Vampire's Hunger (12 page)

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Oh, it was that good, huh?” Natalie gave a soft snort of laughter.

“Shut up, Nat.” Kimber rolled to her side, putting her back to her friend. In spite of her whirling thoughts, the events of the day caught up with her, and she sank into sleep.

*  *  *

An hour after Kimber left him, Duncan surged out of bed with a muttered curse. He grabbed a pair of Aodhán’s sweats and yanked them on. Damn it, he should have paid attention to his gut. Kimber hadn’t been ready to make love with him. She had a thing about being bitten, and he was a vampire. One who most certainly bit. Instead of focusing on his cock he should’ve been paying attention to what had happened to Bishop and how she was dealing with it.

He opened the bedroom door and stalked down the hallway to the living room. Throwing himself into the recliner, he tapped his fingers on the padded arm. Could he have made a bigger mess of things? Probably not.

Instead of making love to her, he should have made her talk about what she was feeling. But he’d led with his cock and allowed her to hide behind sex.

He scrubbed a hand over his face. Fuck. Shit. Damn it to hell.

Sitting around with only his maudlin thoughts for company wasn’t something he particularly wanted to do. He realized the men that Bishop shared an apartment with, his former colleagues, had no idea the man was dead. The least he could do was inform them.

He headed down to Bishop’s apartment and knocked on the door. Telling the two men of Bishop’s death took only a few seconds, even with Duncan expressing his sympathies, something neither human seemed to want to hear. All too soon Duncan was back at Kimber’s, sitting on the plump armchair, staring out at nothing in the darkened room. His glance caught the women’s shoes, lying in front of the sofa where they’d kicked them off earlier. With a soundless sigh he stood and went over to pick them up. He lined them up against the wall by the door, where he’d already stashed his boots.

A low whimper sounded from the women’s bedroom. He went still, listening. Another moan, and he jumped to his feet. He was inside the room in two seconds, just in time to clap his hand over Kimber’s mouth as she surged up in bed with a scream. She struggled against him, tears wetting his fingers.

“Kimber, wake up.” He gave her a shake. “You’re dreaming. Wake up.”

She gasped beneath his hand, her eyes flying open. He knew in the darkened room she couldn’t see him, but he could see her just fine. Her hands grasped his shoulders and awareness flooded her eyes. He took his hand from her mouth.

“Duncan.”

“I’m right here, sweetheart. You were dreaming.”

She turned her face into his chest, her arms creeping around his back. “Something dark, shadowy reached for me and I couldn’t get away. It was almost like I
wanted
it to have me. Bishop was there, too, but he was a zombie.” She stifled a sob against him.

His chest hollowed. He might be able to protect her against zombies and his fellow vampires, but how could he protect her against her own mind? Feeling helpless, he put one hand to the back of her head and held her. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

They were silent for a few moments. Duncan glanced over at the other bed and saw Natalie was sitting up, looking their way. Knowing she had counted Bishop as a friend, too, he murmured, “Nat, come on over here.”

She scurried over to sit beside Kimber, and Duncan slid an arm around Natalie’s shoulders. The three of them sat there, holding each other, while Duncan let the women grieve.

Finally Kimber sniffed and pulled back. “I would have done the same thing,” she whispered.

He frowned. “What?”

“If someone I knew had been trying to save Carson at the risk of their own life, I would have done what you did.” She wiped her cheeks. “I don’t blame you.”

“But you did. Then, when it was happening, you did blame me.”

“Yes.” She touched his cheek, the one she’d slapped. “I’m sorry for hitting you.”

He smiled and pressed a kiss into her palm. “You already apologized for it.”

“Yeah, well, I’m still sorry, I guess.” She scooted back from him and he let his arms fall to his sides.

“You all right now?” he asked, hoping she’d ask him to stay, knowing she wouldn’t. He knew she didn’t trust him, his vampire side. He wasn’t sure what he could say or do beyond what he already had to make her see she had nothing to fear from him.

“Yes.”

He rose from the bed and made his way to the door, stopping when she called his name. In spite of the caution he felt, knowing he shouldn’t hope, he turned back toward her.

“Thank you,” she whispered. And that was all.

“You can always count on me, Kimber.” He turned back to see her and Natalie sitting together still, their heads leaning against each other. “Always.” He left them then, pulling the door behind him, and went back to the living room.

Was this the way it would be for them? Her turning to him only when she couldn’t cope with her emotions? Him comforting her, protecting her then ending up alone?

Chapter Seven

S
unday passed quietly, with Kimber doing her best to ignore Duncan. For reasons of his own, he let her. Every once in a while she caught his gaze on her and looked at him before he could glance away. Each time she could have sworn she saw such uncertainty in his eyes that she told herself she was imagining things. Duncan was one of the most assured beings on the planet. There was no way his confidence was shaken by lil’ ol’ her.

Natalie looked like a spectator at a ping-pong match, watching them both closely, her gaze going from one to the other. At one point she muttered something about a train wreck, but when Kimber pressed her about it, she just shook her head and went to the kitchen for a glass of water.

Kimber rose on Monday morning after a restless night. Thankfully she hadn’t had any more nightmares, but sleep had been elusive just the same. She pulled on a bra and underwear, a clean pair of navy blue sweats and matching zip-up fleece jacket, then sat on the bed to yank on thick socks. So she wouldn’t wake Natalie, she closed the bedroom door quietly behind her. As she padded toward the kitchen, she heard the low tones of men’s voices. Duncan and Aodhán sat in the living room, a couple of candles burning on the coffee table. When they saw her they stopped talking.

Duncan got to his feet. “Good morning, Kimber.” His raspy voice held the memories of their intimacies the night before last.

