Blood Crave Read online

  Or maybe that was my leg jiggling against the seat.

  Or maybe it was the two boys in the car repressing the urge to change and kill each other.

  Or maybe it was my heart trying desperately not to break in two.

  Regardless, I’d never been happier to see the werewolf mansion, even if it was at one o’clock in the morning. Together, Derek, Lucas and I, walked up the stone steps and stopped in front of the tall polished doors.

  “Let me do the talking,” Lucas said. He rounded on the two of us. “Okay?”

  “Fine,” I said. Derek just nodded with a jerk.

  We went into the cozy living room and found Yvette sitting by a low fire, reading. I was a little thrown by this. I’d expected everyone to be fast asleep. And where was Rolf? Yvette folded her book in her lap and looked up when we entered.

  “Lucas,” she said. “What brings you and your friends so late?”

  “Where’s Rolf?” he said roughly.

  Yvette’s smile fixated. “Hunting.” Her eyes flickered very briefly to Derek, and I wondered if he was actually planning something to do with him. “I was waiting up for him,” she said. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

  Lucas debated for a moment and then said, “Derek needs blood.”

  Yvette’s black eyebrows rose, and she nodded slowly. “I wondered how long it would take for the crave to consume him.”

  “It didn’t consume him,” I said before I could stop myself.

  Lucas shot me a look, and I quieted down.

  “Please, don’t fight,” Yvette said. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. He cannot control what he is.” She turned to Derek and said, “Tell me what you feel. Is it a constant nuisance, easily overcome? Or is it a full blood crave?”

  Derek cast a look at Lucas and then said, “More like a nuisance, I guess. I can control it until I smell the blood. Then I can’t anymore.”

  “I see,” Yvette said. Her eyes turned sharp. “How many have you killed?”

  “I never killed anyone.”

  “Then how is it that you have tasted blood? Are you able to control yourself once you have tasted it?”

  “No,” Derek said. “I mean, yeah. I can stop if I want to. I don’t need much, but having none is like torture now that I’ve had it.” He threw a look at me and winced.

  Yvette’s eyes swept me up and down, taking in my bloodstained shirt and the puncture wounds on my neck.

  “Oh my,” she said sadly. “Yes, you do require aid.” She stood and put her book on the table beside her. “Faith, would you like to come with me into the kitchen to get cleaned up?” The way her eyes blazed into mine made it clear she wanted me to say yes, so I nodded. I did want to get cleaned up, after all. “Lovely,” Yvette said. She turned to Lucas. “And I’ll call Nolan. Both of you wait here.”

  She ushered me into the kitchen, leaving Lucas and Derek to glower at each other in the living room. The kitchen was gigantic—about the size of my mom’s apartment in San Diego. A low light filtered in from the breakfast nook in the back, making the granite countertops sparkle in shades of yellow.

  I leaned my back against the center island, folding my hands behind me self-consciously. “Who is Nolan?”

  “Nora’s brother. He works at Poudre Valley Hospital. He is our blood contact.”

  “Blood contact?”

  “He works in the blood bank,” she clarified. “He smuggles free blood to us when we are in need. We usually only use it for injured humans we can’t bring to the hospital. This is a little unorthodox, but if Nolan is willing, I’ll have him send you a suitable supply for the times when Derek’s craving overcomes him.”

  “Thank you,” I said, meaning it completely. This was such a sensible solution to what I’d seen as an impossible problem. Donated blood. Perfect.

  Yvette went to the pantry and produced a bottle of cleaning agent and a towel. “Shirt off,” she directed and went to the sink to wet the towel. I obeyed, feeling rather odd without my shirt, and handed it to her. She began spraying it down, eyes intent on her work.

  “So,” I said, wondering why she’d brought me in here. “What’s . . . ah, what’s up?”

  “You let the hybrid bite you. Are you sure that’s smart?”

  “I didn’t let him,” I said, outraged by the accusation. “He kind of forced me.”

  “I see. And his bite had no effect on you?”

