The Craving Read online

  “You have to leave. Now.” My voice was a mere whisper, my whole body shaking with fear. I closed my eyes, praying this was all a horrible dream and I would wake up soon. Images of the night my mother died flashed behind my closed lids. The death. The violence. Blood was all I could see, bright red blood that splattered the walls and painted the floor. It had been clear that my mother’s killer, a vampire, had merely murdered her as a game. If he had killed my mother out of hunger there wouldn’t have been a drop of the ruby red liquid.

  “Please. I swear on my honor I will not harm you. I would leave if I could, but I have no strength. Until my leg heals I won’t be able to walk.” His voice sounded desperate, pleading even. “I beg of you. All I ask is for shelter until I can heal. I need to heal so that I may look for my brothers.”

  He started to scoot away from me and I wondered if he was doing it to give me some kind of reassurance. It didn’t help. I felt my panic rise and fear take a tighter hold of me. He propped himself against the far wall and we stared at each other.

  “Please.” He whispered the lone word before his eyes closed and his head fell forward.

  “Shit.” I was still pressed against the wall, feeling the bite of the cold seep into my bones. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!” I glanced around the room, trying to decide what to do. “This is bad, so bad.” I covered my mouth and watched the slow, irregular rise and fall of his chest. I didn’t know what the hell had happened to him but it was clear some kind of wild animal had attacked him. The only question I thought of was how the hell did a fully grown male vampire let an animal wound him? I dropped my gaze to his leg once again, confused as to why it hadn’t healed. He was a vampire, after all, and his body should have mended any wounds in a matter of seconds. He also should have been impervious to the cold, so the fact that his fingers were starting to turn blue told me that it had been a while since he had fed.

  “Fuck!” The lone, lewd word was starting to be the only vocabulary. I paced, not knowing how the hell I was going to get him out of my house. There was no way I was going to let a vampire stay with me. When he woke he would be hungry and the blood pumping in my body would be too much of a temptation for him to resist.

  I wrapped my arms tightly around my waist and debated whether I should go over to his unconscious body and drag him the fuck out. For all I knew he could be faking it, but I knew there was no way he could fake the non-healing wounds covering his leg. I didn’t have an explanation for the blood around his mouth. Maybe he had killed the animal that attacked him, but it didn’t matter because I couldn’t stay cooped up in this tiny cabin with him. I would surely die before the sun rose.

  Chapter Three

  An hour had passed and I hadn’t moved from my little corner. I had contemplated a lot of things during that time. Whether or not to help him, whether I should drag his ass out, or kill him right then. After what seemed like hours I took off my boots and gingerly walked over to his still unconscious body. “Well shit!” I crept closer, trying to stay as quiet as possible. Blood from the wounds on his legs was starting to seep onto the hardwood and the smell was getting to me. I wasn’t a cold hearted bitch, and no matter how much I wanted to hate him right now, he was wounded, and I couldn’t watch a hurt person suffer.

  I touched his boot with my toe and jumped back, expecting the monster he truly was to attack. If he had been healthy I could have had a machine gun and it wouldn’t have saved me if he wanted to sink those deadly fangs into me. I knew there was nothing I could do even if he wanted to drain me dry, but I was still cautious.

  When nothing happened I moved slowly toward him again and crouched. His respirations were barley noticeable now and I knew what he needed to fully heal. I hated that and even cursed out loud. I thought for a moment about how I was going to handle this before I moved into action.

  “I should get some kind of medal of honor for this shit,” I mumbled to myself as I stood and went into the kitchen. I opened the fridge and grabbed the rare steak I had bought earlier. I went through the process of draining the excess blood into a cup. There wasn’t much, but I knew any amount would help him immensely. I set the cup on the counter and opened the freezer. I grabbed several more steaks out and threw them into the sink to defrost.

