Belonging. Part 2

When she finally climbed out, she knew she couldn't fight it any longer. She needed s.e.x. Although she wasn't too thrilled with what she knew she needed to do, she just couldn't put it off any longer.

Her skin was so sensitive, even drying off was torture. Her nipples were so hard they hurt and deep down, she throbbed and ached. She felt so empty inside, so desperately needy, she was almost tempted to find Grady and work up the courage to ask him for... h.e.l.l, she didn't even know how she'd phrase it.

If she were writing herself into a book, she'd just flip her hair behind her shoulders and saunter up to the witch, lay on a hand on his arm and he'd look at her...and know. She knew the technical aspects and h.e.l.l, she could write a seduction. She'd started writing as therapy during that first year and then realized she couldn't stop. When it came to made-up seductions, she had it down pat. Too d.a.m.n bad she couldn't manage one in reality.

In real life, Cori knew what would happen if she even tried-if by some slim chance she managed to approach the witch, there would be no way she could look him in the eye, no way she could touch him. She'd probably run away screaming. A femme fatale, she was not.

The one s.e.xual encounter she'd tried to initiate on her own had ended in disaster. Levi had rejected her, though she could understand why. He had probably still viewed her as Owen's. Figured she was just looking for comfort. h.e.l.l, he probably hadn't even been attracted to her. But his rejection had stung. Had cut her deeply.

Her s.e.xual experiences with Owen had been empty. At least for her. Owen either hadn't noticed or hadn't cared that she didn't find much in the way of pleasure when they touched.

No, she definitely didn't have much to rely on. She was desperate, though. Desperate enough that she was going to do something to fix the situation tonight. Just not...here. Even if she could work up the nerve to approach Grady, she'd have a d.a.m.n hard time facing him afterward. Casual s.e.x just wasn't her thing.

Leaving her rooms was harder than normal, but she couldn't do what she needed to do unless she left. The pain inside her was incentive enough and after dressing in a long dark skirt and sweater, she was out the door and heading down the hall, arms wrapped around her middle and chin tucked to her chest.

It was a good thing she'd already made up her mind. Every step she took was near torture as her thighs brushed together and the silk of her bra abraded her nipples oh-so slightly. It was a miracle she could even stand upright.

Work? No way. And it was the middle of the week, which meant the library would most likely be full of students working on projects, needing help finding a book for a report.

Excelsior was a school where the newly Changed came to learn control but it was also just that-a school.

A school for children, usually witches, psychics or natural shifters who came into their gift but had n.o.body around to help them deal with it. To the outside world, Excelsior was known as a posh private school for troubled youth, taking in children based on who had the greatest need, promising a top-notch education and a safe environment.

It was all that and more. The instructors and the enigmatic Council, which, Cori a.s.sumed, paid the expenses, took the kids' more traditional education seriously. Cori respected that and it was why she'd been more than happy to stay on after she'd gone through her own little bout of training. Working with kids was one thing she could still do from her old life and it was something that normally gave her a great deal of pleasure.

Tonight, though, there was no way she could handle it.

Sick days. Wonder if I can use a sick day... Getting sick wasn't an issue vamps had, but sometimes things happened. Of course, she wasn't sure how to approach her supervisor with this issue. She could just see herself staring at Leona Miller, the werewolf's penetrating gaze boring straight through her as Cori stumbled and stammered, I can't work tonight. I'm so h.o.r.n.y I'm almost sick with it and I need the night off so I can go get laid.

Yeah. That would happen. "You don't have too much choice," she muttered. Shuffling down the hall, she dragged in a deep breath and tried to find some sliver of courage. The staff lounge was just ahead and beyond that, the administrative area. Somewhere in there, Leona would be working away, making up schedules and going through the many requests for books. But not for too much longer. Leona wasn't nocturnal unless it was the full moon and she'd be finishing up soon.

Pausing by the lounge, she leaned against the wall and took another deep breath.

A wave of hunger hit-so deep, so strong that she almost sobbed with it. It was a physical ache now and she had to fix it. Had to ease it.