  “No,” I said, feeling the wounds on my neck absently. “I guess not.” I wasn’t about to admit to the part where I’d actually liked it—not even to myself.

  “Interesting,” she mused. She rinsed my shirt under the sink, staining the water pink. “Rolf will be interested as well.”

  Right because, Rolf needed to know absolutely everything about Derek so he could try to find some reason to kill him. He wasn’t going to be thrilled about this development, but since I was relatively unharmed, I didn’t think he’d find cause to hurt Derek.

  “Here,” Yvette said, handing me back my damp, but clean, shirt.

  “Thanks,” I said, tugging it on with a shiver.

  “You’ll want to be more careful around the hybrid,” she said. “I know he seems tame, but he is still young. Their mood swings are quite abrupt.”

  “Okay,” I said. Then I smiled, remembering something. “He wants to be called a viran, actually.”

  Yvette smiled as well. “All right.” She handed me a gauze strip soaked in hydrogen peroxide for my neck, and I pressed it to the cuts, wincing. It was a small wonder that I’d only now been bitten by something. “Hey, Yvette?” I asked slowly.

  She settled herself on one of the barstools across from me and leaned her cheek on her hand, regarding me warily. “Yes?”

  “Why didn’t you ever let Rolf infect you?”

  Darkness crossed Yvette’s face, and she hugged her arms around her slim body. “He never infected me because I didn’t want the curse.”

  I leaned in closer. Finally, someone else who shared my views on this. “You didn’t want to live with him forever?” I asked.

  Yvette smiled softly, but it didn’t seem genuine. “Who wouldn’t want to live for eternity with the love of their life?”

  The same argument I’d been having with myself. I decided to play devil’s advocate and asked, “Then why didn’t you have him infect you?”

  She sighed as if she’d been through this a thousand times. But, then again, maybe she had. “Because I don’t want to lose my mind,” she said firmly. “I don’t want to kill and fight and live in torment.”

  “But, everyone says it only lasts a few years and then it gets better.”

  “Better, but not gone.”

  I pressed my lips together, nodding. “I get it,” I said. “I don’t want Lucas to infect me either. It’s not a life I want for myself.”

  Yvette’s defensive demeanor relaxed. She leaned forward on the countertop again. “And have you discussed what Lucas wants?”

  I almost laughed out loud at that. “Oh, no way. He’d freak out if I even mentioned it.”

  “Are you sure that’s how he feels?”

  “I—I guess so.” I hadn’t really thought he’d be all ‘werewolves rock!’ like Katie. He got supermoody whenever we even mentioned the supernatural, so talking about me becoming one? Not on the menu.

  Yvette leaned in even closer, voice low and fervent when she spoke. “Tell him to try living without you for a few weeks. Tell him to imagine all the while that you’re dead. That there will never be another kiss, another smile ... another night together. Tell him to picture your funeral, your body reduced to ashes and scattered in the wind. Tell him that this will be his life forevermore: a broken entity whose other half will never return to him. And once he’s done all that, ask him again if he wants to infect you.” She looked down at the counter. “I think you’ll be surprised by the answer.”

  So that was Yvette and Rolf’s existence. I studied her profile as she stared away from me, feeling tremendous pity for her
. But as sorry as I felt for her, I felt even worse for Rolf—which was surprising, since I pretty much detested him. Yvette was the one who got to live out her life with her match. Rolf, on the other hand would live endlessly without her.

  It hit me then, that Lucas would be the one tormented forever. He would be the one without his match. Once I died, I would be released from the pain of losing him.

  But my Lucas . . . how could I ever do that to him?

  “Go,” Yvette said suddenly.

  I jerked out of my thoughts, surprised by the harshness of her voice.

  “I must call Nolan,” she said, clearing her throat.

  I left the darkened kitchen, giving one last glance at Yvette’s hunched form, her eyes faraway and dripping with silent tears. As I stood in the doorway, I had the surreal, terrifying sensation that I was watching myself twenty years from now, crying alone in a kitchen. Knowing with unerring certainty that one day, I would lose my match to death. And he would lose me.

