Vampire Thirst (6 page)

“It works.” Hikuro’s low voice came from somewhere near the bedside table.

She turned around and found him against the far wall.

“I’m going to find a way of sending a message to my king,” he declared, then walked out the door.

Sam stayed there, on the edge of the bed. Her mind short-circuited. All of a sudden, the small room felt much too big. Ignoring the stupid lump in her throat, she forced her chin up and walked out.

Chapter 7

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Hikuro’s brain screamed at him. By Apa Dobrý, how could he have been so stupid as to fall into Sam’s trap again? That innocent-seductress, I’ve-no-clue-how-hot-I-am act was so predictable and yet he’d been ready to dive nose-first into it. Well, into
her
, to be more precise.

After leaving the manor, he dematerialized to the first place that came to mind. Camden Town appeared before him. His footsteps echoed in the empty alleyway, across from Zoricah’s burnt down home.

He had to get away. He would call his king, fill him in on the latest news, then fucking vanish from there. His cock still ached for Sam. He had struggled to keep his fangs from popping out in front of her. It was too much.
She
was too much. The way she drove him completely insane was not healthy and pretty much suicidal for an old vampire like him.

Hikuro shook his head, scolding himself. He was almost three hundred years old, for Hiad’s sake! How many times had he been through the mating game and been left unscathed? He had been with the best geishas in Japan, but none had driven him to insanity like Sam did. Ever since he first felt her presence in the nightclub in New York, he’d been strangely drawn to her, like a fucking moth to the light. And her light was far from harmless. Hikuro had tasted it first-hand.

But no more. He would treat this impertinent infatuation like all the others. He would fuck the first female he encountered, feed from her and sate his hunger. Period, end of story, let’s move on.

Clenching his teeth tight, he turned left on Camden Road toward the famous retro-punk neighborhood. The streets were suddenly filled with multi-colored hair-dos and pierced faces. Camden Town never ceased to amaze him.

A neon sign saying Dragon’s Den flashed in front of him.

How ironic.

He pushed the narrow door open and felt a heavy hand land on his shoulder.

“This is a members-only club, mate. Get lost,” the heavy bouncer uttered.

Hikuro locked gazes with the human for a mili-second. That’s all he needed. The moron opened the door and revered him like fucking royalty.

“Good boy. Now roll over and play dead.”

The bouncer complied.

Hikuro walked along the dark corridor and found what he was looking for. The place was full of the same looking, heavily-made-up faces as the streets. A red-head smiled at him from across the bar. Touché. He couldn’t be bothered to go to her, so he reached out and captured her mind. The girl stood up from her seat, ignoring her companion’s protests, and strolled over to him. Once she was close enough, Hikuro leaned over and took a deep breath. A glimpse of disappointment tugged at his chest when no scent of peaches invaded his nostrils. He swallowed dry and clamped down the unwanted thought. She’d have to do. He clasped her small hand in his and walked to the bathrooms. Several couples making out lined the walls. Hikuro opened one of the toilet doors. The two men inside slurred something close to a protest, but seeing the look on Hikuro’s face, they put the syringe away and left the cubicle.

Hikuro gently pushed the red-head into the small space and locked the door behind him. He didn’t even need to plant images in her mind to will her into submission. The smell of her arousal saturated the air. She was wet and ready for him. He opened her flimsy blouse and freed her breasts. He cupped one and kneaded its peak while his mouth covered the other.

It felt wrong.

It tasted wrong.

She was not what he wanted.

Sam. Beautiful Sam. Her electric grey eyes. Her pink mouth. Her lean neck. Her alabaster skin. Her sweet perfume of peaches.

“Damn it.”

“What it is, love? Need help down there?”

Hikuro closed his eyes. He couldn’t take the red-head in front of him, no matter how willing she was. He just couldn’t. The very thought of tasting her, of entering her, brought bile to his mouth.

No, you will take this woman. You must.
He needed to get Sam out of his system.

In one swift movement, Hikuro pierced the woman’s neck with his fangs and gulped down her blood. The metallic taste of his life nutriment had never tasted so sour.

