Buried Passion Page 2

  The third man stood, mouth agape, both trembling dukes positioned in front of him.

  Her eyes fluttered as she raised her blood-smeared knuckles and sniffed. A taste, just one. At the first lick, coppery flavour swathed her mouth. A shudder rolled through her. She closed her eyes, a soft hum emanated from the back of her throat.

  “What…what’s wrong with your teeth? Who…what are you?” the man squealed, pointing with a shaky finger.

  What did he mean? She swept her tongue across her teeth and gasped at the two sharp points. The detail seemed unimportant as she delighted in the sample on her hand. More, her brain sung, a chant, a plea.

  An engine roared. Lover and the woman in red screamed, then sped out of the area, leaving their friend behind.

  She advanced on the last biker, clutched his face and bit into his neck. The virulent attack more natural than a flowing river. Jaw locked on the man’s jugular, her elongated teeth nestled deep and provided a mouthful of bliss. So thirsty…so good. Ignoring the rumble and smoke, she drank from the stranger. Blood spilled at the corners of her mouth as she ingurgitated more than she could manage.

  “Stop.” Large palms and fingers raked her back, but his actions grew weak. “Please. Stop.”

  A continuous beat pulsated behind her eyes. She staggered back, clutched her sudden aching head and massaged the pain at her temples.

  The shaky man fell to his knees, patting his jacket for something.

  His life-essence purred through her, spread prickles to her toes. With tentative fingers, she brushed her chin and stared at the crimson fluid as the sobbing man on the pavement fumbled with his phone.

  One flick of her tongue swept blood off her thumb. What have I done? Her long sigh morphed into a hesitant titter. She swirled her fingers in front of her face. The laugh grew to a loud chuckle as if celebrating the beautiful havoc she caused and the life pumping into her system.

  This is wrong. Her laughter drew to a halt.

  The man on the bloodied floor spoke into his phone. “Help…me. Attacked by demon…corner of Adair and Broadway…”

  He called for help. But it wasn't her fault. She defended herself, and grew thirsty, starving actually, and his blood had been so delicious…. She blinked at her red, stained fingers. The police would lock her up and throw away the key as soon as they arrived. She bolted. Energy strengthened her limbs as she shot across a main road and down several unfamiliar streets.

  Like a sick cannibal, she had bitten a man, drank his blood. Her skin should have crawled, but instead, her mouth watered.

  I’m a freak. A monster!

  A bell blared. She sniffled, head tilted as the scuttle of a squirrel and a dripping tap resonated in the distance. The bell was a siren, and much further than she first suspected. Did she possess some sort of echolocation ability? Insane. Once the man gave police her description, they would be after her. She ran past houses decked with bright, colorful lights and seasonal decorations. December?

  With a speed that matched a car, her feet ate up the miles, zoomed past highways and outskirts. What should have taken hours to travel, she achieved in one. Something wasn’t right. What had she become? As she slowed to a trek on a main road in rural area with sparse properties amongst the plain fields, one home stood out. Newspapers scattered the lawn. A van sat in the driveway with the trunk open. Light slashed about behind the white lace curtains in the front window.

  She slunk up the driveway and froze at the open door. Glass shards from the broken panel lay on the welcome mat. Someone was robbing the place. Two men in balaclavas appeared in the doorway, carrying a plasma TV.

  “Shit. Get her,” the blue-eyed one shouted.

  She palm-struck the robber in the nose. A loud crack assured the nasal bone broke. Blue-Eyes clutched his face, mewled in pain, and flopped to the floor. The other man released a grunt and swung his fist. She ducked, straightened, and kneed between his legs. The high-pitched howl resembled a moribund animal as he crashed to his knees.

  Rusty notes teased her senses. That familiar warm shudder struck her belly. She snatched the man by his collar and hauled him to his feet. Saturated in the stench of cigarettes, she ignored the odor, leaned back, and punctured his throat. Gargles rang in her ear. A wail sounded from his partner in crime. Why am I doing this?

  She stopped her gluttony, staggered backward, hit the wall and slid to the ground. The robber helped his friend, and they scurried away. Seconds later a vehicle screeched out of the driveway.

