Incubus (2 page)

The hunger she'd sensed in the man receded a little, and his skin began to warm. Incredible. He was nursing the warmth and energy out of her, emotionally and physically, but it wasn't the hard drain she'd feared. She made herself still inside, allowing him to draw on her strength. Another gulp of relief flowed out of him into her. Had he just thanked her?

He
had
to be an empath.

By the time the headlights of John's Suburban cut through the darkness, the stranger's temperature had risen to match hers. She watched John exit his vehicle like a bull elephant. He plowed through the snow to her, reached down with one hand to pull her up on her foot, hoisted the man over his shoulder and stood up.

“He won't need a hospital. He just needs somewhere to warm up and come to. I'll drop you off at your cabin and take him to the clinic where I can examine him. He'll probably be fine in the morning.”

An impulse shot through Caroline like an electric
shock. The idea of the man going anywhere but her place was out of the question. “We have to take him to my cabin.”

John halted on the way to the Suburban, turned and gaped at her. “Excuse me?”

What was she thinking? But the words popped out of her mouth as though she had no control over them. “He needs to warm up fast, doesn't he? My cabin's closer.”

John blinked. “You're not making sense. What happened to your absolutely-no-strangers rule?”

Caroline clenched her hands together. She couldn't explain it, couldn't even try. The compulsion struck again. “Let's hurry it up, okay? Don't worry. You'll be there. And I've got Dash. I'll be okay.”

He shook his head. “We don't know this guy. It's not safe. There's no way I'm going to—”

His face suddenly went blank, and his mouth hung open.

Caroline narrowed her eyes and looked him up and down. He seemed to have blanked out completely. A warble of energy surrounded them for a moment, and their patient's invisible companion loomed closer.

She edged closer to John. “John? John. Hey. Are you okay?”

He blinked again and suddenly seemed to remember himself. “Fine. Just fine. You're right. This man needs to go straight home with you where he'll be warm and…and safe…and I'm sure you'll be okay. Yeah, you'll be fine.”

As though there were nothing left to discuss, the doctor turned and carried his near-lifeless burden to the
Suburban. Caroline stuck her foot back into her slalom, balanced on her crutches so she could fasten it, and followed him.

Her mind told her this was insane. Her instincts did, too. But inside her, the compulsion to shelter this man rode her hard. She turned and eyed the quiet forest again. His friend out there returned her gaze with a smug satisfaction that made her want to hit someone.

What had she gotten herself into this time?

 

Once they had reached her cabin, Caroline carried John's medical bag in for him and sat down in the armchair by her bed to watch him work on her Sleeping Beauty. Dash crept close to her and kept a wary eye on the stranger.

There was an unearthly beauty about him, except for the ruggedness in his face that hardship had made. His thick, dark gold hair curled with moisture from the melted snow. His square jaw suggested he'd be intractable in an argument.

Caroline let her gaze wander over the powerful torso and arms John revealed during his examination. The man's chest was covered with the same chestnut-golden hair that made his stubbly chin glisten in the firelight. She swallowed hard and raked her hand through her hair. “I'll go fix some coffee.”

“Can't hurt,” John mumbled over his stethoscope.

Caroline plucked up her crutches and, with a backward glance at the man in her bed, hobbled out of her room. What was his story? His intensity scared her to death, but she was relieved she'd rescued him. Relieved?
No, overjoyed. In fact, it was the first joy she'd felt in weeks.

Ducking behind the curtain that served as a makeshift wall between her tiny living room and her kitchenette, she made the coffee mechanically. Her focus seemed tethered to the guy. She could feel his hunger eating away at him.

When the coffee was ready, she poured two mugs. “Hey, it's ready.”

John came and carried their coffee back to her bedroom. He had removed the rest of their patient's wet clothing and bundled him up to the chin in blankets. Caroline eyed the long jeans, white Oxford shirt and spotless T-shirt John had draped over the back of a chair to dry. No coat or shoes? Who dressed like that in this weather?

With a shake of her head, she curled herself up in her bedside armchair and took her coffee from John. She stared at Sleeping Beauty over her cup. There seemed to be no sunshine in him whatsoever. He was all darkness inside, darkness and misery. Poor guy.