Finally, she shoved off the wall and resumed her walk down the hall. It took five more minutes to find Leona, but she lucked out. She didn't have to say anything. After five seconds, Leona just shook her head and muttered, "Take the night off and take care of things, Ms. Lewis. You can't possibly work like this."

Spared the added humiliation of trying to explain things, she gratefully made her way out of the library and headed toward the garage. The ma.s.sive building had cars on hand for staff use and for the first time since she'd arrived, Cori was going to use one of the d.a.m.n things, drive to Richmond and get laid.

Guilt and grief, they really could choke a man.

Levi Marc.u.m stared into the smudged gla.s.s, swirling the cheap amber whiskey and debating on whether or not to knock it back.

Two empty gla.s.ses sat just next to his elbow and, though the liquor had just about eaten up the lining of his throat as he drank it, it hadn't done a d.a.m.n thing to ease the pain inside him.

He didn't need to be sitting here, trying to drink his brain into shutting down. No, what he needed to do was figure out a way to get back to his cold, sterile hotel room. No way in h.e.l.l could he drive. He didn't even know if he could make it to his car.

He needed to get to his bed, lie down, close his eyes and try to sleep. Try to forget.

"Forget," he muttered. Closing his eyes, he slouched over the bar and wondered how in h.e.l.l he was supposed to forget.

In two days, he was going to be burying his cousin. Or burying what was left of him. For the past four years, he'd done his d.a.m.nedest to take care of Owen, to make up for letting him down, trying to make amends.

Just when Levi thought it might be getting better, though... Something clouded his vision and he set the gla.s.s down so hard that whiskey splattered on his hand. Uncaring, he pressed the heels of his hands against his eye sockets and swore, trying to blink back the tears that threatened to fall.

He wasn't going to cry about this. Couldn't. Wasn't ready to think about it, either-not what had been done to Owen, or how. He couldn't do that and make it through the funeral.

He'd made it through his mom's funeral.

He'd stood at Owen's side for Corinne's funeral too, choking on his grief and his guilt as dirt was shoveled over an empty coffin. He'd spent four years missing her, wondering why he'd let her leave that night and wondering what might have happened if he hadn't been so stupid.

He'd done all that without breaking.

This one would do him in. He knew it, but he had to make it through the funeral. He hadn't been there to protect his cousin, hadn't been able to get Owen the help he needed, but he could d.a.m.n well hold it together enough to say goodbye. After that, he'd break.

Hissing out a breath, he rubbed a hand over the ache in his chest and abruptly pushed back from the bar.

He tossed back the third gla.s.s of whiskey and dug some bills out of his pocket, throwing them down on the scarred wooden surface.

Need to get out of here. Need to breathe.

He didn't expect a breath of the biting cold air outside to do much. It might clear his head but it wouldn't ease the ache in his chest. Not even time was doing that. The whiskey hadn't done jack-s.h.i.t to help, either.

He stumbled out, his steps a lot more unsteady than he'd expected, though he shouldn't be surprised.

Whiskey on an empty stomach was bad, bad news. He hadn't eaten more than one or two bites since the day Owen was killed. Levi's appet.i.te had been shot straight to h.e.l.l upon finding Owen's ruined remains. G.o.d, the blood.

So much f.u.c.king blood, so little left of Owen. Levi was a cop and he'd been doing it for a good long time but never had he seen anything like what had been done to Owen. He prayed to G.o.d he never saw it again.

He wasn't hardened to violence, not yet. He'd seen his share, thought he knew how to cope.

Cope.

Drunk, he stumbled down the street, muttering to himself. "Yeah, you cope, all right. Drunk off your a.s.s, that's how you're coping. People would be so proud..."

He crashed into a crumbled brick wall and slapped a hand against it to right himself just before he would have hit the ground.

Above the roaring in his ears, he heard something. What......what was that?

A woman's voice. Soft. Low. Shaking with fear but determined. Kinda familiar.

Men's voices.

Somewhere beyond the alcohol haze, his brain started to work. He reached for his gun only to remember he'd left it back at the hotel. Walking around with a loaded weapon, knowing you were going out to get drunk-not a good idea. Swearing, he shook his head and tried to clear the fog. Adrenaline kicked in, helping a little, but the ground was still unsteady. Digging into the breast pocket of his battered leather jacket, he pulled out his phone.