  I went out into the living room. It was all I could do to keep myself from rushing over to Lucas and having him bite me right there, I felt so bad for him. But deep inside, I still knew it wasn’t what I wanted. The whole thing was confusing and terrible. Becoming a werewolf just to keep my boyfriend happy wasn’t a good reason to do it. But the thought of how sad he’d be when I died ...

  A sudden thought washed over me like a bucket of ice water as I stood watching Lucas stare vacantly out the large window of the living room.

  What if I was giving myself a little too much credit, here? What if Lucas wouldn’t be all that broken up when I died? Sure, if the tables were turned and I had to live for eternity without my other half, I’d turn into a walking pity party. But would Lucas? He was the one who always said that relationships weren’t meant to last for eternity. Maybe he’d be sad for a bit and then get over it; move on with some newer, younger chick.

  The thought should have made me feel better, but only made me angry and jealous of this made-up young chick (whom I pictured looking very much like Heidi Klum). I visualized myself in sixty years lying in a hospital bed, too old and sick to even feed myself. And there was Lucas. Still as gorgeous as ever, flirting with Doctor Barbie right in front of me because I was too blind and too deaf to notice.

  I glowered at his back, knowing somewhere inside that I was being ridiculous and petty, but I was unable to stop the fantasy from playing itself out. There I was, dying, and Lucas already had his next girlfriend lined up.

  Bastard.

  “Are you trying to use the Force?” Derek asked, slight amusement in his tone.

  I started out of my inner Lucas hate-fest and shot Derek a sardonic look. Lucas turned and glanced at me. Though he appeared curious about my furious glaring, I could tell he was still seething over Derek biting me. He made no move toward me, nor did he beckon me over, so I thumped my butt against the back of the couch and proceeded to silently hate him for no reason.

  Yvette came back into the living room minutes later, looking once more her calm, composed self.

  “Nolan is agreeable,” she said. “He will have the supply sent to Derek’s dorm room once a week.” She turned to Derek. “Keep it refrigerated, not frozen.”

  Derek nodded, looking repulsed.

  “Is there anything else I can help you with?” she asked, returning to her seat by the fire.

  “We need to sleep here for the night,” Lucas said. “We can’t make it back before dawn.”

  “You are always welcome here.” Yvette bowed her head and picked up her book. “Goodnight to you.”

  Derek stood and we all left the room. Lucas trudged to the door that led to the basement, flung it open and pointed.

  “You sleep down there,” he told Derek.

  Derek ignored him and turned to me, coming closer than was really necessary. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. His fingers brushed over the bandaged wound on my throat.

  I nodded, glancing nervously to Lucas. “It’s okay. I’ll see you tomorrow night and we’ll talk.”

  Derek looked as though he wanted to say something, but just kissed my forehead and ran full speed toward the front door.

  “Derek!” I yelled after him. Lucas ran behind him, and I reached the doorway just in time to see Derek’s form vibrate violently and shift into the slender white wolf. He flitted into the woods, a ghost in the trees.

  Lucas stood in the front yard, trembling with the change. I ran past him, yelling for Derek. I didn’t want him to leave like this. Not without talking about what had happened. What if he went back to the vampires?

  “Faith,” Lucas called out. “Let him go!”

  But I was still irrationally angry with Lucas so I ran into the woods, following Derek’s snowy paw prints.

  “Derek!” I yelled again, coming to a stop. It had gotten dark extremely fast within the trees and I wasn’t stupid. I knew what lurked inside the woods as night. I cursed, slamming my hand against the bark of an evergreen. My palm burned, the pain bringing me back to reality. Derek wasn’t going to listen to me—especially not now that he was a wolf. And maybe running would do him some good—help him gain control over his blood crave.

  I turned to leave, when I began to feel a hum in the back of my head. Someone’s vibe. I looked around, hoping it was Lucas, or even Derek. But there was nobody—just the slowly shifting branches of the trees and the mysterious creatures lurking within them. My heart began to pound, even though there was nothing to be afraid of.

  I took a step back, my foot crunching loudly through the snowy, silent night.