No, no, no,
she chided herself. Hadn't she learned her lesson with Rivera's son? Don't get involved on a personal level. It didn't matter if it was a seven-year-old boy traumatized by his father's secrets or an unconscious guy she'd pulled out of a snowdrift. Her empathy would always lead her right into trouble.

John put his stethoscope away and sighed. “Very strange. Very lucky for him, but strange all the same.”

She cast a glance at the doctor. “What's that?”

“He exhibits symptoms of severe malnutrition, but I know he isn't starving. He's perfect.”

Caroline grinned. “You can say that again.”

John chuckled, stood up and drained his coffee. He took the mug to the kitchen. When he returned, he regarded his patient with a furrowed brow.

Caroline caught the snag of exasperation and in decision in her friend and shrugged. “Look, you've got your rounds to do at the hospital in less than an hour. He's comfortable where he is. Leave him here. It's okay.”

John met her gaze with a scowl. “We don't know this guy.”

True—and not true. If he was like her, she knew him in ways she'd never known anyone before. She eyed the man's still face. “You know I can take care of myself.”

“I know you're an excellent psychologist, but I don't think you ran into many psychopaths during your internship.”

“He's nothing of the sort.”

“You'd know, I'm sure, given your vast experience.”

She laughed. “Actually…”

“Right. But that's another tale from Caroline Bengal's adventures among the mentally infirm, right?” John buttoned up his coat and picked up his bag. “Seriously, Caroline, you'd tell me, wouldn't you, if this guy felt dangerous to you?”

In fact he felt absolutely lethal, but not because of the darkness in him. “I'll be fine. Go on now.”

“Okay. Not that he's going to wake up anytime soon, I can promise you that, but swear on Dash's squeaky cow you'll call me the minute he even
looks
like he's coming to. I mean it.”

She nodded. “Gotcha, Doc.”

He took his leave, locking the door for her on his way out.

Caroline grabbed one of her crutches and went to the fire to add more wood. She just couldn't get warm. She fetched a blanket for herself from the closet behind her chair, sat down in her armchair again and wrapped herself up. The moments crept by, while she watched and waited for her Adonis to wake up.

His inner hunger kept gnawing at her. When she began to feel like one of Dash's rawhide chews, she leaned forward in her chair and took his hand. The physical contact made her feel like a soda straw. Unconscious or not, he sucked her emotions right out of her. Hungry, hungry.

She held his hand only long enough to realize that his skin wasn't warm anymore. What was wrong? Maybe wool blankets weren't going to cut it. She one-crutched her way back to the closet again to get her electric blanket, wincing with every step. After her romp in the snow, her muscles and joints would probably scream all night.

Dragging the electric blanket off the shelf, she returned to Sleeping Beauty, set her crutch aside and stood on her aching leg while she covered him and turned on the blanket.

Dropping herself back into her chair, she caught her
throbbing stump close to her and eyed the pain pill and glass of water, still where John had left them on the table beside her. It would be so good just to have a little relief. She took the pill quickly, settled back in her chair and gave it a few minutes to work.

The electric blanket ought to be nice and warm by now. She felt the man's hand again. If anything, he was colder. Alarm skittered along Caroline's spine. When she opened herself up to him a little, his rush of despair took her breath away. He was suffering, and she could feel his need for relief as clearly as she felt her own.

She squeezed his hand. “Looks like we're both in pain tonight. Only thing is, I can't figure out what you need unless you wake up and tell me. I—”

An image swam through her mind like a lean, dark fish, in and out of shadow, first clear, then obscure. Her heart skipped a beat.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty, are you trying to reach me?”

Closing her eyes, she squeezed his hand again and focused on the image until it was clear in her mind. He lay on a beautiful bed in a castle chamber. She stood poised over him, ready to wake him with a kiss.

With a hiccup of laughter, Caroline dropped his hand and leaned back in her chair. “Either you're a wise guy, or that pain pill's about to zonk me good.”

The image persisted. She couldn't shake it from her mind. She could almost smell the tallow of the candles burning low beside the bed he lay in. Without warning, the vision exploded, sucking her into it.

She was there, bending over to kiss him. Closer.
Closer. His lips were firm and dry and perfect. Warmth poured out of her into him. She felt him soak it up and send it rushing back into her, hotter than before. She gasped as it spread pleasure through her soul and body. Her pain became a shuddering beast that couldn't reach her. She pressed her mouth to his and let the waterfall sweep her down into an ocean of euphoria.