  Again. She’d done it again. Even as she swallowed the residue on her tongue, enjoying the notes, her mind protested. What the hell was wrong with her? She stood on shaky legs and traipsed around the house. Who would have guessed she’d run into trouble twice in one night?

  Rachel lifted the television and placed the screen on the empty unit in the living room. After sorting through the robber’s abandoned duffel, she returned expensive pearls and jewels to a wooden box found on the bedroom floor. Once done with her chore, she entered the bathroom.

  A flicker of motion flashed out of the corner of her eye. She pivoted, faced with a wide mirror above the sink. With no recollection of the stranger staring back, she studied her features. Pale skin contrasted with dark auburn hair. Hazel eyes webbed with green. A slight up-tilted nose dusted with pallid freckles, and high, delicate cheekbones. “What on earth happened to you, Rachel Anne Johnson?” she whispered, rubbing her bloodstained lips.

  Another throb attacked her brain.

  A mental slideshow flashed behind her closed eyes;

  “Hey,” a blonde woman in a sexy dress snapped, taking hold of her arm. Gray eyes narrowed. “That’s enough.”

  Another woman with strawberry blonde hair hissed through clenched teeth. “Are you listening to yourself? This is not you.”

  A young man with long, dark hair grabbed her face and kissed her.

  Another with short, blond hair, backed her against a brick wall and took her mouth with his own….

  A violent shake rode through her as if within a wild vortex. Pins and needles attacked her body. She panted hard. The dull throb subsided, but the vision faded too. Those women, they looked familiar, but who were they? As for the men, if she’d seen their faces a little clearer, maybe it might have triggered a name or something. Rachel shut her eyes, wishing away the confusion. This was insane.

  She hissed with each splinter extracted from her calf. After a good, thorough wash, she wrapped herself in a towel and found a plastic cup filled with hair ties. She arranged her burgundy mane into a top-knot bun and foraged the bedrooms for clothes. A picture of a happy teenager between an elderly couple sat on the dresser. Grandparents and a grandson. The family who lived here? Emotion tightened in her chest. What about her own family, who were they, where were they?

  In a garbage bag labelled ‘Salvos,’ she snagged a pair of skinny jeans, a white polo shirt, and a black zip-front hoodie with ‘COOL STORY BRO’ printed across the chest in bright yellow. Two pairs of casual sneakers sat in the bottom of the bag. She grabbed the least worn pair, even though they were a little big.

  Canned food and bags of potato chips were stored in the kitchen cupboard. Other than several condiments, a jug of water sat in the empty fridge. Throat tingling with a measured burn, instinct told her she needed blood. With a few packets of chips stuffed into her pockets, she stormed out of the house. The hankering to feed grew. She hoped the walk distracted her. When she opened the bag of potato chips, she almost puked from the salty stench, but encouraged herself to eat as much as possible. The thin crisps left her queasy and did nothing to quell her hunger.

  Eager to forget the repulsive urges, she raced out of the area. After hours of passing towns, covering many miles, and ignoring the insistent need thrumming through her body, her cravings burgeoned. Shivers shook her as a cold sweat broke out along her forehead. Another second of this torture was unspeakable. She didn't understand this need. Couldn't control it. And knew no other way of subduing it.
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br />   Old, yellow school buses crammed the side of the road as if abandoned. The next person she crossed paths with, she planned on drinking from them. Not too much though, unlike the last two men who no doubt rushed to the ER. She’d control herself this time. Nip instead of maim her victim. She only needed a little to ease her ache. Right?

  An empty beer can bounced in front of her with a loud tink. Parked along the grassy side lane, a man sat alone on the tailgate of a shiny pickup, long legs crossed at the ankles rested on the ground. Dressed in burgundy chinos, the color once again reminded her of what she couldn’t go another second without. He was tall, muscled, but with her peculiar strength, no one was a match for her. Wide shoulders faced her, his body relaxed, unaware she stood behind him. With his head arched back, he gulped down a new can.

  This guy wouldn’t see her coming. What a perfect opportunity to take his blood, one small sip. She’d be sure to leave him with little harm. As the perfect plan played out in her head, she ploughed forward, closing in on him. Too late to change her game, she leaped on his back, hands snaking over the gray wool sweater covering his wide chest to keep him still. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, mouth lowered to his neck.

