Feral Hunger (2010)

Feral Hunger

Stephanie Bedwell-Grime

Vlad the Impaler? Don't make her laugh...

Vlad is un-living proof that even a shy guy with the unfortunate name of Leslie can remake himself. Vampire, cad, player, he embraces it all without a pesky thing called a conscience. Until he receives a special delivery on his doorstep. A woman on the brink of death. One look at the sexy blonde, and his inner Leslie his long-forgotten conscience moves him to do the right thing and save her life.

One minute Jaelyn is enjoying a night out at a club. The next, she's under a brutal vampire attack. Adjusting to her new life as one of them is hard enough without the added charm of Vlad's grumpiness with the whole situation.

Instead of sending Jaelyn on her merry way, Vlad gives in to another totally uncharacteristic urge to solve the mystery of who assaulted her, and why whoever it was dumped her at his place. There must be a connection, and it surely can't have anything to do with their budding attraction.

But delving into a dangerous vampire underworld could remake their undead lives once again. Permanently.

Chapter
One

The body landed with a thump on his doorstep.

Vlad yanked the door open. A comely blonde tumbled onto his black boots. Her head lolled to the side, rolling off his toe, so he couldn't miss the smear of blood across the woman's pale neck. Nor could he ignore the two deep puncture wounds.

Vlad glanced furtively up and down the hallway. The elevator doors had closed, the numbers swiftly descending to the ground floor. It was 23 flights down to the lobby. Briefly, he debated making a run for the stairwell and down to the ground floor. But just as he tensed to move, the woman lying at his feet moaned. Not a body after all, but a still-living, breathing woman. That complicated things even more. He looked up and down the hallway again. Nothing moved.

He could close the door and feign innocence until the police inevitably arrived. But he was a vampire. Innocent until proven guilty didn't always apply to his kind, no matter what the law books said.

The blonde groaned softly again. Coming to a sudden decision, Vlad bent and swung one arm under her legs and the other beneath her shoulders. As he lifted her into his arms, her head rolled back against his elbow, showing him more of the damage to her throat. Vlad smothered a gasp. Whoever had fed from her had ravaged her neck. Vampire or not, he objected to a woman being treated like this. Scowling, he turned back into his penthouse and slammed the door.

Her blood dripped across his new carpet as he lowered her to his black leather couch. He hissed in irritation. He rarely involved himself in other people's troubles, vampire or otherwise. And this was his lair, his domain. The place he brought his women, his meals. The shiny black grand piano with its dripping candelabra always helped in the seduction. He'd decorated his entire condo for just that purpose.

He'd been about to go out and get himself a meal of the warm-blooded female variety. The last thing he needed tonight was the picked-over remains of someone else's takeout. He glowered down at the woman on his couch and sighed. His underused conscience tugged at him. He couldn't leave her like this.

But what was he going to do with her?

By the severity of her wound, he guessed she had to have a fair bit of vampire saliva in her bloodstream. She would turn. There was little doubt of that. Not to mention the blood she'd lost. Without a donation of vampire blood she might even die.

Vlad shook his head. He lived an unencumbered life. The last thing he wanted was a new vampire to look after.

Another drop of her crimson blood splashed onto the carpet. The sight brought a stomach-squeezing pang of hunger. He had to do something soon for her and for himself. Still, he hesitated. Making another of his kind was not to be undertaken lightly. He thought of the damage it would do to his reputation. How would he pick up women with a young female vampire in tow?

His shriveled conscience debated that for a moment.

His unwanted guest wasn't doing well. A sheen of sweat had broken out on her forehead. Her chest heaved with her rapid breathing. She'd lost a great deal of blood. It was entirely possible she was dying in his arms. He should call 9-1-1.

But how would he explain this to the police? The last thing he needed was a charge of biting without consent, manslaughter, or even murder.

His mind raced. Why would someone harm a beautiful woman and leave her on his doorstep? He had many acquaintances and few friends, but until tonight he didn't think he had any enemies. At least not in the vampire world.

Something about her predicament pulled at him, touching his frozen heart. What it was, he couldn't say exactly. It might have been the way he held her life quite literally in his hands. Or perhaps it was merely that they were both victims in this strange situation. Someone had attacked her, someone who meant to harm his reputation by leaving her on his doorstep.

Still, creating another vampire was not without consequences. Not everyone made it through the change, and he'd never made another of his kind. He wasn't entirely sure he could help her.

She uttered another soft moan full of pain and torment. That tiny, pitiful sound finally made up his mind. He simply couldn't let her die.

He knelt beside her and stretched one arm under her neck to raise her head. For a moment, he hesitated again, knowing there was no going back from what he was about to do. With a deep sigh of resignation, he bent his head over his right wrist.

He shivered at the foreign sensation of his own cool lips brushing his skin. His incisors lowered. The thin skin offered little resistance as they slid into his vein with a keen mixture of pleasure-laced pain. Thick, salty blood poured over his tongue. He swallowed convulsively. He shoved his hunger into a gnawing little ball in his stomach and yanked his mouth away.

He watched in fascination as a scarlet drop of his blood splashed onto the carpet, mingling with hers. He rarely saw his own blood, had never tasted it before. He raised her head, bringing his wrist to her lips.

For a moment, he feared it was too late, that she had slipped too far into unconsciousness and now lingered on the brink of death. His blood dripped onto her slightly parted lips only to run in bright rivulets down her neck.

Drink, he whispered.

Her eyelids flickered. Her cool lips latched onto his wrist. She gulped the first mouthful.

Easy, he warned.

But she sucked strongly at the wound, drinking his blood as if it were the finest ambrosia. Her hands gripped his arm, holding him to her as if she were afraid he might get away.