Drifting into a bed of cotton that felt remarkably like her own bed, Caroline imagined she felt the stranger's mouth move under hers. Delicious. Pure fantasy. She could count the kisses she'd had on one hand, and they'd never made her feel like this before.

She even thought she felt him close his arms around her and pull her closer. It felt so good to be held like that. He was definitely warm now. Long, strong fingers caressed the back of her head gently, rhythmically. It felt so real that she moaned.

The coaxing, big hand tangled in her hair, and the warmth of his body beneath her lured her into the balmy shadows.

Just before sleep claimed her, she thought she heard a raspy murmur, British, sexy and very male. “Thank you.”

M
eical Grabian managed a smile when the girl nuzzled against his chest hair, but when she nestled her soft body closer, it raked open a hole inside of him. His unclothed flesh felt every inch of her. Her closeness dulled his appetite a little, but it wouldn't stave off the inevitable.

Something about this woman was special, something he couldn't identify. She had felt his need out there in the cold darkness, felt his very soul reaching for hers. Was that why the Alchemist had left him close enough to call to her?

The Alchemist. Meical curled his lip to snarl, but without the three-quarter-inch fangs he was used to wielding, the effect was rather pathetic. He ran his tongue over his smooth, straight teeth and hissed.

Where was his maniacal creator? He focused his bleary eyes on the confines of the cabin. No sign of the hell-bat. The great Alchemist, Benemerut Neshi himself, had abandoned him.

Something must have gone wrong, and Neshi had reckoned he wasn't worth saving. Or, perhaps, he couldn't be saved.

Best to face facts. His strength was waning like the hours of the night. Every nerve in his body told him he had less than two hours until his first dawn in two centuries. It would be his last. All he wanted was to survive long enough to see it.

And here in his arms lay his portal to the sun.

He ran his hand over the woman's shoulder. His palm tingled from the softness of her burgundy flannel shirt. He swept his hand lower, down her narrow back and over her round bottom, feeling his way downward to the thigh of one supple leg, until he came to—nothing.

The leg of her jeans was empty below her knee.

He gently palmed the joint beneath the denim. Even in her sleep, she flinched when he touched her there.

“Not that I'm going soft,” he breathed into her hair.

Hunger twisted his muscles into knots, and he savored the taste of her creamy, soft ear. She moaned in her sleep. The sound filled him with need, and on sheer instinct, he kissed her mouth quickly.

A pool of energy radiated from her into him. With a growl, Meical lapped up the nutritious tease without really knowing how he did it. The girl moaned again and moved against him. He groaned, harder and hotter than he could ever remember, nearing a desperation
he'd never experienced as a vampire. No, he'd never felt hunger like this before. It made him feel capable of doing anything to satisfy it.

Slow down. Slow down.
He ground his teeth together, fisted his hands in agony and grappled with his self-control.

Quiet filled the room. The snapping fire and the whistling wind were the only sounds to be heard, besides the girl's soft, sighing breaths. She whimpered something in her sleep, and across the room, a growl caught Meical's attention. The dog, of course.

He sighed and focused his thoughts on the shepherd. She kept her distance but bared her teeth. His probing mind met with a barrage of canine angst and territorial zeal, along with an image of his ankle caught in her salivating jaws.

Meical grinned, in spite of his pain.
Good dog. But what you really want to do is go to sleep. I need your lady's undivided attention right now.

For a moment the dog eyed him, then with a yawn, rolled onto her side and slept.

Meical looked at the girl in his arms. His last feed. He ought to have a really close look at her, just to commemorate the moment. She was a pretty vision to take with him, wherever he was bound.

“What do you say, sweet?” he murmured. “Send me off to my death with nothing on my mind but you.”

He smoothed her ash blond bangs out of her eyes and filled both of his hands with her thick short curls. Her mouth was painfully tempting, rather pouty at present, full and ripe from his kiss. Her high cheekbones
suggested integrity and character. She was probably a force to be reckoned with when she was mad. Her delicate, flyaway eyebrows made her look perpetually amused with the world, even though she'd obviously had little to laugh at lately.

