Forsaken Hunger Read online

  “Sure you don’t want to let them create the distraction for us? Messing’s men might actually pick a few of them off while you take him out.”

  Saden growled softly. “I can’t risk Daneya getting hurt. Keep her safe or I swear—”

  “You’ll use my balls for target practice,” Blade finished. “I know, I know. Can’t blame a guy for trying, though. Your girlfriend needs to wake up and smell the shit she’s hangin’ around with.”

  Saden shook his head and strode back to his position. Messing was nearing the corner of the building now. Saden looked back in time to see Blade jump off the edge on his side. A chorus of startled shouts rang out followed by pounding boots on pavement. He gave Blade the few precious seconds necessary to draw Daneya and her group away then leaped down to the ground, his trench coat billowing out behind him. The trio spun around, no longer interested in the sounds of pursuit on the other side of the building, and drew their weapons.

  The man on Messing’s left was stacked like a linebacker with a massive chest almost freakishly disproportionate to the rest of his body. The one on the right made up for his average build with a barely concealed arsenal strapped to his midsection.

  Linebacker stepped in front of Messing and pulled a hunting blade from his belt. “Leave.”

  Saden flashed his teeth. “So soon? And here I thought we could be friends.”

  Disbelief sparked briefly in Linebacker’s eyes before he charged. Saden braced himself and pivoted at the last second, using the man’s momentum to grab onto his wrist and twist the blade from his hand. Another half turn and Saden ducked a wide punch then hooked an uppercut into the man’s gut. He grasped the back of Linebacker’s neck and slammed him face first into the side of the building.

  One down, two to go.

  At the sound of gunshots behind him, Saden ran crouched over for the cover of an alcove a few yards away. He hunched down on the balls of his feet and waited. The limo was at the far end of the street with him in between them and it. They would have no choice but to come his way.

  “Get to the car!” Arsenal yelled, his voice dangerously close.

  Just as Saden caught Messing making a run for the limo from the corner of his eye, Arsenal did exactly as expected and came high around the corner of the alcove. Saden yanked hard at Arsenal’s ankle and sent him toppling backwards to the ground. He was on him in the next instant, shoving the man’s gun to the pavement then pounding a fist into his face.

  Arsenal lost consciousness at the same time the limo purred to life. Saden threw one of the daggers from his back harness and was up and running before it punctured one of the limo’s front tires. Messing came back out to meet him, but not in time. Saden easily knocked the revolver out of his hand and dragged him fully from the driver’s side.

  Messing sneered his contempt. “I haven’t violated my exile. The house of Avram has no right to send a leisonguarde after me.”

  Saden laughed darkly. It was almost galling that Messing thought he could flaunt his crimes without being noticed. Wealth and power always came with the price of attention. “Oh, but you warrant much more than a Vampyre warrior. The Drakonem don’t look kindly on demon rogues that kill humans with their pretty little drugs.”

  Messing’s eyes widened as realization set in. He recovered quickly, though, and went at Saden with newfound fervency. They traded blows evenly, Saden reluctant to use his power just yet. Messing was indeed a seasoned fighter as Saden had discovered during his research. It had been too long since he’d had an equal match with a target and it felt good to stretch his skills.

  It came to an end quickly, however, when a single shot rang out somewhere in the near distance. Simultaneously, the car window next to them shattered. They spun around to find Daneya standing next to Arsenal’s limp body. She looked like a wild, avenging angel in combat fatigues with a gun pointed straight at them.

  “Shit,” Saden cursed, then hit the pavement rolling as Messing dove in the opposite direction.

  Daneya advanced without hesitation and fired several more rounds. When Saden came to a stop, she was already poised above him, peering down the barrel aimed at his head. A glance to the side showed Messing’s tall frame sprawled in a pool of his own blood in front of the limo.

  Saden was going to have to act fast. Ordinary bullets merely slowed a Vampyre down, and pissed them off in the process.

  “Who are you?” Daneya asked in a low voice. The backlight of the dim lamppost a block away kept her expression hidden.