Looking down at her in the candlelight, he could see the color beginning to flush back into her skin. Her breathing came in deep gasps as she swallowed more of his blood. Still, her strength was returning. He could tell by the death grip she had on his arm.

Enough, he ordered, even though she likely wasn't conscious enough to obey. He let her take another mouthful before he attempted to pull his arm away.

She hung on, but in the end his superior strength won out and he ripped his wrist from her grasp. Her eyelids twitched once before she lapsed into a deep stupor. Vlad pulled his arm out from under her head and let her slide back against his couch.

He lapped at his wounded arm until the blood began to clot. The last thing he needed was more of it on the carpet. One last sluggish drop of his blood oozed from the wound. He licked it away. His body was already healing itself, but that wouldn't take care of the crushing hunger that raced through him. His blood surged through her veins. When she awoke she'd be well into the throes of the change. And in the meantime he needed to feed.

Vlad looked down at the blonde. His blood was smeared across her mouth giving her a bizarre rictus grin. He stared at her for a long time, wondering who she was and what he'd say to her once she regained consciousness.

With one last backward glance, he strode to the kitchen and turned on the tap. The cold rush of water felt good against his skin as he rinsed his wrist. He was going to have to call someone, eventually. The woman on his sofa might need help if things didn't go smoothly. Fear tugged at his brain, fighting with the sluggishness brought on by blood loss. He needed blood and then he needed to think.

Vlad gazed again at his unwanted houseguest. With a sigh, he reached for the paper-towel dispenser and tore off a couple of sheets. Another blast of water made them damp. He moved cautiously toward her, afraid she might rise up out of her stupor. Instead, she lay silently on his couch, breathing steadily. Indecision gnawed at him. He didn't like the idea of leaving her alone in his condo, but what else could he do?

She'd sleep for quite a while, he reassured himself. At least he hoped she'd rest long enough for him to feed and decide what to do. Gently, he wiped the blood from her mouth and cleaned up the drops that had trickled onto the sofa. He wandered down the hall and tossed the paper towel into the toilet. No sense leaving anything incriminating in case she came to and called the police.

With that thought in mind, he reached under the sink for the spot remover. He took the bottle with its built-in brush back to the living room and scrubbed the rug.

Satisfied he'd done enough damage control, he let himself out of the apartment and locked the door, hoping his life would still be waiting for him when he returned.

Chapter
Two

Jaelyn swam in a warm haze of golden light. Exhaustion tugged on every muscle. She wanted to raise her heavy eyelids. Something in the back of her mind insisted she should. A fragment of a thought nagged at her consciousness.

Danger.

Fractured images drifted through her mind. She'd gone somewhere with her friend, Mandy. She couldn't remember where. They'd left Mandy's apartment in a cab. She recalled whizzing through the streets at breakneck speed, the city lights a dazzling kaleidoscope. Cool wind from the cab's open window had torn at her hair. She'd asked the driver to close it, she remembered that much. And after that... nothing.

Jaelyn forced her eyelids open. A strange room spun around her. She caught a glimpse of black drapery, black leather and a splash of candlelight all seemingly mixed up in a giant blender. Her skin itched. Something that burned like gasoline raced through her veins. She might have been sick if her stomach hadn't felt like it was being squeezed in a giant fist.

Startlingly, a fragment of a memory shot through her mind. She remembered being shoved against a wall. Cool brick behind her. Cold lips at her neck. The crushing pressure. The pain...

She opened her mouth to scream. The apartment door flew open.

Vlad reached his apartment door and sighed with relief. No police tape, no knot of blue-uniformed officers crowded the hallway. He'd met up with one of his usual donors at a nearby club and fed as quickly as possible. All the while, worry had gnawed at his gut. Still, things seemed quiet as he arrived home. His shoulders slumped as the tension left them and he felt in his pocket for his keys.

A scream pierced the heavy wooden door. He flung it open to find the blonde sitting up on his couch and staring at him in complete horror.

She had sea-foam green eyes, he noted abstractedly as she centered him in her gaze.

Vlad gave her what he hoped was a reassuring expression. But in doing so, he smiled a little too broadly, showing a hint of fang. Big mistake. She screamed again.

The last thing he needed was concerned neighbors in the hallways. He rushed toward her and clamped a hand over her mouth, not knowing what else to do. She bit him, hard enough to draw blood. He snatched his hand back. Her scream burst free.

Shh! He tried for a more human-looking smile. Usually, he kept his fangs in plain sight. Women liked them. At least the kind of women he favored liked them. The blonde wasn't fooled. She shrieked even louder.

Vlad covered her mouth with a vise-like grip. It served to muffle the sound, but not much. No good deed goes unpunished. It had been his personal motto for some time now. Not that he was often prone to good deeds. He brought his face down close to her ear. Look, he said the word with as much gentleness as he could muster. I know what you're thinking, but I'm not the one who did this to you.

Her eyes widened. He suspected she didn't believe him, but she fell silent. She had no particular reason to believe him. He had done things to her, things she probably wasn't going to appreciate once she grasped their full significance. Like making her a vampire.

How do I know that?' she inquired against his palm.

He let his breath go in a rush. You don't. So you're going to have to take my word that I found you unconscious on my doorstep.

She struggled in his grasp. He tightened his grip. At least she didn't bite him again, Vlad thought with relief. If I'm going to help you, I need you to stop screaming and listen to me.

She grew still. Silence stretched between them.

Can I move my hand?

She nodded hesitantly.

He drew his hand away, but kept it close, just in case.

She was still staring at him with those startling eyes. You're a a She tried to scuttle away from him again, but he held her tight.

Vampire, he supplied and sincerely hoped she didn't scream again. But I'm not the vampire who hurt you.