A Hunger Like No Other

Regin tilted her head at him. 'Just a wittle wapdog. Demestriu's wittle bitch man.'

When Lucia tried to bite back a snicker, Annika rapped Regin on the back of her head.

'What? What'd I say?'

'Enjoy your taunts,' Ivo said pleasantly. 'They'll be your last.' To the demon, he said, 'She isn't here.'

'Who?' Annika demanded.

An amused glance. 'The one I seek.'

Out of the corner of her eye, Annika spied a flickering shape. Lothaire, an ancient foe of theirs as well, had traced into the shadows of the room, behind Ivo's seat. Everything about Lothaire was chilling, from his white hair, to his eyes that were more pink than red, to his expressionless face.

Tension stole through her; they were even more outnumbered. But Lothaire put his finger to his lips. He doesn't want Ivo to know he's here?

Ivo jerked his head around to see what had caught her interest, but Lothaire had traced away. Ivo seemed to shake himself, then ordered the demon, 'Kill these three.'

At his command, the other two sprang for Regin and Lucia. The demon vampire traced behind Annika before his image faded in front. As she whirled, his hand shot out for her neck, but she dodged, striking out fast as a blur to splinter his forearm. Another hit cracked his cheekbone and shattered his nose. While he roared, spraying blood, she kicked him between his legs hard enough to break his tailbone and send him crashing to the ceiling.

Yet fast and strong as if fresh to the fight, he snatched her neck. She twisted to get free, but he hurled her into the fireplace, propelling her headfirst so hard that the first layer of bricks turned to powder from the blow. Her head recoiled and she fell, unable to move as the second layer dropped like a flood onto her back. Unmoving but still seeing through the dust… Lightning. Beautiful lightning. She couldn't think.

Regin scrambled from the vampire she'd been fighting to stand protectively over Annika. Lucia sped to her side, finally garnering room for a shot. Regin panted, 'Lucia, the big one. As many arrows as you can. I'll pry his head off.'

Lucia gave a quick nod and strung four arrows with supernatural speed. The legendary archer, invincible if she could just get room…Lucia unleashed her arrows that would tear through flesh and bone, then drill through the brick walls after.

The sound of her bowstring was as beautiful as the lightning—

Ivo laughed from his seat. The demon's muscles went rigid. He brushed three arrows aside, and caught the fourth.

And Annika knew they were going to die.

8

Lachlain directed Emma to the lavish hotel just outside London that the concierge had arranged, then observed every detail as she checked in. She seemed very put out at having to ask him for her credit card, and even more when he retrieved it from the hotel clerk. But she hadn't said a word about the expense.

He didn't believe this was because she trusted him to repay her. He thought she'd wanted to quit driving, at any cost. The journey obviously had been hard on her.

He should be driving, taking on the burden of seeing them to Kinevane, but he'd been forced to have her do it. Because of his inability, she was exhausted and the lights had hurt her sensitive eyes again and again.

When she requested two rooms, he slapped down a hand on the counter, not bothering to retract his dark claws. 'One.'

He'd realized she wouldn't make a scene around humans—few in the Lore would—and she didn't argue now. But while the bellman showed them up, she pinched her forehead and said under her breath, 'This wasn't part of the deal.'

She must still be unnerved about the night before. It had only been twenty-four hours ago when she'd gazed at him with a bleak expression and whispered, 'You frighten me.'

He frowned to find his hand reaching out to stroke her hair, and jerked it back.

While he tipped the bellman, she staggered past him into the spacious suite. When he closed the door, she'd already fallen forward half on the bed, nearly asleep.

He'd known she was tired, had reasoned driving was draining, but how could she be this bad off? Immortals were usually powerful, near inexhaustible. Was this the condition she spoke of? If she'd drunk Monday, and she had no discernible injuries, then what was it?

Was it the shock of what he'd done to her? Perhaps she was as fragile inside as her appearance suggested…

He tugged her jacket off by the collar—easy to do, since her arms were limp—and found her neck and shoulders were knotted. Surely driving did that. Not sitting next to him for hours.

When he felt her skin was chilled, he ran water in the bath, then returned to roll her over and pull off her shirt.

She weakly slapped at his hands, but he ignored her protests. 'I've drawn you a bath. It's no' good to sleep like this.'

'Let me do it myself, then.' When he removed her boot, her eyes opened fully to meet his. 'Please, I don't want you to see me unclothed.'

'Why?' he asked as he stretched out beside her. He picked up the end of a curl to run it along the side of her chin as he gazed down into her eyes. The skin beneath her lashes was pale like the rest of her face, so pale it matched the whites of her eyes, with only the fringe of thick lashes sweeping between them. Fascinating to him.

And looking down into them felt oddly familiar.

'Why?' She frowned. 'Because I'm shy about things like that.'

'I'll leave your undergarments on.'

She did want a bath, desperately. It was the only thing that could possibly warm her.

When she closed her eyes and shivered, he made the decision for her. Before she could even finish sputtering a protest, he'd stripped her to her underwear, then himself completely, and clasped her in his arms. He dropped them into the steaming oversize bathtub with her between his legs.

In the warm water, his injured leg brushed her arm, and she stiffened. He was naked and aroused, and her underwear was no true barrier since he'd unerringly chosen a thong. He laid one heavy hand on her shoulder. A second later, she felt a finger from his other hand tracing the thong she wore. 'This pleases me,' he growled.

Just as she tensed to leap from the water, he brushed her hair over one shoulder, put both hands on her neck, then pressed down with his thumbs.

To her morbid embarrassment, she moaned, loud.

'Relax, creature.' Against her efforts, he pulled her back into him. When she lay fully on his erection, he hissed and shuddered, his reaction flooding her with heat. But she shot back up, fearing he would want to have sex with her. It didn't take an anatomist to make a case that they wouldn't fit like that.

'Easy,' he said, continuing to work out the knots in her shoulders with an expert touch. As he drew her to him once more, the only struggle she could manage was internal, and she was glad no one could see that stumbling, pitiful attempt. Finally he forced her to relax against him completely, body gone limp.

What no one knew about Emma was that she loved to be touched. Adored it. Even the more because it was utterly rare.

While her family was affectionate in a spartan way, they wanted to toughen her up. Only one of her aunts, Daniela the Ice Maiden, seemed to understand her yearning, because she herself couldn't touch or have her freezing skin touched without extreme pain. She understood it, but for some reason Daniela didn't miss it, didn't feel the same need, while Emma thought she'd slowly die without it.

Creatures from the Lore who would be acceptable lovers for her, like good demons, were scarce in N.O.L.A.,