  Saden could only stare, partly stunned by her very proximity. For so long, he’d watched her from afar. Protected her and even grown to admire her. Now she was standing only a few feet away with a question he was completely unprepared to answer.

  Who was he? Her guardian? A stalker? Yeah, that’ll ease her suspicions. And what the hell had happened to Blade? He should’ve distracted her!

  “Who are you?” she repeated, taking a half-step forward.

  A deep growl startled them both. Messing was conscious again and pulling something from his suit jacket. Saden kicked the gun from Daneya’s hand then jumped up. A bullet ricocheted off the street by their feet just as he pushed her back against the building wall. Using his body as a shield, he twisted around and summoned the Drakonem power within him. It flared to his call and shot out in an invisible arc toward Messing. Blue-white flames sprung up around Messing in a blinding rush, coating him and smothering his screams until all that was left was a pile of smoking ash.

  Saden turned back to scan Daneya’s body for injuries. She appeared to be unscathed, but her amber eyes were bulging and her slender frame shaking. She was taller up close than he’d expected. Only a handspan shorter than his six foot five inches. The heat of her quickened breaths raised chills across his neck. It sent a rush of emotions he hadn’t felt in too long curling through his chest and down to his groin. Even the scents of leather and something sweet wafting from her sparked a reaction in him.

  Without thought, he brought a hand to her cheek and feathered his fingers over it, then trailed them gently beneath the curve of her jaw. Her skin was incredibly soft and warm, her pulse thrumming against his thumb. There was something about her… Something fierce, yet inviting…

  Slowly, her gaze shifted from Messing’s remains to Saden’s face. At her sharp intake, he realized his mistake and tamped down the power of the Drakonem. But it was too late. He knew what she’d seen. The soulless, ice-violet eyes reflecting the power of a Drakon instead of his normal green irises.

  Shock turned to fear-fueled anger and her body went rigid inches from his. “Drakon,” she murmured.

  Saden’s chest tightened as all the hate and terror that one word held seemed to roll over him. He drew his hand back down to his side. Had he really expected her to see him differently?

  Somewhere in the back of his mind, his conscience shouted a resounding, Yes! She had always been a source of pure light for him. The way she controlled her life with morals built on justice and the convictions in her heart. Despite being involved with the DCM, her courage had always helped him get from one tortured day to the next.

  Idiot, he berated himself. He should’ve known. To her, he was nothing more than a Drakon. The filth of demonic societies who garnered more hatred than Saden’s dead target could ever aspire to. Damned beyond redemption or forgiveness.

  A sharp pain sliced through his abdomen and he caught the glint of steel in Daneya’s hand as he reared back. She took that opportunity to bolt, backing away swiftly then turning on her heel to race down the street. Saden stood, unmoving, and watched her disappear around the corner. What felt like a leaden weight pushed down on his lungs until it was hard to breathe.

  Blade’s symptoms of coming too close to the edge of madness crossed his thoughts again. He recalled being there so keenly. The desperation to find a reason, any reason, to go on fighting.

  Somehow, this moment was so much worse.

  A sound drew him from his reverie.

&n
bsp; He turned to see Blade standing behind him with a knowing expression. Saden ignored the tearing ache at his side and strode stiffly to retrieve his knife from the limo tire, seeking his other form as soon as it was sheathed. The change that had once been so alien to him came now like second nature. He felt his corporeal body fade, molecules blending in with the power of the Drakonem spirit that infested his. Gravity became a natural law governed only by his thoughts, allowing him to escape into the night air.

  On the outside, he appeared only as a shadow vaguely resembling the outline of a dragon.

  He sped through the skies undetected. The concrete civilization below changed to valleys and forests bathed in the glow of the moon. Finally, he reached his destination and took back his form on the second-story balcony of his house. It rested on more than twenty acres of untamed land and was the only place where he came close to privacy.

