Girl, Forsaken Page 9

  “Yes,” he says with a smile. “Just that.”

  “Ha! You’re hilarious.”

  He slips his arm around my waist, and for a second, I want to lean into him, but I pull away.

  “None of that.”

  “Okay,” he says casually.

  “Really?” I arch an eyebrow.

  “What would you have me do?” he says with a sigh. “You’ve made your feelings clear.”

  Yeah, I have. I’m just surprised he’s giving in. I don’t want him to stop trying, but I’m not sure when I’ll be ready to move on, either. It’s not fair, and I’m sure my signals are confusing as hell, but I’m not sure I can trust my judgment when it comes to the effect Arsen has on me. “Take me to your sister. I don’t know my way around your lovely abode because last I was here, you kept me otherwise occupied.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Though the corridors of his compound are not as convoluted as I thought they were, I still can’t find my way down to the basement level where they keep those infected with the virus locked in. He nods to the guards standing on either side of the bank-vault-style door, and they twist the dial, opening the door. We walk inside and come face to face with Claudette, Arsen’s ex-consort and current leader of the Hate Sasha Fan Club. Her eyes narrow when she sees me, but she ignores me, focusing on Arsen instead.

  “What is she doing here?”

  “Sasha needs to see Annabelle.”

  With a curl of her lip, she steps to the side, and I see the unfortunate woman in her bed. Her wrists and ankles are tied to the metal legs of the hospital bed, anchored into the floor. Poor Annabelle.

  “Is that necessary?” I ask.

  “It is the best we can do until we have a cure.” I get it. They don’t want anyone getting out and making sick vampires from the get-go. But it seems so inhumane.

  I step closer to the ragged-looking woman and she tilts her head, hissing at me like an angry snake. She lunges, reaching for me, and Arsen moves forward, stroking her hair to calm her.

  “Sssh, Annabelle,” he says soothingly. “It’s only Sasha. She’s going to help you. Be good now while she takes the samples, sweetheart.”

  “Hold her arm, or I’ll end up hurting her.”

  Grimly, Arsen does as instructed while Annabelle thrashes. The needle almost breaks when she successfully frees herself from Arsen’s grasp, and I have to pull away. Between Arsen and Claudette, they hold her arm steady, and I get one good draw as she wails a piercing shriek. When I withdraw the needle, they let go and Annabelle quivers on the bed.

  Arsen gives me a pleading glance.

  “Will you let her feed from you? It might help her if only for a little while.”

  “Arsen, it won’t help. She’s been like this for what, three months? I’m pretty sure Niko got my blood within twenty-four hours of turning feral. That seems to be the critical point. Besides, he basically drained me—and I can’t afford to die . . . again.” I shove my hair back from my face, “If and when I find a cure, that’s when it might help.”

  “But you’ll bring it here, right? For her?” The anguish in his voice cuts me to ribbons, but unlike Jackson, he knows it. How dare he play on my emotions after what he did? I make a small noise of both aggravation and indecision.

  “Please,” he says, and I cave, unable to watch him suffer this way.

  “Do not grovel to her, Arsen. She is beneath you.” Claudette sneers, but we both ignore her, caught up in each other.

  “Yes, I’ll bring it here. You have my word that I won’t abandon Annabelle.” Or the rest of the Draugur, but I leave that part unspoken. I’m not sure I wouldn’t let Claudette sweat a little if she was infected. Rude cow.

  “You’ve given me no choice,” Claudette howls. “I tried to play nice, but that doesn’t work with you.”

  Arsen and I focus our attention to her, the confusion on my face probably matching his.

  “What are you rambling on about now, Claudette?”

  She pulls a phone from her pocket, brandishing it like a battle axe.

  I have to hold back my laughter, “Sorry hon, but that is not how you use that thing. What are you gonna do? Text me to death?”

  She spins it in her hands and I get a closer look. That phone is my phone. My old one. The little bitch stole it! I lunge at her but she dances away.

  “You can’t trust her, Arsen. She’s working with a vampire hunter to destroy us. See, his number is on this phone.”

