Chapter 23 Jericho
JERICHO
Iignore everyone as I crash through the front door, hands fisted at my sides in frustration. Murmured voices linger behind, asking about Justice’s fate. I don’t have the heart to tell them the truth, the guilt of failure a vicious coil in the pit of my stomach.
My booted feet barely touch the wood porch as I fly down the stairs, my tangled hair whipping in the air behind me.
Without glancing back, I take off through the trees.
Past the creek, across the highway, and over the ridge.
I have no direction in mind. Just go. I need to go.
I need to get out of here. If I stop, it will all be real.
If I stop, Justice will be dead.
If I stop…
I can’t stop.
Raw, uncontrollable energy courses through me like it never has before. My hair prickles with awareness, taking in every cue. Every imperceptible movement. My ears burn with sudden clarity, and my vision becomes clearer.
The predator in me is awake.
A cold, tight sensation creeps over my skin, numbing me to my surroundings. I become cold, yet my throat… my throat is on fire.
I must hunt.
“Jericho!”
Halting in my tracks, I whip around. I’m a mile away, yet somehow that voice is as clear as day.
It’s a voice I’d know anywhere.
My fangs descend. Blood. Warm blood.
Go.
Drink.
“Jericho!” Evan calls again, his voice hoarse with worry.
I must leave. Must run. I cannot hurt Evan. I won’t.
Desperation claws at my insides, the yearning for fresh blood a life beast ripping me apart from within, yet I don’t let myself move. If I move, I’ll hunt. If I move, Evan…
Evan, Evan, Evan!
Go.
Drink.
I tune in to my surroundings, if only to drown out Evan’s addicting voice. Birds chitter above as two bunnies hop quickly to their dens, their ears back as if sensing danger. They do not know that I’m the danger.
A fox sniffles in the dirt, and beyond it, by the clearing, something large drinks from the river. I can hear the steady laps, the full swallows. It makes me lick my parched lips.
Go.
Drink.
I close my eyes and inhale deep, trying to identify the creature. Deer. No, wait. Elk. My mouth waters.
Crouching, I follow the sound and peer through a barren blackberry bush. The full-grown female elk is less than fifty feet away, standing taller than me at the head and weighing at least four times my body weight. It doesn’t matter. She would be a feather in my grasp.
And she’s alone. No one to help her. No one to protect her, just as I have no one to protect me.
No. That's not true. I have Evan.
And Forest.
Rowen.
The pack.
I’m not alone.
Confusion swirls in my gut as I watch the beast drink from the puddle.
Every fleck of dust, even ray of light helps me tune in to my prey.
Her muscles twitch, her throat constricts, and that vein…
the long, thick vein running down the side of her throat.
I can’t look away. It pulses like a beacon, telling me right where to strike.
Hunt.
Blood.
Drink.
I step out from the bush, head slanted as I survey my meal.
Startled, yet accustomed to humans in this area of the forest, the elk does not run.
She takes a step back, ears twitching as she watches me with large, beady chocolate-colored eyes.
Her scent invades me, pulling a snarl from my lips as I leap.
She turns to flee but is too late. I crush her ribs in my arms with a single blow.
She makes a terrible cry of pain as she gasps for air, kicking furiously to break free.
Dark, coarse hair flies off from the stress as I toss her to the ground.
Without hesitation, I sink my teeth into her neck, right over the pulse point. Instantly, hot, rich blood floods my mouth, making me groan with delight. I grip her pelt tighter, suck harder.
Yes. This is what I need.
With every drop, the fire ebbs and I gain a little more control—but only a little. Too little. With two more swallows, I realize though blood is what I needed, it’s not her blood I want.
It’s Evan’s blood.
Evan.
God, Evan.
My sweet, beautiful, humble Evan.
Eyes the color of a summer sky flash in my mind, and with it, the echo of a laugh more soulful than any Aerosmith song.
I’m not afraid of you.
Words that sing like a promise every time he’s uttered them, yet an empty one. He should be afraid. The carcass at my knees is proof of how easily—and how quickly—I can drain the life from someone. He’d even witnessed it, in his home.
The burn intensifies. Beckoning. Forcing me to look back in the direction of the house. I crave him.
Go. Drink.
I have ignored the desire too long, teased it too many times with tiny licks from his finger. It’s never enough. It will never be enough.
I need to taste Evan. I need to have him.