  He shut the open balcony doors behind him then made his way through the dark interior of his bedroom. After throwing his trench coat and weapons harness to the floor, he went to the bathroom in the outer hallway and flipped on the light. He stripped out of his torn shirt to inspect the cut Daneya had parted him with. It was only a flesh wound but still deep enough to require stitches.

  With a sigh, he pulled a first aid kit from beneath the sink then began cleaning the wound with soap and warm water. Halfway into it, the hairs on the back of his neck rose and he glanced at the door. “Damn it, Blade. What do you want now?”

  Blade remained silent from his position in the doorway. Saden ignored him as he threaded a needle and pinched the swelling edges of his sliced skin to sow them together. Or tried to. The silence of Blade’s unspoken words was deafening.

  Saden gave up on concentration and snarled at his friend. “What happened to you out there?” When Blade still said nothing, he added, “I thought I told you to take care of Daneya.”

  Blade shook his head and picked up the wet washcloth from the sink. “Sit down.” He pushed Saden onto the toilet seat, knelt down in front of him and started wiping at the blood that had spilled through Saden’s fingers. “I had them on my tail but your girlfriend’s one sneaky little fox. She broke away from the group and doubled back before I noticed she was gone. By then, I couldn’t risk letting the others find you as well.”

  Saden clenched his jaw in anger, straining to keep from striking out. Tonight had gone all wrong. Daneya shouldn’t have seen him. Should never have known about his existence. Thanks to his fuck-up, she was likely packing her things now and moving herself and her daughter into the DCM compound.

  “Don’t go there.” Blade’s tone held warning as he took up the needle and began stitching. “You were probably the first Drakon she’s ever seen. Better you than some other who might not have let her go so easily. She doesn’t know who you really are.”

  The look of utter horror that’d filled Daneya’s eyes earlier flashed before his vision. His gut clenched as the same leaden weight squeezed his lungs once again. “I think she already knows who I am,” he said bitterly. A nameless Drakon. Not worthy of any decent person’s regard. When Blade frowned, he flicked a dismissive hand. “Never mind. I need to go back out. She’ll be moving again after this.”

  He’d come to learn over the years that Daneya had a flighty spirit. Every year she changed locations without fail. Never too far from the DCM compound but always in a different town, and sometimes under a different name. Whether it was out of fear for her daughter’s safety or an old habit she’d picked up from her family, he couldn’t quite figure out.

  “It’s past midnight,” Blade commented. “She won’t be going anywhere till morning. You look like you could use some rest.”

  “I’m good.” He raked a hand through his hair impatiently. “We’ll need to keep an eye on the DCM compound as well. Once Daneya reports her run in with me, they’ll increase their security. It could pose a problem for the other Drakons in this area.”

  Blade nodded his agreement.

  Drakons were, by necessity, reclusive beings. If not already destroyed, trust was one of the first things beaten out of them at the beginning of their term. Yet, there still lay a measure of shared duty among most of them, and that included watching each other’s backs whenever possible. An increase of guards in the DCM meant more vigilantes out in the field. Which equated to more interference between them and the Drakons. If any of the vigilantes were killed during the process of taking down a target, for whatever reason, it would be the Drakon responsible for that target who suffered for it.

  Saden watched his friend tie the last stitch then stood to inspect his handiwork in the mirror. “Good work.”

  “It should be. I get enough practice with you around.”

  Saden snorted and cleaned up the mess. Although they were two of the best in their line of work, constant injuries were part of the job, no matter how careful one was.

  He went back to his bedroom, keeping an eye on Blade as he threw on another pair of black jeans and a matching T-shirt. His friend appeared calmer than he had on the roof, though that didn’t mean things might not get worse later. “Go take advantage of the downtime before Serrakus finds another job for you. Get some sleep.” Get laid, he thought inwardly. “I’ll catch up with you tomo—”

  The rest of his sentence was cut off by a wave of intense, searing pain. It raced through his system like wildfire, boiling his blood until his senses blurred. He doubled over and clutched his burning stomach.

