Page 252 of Flirting with Darkness

The Count frowned. “How do you know that?”

I met his steady gaze. “Because he’s clever enough to have noticed when our deliveries arrive. He’s used one of them to get off the estate. Vito and the others would never let him leave alone. They wouldn’t have searched the vans leaving the estate, especially not for Elliot. Not when they know he’s in lust.”

“Fine. Then we hunt him down. He can’t have got far.”

I swallowed the ache in my throat and slumped against the wall. Desperation and self-loathing rose inside me. What kind of cold-hearted bastard left his mate alone to suffer through the desperate need for blood and the even more desperate need to fuck? Me…that’s who. I panted, my breathing as ragged as it had been when he’d taken my blood and driven me to the edge of my control. I ground my teeth, my jaw muscles in spasm. The memory of the way he’d held me afterwards, like I was his whole world, like I was his everything, undid me. I released a roar of rage and pain, hitting the mirror with my fist, sending shards of glass flying across the room before I sank to my knees. No matter my reasons, I’d royally fucked up. I’d lost him…and destroyed myself in the process. There was no going back. No undoing what I’d done…

“Davlov! Get your damned arse up. We’re going out to look for him, right now.”

I slowly lifted my head, I wanted to so badly, but Elliot had chosen his path—he’d run. “No, Bal. Not this time. He chose to leave.” Bitterness sat like a heavy stone in my stomach. “And I don’t blame him, not one bit. I don’t deserve him.”

“You’re just going to let him go?” Bal’s words were careful, neutral.

Self-disgust and pain ripped through me. I growled. “Yes! Now back the fuck off, Count!”

Standing up, I met his gaze and held it. For a moment he allowed it, the weight of his power pushing on me. I didn’t care that I’d just challenged him, that he could kick my arse from here to the underworld and back without breaking a sweat. I deserved it. I wanted it. I wanted to forget what I’d done…that Elliot was gone because I’d let him down. My fists curled and my fangs lengthened. I was spoiling for a fight…

But Bal just nodded and stepped over the shards of mirror, pulling open the broken door. “As you wish. Let me know when you come to your damned senses. I’ll give you everything you need to find him.”

Agony sliced me from the inside as I stood alone in that room. I lifted Elliot’s shirt to my nose and inhaled, terror claiming me like I’d never known before. My mate was alone. He’d need more blood… He’d never want anyone else's blood, that’s what he’d said, but he only had twenty four hours of my blood left at the most. He’d give in when the cravings took him; he’d have to or die. I roared into his shirt. My scent would fade from him, just as his would from me. I couldn’t let that happen. Panting, I breathed in and out through the material of his shirt. Gods, what would my life be like without him? The thought of never being surrounded by his scent again, of never feeling his touch or touching him, shattered something in my heart. I gasped as pain hit me, and the tug behind my ribs exploded. I sank to my knees and fell forward, catching myself on the floor with my hands, Elliot’s shirt still clutched in one of them. I’d be nothing but an empty shell without him…cold and hollow.

Jumping to my feet, I ran out of the door, my heart racing.

11

ELLIOT

Traffic rumbled along the road outside the Gambit.

Breathe…I told myself. But it was hard when I knew who was in there. I’d arrived here only a few minutes ago, and my skin itched with the need to storm in and make Davlov see me for more than some half-blood, too naive to know what I wanted—which was him. I wanted him more now than I ever had. My chest ached with emptiness, and I felt raw. I had since I’d punctured his skin, sucking the warm blood from his body, and he’d ripped my heart out by rejecting me.

I rubbed my face. Shit, was it really only forty eight hours since I’d walked away from him? It was pathetic to go back to someone who didn’t want me; I knew that. But I couldn’t stand the thought of never seeing him again.