  I force myself to laugh, even as my stomach drops to my feet. “A what now? Did she say vampire hunter?” I look at Arsen, “Is that really a thing? Or is she just fucking with me?”

  Arsen knows all about my relationship with Jackson, but he doesn’t know that I already know Jackson is a vampire hunter. For the time being, I plan to keep it that way. I eye Claudette, wondering what advantage she thinks this idiotic declaration will give her at the same time I hope Arsen isn’t currently picking up on my thoughts. I know he can switch it off and on, and I’m praying he’s too focused on Claudette’s drama to scan my mind.

  “Don’t play dumb. Your best friend is one of the deadliest vampire hunters we’ve ever seen.”

  “Give me the phone, Claudette,” says Arsen, grimly. At the same time I pretend to gasp in shock, praying it’s convincing.

  “Jackson Tate!” she screams. “She’s working with Jackson Tate.”

  “What is she talking about, Arsen?” I add a tremble to my voice, but I think it came out sounding like I’m choking on water instead.

  Arsen shakes his head. “Do you really think, Claudette, that I didn’t know about Sasha’s association with Mr. Tate? They’ve known each other for many years, since high school when his family moved here. You know better. I’ve been watching the Tate family all this time. Now, give me the phone.”

  Arsen has watched Jackson and his family for years? And he knew about me before we ever met? The world tilts and readjusts with sickening vertigo as I imagine Arsen spying on Jackson and me walking home from school.

  “What the hell is going on, Arsen? You’ve been watching Jackson? I know him. There’s no way he’s a vampire hunter. Or that he even knows what a vampire is.”

  Arsen gives me an odd look before turning to address Claudette, holding out his hand for the phone she’s got clutched in her hand. “Give it to me, Claudette.”

  Her face morphs into pure rage and hatred as she drops it into his waiting palm. He hands it over to me, his fingers brushing mine and doesn’t even look at Claudette when he issues his next order.

  “Go.”

  “But—”

  “Go!” he snarls. “Before I do something you’ll regret.”

  Claudette huffs and slams the door as she leaves.

  “I hope,” he says, “this doesn’t stop you from helping my sister.”

  I stand and bow my head to avoid the pleading in his eyes.

  “No,” I say softly. “A deal is a deal.” I trip over the leg of the bed and Arsen steadies me with a hand on my arm. I’m finding this cure for one reason and when Arsen’s eyes meet mine, he knows it, too.

  “Sasha . . .” Arsen pulls me into his body, my soft curves molding to his harder edges.

  I sigh and let him lead me out of Annabelle’s room.

  We stand, only breaths apart in the hall. This connection is so odd, so different from how I thought things would play out with whoever I fell in love with. “Happily ever after” means a man gets down on one knee and proclaims his undying love with a ring in blue velvet box. It’s a white dress and a wedding cake shared before family and friends. It is not a creature of the night that prefers O-negative to B-positive.

  “You think I’m a monster,” he says huskily.

  Oh hell. He heard my thoughts.

  “Yes, Sasha. I hear it all. We’ve shared blood, a union more intimate than words said in a church. I may not be your maker, but we are and always will be intimately tied. I can’t give you pretty white dresses or wedding cake, but I
can give you my undying devotion. I can protect you and provide for you and ensure your well-being over my own, but I will never be a white-picket-fence type of man.”

  “I know that.” As if on cue, the thirst for blood hits me. I eye the vein in his neck before looking away, ashamed of my need. Of my desire for his blood to sate my hunger.

  He catches me licking my lips and without a word, holds his wrist up, and my fangs descend. I strike without mercy, but he doesn’t flinch. His masculine strength flows into me and enlivens my body. I drink, sucking in his essence and it is better than any wine I have ever had. The coppery taste tingles on my tongue and I can’t get enough. I’m lost as I feed, the ebb and flow of his blood into my body hypnotizing me. He groans, the sound deep and rumbly.

  “Woman,” he breathes. His husky voice rakes every one of my nerves and I suck harder, deeper until he pushes me back.

  “No more.”

