Cursed (23 page)

When he was certain they were none the wiser, he leant a shoulder against the building and aimed his gaze towards Sienna once again. She looked up at that exact moment, her eyes quickly finding Jacob, a slightly sad smile spreading across her face. He almost wished then that she would look over and see him. That her eyes would meet his and light up like it was Christmas. He didn’t know what he would do if she did, but he missed the welcoming way in which she looked at him.

The only reactions he had received to his presence over the past few centuries were grief when he was a child, fear and loathing when he’d been hunted, hope when he came to a half-breed’s rescue, or ambivalence whenever he came across a half-breed. Never the hugs and kisses gaze that Sienna sent his way, never the kind of light that lit up the darkness within his soul.

Who could blame him for wanting more of that? Even if he didn’t deserve it.

He was well aware that he was behaving like a stalker as he watched her interact with Jacob and the others, as he felt the need to beat Jacob to within an inch of his life when the male went for her neck and continued to stare at it for the next half hour, but he couldn’t help himself. He would have said that at least his intentions were in a good place compared to the stalker memories of the evil humans whose past deeds tainted his mind, but could he really claim that when a part of him wanted to sink his teeth into her artery and drain her of every drop of her blood? Was he no better than the evil scum that he hunted?

Too soon, the half-breeds were dragging Jacob away to feed, leaving Sienna alone at the booth to finish her milkshake. He was staring so intently, trying to memorise every inch of her face, that he almost didn’t sense the presence of another vampire until they were almost upon him. Dampening his Awareness, he hid his face until the presence faded, only then returning to his study of Sienna’s features.

Except, she was now headed his way. Ducking back into the doorway, he waited until she passed and then stepped out to follow her.

He loved the way she walked. The gentle sway of her hips from side to side. Not many people, human or vampire, could claim they had a unique and memorable stride, but she was one of them for all the right reasons.

It took her maybe three blocks to show suspicion that she was being followed. At first it was just a searching glance or two over her shoulder, but then she actually stopped in front of a store window as if she were window shopping, in order to see who was behind her. He was impressed. Most of the people he followed had no idea at all until he wanted them to.

Which begged the question—did he want her to know?

He answered that when he kept walking towards her, stopping only when he was a metre from her back and well within smelling distance of her scent. It still had the power to remove all thought from his mind; leaving only a strange sense of satisfaction that it was back. His mouth watered as he remembered the taste. So sweet, so satisfying.

Seeing his reflection in the window or sensing his presence at her back, she quickly turned around, her eyes meeting his, the greeting in them like a warm hug.

They said nothing as they stared into each other’s eyes. Greyvian might have been content to leave it at that, but words were coming out of his mouth before he could stop them. He couldn’t admit that he just wanted to hear her voice.

“Your scent came back.”

She smiled—the curve of her lips further lighting up her expression until she practically glowed. “Yeah. I’m sure Jacob can appreciate your position now. He almost ate me for lunch.”

“Hmm,” said it all.

Her eyes were so blue. Such a vibrant colour that he couldn’t seem to drag himself away from her no matter how hard he tried. His fangs were out, he had an erection, and his throat was dry from the need to taste what her scent was offering, but he just stood there, staring at her. He had the feeling he would do it all day long given half the chance.

In the end, her scent was too much for him, the torture of not tasting her too painful, and he had to take a step back. Before he knew it, one became two and then three, and then more.

“Sorry I almost killed you,” he told her as a parting sentiment. Then he turned and walked away without looking back.

He felt as if he were walking into darkness.

*  *  *

Jacob couldn’t get Sienna’s scent out of his nose—or memory—or whichever one it actually happened to be stuck in. It was all he could think about on the drive back to Greyvian’s. As training reconvened, his gaze was unfocused, his mind off with the fairies, thinking (obsessing) about that lovely smell. He didn’t pay attention to the fight between Knox and Lucas. Couldn’t. As the sounds of fist or shin hitting flesh, of grunts and groans and cursing rang out, all he could focus on (obsess about) was the idea of drinking from Sienna to find out if she tasted as good as she smelled.

Deep. Rich. Indescribable, really. Especially since he had never been one for waxing eloquent about anything in life. There was just something about her blood, however, that made him want to think up a sonnet, or something equally as verbose and teeming with similes and all those other terms they had loved to throw around in English class.

It was calling to him, even now, hours after having been in its presence. Teasing him, taunting him, whispering in his ear that he should come and get a taste.

Was it like this for the others? Did her scent still torment
them
or was this a human-blood-diet only thing? Finally focusing on Knox and Lucas, he noticed that they did seem to be going at each other a little harder than previously. One particularly nasty bite delivered by Lucas had him cringing in sympathy as Knox’s bicep started oozing blood, so perhaps it wasn’t just him.

And what about Greyvian? The lucky bastard had actually
tasted
her. Was the desire to feed from her again driving him as mental as it was Jacob? Locking eyes on the male, he expected to find a focused, but otherwise unemotional canvas and was surprised to see that his father was actually glaring at the fighters. Eyes narrowed, brow furrowed, the full-blood looked like he wanted to tear Knox and Lucas apart with his bare hands.

Flicking his eyes back to the half-breeds, he watched them for anything in particular that could have made Greyvian so furious but couldn’t pick any one thing that could have done it aside from the fact that neither one of them was really getting the upper hand. That seemed to be enough of a reason for Grey, who suddenly strode forward and got between the two males, pushing them both back with such force that they stumbled.

“What the hell do you think this is?” he snarled, pinning first one and then the other with the power of his glare. “If you want to play, go grab a bat and a ball.”

