Dark Cravings Read Online Free PDF

to see his rumpled, adorable hair, which was stiff in
some spots and sticking up in others. Adorable? God help me. No, the only thing
I could do was clasp the cheap, threadbare sheets tighter to my breasts.
    I willed myself not to cry even as the hot tears rolled down
my cheeks.
    “No. No. No,” I repeated and started to rock back and forth.
    “Ella?” Micah’s voice had the whisper-rough quality of
someone who’d been screaming.
    His hand on my thigh was heavy and overwhelming. I became
hyperaware of it. His skin burned with the temperature of him. Was he always
this hot or did he have a fever? The warmth made me think of other, hotter
things. His mouth had been there, on my thigh. Color blazed my cheeks. If I
could have shut my eyes tighter, I would have. If I could have phazed, I would
have. I would have sold my tarnished soul to escape.
    “What the hell happened?” My voice was just shy of
hysterical.
    The mattress creaked. I pictured the cotton sheets moving
over the soft, dark hair on Micah’s legs as he sat up and covered himself. As I
waited for him to say something, the echo of our frenzied heartbeats filled the
room. I heard nothing but the rapid thud-thud. No cars. No crickets. No
rustling of trees. Our hearts, I realized, were beating in tandem. Mine sped.
His mimicked. Not a good sign.
    “I have no idea. The last thing I remember is fog, snakes.” Micah
visibly shuddered. “I hate succubi.”
    His voice made me crack one eye open and peek at him. With
the tattered sheet he dabbed at the crimson lines on his hip and stomach. He
looked at the thing as if he’d never seen the mark before. His finger moved
higher, to a deep, angry red welt above his belly button. My nails had done
that. The wound wasn’t bleeding, not anymore. My panic notched to a new level.
I haven’t had many bouts of insight, but I was having one now. I’d had more
than my share of cuts, scratches, bruises and bites. As a hunter it came with
the territory. The scratches and other bite marks covering him were all in
various states of healing. Some were fresh, hours old. Some were already
scabbing. Some were healed as if we’d been here a while.
    I sat up against the headboard and brought my knees to my
chest. The movement sent a flash of pain between my legs. If I’d had any doubts
about what Micah and I had been doing, I had no delusions now. Wrapping my arms
around myself tighter, I buried my face against my knees and fought tears.
Demons and vampires I could fight. Emotional mortification, not so much.
    There was new strain in Micah’s voice I’d never heard before
when he spoke. “There is a lot of blood. Is it mine, or yours? Did I…hurt you?”
    I lifted my head and forced myself to look at him. Did he
hurt me? I should be asking him that question. My gaze trailed over the dried
maroon rivulets that ran down his chest. I followed them up to his throat and froze.
Mottles of purple and blue bruises outlined the two punctures on his neck. The
wound had been sucked, prodded and re-opened several times. The skin around the
edges was torn. Apparently, I hadn’t been gentle when I’d bitten him. Not that
I had any practice in biting anyone.
    Seeing where my gaze fixated, Micah lifted his fingers to
the spot. I was amazed at how steady his hand was. Our eyes met. The air moved,
stirred to life with a rush of power and energy that set my nerves dancing.
Every inch of me longed to touch him, to feel him against me. Without thinking
I inched closer to him.
    Shit. I stopped moving and instead concentrated on the shade
of his eyes, the circles under them. The scruff along his jaw had passed the I’m-too-lazy-to-shave
phase and graduated to a beard. The hair was golden, lighter than I’d expected
it to be. The beard made him look older than twenty-eight.
    I waited for the lash of Micah’s anger. I’d bitten him. I’d
broken my oath to the Agency. Damn. I’d bitten the son of the Agency’s leader.
Micah’s eyes were full of