  I stumble back as if the loss of his touch and his blood is a physical blow. It feels that way. I wipe at my mouth, removing the excess blood from my lips. “What?”

  He grabs my hand and pulls me along. “Not here,” he says. His voice is liquid caramel and honey rolled into one, and I will do anything to follow that voice. I stumble after him down the hall, blood drunk and needy. He pushes open another door, one I hadn’t noticed before.

  “Here,” he says.

  A four-poster bed with heavy maroon velvet canopy sits in the center against a stone wall. On the right is a fireplace, which burns more for ambience than necessity since vampires don’t really get hot or cold.

  “Now,” Arsen says roughly. His jaw is tight, and his fly tents, and I know from direct experience how hard his cock is. A tremor runs through his body as I trace my hands up his arms.

  “Where?”

  “Bed,” he says roughly.

  I saunter to the bed, amped up by his blood and his desire for me, electric heat rushing to the flesh between my legs. I cast him a teasing glance over my shoulder. He studies my every move, like the predator he is, waiting for the perfect moment to catch and devour his prey.

  Our bond elevates our ravenous needs in a continuous feedback loop. Both of us primed and ready, waiting to see who makes the first move. This has got to be the best part of being a vampire. Every feeling, every sensation is as raw as the first time you ever experienced it. His lust reaches out and rolls over me, and I groan as I caress the silken bedspread. Holy hell. Could I want him any more than I do now?

  “Bend over the mattress,” he commands, and I do it because I want him like this. Rough and unrefined. His fingers dig into the flesh of my ass, before he gives it a little slap. I moan at the contact.

  “Arsen.” His name is a breathy prayer on my lips, and he reaches around to my front, popping the button on my jeans before yanking them down with my black lace panties to my ankles. I try to kick my feet free, but he steps on the fabric in the space between my spread legs.

  “No, keep them there.” He drags a thick finger over my damp pussy and groans. “You are so wet for me, you glisten, baby.”

  I want to say, “What are you waiting for then?” but his lust for me thrums through our bond and all I can do is cry out in pleasure.

  “Put your hands over your head,” he orders and I comply, gripping the coverlet in my fists. The sound of his zipper rips through the room, and without preamble, the head of his cock rubs at my entrance. I buck, strangled by waiting, by longing, and he swats my ass with his hand again, before soothing it with a caress of his palm.

  “You’ll wait until I give this to you.”

  “Yes,” I breathe out. All pretense of Arsen’s niceness is gone. It was just a facade anyway, the front he presents to the vampires under his rule. This is him, the real man, demanding control and getting it, because that’s his prerogative.

  “Good girl.” He sinks inside of me with one swift move, and I’m helpless to do anything other than let the waves of pleasure wash over me.

  Within minutes, I’m on the edge of climax. He’s right there, too, I know it, and he loves prolonging my pleasure for as long as he can. But he can’t stop his movements completely.

  “Fuck. Arsen . . .”

  “I know, baby. I’m right there with you.”

  He rides me hard, each thrust pushing me farther into the mattress, muffling my cries of ecstasy. The world spins and then bursts into flames. I scream his name and he calls mine, and we are joined, soul to soul, in one all too brief moment that seems to go on forever.

  Chapter 12

  In Arsen’s underground fortress, time has no meaning. When we untangle and I look at my phone, I find out the day has slipped into a new one, and it’s time I get on with my life. Arsen eyes me warily.

  “I have to go and get back to the lab.”

  He nods. There can be no words between us now that will have any meaning. Our souls joined for that space and anything we say will be trivial in comparison to that. We understand each other in a molecular way. For someone like Arsen, who thought himself intractably alone, the experience leaves him without foundations.

  The same for me.

  But aside from being in the same place, with Nikolai as my maker and claiming me, this virus, and the plain obvious fact that someone wants all vampires swept from the face of the Earth, the only thing standing between the end of vampire kind is me. It is more than humbling; it is soul bending.

  There is so much room for failure and so little space for success.

  I do not want to leave. Here with Arsen I can shut out the world.

  My phone beeps, and a text pops up from Jackson asking if I want to get together for practice today. I don’t know what this means because I thought I made myself clear yesterday.

