Fractured (Deep In Your Veins, #5)(44)

“Imani, stop!”

Licking my split lip, I lunged again. Crashed into something solid. Heard something crack as pain exploded in my cheekbone.

“Imani, f*cking stop now!”

I sprung again. Smashed into an invisible wall once more. Again, my blood flowed into my mouth. I spat it out.

“Imani, baby, you need to calm down!”

Two sets of footsteps pounded into the room and skidded to a halt. “Jared told me you needed a donor.”

“Shit, why is her face all messed up?”

“She keeps leaping at my shield. Stay behind it.”

I didn’t understand the words. Didn’t care. All I knew was I needed to hunt. Needed to feed.

Snarling, I coiled to strike. Before I could lunge, pain pricked me in several places. I batted away the darts, needing to…to…God, I was tired.

“Feed her now while she’s too weak to fight.”

A familiar scent washed over me as strong arms curled around me from behind and tipped me onto my side on the bed, trapping my arms at my sides. I didn’t have the energy to fight and free myself. I didn’t—

My nostrils flared. Blood. I sank my teeth into the bleeding wrist that was thrust in front of my mouth. It tasted strange. Fizzy with energy. Syrupy. But good. So good.

I drank. And drank. And drank.



*



I woke with a blazing ache between my legs. My hips bucked and I groaned, feeling empty and restless. I was so wet; could smell the need that pulsed in my veins and drummed through my body.

The cool air chafed my naked, oversensitive skin and my painfully tight nipples. Whimpering, I squirmed and rubbed my thighs together; needing some relief. It didn’t help. The fire inside me just blazed hotter and hotter, giving me no reprieve.

My womb clenched hard. I hissed and writhed again, squeezing my thighs so tightly together it sent shooting pains through my muscles. I tried to touch myself, to take away the burning ache, but I couldn’t move my hands. They were tied together and secured to something above my head.

I sobbed in frustration, arching my back. I couldn’t take any more of this. I had to—

“Again, baby? Fuck, you’re gonna be sore.”

I didn’t know what that meant, didn’t care. Two fingers probed and slipped inside me, and I almost wept with relief. My muscles clamped around them, trying to keep them where they were. “Please.” My voice was hoarse, and it hurt my throat to speak.

My hands were freed and then a large, hot body draped over mine. The skin-to-skin contact didn’t hurt; it calmed me somehow. “Open your eyes for me.”

I tried. Light stabbed my eyes, and I winced. “Hurts.”

“Okay, baby, keep them closed for now.” A kiss was pressed to each of my eyelids just as something prodded my opening.

I arched, wanting more. And then a hard and thick cock pushed inside me. I groaned in both bliss and relief. It felt so good. Stretched me just right and soothed the ache. My body tightened around him as he fed me an inch at a time. “Too slow.” Too gentle. I needed it hard. I needed the fiery ache to go away. I tilted my hips, taking him deeper.

“Be still.”

I couldn’t. “More. Faster.” I raked my nails down his back.

He growled. Then he was hammering into me, and my teeth bit into his shoulder.



*



I had the worst hangover, like, ever.

Groggy, I licked my dry lips, frowning at the bitter taste in my mouth. My throat was painfully dry, my head felt heavy, my stomach was churning, and there were sharp, shooting pains behind my eyes.

Apparently I’d set out to get drunk like it was my job. I was surprised I couldn’t smell alcohol seeping from every pore. I hadn’t felt this dizzy since…hell, it hurt to try to remember. I didn’t even want to know what I looked like—it couldn’t be half as bad as I felt.

I tried to lift my head. A throbbing, head-splitting pain reverberated around my skull. I groaned.

Never again. I was never drinking again.

“Hey, baby, how are you feeling?” The low soft voice belonged to Butch. I’d never heard him sound gentle before.

Slowly, I turned on my side to face him, and a wave of nausea came over me; I closed my mouth tight, fighting the urge to balk.

He slid closer and curled his arm around me. His eyes seemed to be drinking me in, like he hadn’t seen me in years. “Not so good, huh?”

Not good at all. In fact—on top of everything else—I felt strangely uneasy. Something was wrong, but I couldn’t pinpoint what. “I feel weird.” My voice was coarse and scratchy.

He brushed a thumb over my jaw. “Weird how, baby?”

“Just weird.” I couldn’t explain it beyond that. “Who were my drinking buddies last—?” Images flashed in my pounding head. Snapshots of memory. So much pain. God, the thirst, the need to f*ck and—

“Imani, you’re gonna be okay,” soothed Butch.

Hangover, my ass. “Something’s very wrong, isn’t it?” Anxious, I went to sit up. My head spun.

“Calm down.” Butch gripped my shoulder, keeping me in place. “What’s the last thing you remember about the night we spoke with Andres?”

I blinked. My memory was pretty foggy, but… “There was a concert.”