He tried to fumble it open, but with his head still spinning and his hands too f.u.c.king clumsy, he ended up dropping it. An angry cry caught his attention as he bent to pick it up. Narrowing his eyes, he struggled to see through the darkened alley. His vision adjusted just enough to let him see two men. One woman.

The sight of it, for some reason, broke the d.a.m.n of suppressed, helpless fury and without another thought of calling for help, he lunged. Catching them by surprise, Levi managed to take one down under his body, driving his fist into an unprotected ribcage. Something cracked. From the corner of his eye, he saw the other man. Training told him to get up, secure the area. Beating the s.h.i.t out of a would-be rapist might seem like a good way to vent his rage but it could get him killed.

He couldn't.

Training, instinct, rational thought, they crumbled under the rage pulsing through him and even if the second man had drawn a gun and held it to his head, Levi doubted he could have torn himself away from his prey.

But there was no attack from the second man. Distantly, he heard something. A m.u.f.fled groan, masculine in pitch. The sound of something thudding against a wall. A woman's voice, too low for him to understand the words.

Not that he tried. He dipped his head, put his face right in the bloodied face of the sick f.u.c.k who had been ready to rape, and snarled, "You like hurting weaker people? You like making them beg? Making them fear?

Taking from them?"

Somebody had done that to his cousin, once upon a time. Years earlier. Somebody had done it to Owen, made him beg, made him fear. Somebody had taken Cori away from them both, and Owen had been left broken and shattered and half-crazed.

Monsters-d.a.m.n it, Levi was so d.a.m.n tired of the monsters that preyed on others. Snarling, he pulled back his fist and would have driven it over and over into the man's busted face if something hadn't caught his arm.

The hand on his forearm was feminine, delicate. Very delicate, incongruous with the strength there.

Struggling to jerk away, Levi snarled, "Get the f.u.c.k off."

A soft sigh. "You wanted to help me. You did it. You don't need to beat him to death. I think he got your message."

He tugged again, but that hand holding him didn't budge. h.e.l.l, it might as well have been a chain of t.i.tanium restraining him, though he knew it was a trick of the mind. Brought on by grief. Liquor. Rage. Slowly, he looked down at the man but he couldn't even make out the face. With a snarl, he shoved to his feet and stumbled off.

As he did, the man whimpered and scrambled away, crawling the first few feet before clambering upright and stumbling away. f.u.c.king miracle the b.a.s.t.a.r.d can even move, Levi thought distantly.

Sucking a deep breath of almost frigid air, he glanced around, looking for the woman. f.u.c.k, the other one...where was the other guy? Had she been hurt?

Squinting in the darkness, he forced words out through a raw throat. "Are you okay?"

A long silence and then again, that soft sigh he'd heard earlier. "Okay enough, I guess."

"Did they hurt you?"

"Hurt me?" She sounded confused. A pause. As though their hurting her hadn't occurred to her. "No, they didn't hurt me."

Her voice was closer now, though he hadn't heard her move. h.e.l.l, he could barely see her-a slim, slight shadow lost among darker shadows. He caught the impression of a pale face, hidden behind a dark fall of hair.

Her voice changed, dropped to a low, hoa.r.s.e rasp, as she said, "You're hurt, though."

She touched him, her fingers quick and light, too cool as they glided across his wrist. "I'm fine," he said, glancing down at his hand. It hurt like a mother and would be worse once the adrenaline faded. But the physical pain was almost a sweet release. Especially since he'd been able to vent some of the rage trapped inside him. He flexed his fingers and tried to a.s.sess the damage but it was too dark. Not even the thinnest slice of a street light penetrated this far into the alley and overhead, clouds obscured the moon.

"What are you doing out here this late?" he asked, getting more irritated by the second as pain and adrenaline chased the alcoholic haze from his mind. "Not the safest part of town for a midnight stroll. At this hour, you're going to run into all sorts of freaks and sickos."