The girl moaned underneath him; her hand searched for his zipper.

“No, my dear,” he whispered in her ear. “You have found your release already.”

As soon as his fangs entered her skin again, she cried out as if a great orgasm had just hit her.

After a few more gulps, Hikuro lifted his mouth and licked the tiny wounds. “You had a fantastic evening with your friends. You feel sated and tired now.”

“I had a fantastic evening with my friends. I feel sated and tired now,” she repeated.

“Go home and rest.”

“I think I’ll go home and rest,” she murmured dutifully.

Hikuro opened the cubicle door and left. Of the two of them, the red-head girl was the lucky one. Unlike her, he was far from being sated and had a feeling he’d never reach release again.

Chapter 8

“Next stop, Seven Sisters,” the muffled voiceover announced.

Oh, crap! Sam had missed her stop.

She stood up and waited diligently for the train doors to open. Seven Sisters was a good thirty-minute walk from the pub in Islington where she’d be meeting Phillip. She’d have to wait for the next train back.

“Damn you, Hikuro.” She couldn’t concentrate and he was the one to blame. Those dark, cat-like eyes of his, those thick lips. How could her heart still skip a beat at the sight of him after so many humiliating encounters? How many more would it take to wake up and snap out of it?

A female voice told her to mind the gap between the train and the platform, then the doors finally slid open. Sam took a step forward, but a tall man stepped right in front of her, causing her to trip. She was about to give the guy a piece of her mind when ice settled in her stomach.

No, it couldn’t be.

Mousy-brown hair, thick neck, narrow shoulders. The man looked just like the head psychiatrist of the mental institution where she had spent years.

Unable to stop herself, Sam followed the man through the swarm of travelers and out of the tube station. Despite being late in the evening, the streets were far from quiet. Bright lights from the several Off Licenses illuminated the streets.

A group of guys vocalized their approval of her outfit, quite loudly. Sam closed the lapels of her trench coat and quickened her pace.

Damn you, Yara.
Sam hated calling so much attention to herself. She had been allowed to only throw a half-length coat on top of the micro-skirt Yara had made her wear. It helped, but it was so not enough to hide the amount of exposed skin.

Ignoring another wave of whistles and marriage proposals, Sam followed her target along West Green Road, then left onto Westerfield Street.

Westerfield Street?

She froze in place. The tall leafy trees, the narrow townhouses with round bay windows. Every second street in London would paint the same portrait, but she would never forget this particular one
–
the orphanage she grew up in was just a few houses down that road. Sam shivered with the memories of those awful years. The yelling, the beating, the abuse.

She shook her head and focused on following the man, who had suddenly disappeared.

“Crap!”

Where in Hiad had he gone? Sam picked up her pace and marched down the street. As soon as she reached the intersection, her heart quickened in her chest and her stomach churned. Bile rose to her mouth.

By Apa Dobrý, what was happening?

Those were the symptoms of her good old panic attacks
–
she knew them all too well
–
but there was no reason for her to be having a fit now! And certainly not the right time. Sam took a few deep breaths, but they only increased the pressure in her chest. Her shoulders started shaking, her feet felt glued to the asphalt.

Then her arms started to vibrate and glow.

Oh, shit.

She was losing her grasp on her powers.

The glow intensified and spread to her chest, her legs, her eyes.

Take control!
Her subconscious screamed at her but to no avail. Images of the very first time she lost it came rushing in and flooded the last remaining ounces of reason. Two teenagers in flames, their limbs flapping helplessly, trying to save themselves and only making it worse.

Sam coughed and struggled to breathe.

It’s just a vision, it’s not real.
She leaned on a lamp post for support. Her hand touched the metal. Sparks of electricity snaked up the mast and blasted the telephone wires above. The thick cables went flying loose into the air like angry pythons, bursting everything they touched into flames.  

No, no! Not again!

Sam had to get out of there. She peeled her hand off the melting metal and ran as fast as she could. She had to find an empty space, far from any houses, before she set the whole neighborhood on fire. She sprinted for a while and stumbled across a vast green area.
A park! Yes!
She dove on the wet grass and stayed there.

Breathe in, breathe out.