  Glancing over my shoulder at him, I breathed out deeply and willed myself to be strong. Just looking at him brought back memories of my mother. Gritting my teeth, I was helpless to stop the pictures that flashed through my mind, the blood, the gore, the agony she must have felt. If I could have traded my life for hers I would have, but now it was too late and I would have to forever regret every little thing I had done to hurt her.

  Shaking the nightmarish thoughts from my mind, I went over to him and set about the task of removing his shoes and coat. There was no way I could lift him onto my bed so I made a pallet of blankets in front of the fire. He was very tall and a dead weight as he slept, so it took everything in me to drag him over to the pallet. His clothes needed to be removed so I could really assess his injuries, and I found myself feeling extremely uncomfortable with the notion. With his body not rejuvenating like it should, his wounds needed to be cleaned or there was a good possibility an infection could take root and spread quickly through his body. That of course was highly unlikely given the fact that he was a vampire, but now that I had made it my mission to nurse him back to health, there was no way I was going to deal with the corpse of a vampire.

  I grabbed first aid supplies, a basin of warm water, and several rags. Kneeling in front of him, I reached across his wide chest and started to unbutton his shirt with shaky hands. The material was torn down the front in several places, and when I finally removed it I realized he had several more deep gauges across his chest. His pants were a little trickier to remove and when I finally got them off my eyes widened. He wore no underwear, of course, I thought sarcastically. Averting my eyes, I quickly laid a towel over his genitals.

  I kept my gaze turned as the material molded over his shaft. I was embarrassed to say that I found myself impressed. Sickened by where my thoughts were going; I couldn't get the image of his cock out of my mind. Even flaccid he had been thick and long. I swallowed roughly and told myself over and over again that he was a vampire, not a perspective lover. I also felt shame that I was thinking such thoughts about an unconscious person, like I was a predator or something.

  Bracing myself once again, I lifted my gaze and started assessing his body and inventorying his injuries. His wounds were substantial, the cuts so deep I knew he probably hadn’t fed in weeks. What happened to you? I tried not to gag as I cleaned them, but several were so deep that the water pooled in the gash. Gritting my teeth to get the job done, I finished cleaning them and dressed the wounds. With a thick blanket pulled over him, I leaned against the couch and sighed wearily. I took a minute to just sit there and let everything absorb.

  I followed the rise and fall of the blanket every time he took a breath. It was mesmerizing, almost enough to put me in a trance. Shaking my head I stood and went back into the kitchen. The steaks were defrosting slowly and it would still be awhile before they would do any good. I grabbed the cup of blood on the counter and stared into it. The liquid's viscosity was thicker than water, the smell tangy with a hint of iron. The color was almost black, like spilled ink.

  Animal blood wasn’t a vampires first choice, and it wouldn’t heal him like the blood from a human or another vampire, but it was as good as it was going to get because there was no way he was sinking his fangs into my neck.

  When I finally made my way back toward him, which seemed like it had taken me ages to do, I couldn’t do anything but hold that cup and stare at the flames. Blinking several times, I held the cup tighter and stared down at him. I had wiped the dried blood from his mouth and idly thought how full his lips were. The shadows from the fire danced across his face in sharp angles and defined his exquisite bone structure. I shook my head, feeling disgust at where my thoughts were going.

  I knelt before h
im and shook his shoulder. “Hey. You need to wake up and drink this.” Nothing. I shook him a few more times, harder, and then brought the cup below his nose. As if it had been smelling salts, he opened his eyes and turned his head towards me. His mouth opened slightly and my eyes widened as I watched his fangs lengthen. I forced myself to not move, made myself be strong even though I was frightened. I started to shake but held my ground because if I dropped the cup we both would be shit out of luck. The sooner he healed the sooner he got the hell out of my house.

  He pulled himself up slowly. The blanket started to slip down his chest and pool at his waist and I couldn’t help but follow its path. The muscles in his arms and chest bunched and became defined from the act. I licked my lips and snapped my eyes back to his. He didn’t say anything, just watched me for a moment before he took the cup from my hand. His fingers brushed against mine and I felt a jolt of awareness travel through me. I didn’t like that zing of electricity that I had felt, hell it made me feel so uncomfortable that all I wanted to do was burrow in a hole. I moved away from him, not comfortable with how my mind warned me to stay away and how my body became warm and wet from the sight, smell, and touch of him.