Everyone was shocked. Truly and utterly shocked. Their jaws dropping down in a comical hit-the-floor kind of way. Who was this male standing before them? What had happened to the unshakable, closed-off automaton they’d all gotten used to over the past week?

“The sooner you two learn that this is not a game, the better.”

Another long moment of silence followed, with Greyvian’s glare getting ever darker because of it, until suddenly some unknown impulse had Jacob asking, “Did you not feed?”

Greyvian’s eyes locked onto him. They were black. Not a good sign.

“And you,” his father growled, ignoring the question. “You think I didn’t notice you gazing off into space? Do you think yourself so proficient now that you don’t have to pay attention anymore?”

The acid in the male’s voice, coupled with the heat of his expression, made Jacob think that Greyvian had definitely skipped the meal he’d gone out to get while Jacob had been visiting with Sienna. It would certainly explain the vile mood.

If that were so, then provoking him probably wasn’t a very good idea. “Yeah, sorry about that. I’m a little distracted today.”

“Distractions get you killed,” his father growled, black eyes fierce.

“I can imagine they would,” he replied flippantly before he could stop himself.

Greyvian stalked over to him and it was game on. The attack was fierce, faster than he could adequately cope with and, in the end, dirty as a street fight. Jacob had fed after meeting with Sienna (Knox having to intervene so he didn’t kill his victim) so he wasn’t lacking in strength or energy, but Greyvian was just too damn good. Jacob parried, dodged, copped a number of bone-jarring kicks and punches in places that would no doubt hurt for a week, but he managed to hold his own for a couple of minutes. He even managed to get behind Greyvian, grab a hold of his shirt and flip him over at one stage. He’d been hoping to get the male on the ground and maybe take a bite out of him, but Greyvian was too damn fast and too damn tricky for that and twisted away, leaving half his shirt behind in the process.

This seemed to anger his father further and it was all over from there. Greyvian stripped the remaining front half of his shirt from his body, revealing an upper torso that was ripped, devoid of fat, and built for destruction. It was only as Jacob’s eyes zeroed in on a tattoo that started to the right of Greyvian’s navel and continued in a flowing script around his side and up his back that Jacob realised this was the first time he’d ever seen the male without a shirt on. Knox and Lucas shirtless was a common sight, but Grey had never seemed to need the lack of clothing before now. Jacob had all of one second to wonder what the words meant before his father took advantage of his lack of focus and sank his fangs into Jacob’s neck.

Pain. A fierce, exploding sting that started in his neck and radiated throughout his body. He didn’t know how vampire feeding worked, how it could be pleasant for some and torture for others, but this was definitely of the torture variety. Maybe it was all down to intent? Greyvian wanted it to hurt, so it hurt. Greyvian had wanted Sienna to feel pleasure, or had felt pleasure during the feeding himself, so she’d felt enough pleasure to have a frickin’ orgasm.

Jacob would definitely prefer the orgasm to this.

As if his father had heard his thoughts, the pain ebbed and the sensation of having his blood pulled from his neck in hard sucking motions actually became rather… pleasant. He wouldn’t actually say that it was arousing, but it was definitely not a bad feeling any longer. So pleasant, he was no longer fighting his father. In fact, he was slumped to the ground and feeling weak as a newborn kitten.

He wondered if vampires could actually die from loss of blood and then remembered that Katarina had survived a draining, so he should be alright. Although, Kat had been drained by Knox and Lucas—two vampires who could easily stop once they’d begun—and Jacob was being drained by Greyvian—a vampire not known for his restraint.

As if from a distance, he heard Knox telling Greyvian to stop. Another moment passed and he could feel Knox physically trying to separate them.

And then it was lights out.

*  *  *

Blood. Hot, nourishing blood.

Sweet. So perfectly sweet.

The perfect consistency, the perfect temperature, an almost perfect taste.

It couldn’t match the Ambrosia of Sienna’s blood, the memory of which was so embedded in Greyvian’s mind that he feared it would haunt him forever, but it felt so good to drink from another vampire, a vampire whose blood didn’t repulse him, that it was almost as good. For certain it was just as satisfying and exactly what his body needed right now.

Sure, Greyvian had taken bites here and there and gotten a taste of Jacob’s blood during training, suspecting then that his son might make a suitable feeding partner, but he hadn’t seriously considered it before now. Whether that was due to the fact that Jacob was his son, wasn’t evil, or simply because Greyvian had been feeding from humans for so long that his mind now completely rejected the idea of feeding from another vampire didn’t really matter. He was drinking now and it was good. So good he only barely noticed Knox trying ineffectually to separate the two of them.

The fact that it would be extremely difficult to kill Jacob by draining him of blood was inconsequential—the thought didn’t even enter his mind. For all he knew, at this moment, Jacob was just another victim that wouldn’t survive the feeding. In the end, however, he lifted his head of his own volition because he was now fully sated, his need for blood appeased, the aggression he’d been unable to control beforehand now tightly under wraps once more.

But it wasn’t gone.

No, the nasty sting of it was still lurking in the pit of his stomach, waiting for him to drop his guard or for him to get hungry again. The cause of the rage might never subside. Not when he couldn’t stop reliving the moment he’d walked away from Sienna. Again.

Seeing her once more, inhaling that deliciously torturous scent, being reminded of the taste, that had definitely aroused his thirst, but what had really led to his foul mood was the walking away. Every molecule in his body had wanted to stay and he hated that it was true, which only served to increase the rage. He hated that he felt such a need to be around her, that it was such an impossible situation that meant that he couldn’t.

But he couldn’t hate
her
and that made things even more frustrating. He had nowhere to point his anger, no outlet for the violence it contained. Jacob had just happened to provide him with a target by opening his mouth.