Read Online Cravings by Laurell K. Hamilton, Eileen Wilks, REBECCA YORK, MaryJanice Davidson - Free Book Online Page A
Tags: Fiction, General, Horror, Fantasy Fiction; American, Vampires, Occult & Supernatural, Horror Tales; American, Anthologies, Werewolves, Anthologies (Multiple Authors)
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to hold onto.
I unleashed my anger like you'd unleash a rabid dog. It roared through me,
and I remembered a time when my rage had been the only warmth I allowed in my
life. When my anger had been my solace and my shield. "Get out, Damian, just go
to bed."
"Don't do this, Anita, please." He held his hand out to me, would have
touched me, but I moved back, just out of reach.
"Go, now."
And with that he couldn't help himself. I'd given him a direct order. He had
to obey.
He walked out, tears glittering in his green eyes. He passed Nathaniel in the
doorway.
I hadn't let myself get this angry in so long. It had felt good for a few
moments, but I was already beginning to regret how I'd treated Damian. He hadn't
asked to be my servant. The fact that I'd done it accidentally didn't make it
any more right. He was an adult person, and I'd just ordered him to bed like he
was a naughty child. He deserved better than that. Anyone did.
The anger pulled back, and even my skin felt cooler. The term hot with anger
was very real. I was ashamed of what I'd just done. I understood why, in part. I
so did not need another man tied to me by metaphysics that demanded a piece of
my bed, or at least my body. I didn't need that. I especially didn't need a man
who might not even be capable of feeding the ardeur. Because even in the middle
of the worst of the ardeur, Damian's touch could cool that fire. With him
holding my hand, the ardeur could not rise, or at least it could be put away for
hours. So why didn't I paste Damian to my body? Because of how much more he
wanted from me than I was comfortable with giving. I could not use him to help
me fight the ardeur if I wasn't willing to give in to that skin hunger we both
felt for each other.
Nathaniel padded into the room, wearing nothing but a pair of silky jogging
shorts. He'd taken his braid out, so that his thick hair spilled around him like
some kind of cape. "Are you alright?"
I started to say, I owe Damian an apology, but I didn't say it, because in
that one breath, the ardeur rose. No, not rose, engulfed, drowned, suffocated. I
suddenly couldn't breathe past the pulse in my throat. My skin felt thick and
heavy with it. I don't know what showed in my eyes, but whatever it was, it
stopped Nathaniel where he stood, froze him like a rabbit in the grass that
knows the fox is near.
The ardeur spilled outward, like invisible water, hot, wet, and suffocating.
I knew when the power hit Nathaniel, because he shivered. Goose bumps broke on
his body, as his very skin reacted to the power.
I'd shoved the ardeur down once tonight, and that had a price. I'd refused
the touch of my servant, and that had a price. I'd embraced my anger, and let it
spill out onto someone I cared about. That had a price, too. I didn't want
Nathaniel to be the one who paid that price.
I didn't remember crossing the room, but I must have, because I was standing
in front of him. His eyes were wide, so wide, his lips half-parted. I was close
enough to see the pulse in his throat beating against the skin of his neck like
a trapped thing. I leaned in towards him, leaned just my face until I could
smell the warm vanilla scent of his neck. Close enough to taste his pulse on my
tongue like candy. And I knew this candy would be red and soft and hot. I had to
close my eyes so that I didn't lean my mouth down to that point, didn't lick
over his skin, didn't bite down and free that quivering piece of him. I had to
close my eyes so I wouldn't keep staring at that pulsing, jumping… My own pulse
was too fast, as if I would choke on it. I'd thought that feeding the ardeur on
Nathaniel was the worst I could do, but the thoughts in my head weren't about
sex. They were about food. Thanks to my ties with Jean-Claude and Richard, my
werewolf ex-fiancé and the other third of our triumvirate, I had darker things
inside me than the ardeur. Dangerous things. Deadly things.
I stayed perfectly
I unleashed my anger like you'd unleash a rabid dog. It roared through me,
and I remembered a time when my rage had been the only warmth I allowed in my
life. When my anger had been my solace and my shield. "Get out, Damian, just go
to bed."
"Don't do this, Anita, please." He held his hand out to me, would have
touched me, but I moved back, just out of reach.
"Go, now."
And with that he couldn't help himself. I'd given him a direct order. He had
to obey.
He walked out, tears glittering in his green eyes. He passed Nathaniel in the
doorway.
I hadn't let myself get this angry in so long. It had felt good for a few
moments, but I was already beginning to regret how I'd treated Damian. He hadn't
asked to be my servant. The fact that I'd done it accidentally didn't make it
any more right. He was an adult person, and I'd just ordered him to bed like he
was a naughty child. He deserved better than that. Anyone did.
The anger pulled back, and even my skin felt cooler. The term hot with anger
was very real. I was ashamed of what I'd just done. I understood why, in part. I
so did not need another man tied to me by metaphysics that demanded a piece of
my bed, or at least my body. I didn't need that. I especially didn't need a man
who might not even be capable of feeding the ardeur. Because even in the middle
of the worst of the ardeur, Damian's touch could cool that fire. With him
holding my hand, the ardeur could not rise, or at least it could be put away for
hours. So why didn't I paste Damian to my body? Because of how much more he
wanted from me than I was comfortable with giving. I could not use him to help
me fight the ardeur if I wasn't willing to give in to that skin hunger we both
felt for each other.
Nathaniel padded into the room, wearing nothing but a pair of silky jogging
shorts. He'd taken his braid out, so that his thick hair spilled around him like
some kind of cape. "Are you alright?"
I started to say, I owe Damian an apology, but I didn't say it, because in
that one breath, the ardeur rose. No, not rose, engulfed, drowned, suffocated. I
suddenly couldn't breathe past the pulse in my throat. My skin felt thick and
heavy with it. I don't know what showed in my eyes, but whatever it was, it
stopped Nathaniel where he stood, froze him like a rabbit in the grass that
knows the fox is near.
The ardeur spilled outward, like invisible water, hot, wet, and suffocating.
I knew when the power hit Nathaniel, because he shivered. Goose bumps broke on
his body, as his very skin reacted to the power.
I'd shoved the ardeur down once tonight, and that had a price. I'd refused
the touch of my servant, and that had a price. I'd embraced my anger, and let it
spill out onto someone I cared about. That had a price, too. I didn't want
Nathaniel to be the one who paid that price.
I didn't remember crossing the room, but I must have, because I was standing
in front of him. His eyes were wide, so wide, his lips half-parted. I was close
enough to see the pulse in his throat beating against the skin of his neck like
a trapped thing. I leaned in towards him, leaned just my face until I could
smell the warm vanilla scent of his neck. Close enough to taste his pulse on my
tongue like candy. And I knew this candy would be red and soft and hot. I had to
close my eyes so that I didn't lean my mouth down to that point, didn't lick
over his skin, didn't bite down and free that quivering piece of him. I had to
close my eyes so I wouldn't keep staring at that pulsing, jumping… My own pulse
was too fast, as if I would choke on it. I'd thought that feeding the ardeur on
Nathaniel was the worst I could do, but the thoughts in my head weren't about
sex. They were about food. Thanks to my ties with Jean-Claude and Richard, my
werewolf ex-fiancé and the other third of our triumvirate, I had darker things
inside me than the ardeur. Dangerous things. Deadly things.
I stayed perfectly
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