Page 8 of Craving Darkness

We slowed to a stop, and I heard a mechanical whirring, indicating that a garage door was opening. At the sound, my heart sped up even faster than it already had been. I lifted my head, feeling as if it weighed a hundred pounds, and tried to look around, but all I was able to see in the brief space of my vision that wasn’t covered by the helmet was asphalt.

Before I could make a decision to jump off the back of the motorcycle and try to make a run for it, the engine revved again, and we rolled forward into an enclosed space. The rumbling of the engine was loud enough to make any speaking impossible. Before the outside door closed completely, the engine turned off, though engine fumes still managed to choke me enough to keep from being able to talk.

I loosened my death grip on the man’s jacket and almost cried out in pain as my fingers cramped at the cold that had frozen them in place. He must have sensed my discomfort because he covered my hands before I could straighten them out, the heat from his touch soothing the worst of the pain.

With a jolt, the floor beneath us began to move, making me realize that we were sitting in a huge elevator or lift. I still couldn’t see much of anything except the metal floor. It was only a few seconds before we came to a slow stop with another jerk. The big biker removed his hand from mine, giving my fingers a pat as if to let me know it was safe to move. I hesitantly pulled my hands back, flexing my fingers, trying to regain mobility back into the aching joints.

As the man dismounted, I raised my fingers to the strap under my chin, attempting to unclick the latch, but I wasn’t able to accomplish anything except shiver from the coldness seeping into my neck at the touch of my fingers there. My hands were brushed aside, and once again, the man lifted my chin, though this time, I couldn’t see his eyes.

With a hard shiver, the helmet lifted from my head, and I blinked several times, taking in the dim lighting and not much else. After I sat there numbly for a few more seconds, the big biker sighed and wrapped his hands around my waist, lifting me off the bike, much like the way he had deposited me there in the first place.

I wobbled, off balance, until I remembered I was missing a shoe. Placing my hand on the warm leather seat, I leaned over to grasp the remaining stiletto and slipped it off before letting it drop to the metal floor with a dull clatter. Once I was finally able to stand on my own two feet, I wrapped my arms around my torso as much for warmth as for comfort and got my first real look around. I had been right; I was standing in a huge metal lift, probably for cargo. At the sound of heavy footsteps, I turned to look at the back of the man as he walked away from me and into what I assumed was a large open warehouse. However, the space seemed to be converted into a very minimalistic living area.

I took a tentative step forward, swaying slightly from the ride on the motorcycle I was unaccustomed to riding, as well as the cold and the shock from the events of the night. I took another step and had to brace my shoulder against the opening of the lift to keep from stumbling.

“You can have a seat. I’ll find you something warm to change into.”

The deep rumble of his voice had my head jerking from my examination of the small two-seater sofa, the large bed in the far corner, and the kitchen across from the lift. I couldn’t see a bathroom, but I imagined there had to be one somewhere.

“Why,” I stopped to clear my throat before I could try again. “Why am I here?” My voice was raspy, as if I had been screaming. It took me a moment to remember that I actually had been screaming. I closed my eyes as the memory of Tiny getting his heart ripped out in front of me played out in my mind again. A scalding hot tear slid down my frozen cheek. As I glanced down at my fingers, I gasped at the sight of the blood smeared on them.

Frantically, I swiped at my face, at once realizing that I was covered in blood spray. Of course I was; I had been right fucking there as a man was murdered by a monster. Bile rose quickly in my throat. I slapped a hand over my mouth and knew I needed to find a trash can or a toilet immediately.

The man must have been watching me because he lifted a small black trash can off the floor behind the kitchen island where he’d been standing. I rushed forward without thought, grabbing the can and emptying the contents of my stomach until everything ached, and I just wanted to curl up into a ball and cry for a week straight.

Once I was sure I didn’t have anything left inside of me to vomit up, I sagged against the concrete kitchen island. I still held the trash can, embarrassed and unsure what to do with it. I was certain it smelled terrible. I didn’t know the stranger, but as ridiculous as the idea was, I cared if he thought I was disgusting. But when I brought my teary eyes up to meet his, all I saw was a quiet understanding.