  Speak of the devil. Serrakus never failed to summon him at the most inconvenient times. In the next moment, the blaze dampened to a low flicker, ready to flare up again if Saden didn’t obey the call soon. As he felt the sliver of Drakonem soul within him recede from its master’s touch, dread filled his thoughts.

  Had Serrakus somehow found out about Daneya? It wouldn’t be the first time the Drakonem had sent another Drakon to spy on him. If that was the case, there would be no bounds to the punishments Saden would endure for daring to care for someone. Serrakus took particular pleasure in making sure none of his Drakons found comfort in what was left of their lives. Saden would probably be sent to another part of the country, or possibly to another continent.

  He couldn’t lose Daneya…

  Saden shook his head. Jumping to conclusions was useless. He had to find out what Serrakus wanted first.

  “You okay, man?”

  He looked over at his friend’s worried face. “It’s Serrakus.”

  “Already?” Blade burst out. “This is ridiculous. He’s been working you solid for the past five months. You can’t keep going on like this.”

  Serrakus had been sending him out on jobs without so much as a few hours’ relief in between, though Saden knew as well as Blade there was nothing to be done about it. “Watch over Daneya for me, will you? Track her if she moves again.”

  “I know you refuse eat, but when’s the last time you slept? Or shaved for that matter? You look like shit.”

  “Blade…”

  “All I’m saying is that you should take a breather before jumping into this next job. Your target will still be there and so will Daneya. She’s a big girl and doesn’t need you looking over her shoulder every—”

  “Just watch her!” Saden snapped.

  They glared at each other in heavy silence. Saden knew his friend was right. The strain of running on fumes was starting to affect his focus. He’d be damned if he was going to admit it, however. Not even when Blade pulled the ‘I told you so’ card on him later when he finally crashed, as would undoubtedly happen.

  Blade let out a long-suffering sigh. “Fine, but I’m raiding your fridge first.” On his way out, he mumbled, “If there’s even food in there.”

  Saden donned his harness and trench coat then faded to his dragon form on the balcony and took flight.

  Chapter Two

  The Drakonem realm was in a parallel plane that existed on the same physical space as the human realm. As a Drakon, Saden could access it at any given time. Wher
e he arrived in it depended on the location of his departure from the human realm. The center of Serrakus’ domain was only eight miles north of Saden’s land.

  He landed in a small grove of birch trees hidden at the corner of a large horse ranch. The heat of the summons was growing again, spreading like acid through his blood. He quickly invoked the power of the Drakonem spirit and cast it outwards. It weakened the field of space in front of him to create a temporal rift. A tear in the atmosphere that acted as a gateway big enough for him to enter. The rift closed as soon as he stepped through, enveloping him in a different kind of darkness.

  The burning sensation quickly died altogether. Ahead of him lay the passageway that led to Serrakus’ office. Behind was one of the many entrances which opened up to the maze of catacombs that made up Serrakus’ territory. If one were to take in the view from outside, they would see a labyrinth of stone and mortar hallways interspersed with large buildings that held the prison cells.

  The dungeons were all underground as well as the training areas. The gaseous atmosphere outside painted the sky a dull maroon that never changed with the rotation of the earth. Here, time was irrelevant for the most part. Nature and the turning of the seasons were non-existent. As stale and insufferable as the air was inside, the outside held little improvement.

  It was one of the punishments the gods had decreed in their wrath over the Drakonem’s betrayal of them. To be trapped forever in a realm that could harbor none of the beauty of the human realm.

  In Saden’s opinion, the gods had been far too easy on their first-born race. Then again, maybe the gods had deserved their betrayal. They certainly didn’t deserve the worship of the demonic races they had created after the Drakonem.

  For more than a millennium, they’d been absent from the world. Any communication was held strictly with the Drakonem, and only to reward them yearly for the work their Drakons carried out.

  Serrakus was due for his reward soon. A week’s vacation from this realm to spend anywhere he liked on earth, so long as he abided by the rules the gods had set for all Drakonem. No interaction with demons of any kind. No lasting ties. And no detrimental interference into the lives of humans.