Meical kissed her again, gently, savoring her waking response. It must be an automatic reaction in his prey to what he was now—whatever that was. Kiss your prey, and she wants more. Simple and straightforward.

So what had gone wrong with the Alchemist's experiment?

Meical kissed her again, and then he did what he had done on a thousand nights as a vampire. He reached for her inner being, and with a thrust of his will, took possession of her soul.

Sweet, merciful heaven, this lady was a fountain of fire. But sadness had turned her cold and still inside. He sucked in a breath between his teeth. She needed to be touched, needed to trust again, but she was afraid of losing herself.

Primal terror haunted a cavern in her soul. She kept a close guard on that place. Even now, her soul rebelled against his invasion. He shouldn't pry. The least he could do was leave her privacy intact. But he just had to know. What was she so afraid of? He struck deep.

The violence of what her attackers had done to her played itself out before him in vicious clarity. Metal baseball bats rose in the darkness and descended, over and over again. He could hear her legs shatter, hear her scream.

Suddenly, the memory grew dark and fuzzy, and then
Meical watched as though through a haze. The girl was only semiconscious now. Her attackers moved in for the kill.

Wait. She shouldn't be able to remember any of this, not in her condition. And if she couldn't remember it, there was no memory for him to see. So he shouldn't be seeing this at all.

Yet he did see it, and as her attackers closed in on her, rage shook him, and he sounded a menacing growl.

The two men spun around to look at him.

For seconds Meical forgot to breathe, while the two human faces before him contorted with mute terror. They dropped their bats and scrambled out of the cellar as fast as they could.

Meical was drawn along like a balloon on a string in their wake, as though he were chasing them. Just as he hit the top of the stairs, his strength wavered and drained away, and he couldn't hold the image in his mind.

Darkness descended, and he opened his eyes to see the rustic cabin ceiling above him.

With a curse, he slid the woman off him, weary and hurting. In his condition, there was no telling what kind of confusion he was suffering from. It hardly mattered because there was no way on God's green earth he was going to make use of this girl. He couldn't.

He would leave. Just go. He'd put this feast far behind him. Maybe he'd last long enough without sustenance.

He made an effort to get to his feet. Half an hour later, he was still trying. His strength had deserted him, and in its place he felt a fire in every muscle and nerve, as though his hunger would tear his flesh from his very
bones. He'd never suffered like this as a vampire, even on the leanest nights. But dawn was coming. He could feel it in his flesh. If he could just hang on.

The girl stirred beside him. His heart pounded like a piston in his chest, and he wrapped his hand around hers. A trickle of her life force flowed into him, a pitiable tease that served only to torture him.

“Do us both a favor, baby,” he gasped. “Don't wake up.”

He moaned again, and as if in answer, she rolled over, laid her good leg over his thighs and wrapped her arm around him. Her soft, sleepy breath against his chest felt so soothing, as soothing as her need to be held.

A throb in his chest shut off his next breath, and he gasped, choked and writhed. Fear consumed him. He wasn't going to make it until sunrise. To come so close and die without seeing it…. He couldn't bear that.

Meical fixed his gaze on the woman's face and closed the door on his good intentions. Levering his arm underneath her, he lifted her onto him again. When her chin rested on his chest, a momentary smile touched her mouth.

He cupped her face in his hands, breathing hard. He was too weak now to reach for her mind, so he spoke to her aloud, trying to keep his voice low and gentle. “Wake up. Please?”

She fluttered her lush dark lashes. When she opened her eyes, they were too dilated for him to see what color they were. Beneath her confusion, he sensed her struggling against the compulsion he had saddled on her, yet
her unleashed hunger poured over him like warm cream. Hunger for him, as though it were her natural need.

Her husky, breathless voice touched him everywhere. “Oh…you're awake…”

Awake? Meical winced. He was as hard as— “Yes. Very.”

Her gaze fell to his mouth, and a sigh escaped her. Her face turned white, then red, then white again. She looked down at his bare chest. “What's happening to me?”

“It's all right.” He caressed her face. She shivered all over him. “I'm the guy you saved. Do you remember? I feel what you feel, and you feel what I feel.”

She nodded. “You're an empath. Like me.”

If it made things easier for her, why not let her believe it? It wasn't entirely untrue. He settled for half a truth, unable to out-and-out lie to her—which bothered him. “Yes, I am. Sort of. It's okay. This is only a dream. You're safe.”