“Here,” he rumbled out in that deep voice of his, his hand extended. I hesitantly handed the can over. I watched with flaming cheeks as he pulled the sides of the trash bag up and tied it swiftly in a tight knot. He walked over to the lift and sat it in the corner next to his motorcycle. When he turned back to see me watching, he just said, “I’ll take it out while you’re in the shower.”

I glanced around again, this time with my view from a different vantage point. This time, I could see there was an open door next to the lift with a toilet inside. On the other side of the freight elevator, there was a metal door that looked more like a normal-sized elevator, maybe a little smaller than one I would have seen in an office building. Two entrances?

The biker opened one of the saddlebags on the back of the motorcycle and withdrew a handful of clothing items before walking over to the bathroom. He flipped on the light and set the clothes on the counter. I heard the water running as he stepped back out again.

“Take a hot shower and get changed. We’ll talk when you’re done.”

With those words, he turned his back on me, going to his bike and rifling through his belongings again. With my arms wrapped tightly around myself, I decided to do what he said. I needed to get warm. I needed to get the blood off of me. And I needed answers. It seemed that I would be relying on this stranger for all of those things.

Chapter 6

Valen

Iroughly yanked my fingers through my hair as I paced the length of my warehouse apartment. It was similar to my other places around the United States and Europe. Warehouses were cheap, but they also seldom held enough attention for anyone to wander too close out of curiosity. It left my places safe from prying eyes, and the security systems helped keep squatters from taking over. I hadn’t been to this one in particular in more years than I cared to remember. The faceless property manager I’d hired years ago kept it prepared for me, just as he had all the others, thanks to the very generous salary I paid him.

I turned my head again to look back at the closed bathroom door, hearing the sound of the shower I couldn’t escape from if I wanted to. But the fuck of it all was, I didn’t want to. I had allowed myself to be ruled by instinct to protect this girl from the danger I didn’t even fully understand. I just knew that the fear on Syn’s face told me I needed to leave before whoever those fucking vampires worked for found out who I was. There was no way I could have left without the girl.

The instinct to protect was so strong that it was impossible to fight, so I brought her with me. It wasn’t until we had pulled into the warehouse lift that I noticed the mark on her frozen wrist—one that matched mine perfectly.

I grunted and ran my hands over my face, feeling the stubble that was shadowed along my jawline and cheeks. A fucking mate. One I didn’t know existed or could ever exist. This is exactly what I got for choosing to live so far removed from the world that I should have been a part of but carefully held myself away from for hundreds of years. The little I did know was only from the short interactions I’d had over the centuries with others who were like me. Well, not like me, exactly. No one was like me. I was a true monster in every sense of the word.

Syn was the one and only I had let in far enough to get to know me. Even then, it was such a small piece, and only because she pushed like a mother fucking demon for that tiny sliver. I should have been more concerned for her welfare, leaving her behind the way I had, but she hadn’t lived as long as she had without being able to defend herself.

I glanced back at the bathroom door again as the sound of the shower ended. That girl in there, though? She was human. She was defenseless against demonkind. She was helpless against me. A part of me was turned the fuck on at the thought, the larger part of me wanted to kick my own ass and was determined to get her somewhere safe, and the only place that could be was away from me. But I had yet to work out how I was going to accomplish that and still protect her. Because the overriding need, above all, was to ensure she was safe.

I growled low in my chest, the sound of a dangerous hum not unlike that of a rattlesnake poised to strike. “Fuck!” I had a mate, and I couldn’t do a goddamn thing about it.

I imagined again for the thousandth time what she must look like in that bathroom. I had grabbed her while she was wearing little more than what someone would consider lingerie, so I had a good idea of how her body was formed—pure perfection. If I could design my ideal woman, she would check every mark.

Her hair was like a sheet of rich mahogany, and her eyes seemed brown at first glance, but the closer you looked, the more easily you could catch the myriad of colors hidden in their depths—greens, and golds, with slight hints of blue. They were mesmerizing, and it was all I could do to pull myself away from her when we first arrived. If I had to guess, I would say she had more than a little bit of Native American ancestry.