Tossing the elk’s large body aside, I walk back through the trees, licking my lips in anticipation. Three wolves prowl the ground around the house, their noses to the ground as they follow my trail. Will they stop me when I try to get to Evan? They’d be stupid to try.
I step out from the shadows, and one wolf instantly shifts.
“You’re back,” Ivy says in a mix of surprise and relief.
I press on toward the house.
Forest bolts up from the chair the moment I’m inside, his skin flushed with anger. “Where have you been?”
The light is different now. Harsher, like every light in the house is now on. How much time has passed? A couple of hours, maybe? The whole day? I can never be sure when I hunt. I could have stood in that clearing unwilling to move for days if only to protect Evan from myself.
A flame licks up my throat.
Evan.
Driiink.
I scan the room, and when I don’t see Evan, I close my eyes and search for his scent. It wraps around me like a cloak, pulling me toward the stairs. There. Mine.
Grant steps in front of me when I reach the landing, shoulders tense for a fight. “You in control?”
I say nothing, knowing that if I open my mouth, it’ll be to sink my teeth into his veins. I shove him aside, following that lemongrass scent up to our room.
Opening the door of our bedroom, I hear the shower running in our private bathroom. I let the door close with an audible click.
Evan runs out of the bathroom half dressed and eyes wild. “Jer—” he cuts himself off, then lets out a harsh curse the moment he sees me. His shoulders slump as he exhales.
The sight of him takes my breath away, and to my surprise the buzz in my head dulls to a quiet whisper. But the fire is still burning. Spreading through me like liquid magma.
Driiiink.
He doesn’t say a single word as we approach each other, eyes darting between mine as if searching for something.
Fury and concern color his cheeks, and his jaw ticks like he’s trying to keep from yelling at me, yet the closer he gets, the more I see fear etched beneath the surface.
His heart rate kicks up a notch, hammering impossibly loud in his chest. I can hear nothing else. Blood. Fresh blood.
Still, some rational part of my mind clings to one thing: He knows. Evan knows I thirst for him… and still he doesn’t back away.
I brush my knuckles over his cheek in the gentlest caress before lowering my hand to his neck. I rest my thumb over his pulse, feeling it thrum. The steady movement makes me lick my lips.
Drink.
Evan doesn’t move, waiting.
“I… need you.” My voice comes out strained. Parched. Unnatural. “I hunted, but…”
“I know,” he says softly. “It’s okay.”
When I don’t move, he steps closer, forcing my attention away from his neck. “Get in the shower and take me. Because after everything we’ve been through today, I need you too, Jer, but you just fucking ran out on me. Again.”
Guilt swarms me, but he clutches my side and begins pulling me toward the bathroom. “Come on.”
As we walk, Evan removes my shirt, then my pants. I barely notice when his hand closes around my bare cock, but somehow I undo his pants too. His breath hitches when my cold hand touches his skin, then he leans in to kiss me.
We step into the shower together, steam swirling up around us.
I press him against the tiled wall, our bodies sliding together as if they were made for each other.
My fangs cut his tongue, but neither of us stop, too relieved and too emotional to care.
His intoxicating scent pulls me downward until my nose is pressed against his throat.
Driiiink.
Evan tilts his head, but he isn’t breathing. The only hint that he’s truly nervous.
Nervous, but fully trusting.
I kiss his skin, sliding both arms around him to hold him as any lover would.
Fear lodges in my throat, my heart a steady rapid beat in my ear.
I have been terrified of this moment. Afraid that when I finally drank from Evan, I wouldn’t be able to stop.
Even now, with my fangs pressed against his skin, I’m not sure I’ll be able to.
The pull is too strong, the burn too unyielding.
My gut clenches. Will this be the last time I get to hold Evan? The only time I get to truly taste him? What if I kill him?
Evan’s lips brush my shoulder in the barest of kisses. One hand glides up my back, as if encouraging me. How can he trust me so deeply, when I don’t even trust myself?
I do not deserve this man.
The fire burns even hotter when he kisses me again, his gentle whisper echoing the voice in my head. “Drink, Jer.”
Closing my eyes, I sink my teeth in.
Hot, sweet blood floods my mouth, overwhelming my senses. I tighten my arms around him as instinct kicks in. Flattening my tongue on his throat, I suck. Hard.
The first swallow is pure bliss, warming me from the inside out.
The taste is indescribable. Better than anything I’ve ever had.
Mixing with his scent, it feels as though Evan is invading every inch of me, and all I can do is lean in for more.
I press our bodies together, tight enough to feel him finally draw breath.