She didn’t know how long it took, but eventually her breathing slowed down. Her limbs ached but no longer glowed. She slowly lifted her head up and assessed the mess she was in. Her skirt was torn, her trench coat had burnt patches all over, her boots were covered with melted metal. There was no way she could meet Phillip in her current state. Something tugged at her back. Reaching behind, Sam pulled on the mike that Hikuro had placed in the small of her back. Shit. It was fried.

Oh, mighty Soartas! What a mess.

She needed to call Yara.

Sam ignored the ache of her limbs and walked to the edge of the green, where she found a phone booth. She dialed the call-collect number, then her institution’s. The robotic tone announced the call had gone through.
Please accept, please accept.
 

“Hello?” A young female voice said across the other line.

Thank you, Apa Dobrý!

“Hi...” Sam’s voice barely came out. She had to clear her throat a couple of time before carrying on. “It’s Sam. Yara there?”

“Sorry, who? Miss Austen??”

Sam tried to repeat her request, but she heard her staff member talking to someone else, then a male voice took over.

“Sam? Are you hurt?” Hikuro asked.

Shit
. “I’m…fine, but I need Yara to come get me. I’m…”

“I know where you are. Stay put. I’ll be right there.”

Sam placed the receiver back on the hook and rested her head on it.

Oh, bloody Hiad. Hikuro saving her ass again was the last thing her frail self-confidence needed at that precise moment.

The doors of the phone booth slid open with a loud creak. Sam winced at the assault on her aching ears.

“Sam,” Hikuro’s baritone voice came from behind her. “Are you OK? Are you hurt?”

Yes.
“No,” she croaked. She wanted to stand up properly, to walk out regally. But she ached all over and the phone booth was so sturdy...

“What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Sam whispered.

His hands wrapped around her mid-section, pulling her toward him. Too tired to protest, she just let her body fall into his arms. Damn, it felt good.  

One strong forearm brushed the back of her legs and lifted her off the ground in one smooth movement.

“Hang in there, Sam. I’m taking you home.”

She felt the air change around her, get stuffier and warm, as if they had gone into a dry sauna. Oh, crap. She hated being teleported. She closed her eyes and held onto Hikuro’s neck, bracing herself for what she knew would come next
–
the freefall. It came soon enough and her stomach churned in protest. Why couldn’t they’ve just caught a freaking cab?

A second later, she heard Yara curse something in Portuguese. “What happened?” her friend shouted out. “What did you do to her, blood sucker?”

Sam opened her eyes. They were back at her institution. Yara was planted on top of the front steps, hands on her hips. Hikuro tightened his grip around Sam and, ignoring Yara’s demands, carried her in. Yara followed. The farther Hikuro went, the louder she became. The whole thing made Sam even dizzier. Finally, her back landed on a soft mattress.
Yes,
her bed. She rolled over and buried her face in a pillow. She knew she owed them an explanation, but she wasn’t ready. How could she explain something if she had no freaking idea what had happened? What she did know is that she freaked out, maybe for nothing. Again.

“Sam, what happened? Did Hikuro hurt you?”

“Yara, please, give me a few hours,” Sam pleaded softly.

“Fuck this, I’m calling Zoricah."

“No!” Sam lifted herself onto her elbows. “I just need some rest.”

“But I can help! Tell me what happened and I promise I’ll make the fucker who hit you regret it for the rest of his life,” Yara replied, glaring at Hikuro.

“Yara, please, just go.” Sam hated hiding things from her best friend, but Yara could be too much sometimes.

Sam’s heart cracked in two when she saw the wounded look Yara shot at her. Her best friend inhaled sharply, turned on her heels and stormed out.

Sam plunged back on the mattress and let darkness consume her troubled mind. She’d apologize to Yara later. After she apologized to Zoricah, to Hikuro, to Tardieh…

Chapter 9

The room was dark. Only a soft glow seeped through the partly-opened bathroom door. Sam didn’t know how long she had snoozed for, but it couldn’t have been too long - it was still dark outside. She extended her arms and stretched out, arching her back all the way, feeling her tired muscles untangle one by one.