  I wasn’t immune to how he looked, wasn’t blind or numb that he was a gorgeous man and I hadn’t been intimate with one in years. However, my mind kept shouting that he was a vampire and to remember my past and the horror his kind delivered. He brought the cup to his mouth and tilted it back. I watched those full lips open, watched his throat work as he swallowed the small amount of liquid. I didn’t want to admit it, but it was erotic and almost sensual. His eyes never left mine, and no matter what I did I couldn’t seem to break the hold he had on me.

  “Thank you.”

  I blinked rapidly, my eyes focused on his face. He set the cup aside and looked down at his chest. I did the same and watched as the cuts across his smooth, defined chest started to knit themselves back together. The injuries didn’t close completely, but that little bit of blood was already making its way through his body and healing it from the inside out. “I don’t have any more blood, but I’m thawing out some steaks so it shouldn’t be too long.”

  He smiled briefly and licked his lips. “Can I have a glass of water?” His voice was slightly gravelly and he cleared his throat.

  Despite myths about vampires in books and movies, they have to eat food to survive. Blood is a necessary substance that they must drink regularly, but if they didn’t eat and drink regular food they wouldn’t survive. Once he had drank two glasses of water, I sat with my back to the couch and stared at him.

  “What happened?” I didn’t want to wait to ask questions. I wanted to know how he had gotten into this situation, and there was no better time than right now for him to give me the answers I sought. He flicked his eyes up to mine and then down to the blanket that covered him. I saw a kind of sad smile tilt his lips.

  “Thank you for tending to me.”

  He sounded sincere, but I wasn’t about to let him change the subject so easily. Still, I couldn’t help the pictures of what he looked like naked slamming into my mind. I felt my cheeks heat at the image of his huge, albeit flaccid cock. I straightened my shoulders and stared at him in the eye. “It was necessary to remove your clothing to clean your wounds.” I could see surprise flicker across his face.

  “I know, thank you.”

  I was taken back by his gratitude and manners. The vampires I had met had not been nearly so kind. “You’re welcome.” I swallowed and looked around the room. I could feel him staring at me but as much as I wanted to ignore how it made me feel, I couldn’t disregard the sliver of awareness he brought forth in me. “Are you hungry?” I stood and looked down at him. I wanted to put some distance between us, wanted to give my mind and body some breadth because I couldn’t think, couldn’t seem to function. “I can make you something.” I realized I was extremely nervous, and it had nothing to do with having a vampire in my home. His powerful masculinity made me feel so feminine, so womanly. Never had I felt like this, never had I wanted someone’s touch as much as I wanted this strangers. I idly toyed with the idea he was using some type of control over me to make me feel this way, but I knew it was a lie. Despite a vampire's many talents, that wasn’t one of them. No, it was just him, his body, his voice, his everything that made me feel weak and needy.

  “That would be…much appreciated. Thank you.”

  I went into the kitchen and tried to find protein packed foods to help with his wound healing. I kept glancing over my shoulder, expecting him to be standing right behind me, his fangs bared at my throat. He didn’t move, just sat in front of the fire, running his fingers across the healing wounds on his chest, lost in thought. I took that time, when he was unaware, to really look at him. His hair was dark as coal and appeared thick. It was pin straight and fell across his forehead. His shoulders were immensely wide, like a linebackers.. He could crush me with his bare hands. His chest and abdomen were lined with muscle, the sinew and tendons running beneath the flesh flexing as he shifted. Biting my inner cheek, I grabbed another glass of water and walked over to him. I handed him the plate and glass and sat on the floor, my back against the couch once more.

  “I’m sorry the selection isn’t the best.” I saw him stare at the plain chicken breast and leftover carrots and mashed potatoes.