  “Jackson?” Arsen peeks over my shoulder.

  I shrug, not knowing what to say. I love Jackson as a friend, a brother even, but in my current circumstances that’s a deadly relationship to have.

  “If you spend too much time with Jackson, no one in either clan will trust you, Sasha.”

  Maybe he didn’t get the memo when we joined that I all but torpedoed my friendship with Jackson.

  “I don’t plan on it.”

  But another emotion rolls off Arsen, and it is not pleasant. In fact, it makes my skin itch.

  Jealousy.

  “Stay. Spend more time with me. Let me show you what I feel is real.”

  His resentment and anger toward Jackson sweep over me like a tidal wave. I fight it, like a swimmer in a riptide, but I’m not getting any closer to shore. Damn it. Doesn’t Arsen know that I’ll always want him? It hurts, like a hari-kari knife jammed into the gut that he doesn’t trust me.

  It’s too much and the only way I know to deal with it is to leave. To give us both some time to process. Right now, I feel like I’m strapped to the front of a high-speed train, and I’m about to go off the rails.

  “I don’t have time for this, Arsen. I’m late.”

  “For Jackson?”

  His words ooze bitterness and it batters my flayed psyche. I scuttle off the bed and fling on my clothes. If I answer, my words will only cut, and I don’t want to do that.

  My anger flares and bursts like a Fourth of July firework. “What? Do you think you’re the only man I spend time with? I’m allowed to have male friends.”

  Arsen regards me with arctic coolness, his outward control absolute.

  “No, I don’t. I just like to make sure the people I care about are safe.”

  Despite his honey-coated words, Arsen’s anger shimmers just beneath the surface. It twists my gut like a wild snake slithering away from a handler, and I have to put distance between me and him.

  “Jackson is ensuring I’ll always be safe.”

  Arsen’s lips upturn in an unkind grimace.

  “There’s a lot he doesn’t know and what he doesn’t know, he can’t teach. You need to learn these things. Let me train you.”

  There it is again. The smug insistence that only he knows
what is good for me. He’s trying to mask his jealously with his offer, but he’s doing a bad job of it.

  “Damn it, you can’t force yourself into my life, Arsen. I can’t just forget what you did.”

  “You did last night.” He stands and slips on his clothes with his back to me. I hate myself for wanting one more glimpse of that perfect body, for the flare of desire that runs through me as I stare at his ass.

  I want him to turn around so I can beat my fists against his chest, and at the same time I want to get lost in his embrace. How can I make him understand that this—us—is fucked up in too many ways. I want him but I shouldn’t want him, and the shit will eventually hit the fan because of it. We have yet to discuss it. The words he spoke, the goals he had, the lies he fed me.

  “I will always remember what you did.”

  There. I said it. He has to know that I can’t drop this so easily. One bad act separates us and will always be the line in the sand that keeps us from being totally together. From letting me enjoy our time together longer than a few stolen moments.

  And he knows it. Arsen spins around and jams his hands in his pockets, looking like the model schoolboy caught kissing one of the girls at recess. It is adorable and frightening. Usually any kind or gentle action of Arsen’s is a pretense to mask the deadly hunter within, so my suspicions rise.

  “Okay, then just let me take you to your practice,” he adds. “Please.”

  I rock back on my heels in surprise at the word “please” because Arsen doesn’t ask, he takes. My gaze sweeps past the cut angles of his jaw up to his eyes, assessing his sincerity, and just for a second, I catch a glimmer of longing. For what? Someone with who he can share this eternal life with? A person to trust? I almost laugh because when you live with a pack of hyenas, you do not count on communal goodwill for your survival. You become what Arsen is—an apex predator—and you exist by sheer force of will.

  And he wants it all with me.

  I can’t resist spending more time with him, and I nod like an idiot.

  “Okay,” I affirm, and he smiles wider. “You can drive me. But I’m not meeting up with Jackson. I’m heading back to my lab at Niko’s.” God help me, but just like that another brick from the wall defending my heart from him crumbles.