I’d fought the lure of the blood Davlov had sent me until stomach cramps had made me scream. Hating that he’d force me to take some unknown person's blood, I’d sobbed and cursed his existence—until I’d discovered it was his. Swallowing that blood hadn’t been the same as drinking from him, but it had calmed the hunger cramps to a level where I could cope. What it hadn’t done was sate the lust in my body. The only thing that helped with that constant burn of need was to throw myself back into the memory of Dav and me together, using my fist until I was swollen and sore—and ready to hunt Davlov down and demand he help me, until I realised he hadn’t been back to the castle since that night.

When I attacked Vito and demanded to know where he was, Vito had calmly told me Dav was staying elsewhere, and would find me when he was ready.

“You aren’t a prisoner in your room, Elliot, but I can smell your need, your lust. Some of the other guards aren’t strong enough to resist that call and will take what you will not freely give. Don’t put them—or Dav—in that position. He will kill them if they force their blood, or other things, on you. Bloodlust is the one thing that will cause vampires to return to their base instincts.”

“What base instincts?” I’d asked.

“Feeding and fucking, my friend,”he’d said before leaving me to stew on those words.

“Only some of them,” I’d muttered in disgust. It was obvious Davlov could easily resist me, even after claiming that I was his.

That knowledge had been a bitter pill to swallow. Revenge had seemed a better idea than sitting around waiting for either another painful rejection or death. I’d hidden myself in the laundry van that serviced the staff's living quarters. From my window I’d watched it arrive every Thursday morning since I’d been at the castle. All the bedsheets and towels were externally laundered, all except the main castle’s. Dressed in my black combats, boots, t-shirt, and jacket, with a baseball cap over my brown curls, I’d looked like any other guard.

The guards watching the castle changed at eight am, which was right when the laundry van arrived. They had a quick handover before the night guards marched away to the security hub, and the day guards set off to patrol the castle perimeter. I’d been waiting, and as soon as they’d gone, I’d marched towards the van, just another guard after his shift was done. Deliberately, I’d barged into the laundry guy. He’d dropped the bags he carried. Helpfully, I’d picked them up telling him I’d put them in the van as an apology, giving him a sexy grin, and making him blush. Flustered, he’d let me, and I’d told him to jump in the driver's seat before chucking the bags in the back and slamming the door. Except I left it unlatched, and after he’d given me a wave in the mirror, I’d leapt onto the open door, swung into the van and closed it, burying myself under the stink of dozens of other vampires.

I smiled. The guards hadn’t scented me or the bloodlust raging through my system when they’d given the van a cursory check. After all, who’d want to smuggle themselves out of the castle? Certainly not someone who needed a constant supply of blood.

I released a breath; none of them had taken into account my human side. I wasn’t as lost in my transition to vampire as they’d all expected. I chose to see that as a good thing. Even the thought of taking blood or having sex with anyone other than Dav made me feel ill. The last lot of blood bags he’d sent with Vito were in my hotel room—empty, and I was fucking hungry.

Right, so I needed to grow some brass balls and confront him. I hadn’t seen the car go past, but that meant nothing. He could still be in there. My heart rate thrummed faster and faster as I straightened off the wall and strode confidently across the street. No one glanced at me strangely. I was bigger now, not some skinny half-assed human.

When I’d arrived in London, I’d downed one of the blood bags, almost climaxing at the taste of Dav easing down my throat. I’d hungered with every part of my soul for him. That’s when I’d broken. I needed to see him again, to prove that I wanted to be with him, and beg him to give me a chance. I had no idea how to manage that without the Count finding me, but it was a risk I was willing to take.

My stomach lurched. Gods, I’d been an idiot to believe anything Victor said. He’d sent me to kill the most powerful vampire in existence with a fucking garlic-spiked ring! For fuck’s sake, it amounted to nothing more than a toy in their eyes. It had been laughable as an assassination attempt; one Victor would have shown his contempt for by beating me unconscious before killing me like he’d promised if he hadn’t actually given me the damned thing, knowing it wouldn’t work. I’d been an expendable way to send a message.

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