“Enough of this melancholy discussion. If you’re not hungry, then I better be off. Perhaps I’ll hunt for some company as well.”
“Cain, wait.” He glanced back and she fidgeted, her guilt returning. “Have you ever… Have you ever fed from a mortal?”
He laughed and she flushed, unsure what was so funny. “What do you think I’m doing when I take women back to my bed?”
A vision of Silus and their bedroom popped into her mind and she cringed. “I know what men and women do. Do not forget I’m married.”
“And I suspect your husband did more than speak to you wrong. There are a lot of females who enjoy the comfort of a man.”
“Yes, well, I’m not asking about … that. I’m asking about feeding.”
“My darling sister, they are one and the same. When a male feeds from a female, it’s incredibly erotic. Did you not even have that with that bastard husband of yours?”
Her back stiffened. “Do not pity me, Cain Hartzler. He may have been a bastard, but I escaped him. He does not get to mistreat me and keep me.” She considered his description all the same. Erotic was a term she’d never apply to her experiences in the marriage bed. “Perhaps it’s only that way for males.”
He shook his head. “No, females experience it as well. I’ve been intimate with enough females of our kind to know.”
“You’re a whore,” she teased.
“Perhaps, but I’m a well-satisfied whore who’s never hungry.”
“You really should try to be a little less proud, Cain.”
“This, from the Amish stripper?”
“I do not strip! I dance.”
“Tomato, toe-mah-tow.”
“There’s a difference.”
“Whatever. But if you’re feeding from mortals in that skanky little club, make sure you remove the memory. And don’t take too much. Their blood’s stronger than most animals’. Actually, if the bishop is searching for you, it may not be a bad idea to find yourself a mortal to feed from, to keep up your strength.”
Her guilt washed away. “You’re right.”
“Perhaps, you could bed one as well. Erase all those tragic memories of Silus.” He stuck out his tongue and gagged.
“I will not! No matter how awful Silus was, he was my husband. I believe a female should only share such intimacies with her husband or called mate.”
“Awfully prudish for a stripper.”
She swatted at him.
“My apologies! Dancer.”
“You’re an evil brother.”
“Yes, and Adam is an angel. What is a boy to do with such an incongruent existence? Seems it will only ever be sex and sin for me. Pity.”
“You’re incorrigible.”
“I know. But I must be going. It’s getting late, and I’ve much to hunt. Lock the door behind me, sister. Sleep well.”
She closed the door and flipped the deadbolt. Only then did she notice a curtain slightly out of place. Had Cain moved that?
A chill chased up her spine as she crossed the room to adjust the drapes. Her fingers twisted the window latch, making sure it was locked.
Wonderful, now she was paranoid. Rolling her eyes at her silly fear, she shut off the lights and went to bed. But before she made it to her room, she glanced at another window. It was open.
Chapter 3
Jonas pressed his forehead on the cool plaster wall of the safe house where he’d been pacing just outside Council Hall. His palms were trembling against the chipped surface, body quaking with pain, as he tried to collect himself.
Agony radiated through his bones. It seized his intestines, tying them into knots, stabbing every nerve ending along his spine, and vibrating his skull until he could barely hold a single rational thought.
His breath hissed through his clenched teeth as his eyes pinched shut, trapping his tears. Not now. He could not suffer another spell at this moment.
The voices of The Elders and the other males gathering in The Council room muffled under the onslaught of pain. There are only a few more minutes until the meeting begins.
He needed to get control of himself. There was no way he could slip in unnoticed. Today, he was being questioned on his daughter Larissa’s whereabouts. He knew not where his eldest daughter was. Only that she had fled the farm the evening of his son Adam’s wedding—the same evening the dreams had started.
Another excruciating hunger pain knifed through his gut. He grunted against the sharp stab and flinched as agony reverberated through his body, causing even his shoulders to tremble. He could not let the others see him like this.
Oh God, his poor Abilene. How much longer could he pretend that everything was all right? That everything was how it had always been? He was fighting a losing battle.
It had been two months. Two months since those godforsaken dreams had begun. Their kind did not dream. Dreams were sacred and saved for those called upon by God. Yet, he suffered such torment every evening for more than sixty nights. The visions were growing more frequent and intense. He deprived himself of sleep as long as possible, but his clumsy exhaustion was killing him. He wouldn’t last much longer.