It was a hunger, all right, but not that of my beast's. That animal hunger was at least something I could understand, relate to. This... this was an undead hunger, thirsting for life itself. Heavenly Father, how had Lucinda been able to walk away so calmly from him after she had pierced his skin? How had she not slaughtered us all? Drank us all down?
"Is he right? Do you wish me to leave?" Tomas asked, and I had to force myself to concentrate on his words, to understand them.
"Yes. Please go," I said in a careful trembling voice, forcing the words out when a larger part of me wanted to scream for him to stay. Stay and feed me!
Head bowed, he turned and left us, and that hungry, thirsty part of me howled inside as I saw my food walking away, punished me by driving that sharp longing deeply and fiercely into my body like a dagger thrust. I put my face into the ground and screamed, my fingers digging into the cool damp earth, anchoring me there so I did not ran after him, chase him down, and sink my teeth into him.
Little electric jolts ran through me as Dontaine touched my shoulder, trying to distract me, I think, bring me back to myself. But it only served to draw my attention to another food source. Here, too, was blood.
Slowly I turned and looked at him, at his hand, smooth and white, skin so soft-looking, so easy to pierce, to tear open to get to that rich flowing blood beneath. That call of life.
"Your eyes," he whispered. "Dear Goddess, they're blue like Mona Louisa's." And I felt his fear jolt through me with thrilling pleasure, almost as sweet a sensation as blood smeared upon my lips would have been. Crap.
"Don't... don't be afraid," I said, my voice strained as my own fear - fear of myself - flooded over me.
"Mona Lisa, what's happening?" he asked like a child begging a grown-up to tell him there was no bogeyman in the closet. That he was only imagining it. But he wasn't. And the bogeyman wasn't something hiding in the closet. It was me.
"Touch me, Dontaine," I whispered. "Hold me. Make it go away."
Carefully, he sat me up and held me from behind, so he would not see my disquieting eyes. And perhaps, so my teeth would not be near his throat, a wise move. But though he pressed his chest again my back, wrapped his arms around me, encircling me with his electric presence, it did not chase that terrible blood thirst from me. I was aware, so aware of that slow, beating heart that pounded against me like an ancient primitive dramming. Calling: Here. Here I am. Come get me.
And how I yearned to do so. So much that I shuddered.
"It's not working, Dontaine," I said, trembling against him, my voice tight. God, how it was not working. I pushed to free myself from his hold, from that terrible dramming heartbeat pressed against me, but he would not let me go. His arms tightened and that strength inherent in a Full Blood warrior kept me chained, kept me captive for a moment, as long as I did not fight him.
"What are you doing?" I demanded.
"Please, my Queen, I feel your panic... Don't run." I felt him tremble against me. Felt his heart quicken under the flooding surge of adrenaline. "My fear. Your fear. It triggers my beast. If you ran..."
His words gave me an idea. Made me think of that other thing that dwelled within me - so many things inside me now.
My own beast.
I tried to call it forth, tried to unleash my tiger self to drive out that other thing - and it was a thing, not truly a person - possessing me with its hungers and desires. Come out, kitty cat. Come out and play.
Always before it roared out of me. Rushed out the moment I unleashed it. But not this time. There was the faintest stirring, the brush of fur inside me. Then it subsided, once more quiescent within me, unable to come out and save me.
"Dontaine." My hands squeezed the arms holding me, kept them pressed down against me. "Call out my beast."
His arms spasmed around me for a second. "You're asking me to change into my Half Form, and I cannot do that. I will have to leave you then. I will not be able to change back until I have hunted. You will be unprotected."
"Dontaine..." Against my volition, my head lowered. My hands wrapped like shackles around his strong, pulsing forearms. And with but a thought, gently, easily, I broke his hold on me and lifted his pulsing wrists up to my mouth. I kept my lips closed, fighting myself, but could not stop myself from whispering those closed lips over that white fragile skin, so thin, where just beneath the surface pounded sweet flowing blood. I smelled it. Literally smelled it like the most alluring perfume. And my mouth, my gums, burned again like something set aflame, and my teeth ached to change, lengthen, become dagger-sharp fangs.
With an effort that made tears spring to my eyes, I lifted my head back up, out of immediate biting reach. But only that one thing I could do. His wrists were still held like willing sacrifices before me.
"Please," I whispered. "Call my beast, I cannot do it, or I fear..." My voice dropped to a mere breath of sound. "... I fear I may drink you dry."
He heard me, and his body stiffened. First with puzzlement, then with fear. "I thought this was your beast's hunger."
"No." And my voice was careful, so careful. As if one loud sound would be enough to break my restraint. For fangs to break through my gums. For me to sink them into that beating pulse there before me like a waiting present. "Not my beast. Something else."
And there was not much for it to be, that something else. Only two things liked blood. Our animal beast. And demon dead. I could almost feel him reaching this new conclusion. And realize that he wasn't holding me, so much as I was holding him now. Realize that it was not my animal self coming to the fore, giving me that greater strength. Nope, something else already there.