He wasn't sure but he thought she might have laughed. "Freaks. Yeah, there are all sorts of freaks around, aren't there?" She touched his wrist again and this time, she lifted his hand upward. He shifted, trying to get her a little more into the light so he could see her face, but she didn't budge. Keeping her head down, she studied his hand closely, too closely. "It's fine. h.e.l.l, not like you can see it that good in here anyway. Come on, let me-"

She dipped her head and pressed her lips to the back of his hand, carefully avoiding his torn, ragged knuckles. "Thank you."

Her lips were soft, cold. Hunger punched into him, flaring to life from nowhere, emerging from the dark despair that had gripped him for the past three days. Hissing out a breath, he tugged on his wrist. She reluctantly let go and sighed-a shuddery, shaking sound. His voice gritty, Levi rasped, "Come on. I dropped my phone by the sidewalk. Let me find it and we can call the police."

"No!" Her voice was sharp, nearly desperate.

"Lady, you need to file a police report."

"No. I can't call the police."

"Look, I know you're upset, but you need to-"

"No, I don't need to. I'm not hurt. There's no reason to file a report."

She wouldn't do it. Arguing with her wasn't going to do anything but add to the headache that threatened to take the top of his head off. "Then let me get you home," he said, sighing. He couldn't leave her here. If she wouldn't file a police report, he'd at least make sure she got home safely. How, he wasn't sure-he was too f.u.c.king drunk to drive and too f.u.c.king broke to call a cab.

"No." She shook her head and backed away, keeping her face averted so that her hair hid it.

"I'm not leaving you." Levi squinted, trying to get a better look at her. Her voice. There is something familiar about it, he thought.

She moaned, her body swaying.

"d.a.m.n it." He closed the distance between them and caught her arm in his hand as she faltered. Terror clutched his heart, made his voice harsher as he snarled, "I thought you said they didn't hurt you."

"They didn't hurt me."

And they hadn't, but Cori was still in pain. All but reeling with it. Half sick with it, and it was compounded by her stupidity. She'd figured that she could find some guy in a bar who'd be willing enough to give her what she needed without asking anything in return. But just before she'd gone in, a wave of self- doubt had washed over her and she'd ducked into the alley to give herself a pep talk.

The two men had seen her and, though she'd heard them approaching, she hadn't worried overmuch. She was short, female and looked like a stiff wind would blow her over but that vampire strength that usually failed to impress her would come in handy. When they'd grabbed her, she had tried reason first.

They'd laughed and that was when Galahad, or whatever his name was, had come rushing up. She'd been startled by his sudden appearance and completely taken off guard by the way her body reacted.

The way her body was still reacting. She couldn't really even see him that clearly, though granted, she was trying very hard not to even look at him. Looking directly at him would make it worse, so she just didn't look.

She'd caught a glimpse of dark hair, the vague impression of his height, but nothing else. And still, she was hovering on the brink of o.r.g.a.s.m, just from being close to the guy.

Her nipples-hard, hot little points-stabbed into her bra, rubbing against the silk, the sweet abrasion almost painful. Her thighs shook under her and she had to lock her knees to keep from sagging against him.

Worse, her gums throbbed in warming and as he moved closer, she could feel her fangs extending. The taste of blood was heavy in her mouth. Blood. She'd bitten one of the men who had tried to attack her.

Cori had bitten somebody, and not because it was time for a midnight snack either. She'd defended herself, but now the taste of blood was bitter in her mouth. She averted her head. Although she knew he couldn't see her, she couldn't look at him with blood on her mouth.

He reached out a hand and brushed her hair back. Unable to stop herself, she turned her face into his palm and rubbed against him.

His hand shook.

Lids drooping over her eyes, she took in a deep, slow breath. There.

She could smell it. Smell him. Smell his hunger. He felt it too. Either the darkness was seriously working in her favor or the vamp mojo was kicking in because the air around them began to spike with heat and hunger and not all of it was hers. Desperation made her daring and she took one small step closer. Then another. Another.

The long black skirt she wore was little hindrance to the cold wind cutting through the night but she barely felt it. What she could feel was him. His heat. His hunger. His gaze-staring down at her bowed head, all but willing her to look at him.

His c.o.c.k. Pressing against him, she felt the length of his c.o.c.k throbbing under the confines of his jeans, thick and hard. Whimpering, half mad from hunger, she arched against him and shuddered.