Night Quest. Susan Krinard
“And whose fault is that?” she whispered.
“I should have been more careful.”
She did her best not to notice the concern in his voice, his worried frown, the compassion he should not feel for one like her. Whoever and whatever he was, son or no son, she had to get away from him. The temptation to feed was terrifyingly strong in the wake of her injuries. If she should hurt him...
“You should continue your search,” she said, turning her face away, “and I must return to my shelter to collect my things and move on before the other humans find me.”
He ran his hand up and down his left sleeve. “Your physical state is obviously deteriorating. How far do you expect to get this time?”
“Far enough.”
“And then?”
Shivering with animal desires she could barely contain, Artemis moved to gather her things. “I am going. Do not follow me.”
“It won’t work.” His footsteps were almost silent as he moved behind her. “In a few minutes you’re going to collapse.”
“Then what do you suggest?” she asked, spinning to face him. “I see no other—”
“I obviously didn’t make myself clear,” he said. He pushed up his left sleeve. “I’m offering an alternative.”
His meaning was terrifyingly clear, and suddenly Artemis was furious—at her own helplessness; at his inexplicable generosity, in spite of his valid reasons for despising her kind; at a world that had created such a bizarre set of impossible circumstances. Her mind and emotions and physical senses reacted all at once, making her excruciatingly aware of the body she had so admired.
Even thinking of taking his blood aroused not just her hunger for nourishment but for other things, as well. Her imagination began to spin scenarios that could never be. Her empathic talent burned more brightly—extending fingers of amethyst light, her light, toward Garret—and he began to breathe more heavily.
Vivid images sprang into her mind: lying beside Garret, naked in his arms as she sank her teeth into his neck; moaning in pleasure as the blood flowed over her tongue and he guided her down on top of him; urgency building as her hunger exploded into an unbearable need to feel him inside her, giving as she took, taking as she gave...
She came back to herself, her body hot and throbbing, to find him looking at her with that steady gaze, his eyes so clear that she could see every shadow passing beneath the surface. No pain now, no anger, no sorrow. Only need. And desire.
Desire for a Freeblood. For her. She looked from Garret’s hungry eyes down to his broad chest and lean waist, and then below, where the evidence of his response was so readily apparent.
And she was responsible. She had to put an end to it.
“How can you do this?” she asked. “How can you bear to let an Opir take your blood? Is it because of this Roxana?”
“I’ve done it before,” he said, his hunger still burning in her mind. “I have no reason to fear it.”
She wondered again where he’d come from. He hadn’t always been alone, not with such a casual attitude about donation. But if he had ever lived among Opiri...
“If I take your blood,” she said, “what do you expect in return?”
“Your help in finding my son.”
His blunt response took her aback. She felt the completely unexpected and irrational disappointment of realizing that he was being generous only because he wanted something from her. Something he had probably wanted from the very beginning.
If she gave in now, she would be throwing away the very principles she had worked so hard to establish since her exile.
“I cannot accept,” she said. “I must go.”
Garret’s expression changed again, as if he were waking from a deep sleep and had forgotten where he was. His aura folded in on itself and vanished. He rolled down his sleeve, returned to his pack and began to shift things inside it, clearly pretending to keep himself busy so that he wouldn’t have to deal with her. She watched him, her muscles frozen, knowing she would never see him again.
“I will lay a false trail,” she said, pulling on her daycoat with clumsy hands. “If the humans do find our tracks, they will follow mine. I’m sure they would far rather kill me than you, traitor though they may name you.” She stumbled a little as she took up her bow. “As your own people say, good luck.”
An instant later she was running...throwing all her energy into every step, hoping that the initial burst of speed would carry her beyond his reach before she lost her breath. She knew it was time to abandon the area completely, and not only because of Garret. She had to get away from the possibility of any human or Opir contact, and lose herself in a place so remote that not even the most desperate Freeblood exiles would claim it.
True to her word, she laid a false trail, though it took a good deal more of her energy than she could afford. When she reached her temporary shelter, a small cave in the side of a hill, she gathered up her few possessions and left as quickly as she could, dizzy but still able to maintain a regular pace.
Every step carried her farther and farther away from the human who had inexplicably saved her life, then turned it upside down. Her heart seemed to drag several feet behind her.
By the time she left the woods a few hours later and reached the narrow path that paralleled the old northbound Interstate 5, a cold, driving rain had begun to fall. Normally it would not have bothered her; Opiri had lower body temperatures than humans, but their efficient metabolisms and greater strength enabled them to bear adverse conditions for longer periods.
But her energy was draining away a little more with every hour that passed. Hunger gnawed at her constantly. The weather didn’t make her attempt to find game any easier, and she soon discovered that something had frightened away most of the local wildlife...a situation that might suggest an Opir pack in the area. She needed to avoid such packs at all costs.
As sunset approached, she sat down on a boulder under a stand of pines at the edge of a wide meadow and simply waited. The light began to fade. Nocturnal creatures would soon be venturing from their dens and hiding places, giving her another chance. Whatever came, she would have no choice but to take it.
Something large moved through the undergrowth on the other side of the meadow, an animal powerful enough to disregard any need for stealth.
A bear and her half-grown cubs emerged from the trees. The sow rose up on her hind legs, nostrils flaring, while the cubs tumbled about and cuffed each other in play.
Artemis caught her breath. She had seen plenty of bears before, but something in the scene touched her in a way she hadn’t expected.
She rose slowly, careful not to attract the bears’ attention, and prepared to set off again, feeling as if she had become detached from her body. Pebbles rolled on the ground behind her. She spun around, lost her balance, and then righted herself as she belatedly grabbed at the waterproof case of her bow.
Garret was standing a few feet from the boulder. He had thrown back the hood of his coat, and his wet auburn hair had darkened to a deep brown. His strong face seemed sculpted out of the rain itself, but he seemed no more disturbed by the weather than the bears were.
What disturbed Artemis was that he had approached almost as silently as an Opir. Once again she was surprised at his skill. Surprised—and furious that she had been caught off guard.
The only thing she had to be grateful for was that she perceived him only through her physical senses, not her mental ones. There was no aura to distract her.
Is that truly all you have to be thankful for? an inner voice demanded.