  “It’s wonderful. I can’t thank you enough.” I watched in awe as he practically inhaled the food in a matter of minutes. His biceps and forearms tightened and bunched with power every time he brought the fork to his mouth. It was quite an arousing sight.

  “Would you like more?” I could see the lie forming on his lips before the words actually came out. “I know you’re still hungry.” I got up, took the plate before he could protest, and filled it with more food. He engulfed that one as well, but before I could ask if he was still hungry he shook his head and held out his hand.

  “Please, sit, relax. You have been more than kind to me.”

  He plucked at the blanket and I swear I saw his cheeks redden as if he was embarrassed over his nudity. Maybe it was just the fire warming his skin and making them appear that color? “Your clothes really aren’t suitable for you to wear, not with all the tears and holes in them. I think I have some of my dad’s old clothes in a box.” The mention of my dad brought back a string of memories. The vacations we used to take, the laughs, the cries, even the fights. Everything threatened to rush to the surface but I beat the memories down. I didn’t know what was wrong with me, why he was causing this type of reaction in me, but I refused to let it consume me. I needed to remember to keep my wits, to keep my head straight if I was going to get through this.

  “Thank you, I am feeling a little exposed.” He smiled and I did the same despite how uncomfortable I had become. I didn’t know what I had kept of my fathers, but I knew I had something that would fit him. As I went into my room and pulled out the large tote where I kept things from my past, I idly thought found humor in my situation. It was like an episode of the Twilight Zone. Who would have thought I would be conversing with a vampire, tending to him, even giving him some of my father's clothes after everything that had happened? I would have laughed if someone told me this is what I would be doing after my mother's attack.

  Chapter Four

  My father had been a big man, just like this vampire, so I hoped my estimation wasn’t off or he would be shit out of luck. I walked back to him and handed him a pair of wool socks, a set of long johns, a t-shirt, sweater, and a pair of pants. We watched each other for a moment and my cheeks heated when I realized he probably wanted some privacy. I mumbled my apologies and walked back into the kitchen, keeping my back toward him. I heard shuffling and fought the urge to turn around, not so much because I wanted to see his body but because I was still frightened of the power he wielded.

  “I’m finished. Thank you for the privacy.”

  I wasn’t used to such politeness, especially from a vampire. My experience with the other species h
ad been fairly limited, but the little I had spoken to them they seemed apathetic and far from nice. I turned around and took in his appearance. The clothes fit him perfectly and I internally patted myself on the back for guessing correctly. The shirt hugged his broad chest, showing the definition of his layered muscles just beneath the fabric. The pants formed against his powerful legs and thighs that appeared to be as solid as tree trunks.

  We didn’t speak for several moments and I thought about how I would phrase my questions. In the end I just blurted out the first thing that came to my mind. “I would like to know what happened.” I kept my tone pleasant enough, but I could hear the bite in my words. I wanted answers. He nodded and limped over to the vacant chair. The little blood he had drunk had somewhat healed the wounds on his legs because at least now he could stand.

  “How about we introduce each other first?” He smiled faintly. “I am Kristofer Ashakov.” He was silent after he spoke and I felt the tension rise higher. I didn’t comment, just nodded and licked my dry lips. I wondered if I should lie about who I was. In the end I decided it was pointless. Most likely he would be able to catch my lie and it wasn’t like he didn’t know where I lived.

  “Payton Marshall.” I rambled off my name and averted my gaze, not sure why, but knowing I couldn’t stare into his face. The silence that followed seemed deafening, but thankfully he started to speak.

  “I guess I should start at the beginning.” He chuckled but it sounded flat and humorless. “For the last fifty years, I think—” He was silent for a moment and I glanced up at him. His expression became distant and a look of confusion crossed his face. “Yes, I think it has been fifty years.” He smiled, but it wasn’t one of joy, more like one of sorrow and sadness. “I have been a prisoner in these very mountains.” He looked at me, maybe to gauge my reaction but I kept my expression stoic.