Daray's hunger bordered somewhere near the edge of insanity and starvation as he drifted slowly back from the unconsciousness caused by Anise's taking of so much of his blood again.
"I will kill you one day, Anise Dubois!" He hissed, rolling to his side and that small action alone sapping his remaining strength.
"There is a donor waiting, Daray." He recognized Oliver's voice, one of the two men assigned by Anise as his guardians.
Armand was the other and as his dark gaze lifted, he was not surprised to find both men hovering in the shadows. There were only two times these men were not constantly watching over him. One being when he left to feed, the other when Anise herself was in close enough range to control him.
How many times had he attempted to escape her hold of him he could not remember? Yet each time he had tried she had found him, the hold she had upon him through their blood ties guiding her like a beacon to his whereabouts. And each of those times he had paid dearly for those attempts, the last time she had taken nearly all his life's liquid leaving him as weak as a kitten and very close to death, giving him only a mere cupful of what he needed to survive each day until he had grown strong enough again to be brought a donor to feed from.
For nearly two weeks he had been at her mercy in one fashion or another and she had definitely taken full advantage of his weakness during that time. The only way he could gain his complete freedom was to destroy her hold of him and the only way to gain that would be through her death.
Unfortunately, as she had drilled into his skull since turning him, her death would also mean his own as she had been his creator and so far, Daray did not have the courage to test that theory out.
Several of the patrons of Anise's club knew what they were, knew that their hunger for blood kept them alive. Such as the case of the young woman Oliver ushered inside the softly lit room for him. The idea that she had been chosen as his donor and possible sex partner clear in her eyes as she entered and Daray's hatred and anger mounted.
"You would risk your life simply to bed me?" He growled the question, sickened as her head bobbed up and down in agreement.
He could sense her excitement, literally feel the blood rushing through her veins and smell her lust. For a chance to bed the chosen mate of Anise, to this young woman, to possibly give her life just for the opportunity of sampling his passions were nearly more than Daray could bear.
Taking enough of her blood to kill her quickly came to his mind, yet he knew he would not be able to do it, had never been able to do it and that angered him even more. During his nightly feedings he had learned to only take so much from each donor, leaving them somewhat listless, confused and believing that what they had experienced was simply a dream. There were times that as soon as darkness fell, he would remain on the hunt until nearly daybreak the following morning to get enough to sustain him and there were also times that he slumbered the daylight hours hungry from the lack of blood.
"Come woman." He snarled and as she moved forward, Oliver and Armand quietly left the room, they would not watch him having sex with her or feeding from her body.
The petite blonde, he knew had been chosen by Anise herself, as the young woman's looks closely resembled her own. Her pulse quickened as she approached where he lay, her trepidation was palpable, the blood rushing through her body, her heart pounding furiously inside her chest as she sat down almost demurely and shyly upon the edge of the mattress.
Daray's lids dropped, hooding his eyes, he could smell her lust even more and it sparked his hunger and anger even more. How easy it would be for him to simply take what he needed and be done with it, yet that was something he could not do either. That was not what Anise had created in him when she had turned him.
The woman yelped in surprise despite her resignation in offering both her body and her blood to this man as his hand closed over her leg. He noted she wore nothing beneath the incredibly short shirt, leaving him to wonder if that was her choice or if she had been ordered to remove her underclothes for him. He pushed her leg out of his way and for some unknown reason he was suddenly reminded of the woman who had recently begged him for her life. He had had no intention of course killing her as she had assumed would be the case when he started to drink from her but instead, despite his misgivings of doing so, he had turned her that night.
That woman, Carla, as he recalled, had came through the doors of that club with such a hunger for lust he had sensed it the moment she entered. Her strong desire for life and all she could gain from it had kept him interested until at last he had given in to his primal urges and sought her out.
Daray was shocked to feel himself hardening beneath the covering to think of that woman even now, his dark eyes suddenly began to glow in heat.
"I've not the strength to give you what you want, you will have to take it from me." HE told the woman sitting beside him and her heartbeat thundered wildly with that idea.
"Anise will be angry with me if I do that, Daray. I was told..." The woman started and he cut her off sharply.
"It's Anise's fault I am like this now! If your reward for giving me your blood is sex then you have no option. If you were not promised my body then lean over so that I can take from you what I need!" He snarled heatedly, his words spurring her into action.
Yet as soon as she jerked the covering down, something inside him snapped and a moment of insanity took over his entire being. A surge of strength hit him, a rage so intense that he was blind in his deeds that he was once more going to be used because of his looks and build was too much.
His hands came up; his fingers locked around her upper arms and by the time his sanity returned the young woman lay lifeless upon the mattress. Her mouth agape in the shocked scream that was too slow in coming, her skin ghastly pale and her eyes already turning that hazy gray hue of death. He had drained her completely in a matter of seconds; his first kill in over one hundred years.
"No!" Daray cried in horror at what he had done, his voice echoing inside the small bedroom. His strength returned after such a feeding and he lifted her limp body, hugging her against him in torment. His tears of anguish flowed freely from his eyes and his heart. He had killed in anger, his hatred of Anise overriding all other emotion, all other feelings inside him and he had taken this beautiful young woman's life in the process of feeding that hate.
Anise stormed through the door, obviously informed by either Oliver or Armand. The corpse dropped from his hold and Daray flew from the bed in the blink of an eye, his hand closing tightly around Anise's throat as he slammed her against the wall in his rage.
He could not kill her this way, he knew, yet he would gain some satisfaction in hearing her struggle to breathe for a moment or two. Hands were all over him the moment she hit the wall, pulling, jerking, and peeling his fingers from her throat. Still not quite at his full strength to stop them, he found himself on the floor on his back, pinned in place by even more of Anise's men. His near black eyes flashed as she moved to stand over him, her hand rubbing her neck where his fingers had dug into her flesh and a grin of amusement crossed her lips as she stared down at him.
"I will so enjoy punishing you for that, Daray." She all but laughed, her eyes raking over his nakedness and he shuddered as he felt the heat of her eyes moving over him.
"Get dressed and find your meal. Perhaps you should feast well tonight because it will need to last for a time." She told him in an icy tone, that smile still upon her lips.
Daray was released with a simple nod of her head, she had no fear of him, she controlled him fully just as she always had. She also knew that if he chose to run tonight to avoid another round of punishment that she would track him down. The longer it took to find him, the more severe his punishment would be, and they both knew it. No, Daray St. Johns would not run from her again. After his feeding he would return, his chin tilted in defiance, ready to accept whatever she had in mind for him, he had no choice.
Carla moved through the shadows of the trees, listening intently for any sounds that would tell her where he was. She could sense him near, but where and why was he not making himself known to her.