She fought back a blush. “Good morning.” She cleared her throat and looked at Aodhán. “I’m glad you’re back. When did you get in?”

“About an hour ago.”

Duncan said, “By the way, I told Bishop’s roommates what happened.” He paused. “Can I talk to you for a moment?”

She lifted her chin. “There’s nothing really for us to talk about. I meant what I said.” On some level she realized she wasn’t being fair to him, but she couldn’t help what she was feeling. A vampire was a vampire was a vampire. Every time she let him bite her she handed him the chance to end her life.

The corners of his mouth dipped into a frown. “I think I’ll get some sleep then,” was all he said. His somber gaze caught hers, the hint of sadness tugging at her emotions. He hesitated beside her as if he were going to say more, but then his mouth tightened and he went on to Aodhán’s room.

Kimber waited until she heard the door close. “What were you two talking about?”

“He told me what happened.”

She stiffened. Duncan didn’t seem the type to kiss and tell. Before she could respond, Aodhán went on. “I’m sorry about Bishop.” The fey warrior walked up to her and drew her into his arms. His big hands stroked up and down her back.

She leaned into him, thankful for his comfort, wishing he was Duncan. She went rigid at the thought and pushed away from him. She couldn’t go there. Not ever again. Duncan was a vampire, a hunter. She was prey. All it would take for him to kill her would be one moment’s slip of his control. A few seconds of him succumbing to the blood lust that was never far below the surface.

She didn’t want to die at the hands of a zombie, and she sure as hell didn’t want to die at the fangs of a vampire, either. And, if she were honest with herself, she didn’t want Duncan to face an eternity of guilt for killing her. She knew he would. If she believed anything about him, she believed he didn’t want to hurt her.

“I’m sorry, Kimber. I know Bishop was a friend,” Aodhán murmured.

She clenched her jaws against a fresh onslaught of emotions. “I’m all right,” she muttered and went into the kitchen. She turned on the faucet and filled a pan, then set it on the camp stove to heat. “Do you want some tea?”

“No coffee?”

She shook her head. “We drank the last of it a couple of days ago. The day we went to Maddalene’s.” God, that had only been on Saturday. It seemed like much more time had lapsed. She rolled her shoulders. She felt old.

“I’ll take a cup of tea.” Aodhán’s voice was low. He was still in the living room.

Kimber gave a nod. Within minutes she had two cups of steaming water, each with a tea bag steeping. She handed one cup to Aodhán and sat on the sofa, curling her legs beneath her. “I think this is probably the last use we’ll get out of these.”

“The tea bags?”

“Yep.” She tugged on the string of the tea bag and dunked it in and out of the water. “I think we’ve already used them three times. Maybe four. I think you and I are just going to drink hot water, really.”

“That’s all right.” He shifted in the arm chair and crossed one leg over the other, resting his ankle on his knee.

“So, how’re your people doing? Still zombie free?” She couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her voice. The fey were under no obligation to help humans, but the fact that they’d made no overtures at all still rankled. At the very least they could have sent more warriors like Aodhán to kill off the zombies so that the survivors wouldn’t have such a hell of a life.

“Kimber…” He set his cup down on the side table. “You know how my people feel about humans.”

She pressed her lips together. “Yeah, like we’re just one step above pond scum. I know.”

He shook his head. “It’s not that bad.”

“Isn’t it?” She looked at Aodhán. “They’ve left us out here to die, Aodhán. I think they’d like to see humans die off.”

He heaved a sigh. “They wouldn’t. But they would like to see humans stop messing with magic they don’t understand and can’t control.”

She felt faint. There it was. In spite of everything he’d ever said to her, he
did
blame her for the Outbreak. “So you
do
think it’s my fault. If I hadn’t lost control, then none of this would have happened.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,
mo chara.
” He dropped his foot to the floor and leaned forward, clasping his hands between his knees. “Whatever happened that night, however things got out of control, it wasn’t your fault.”

She stared down into her cup. The faint light from the candles glittered weakly on the steaming liquid. Her thoughts drifted from the overall zombie problem to one specific person. Bishop. She’d been so close to drawing out the Unseen from him, from turning the tide on his turning. It wouldn’t have mattered much in the overall scheme of things, but for her, personally, it would have been a huge victory.

What if… She lightly chewed on the inside of her cheek while she thought. What if she could draw out the Unseen from an actual zombie? If she could do it, then she could find a way to do it on a larger scale. She had to try.

Kimber surged to her feet and set her mug on the coffee table. “I need a zombie, and you’re going to help me get one.”

Aodhán’s brows drew low over his eyes. “You what? And no, I’m not.”

“I need a zombie,” she repeated, her voice hard. “And yes, you are.”

“Give me one good reason why I should.” He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his wide chest. Stubborn son of a bitch.

“Because your people have left us out here with our asses flapping in the wind.” She ignored his scowl. Okay, maybe the first reason was a stretch. Aodhán’s people may not be helping, but he was. She plunged ahead. “Because I need to fix this. Because of everyone I know, you’re one of the only ones that can.” She wasn’t going to say that Duncan was the only other one she knew who could catch a zombie.

His shoulders moved with his heavy sigh. “The Outbreak wasn’t your fault. You don’t have to fix it.”

“Even if it wasn’t my fault,” she said, and she was nowhere near ready to accept that it wasn’t, “I’d still have to try. I’m a necromancer, Aodhán. If I have the ability to reanimate life using the Unseen, I should be able to force the Unseen back into itself to un-animate life, right?”

His lips twisted. “I don’t think that’s a word.”

She grunted. “What’re you? The grammar king? You know what I mean. If I could force the Unseen back into itself and prevent it from reanimating the dead.”

“Fine. Explain it to me.”

“I just did.” She paced in front of the sofa. “I was close with Bishop. Really close. If I—”