  Another step, my hand came away from the tree. The hum became louder. Someone was out there with me. I began to breathe heavily, making it difficult to hear. The opalescent moon above me peaked from behind a murky cloud, illuminating the woods in patchy, white light.

  That’s when I saw it: a dark form crouched behind a tree, not five feet away from me. Two glowing eyes peered out of the darkness, a low bubbling sound swallowed the silence.

  My entire body ignited, becoming both numb and hypersensitive. I could only stare. Nothing seemed to work. No legs to carry me away, no voice to call for Lucas . . . only eyes to watch the beast as it killed me.

  17

  THE STALKER

  I knew it was a werewolf, knew it with every ounce of brain function I had left. It slowly stepped into the bluish light, its heather-gray body slim and powerful—eyes deadly alert and unblinking. Its glistening nostrils flared as it sniffed the air, staring straight at me.

  I knew it was identifying me. But why hadn’t it attacked yet?

  Slowly, I began to function again. Ears began to hear, breath began to heave. I had to get out of there before the werewolf decided it was snack time. Werewolves weren’t supposed to attack humans, but that look in its eye and the taint in its vibe . . . hunger.

  Another brainwave—my power! Immediately, I ignited the connection and felt the animal’s emotions swath my brain: malice, hatred. This werewolf, whoever it was, meant me harm. No, I said with my mind. Stay where you are.

  I could feel a slight resistance, much as I had when I’d forced Lucas to let Derek go in California. But I swatted away the reluctance and forced in my will. Stay. Don’t attack.

  The werewolf lowered its head, submitting to me.

  I turned and ran. The fear and lack of eye contact splintered the connection, and it died within seconds. I broke through the tree line, ready to scream for Lucas when I realized it wasn’t following me. I stopped in the snowy lawn, shivering and staring into the rustling trees. No snarling, no paws breaking the snow.

  It had worked.

  I ran the rest of the way into the mansion and slammed the door shut behind me. What had that been about? It could have been a coincidental run in with a werewolf, sure. Or maybe a curious family member? A runt out hunting? Any of these options made sense, since I was at a house stocked with werewolves. But something about the way the heather-gray wolf had stared at me made me think it hadn’t b
een a coincidence. Its vibe, too, had been saturated with ill will toward me. Me, in particular. I had ticked off a lot of pack members during the whole Derek ordeal in December, but I didn’t think anyone actually wanted me dead. There had been a purpose in that meeting. I just didn’t know what it was—or who it was.

  But there was one person who might. I had to tell Lucas about this. I came away from the door and realized that he had left the living room. Yvette, too, had retired for the night. I frowned, thinking that it was pretty jerky of Lucas to just leave me on my own in the woods—especially in light of what had just happened.

  I assumed he had gone to his room so I went upstairs and found his door closed when I got there. I didn’t bother knocking and went in.

  Lucas stood leaning against the windowsill, his back to me. He glanced briefly at me from over his shoulder, and his furious vibe was so oppressive I felt like someone had stuffed a damp washcloth into my lungs. I couldn’t breathe.

  I forced myself to go to the window and stand across from him, folding my arms across my chest. I felt a palpable rift between us, and I hated it. I needed to seal it and make my way back into Lucas’s arms. But I didn’t know how. My mind was a blur with everything that had just happened. Derek’s bite, Yvette’s talk, the heather-gray wolf.

  We stood that way for a long while as I felt Lucas’s vibe begin to smooth like ripples fading in a pool of water.

  At last, he turned toward me and placed his fingers under my chin. He tilted my head to the side, sweeping my hair back behind my shoulders. His fingers slowly peeled back the bandage as he bent and touched his tongue to the wound on my throat.

  I jerked away, a little disgusted, but then I felt the skin around the cut tighten and pinch and I realized he’d closed the wound for me.

  Without saying a word, this was his apology. Silently, I wound my hand in his.

  “I didn’t know you could do that,” I said.

  “Only small things,” he said huskily. “I would have left it, but I didn’t want to see it on you anymore.”