.”

“And who are you suggesting I do that from? You?” she scoffed.

Lowering his lashes, he inhaled through his nose once more, and based on his expression, she could have sworn he’d just sniffed his favorite pie. “Do you find the idea so distasteful? You used to take my vein on a regular basis.”

“Like I had a choice,” she grumbled, not holding back on the hostility.

“Tonight’s not that different,” he said, the control in his tone slipping, revealing an edge of desperation underneath. “You’re heading out in less than an hour. And unless you want to screw up, get yourself injured and kicked off Kenric’s team before you’ve even started, I suggest you take what’s right in front of you.”

Damn him.
He had a point. She’d been so consumed with the training aspect of preparing for tonight, she was about to make a foolish rookie mistake—placing herself and her partners at a disadvantage by not being at her full strength. If something happened to Eve or Guerin because of her carelessness and lack of planning, she would never forgive herself.

“Besides,” he said, “and I don’t admit this often…to anyone.”

His thumb caressed her chin, the tip skating over the base of her lower lip. Electric tingles that didn’t play fair arrowed straight for the bundle of nerves between her legs.

Ignore them. He’s doing this on purpose to rattle me.

“You could say I kind of owe you one from a few weeks ago.”

“Yes,” she replied, thankful for the reminder that she was supposed to be pissed at him. “On that point I can definitely agree with you. Especially since you didn’t fulfill your end of the bargain.”

“Your perspective.” He cocked his head. “Not mine.”

God help me. He is so infuriating.

“I was only referring to the blood donation.” Markus reached up and pulled his hair away from his neck. “Take what you need.” He tilted his head.

“You’re not serious.” He wanted her to feed from his throat?

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” He lifted his chin, beckoning her.

Like a magnet to its perfect polar opposite, her gaze collided with the thick rope of an artery running the length of his neck. His pulse lifted the flesh there, and inside her head, the beating of his heart resounded like a jungle drum, taunting her. Calling her.

“Come on, Vixen. Fast and hard,” he coaxed. “Take it.”

Her gums tingled with the lengthening of her fangs. Maybe she would take him up on the offer. After all, wasn’t his throat the least he could offer? Her fingers curled into fists, her nails digging into the soft tissue inside. “Payback’s a bitch, you know,” she said, her mouth watering.

“From you, darling,” he said, and there was no way she could miss the sound of the smile in his voice, “I expect nothing less.”

She struck.

Sure, deep, and without mercy, her fangs sank into his artery. His breath hitched. And with her first hard draw on his flesh, he groaned.