  Movement blasted her vision. The world flipped before her teeth sank into flesh. Her butt throbbed from plummeting to the ground in front of his truck. What the? How did he manage to throw her off with her newfound strength? Impossible. She tilted her chin and met the rich cinnamon of his narrowed eyes. With slow precision, he angled his head.

  “What do you think you’re doing, vampire?”

  Chapter 2

  Ian shot off the tailgate and circled the woman on the ground. So much for getting buzzed with his six-pack of beer. Unfortunately, the overgrown mosquitoes were out tonight. He gazed at the woman, her palms trembling over the asphalt. Mute, she blinked in the haphazard position. Hit with her natural rainstorm fragrance when she’d first landed on him, he’d sucked in the scent, basked in the eruption of tingles along his spine. The sensation had brought an overwhelming presence of peace, of home. Thank God he snapped out of the daze in time.

  The leech sought a quick feed, not expecting to be thrown off by her intended victim. In no mood to be messed with, his muscles tensed as he paced. After losing the poker game at the bar, he should have returned home instead of sitting here on a dark winter night, pondering how miserable life had become.

  The bloodsucker crouched, eyes narrowed. A scoff broke the silence. “What’d you call me?”

  Faulted, for stating the obvious? He snorted. Delusional bloodsucker. Thumb thrust toward his truck, he asked, “Did you not try biting me?”

  Pointed teeth revealed her freakish kind. Catching his stare, she hid them behind a pair of full lips. Lips other women paid to duplicate, lips single men visualise when alone in their beds. Red, plump, and as alluring as a siren’s. His cock jerked for the first time in months. The offensive reaction had his nails biting into his palms. Damn vampires. The female ones usually held a beauty that lured their prey, but this woman was the first he physically responded to.

  A stubborn chin jutted forward as incredulity flashed in her hazel eyes. “Vampire?” A gurgle of hysterical laughter sputtered past her lips, nose scrunched in distaste. “You’re insane.”

  What game did she play? Buried memories resurfaced; cornered behind a building, savage fangs deep inside his flesh as he struggled to battle off three bastard bloodsuckers. He fought hard all those years ago, but even with his werewolf strength and boxing skills, he was no match against three. “Am I?” He slanted his neck, revealing the prominent vein he knew lay beneath his skin. “So, you have no desire to drink my blood?”

  Her pupils dilated, falling into a trance. He braced himself as she leapt. Small hands clutched the sides of his face. Her mouth parted, ready to bite. He pummelled her stomach. A groan tore from her lips as she smacked the ground again. Idiot bloodsucker believed she could attack and walk away without a scratch. The horrendous experience from years ago tensed his insides. Never again would he allow a vampire to defeat him. “You’ve messed with the wrong man.” A growl juddered the walls of his throat and rumbled the space between them.

  Face pinched in pain, she clutched her stomach and eased to her feet. “You hit a woman.”

  “Not a woman,” he corrected, claws stretched from his nail-beds, teeth elongated, body expanding. “A parasite.” A guttural, monstrous voice replaced his natural tone. His wolf wanted control. The blood in his veins bubbled like a chemical reaction.

  Hands clenched by her sides, the script on her jumper rose and fell with her heavy breathing. Wide eyes stared into his. Proof his had changed to cobalt yellow. Due to the peace treaty with their species, the law prohibited harming each other…but hey, she started it.

  The vampire turned and dashed. He sprang in her direction. Skidding to a stop, she retreated before darting in the opposite course. With a growl, he chased after her. Why the pretence when he mentioned what she was? Ian never encountered a creature so bizarre. He followed her up the quiet boulevard with an arcade of tall trees and open fields to rural area. Their deserted surroundings revealed a lack of witnesses. He smirked.

  Vibrations shot up his calves as he gained speed, lunged, and crashed them to the ground. A harsh wheeze rushed from her mouth. He flipped her beneath him, pinned her wrists above her head and her writhing legs with his stronger ones. Fog drifted around them and puffed from their lips in small clouds. “Are you done playing games, done trying to feed from me?”

