Page 135 of White Raven
He was filthy, covered in sweat…piss. There was dried blood on his knuckles, and pieces of his mangled fingernails hung from his fingertips. Scratches on his forehead were only semi-healed. He was weak. The closest she’d ever seen him to death. But—his chest moved. Achingly slow, and heartbreakingly evident. This was the cruelest form of pure torture she’d ever witnessed. Sarah felt the sting of hot tears roll down her face, and she sniffled as she climbed into the coffin, stepping between his legs and kneeling down to take him beneath his arms and raise him to sit.
“Oh, mate…” Tony whispered, shaking his head. “How the hell could someone do this?”
It didn’t matter now. All that mattered was that he was alive. Barely…but alive. Sarah rested his back against the inner wall of the grave and took his face in her hands. His damp hair fell over his brow, and she brushed it back, breathing wildly.
“Athan…baby, open your eyes. Wake up. I’m here,wake up!”
Nothing.
Athan wake up!
Tears continued to stream down her cheeks, and his mouth slowly dropped open, revealing the tips of his fangs.
Blood…he needs blood.
Sarah bit into the tattoo…the one they shared. The one that would always remind her who they were to each other, andhow they came together. Blood gathered at her wrist, and she waved it beneath his nose. His breathing picked up slightly, and his eyelids fluttered.
“His mouth,” Tony urged. “Drip it into his mouth!”
One drop.
Two.
A few more…
Bloody cunt.
Every step away from that dungeon of a hallway felt like running from a rabid hound. Like the ghost of her haunted his very heels, even though this club was filled to capacity with sweating bodies, and liquor…blood. His throat was on fire, and his veins thrummed with their need to be indulged. He’d fight it off for as long as he could. He had a good one in mind from his file. A child rapist waiting for a death that was anything but deserving of a piece of shit that low. Whiskey. Whiskey should hold him long enough to make it to the prison.
The smell of fresh blood from the curtained booths hidden along the wall made him want to choke. The monster never cared to wait for the opportune moment for its tax. Tony met him at the bar and thank God for his quick response. He must have seen it in his eyes, though he’d never call him out on it. He never gave Tony Lloyd enough credit for the man he was. Whispers started to rage in the darkest depths of his foggy mind, and an unrelenting tug urged him to turn around—
Christ…
It was as if his eyes knew exactly where to find her. Had he not been fighting off the betrayal of his poise, he might not have noticed the shortness of his breath as soon as he’d laid eyeson her. If his heart had still been beating, it would be breaking its way through his chest cavity. The demon inside of him screamed for her—that human thing that seemed to call to him from the busy dance floor. She had spotted him too. Like the stars had aligned in just the right way for him to steal a piece of her soul to save for later…a soul he’d never get to know, even if some part of him felt as if it were dying to.
Athan threw back the whiskey, after he lit his cigarette, and although his entire being was begging him to turn around and go back for her…he rushed out without looking back. His bike was parked a short ways away, but a thrashing storm had blanketed Boston in sheets of rain, and rolling thunder. Perfect. Maybe it would stifle the smoldering of his body…of this hunger. It wouldn’t be a very long ride to the prison.
Go back…stay. Stay close to her.
He knew he shouldn’t. His mind was made up. He swung a leg over the seat and prepared to crank the bike—but the whispers became loud enough to make his head pound.
Wait for her…they seemed to say.
His control was slipping. No matter what decision he’d landed on, the monster had made his too. He felt himself beginning to disappear, and the beast taking center stage.
No! Not her!
There was no stopping it. His body was his prison, and his hunger the warden. Rain blew in from every direction, and he lost all sense of time as he screamed on the inside, hiding in the shadows as that perfect creature walked blindly into the night. She didn’t know just how lost she really was, and he was helpless to stop it. He crept closer, and he powered every bit of fight he had left into himself, causing his body to react. His arm hit a nearby dumpster, and the beast reeled him in, shoving him back as she startled and turned around.
“Oh, hell no…nope.” Her voice was a smooth rasp of addiction. Of fucking heroine. The monster sang for it, lunging forward just as she turned away. Athan wailed on the inside, flinching at the sound of his own fangs puncturing her soft, warm skin, and he nearly thought he’d die at the taste of her blood. The beast was tamed. Sated. Nestling happily back into its cage as he tore his mouth from her neck at the same moment she whispered…
“No…”
His eyes gaped open, and red clouded his vision—not darkness. He could have sworn he heard her. Her and…someone else…calling to him. Could have sworn he could still taste her blood on his tongue, satisfying the deepest parts of his cursed soul. He had to be delusional. This wasn’t real. He felt his arms move. Felt the slight warmth of skin in his palms, and he drank…swallowed. Savored.
“Athan…”
That voice. He’d longed for it. Thought he’d never hear it again. Never see her face. His back bowed, and his veins hummed. The roaring in his ears raged in time with familiar whispers he hadn’t heard for a while. He heard her moan softly, and it set him on fire. He lost all control of his body, raising onto his knees, and reaching around her. His bloodlust overcame everything.