They locked gazes. She seemed to revive a little be cause even though her eyes said she wanted him desperately, her frown said she didn't trust his words.

“No,” she murmured. “I'm awake. I can tell. What's going on? What are you…what are you doing to me?”

“What's your name?”

Her gaze darted away. “Caroline.”

Sweet. A name fit for a Yorkshire girl. “Just Caroline?”

She nodded. When she looked at him again, the softness had gone from her eyes, leaving only caution. It put his teeth on edge. So, it was en garde, was it?

He might have just enough strength to finesse her through this. If it came down to a tussle, it would be costly for both of them. He absolutely must not lose control. He ran his hand over the crown of her head and down her back, opening himself up to her completely. Almost without trying, he poured himself into the caress.

She gasped and jerked, but he held her. Exquisite.

“I'm Meical Grabian,” he whispered. “And you, Caroline, are mine.”

Her throat worked convulsively to swallow, while her eyes gleamed, then darkened. As he lowered the mantle of his power over her, the last of her resistance faded. The rush of her arousal snatched his breath away.

He kissed her mouth slowly, then deeply, and held her while she came off her ruddy hinges. Her hands opened and closed on his chest, while her body ground against his.

Meical groaned when the first flush of strength and power surged through him. For a moment, he drifted into mindless bliss. He felt no pain. Only power. By the time he realized it wasn't his arousal, but hers, that brought him relief, she was mouthing her way downward along his abdomen.

He laughed softly, shuddering over the irony of it. It was his prey's pleasure that fed him, not his own.
Oh, yesss….

He caught her face in his hands and stilled her searching mouth. She whimpered and undulated down ward, closer to her goal.

“Caroline,” he whispered, “I have a better idea.”

Lifting her head, she blinked her big, sleepy eyes at him, panting softly.

“Come here.”

She rose and wobbled into his arms, flush-faced and beautiful. His prey. His.

While he gathered her in one arm and unzipped her jeans, he focused all his will on her. He slipped his hand inside her panties and hissed out a breath. So warm and wet. Her breaths came in soft gasps while he gently parted her with his fingers and stroked her slowly.

Tears welled up in her eyes. Meical watched them roll slowly down her cheeks. Why was she crying? She was too deep in his trance to be frightened, and by her body's response, he knew she was enjoying this. She moved for him as though she had been made for his touch.

He nuzzled her temple and reveled in the nourishing heat of her rising need. “Why are you crying?”

Her gasped answer followed every shudder of her flesh beneath his hand. “It's been so long…”

Meical grimaced. “Don't let what they did to you take away who you are.”

“I'm trying.”

Meical pressed his mouth against her ear. “You are strong. You are powerful. I feel it inside you. All the strength you need is there, Caroline. Inside you. You will overcome this time in your life. And when you do, you will be more beautiful and powerful than ever before, in the way all humans are when they've gone through hell and survived it.”

He looked into her half-closed eyes, hoping she'd
heard every word. He couldn't let her remember much of this when she woke, but he didn't want her to forget what he'd just told her. “You'll sleep for a while after this, and when you wake, there will be no pain in your leg. I would like to do more for you, but I…I'm headed elsewhere. I think it's best you don't remember me. But I want you to remember how strong and beautiful you are, Caroline. I don't ever want you to forget it.”

She nodded compliantly. Hunger shone in her eyes now. No more tears. Meical rose up on his elbow and kissed her until they both moaned. Opening himself up completely, he swallowed down her pleasure and turned it back on her. Sweet madness.

She filled her hands with his hair and kissed him feverishly while he caressed her, until with a high, keening cry, she spilled the very essence of her life force into his soul. Raw power snapped through Meical's body, through every nerve and vein. He clutched her closer to anchor himself in the fury, glutting himself in her pleasure with a hellish growl he couldn't help. For a few precious seconds, he wanted to go on existing, to drink up this beautiful human being whenever, however and wherever he pleased. Never had he felt so horribly powerful.

How could Neshi have failed? What could possibly have gone wrong? It all seemed so perfect, so easy.

When Caroline fell still, Meical basked in her afterglow as though it were his own. He closed his eyes and listened to her breathe. Her soft sighs made him want to begin again.