  Constant wriggles introduced curvy hips and lithe thighs to his sex-deprived body. A blast of pleasure fired through him. He welcomed her softness…. A harsh growl erupted in the back of his throat, and he squeezed her wrists tighter. As if he’d ever bed a leech.

  “What are you?” she gritted out, cheeks rosy from their friction.

  So, she still insisted on acting dumb. Fine, he’d play along. “Your natural enemy.” An orange glow in the horizon confirmed the first signs of sunrise. “And here’s why you shouldn’t mess with me.” Vampires flaring to ash was a myth. They suffered blisters instead. Such a shame. Either way, this would teach the parasite a lesson.

  Again, the past plagued him, ignited his gut with mortification. He hauled her to her feet. Before letting her scurry off to whatever dark hole she popped out from, he’d make her squirm beneath the light for several seconds.

  Her pink tongue danced across her lips, big eyes darting around them. “It’s getting brighter,” she whispered, a blend of awe and trepidation. Just the response he wanted.

  “Yes, you’ll soon say hello to sunrise.”

  “Sunrise?” She stared ahead, no doubt at the pink-orange orb that soared in the sky. Brows puckered, gaze on the object of her downfall, she squirmed for freedom. “Let me go,” she whimpered.

  “Should have thought of that before attacking me. Don’t worry, I’ll give you a chance to run back to your crypt, but you won’t be unscathed.”

  Her heavy sigh sounded almost like a shout. “Moron. I don’t have a crypt.” She failed to strike him since he still held both her wrists in his hands.

  Her violent quiver juddered his palms. The first rays stretched along the street and ate up the shadows. She stilled with a shriek that pierced his sensitive ears. Seconds ticked by, but no redness nor a single blister blemished her complexion. Yet she screamed as though being fried.

  “P-please,” she stuttered, twitching, grunting. “Help me. Get. Away.”

  With both of her wrists in one hand, he unzipped the front of her hooded sweatshirt and shoved the garment over smooth, unharmed shoulders. “Are you burning?”

  She thrashed in his hold. He dragged her closer by the collar. A delightful scent drifted from her, and left a sweet-salty hint on his tongue. His skin crawled, and he held his breath. “I asked if you’re burning.”

  Frantic eyes settled on his. With a slow shake, she breathed, “No. Take me away from the sunlight. I’m begging you.”

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nbsp; Zero burns, but still hated the light. Drank blood, but called him insane for declaring her a vampire. “What are you?”

  Her mouth hovered open for a moment before she whispered, “I don’t know.” Hazel eyes rolled to the back of her head, and her mouth slackened. Unconscious, her body sagged in his arms.

  Was she dead? Ian checked her pulse. All vampires had one. The vigorous beat tapped against his fingers. A little faster than normal, but what the hell was normal for a vampire? Enough with the oddity for one morning, he eased her onto the road, then frowned at the tender mercy he showed this leech. He should dump her and leave. Step-by-short step, he retreated. A ridiculous sense of guilt sprouted. He scoffed at the reaction. Since when did he worry over a parasite? Let the bloodsucker rot for all he cared. He sprinted down the street, then crossed the road to his truck. Once inside, he started the engine with more force than required and skittered onto the road.

  The look she gave after affirming her kind flashed in his mind. A trick, for sure…her way of duping him to lower his guard. Mind reeling against his conscience, he gripped the wheel. The woman was not his concern. Even so, her moist wide eyes refused to leave his thoughts. Ian flinched and raked a hand through his short hair.

  “Shit,” he muttered, slamming on the brakes. After a sharp u-turn, he steered along the street where he’d abandoned her. Any minute now a car could travel this road. If someone saw the limp and helpless woman, would they continue on, or assist her? And if so, would she strike them? He’d bet money on it. She wasn’t harmed by the sun, so nothing would stop her from attacking the community when she awakened.

  Two options. Let her roam free, then hear about it on the evening news. Or rescue her from sunlight—which had done no damage—and when the time came to tell her to leave town without harming anyone, she owed him a favor. Even as he pulled the handbrake and exited the vehicle, his stomach turned into cement. If aiding a low-life vampire meant safeguarding the community, then so be it.