Read Online Cravings by Laurell K. Hamilton, Eileen Wilks, REBECCA YORK, MaryJanice Davidson - Free Book Online Page B

still, trying to master my own pulse, my own heartbeat.
But even with my eyes closed, I could still smell Nathaniel's skin. Sweet and
warm and… close.
    I felt his breath on my face, before I opened my eyes.
    He had moved in so close that his face filled my vision. My voice came soft,
half-strangled with the needs I was fighting, "Nathaniel…"
    "Please," he whispered it as he leaned in, whispered it again as his mouth
hovered above mine, he sighed, "Please," against my lips. His breath felt hot
against my mouth, as if when we kissed it would burn.
    His lips this close to mine had done one thing. I wasn't thinking about
ripping his throat out anymore. I understood then we could feed on sex, or we
could feed on meat and blood. I knew that one hunger could be turned into
another, but until that moment, where I could almost taste his lips on mine, I
hadn't realized that there would come a point where
something
must be
fed. I did not feed Jean-Claude's blood lust, though there was a shadow of it in
me. I did not feed Richard's beast, with its hunger for meat, but that lived in
me, too. I held so many hungers in me, and fed none of them, except the ardeur.
That I could feed. That I did feed. But it was in that heartbeat, as Nathaniel
kissed me, that I understood why I hadn't been able to control the ardeur
better. All the hungers channeled into that one hunger. Jean-Claude's
fascination with the blood that ran just under the skin. Richard's desire for
fresh, bloody meat. I had pretended I didn't carry their hungers inside me, not
really. But I did. The ardeur had risen to give me a way to feed, a way that
didn't tear people's throats out, a way that didn't fill my mouth with fresh
blood.
    Nathaniel kissed me. He kissed me, and I let him, because if I drew back from
it, fought it; there were other ways to feed, other ways that would leave him
bleeding and dying on the floor. His lips were like heat against my skin, but
part of me wanted something hotter. Part of me knew that blood would be like a
scalding wave in my mouth.
    I had a sudden image so strong that it made me stumble back from him. Made me
push away from that warm, firm flesh.
    I felt my teeth sinking into flesh, through hair that was rough and choking
on my tongue. But I could feel the pulse underneath that skin, feel it like a
frantic thing, the pulse running from me, like the deer had run through the
forest. The deer was caught, but that sweet, beating thing lay just out of
reach. I bit harder, shearing through the skin with teeth that were made for
tearing. Blood gushed into my mouth, hot, scalding, because the deer's blood ran
hotter than mine. Their warmth helped lead me to them. Helped me hunt them. The
heat of their blood called me to them, made their scent run rich on every leaf
they passed, every blade of grass that brushed them, carried that warmth away,
betrayed them to me. My teeth closed around the throat, tore the front of it
free. Blood sprayed out, over me and the leaves, a sound like rain. I swallowed
the blood first, scalding from the chase, and then the meat that still held the
last flickering of pulse, a last beat of life. The meat moved in my mouth as it
went down, as if it were struggling, even now, to live.
    I came back to the kitchen, on my knees, screaming.
    Nathaniel reached out towards me, and I slapped at his hands, because I
didn't trust myself to touch him. I could still taste the meat, the blood, feel
it going down Richard's throat. It wasn't horror that made me slap at Nathaniel.
It was that I had liked it. Gloried in the feel of blood raining down on me. The
struggles of the animal had excited me, made the kill all the sweeter. Always
when I touched Richard, there had been hesitation, regret, revulsion about what
he was, but there had been no hesitation in that shared vision. He had been the
wolf, and he had brought the deer down, taken its life, and there had been no
regret. His