Flesh & Blood

Chapter Four

My thoughts were mush when I came to, a sweet scent hitting me all at once that left me further dazed. It drew me up to my forearms from where I’d been crumpled on the floor, then drew my attention up to find one of the Channon men. Something sharp had been driven through his chest and nailed him to the wall. He was limp, body hunched forward and his eyes closed. Blood ran down the length of the stake through his heart and dripped onto the floor.

I couldn't place the scent. It was unlike anything I'd ever smelled before and a thousand times more inviting to boot. The smell was coming from the nearly-if-not-already dead Channon nailed to the wall. Seeing him brought images of my mom in the basement but oddly enough my heart didn't clench painfully at the thought. I didn't feel hurt by it at all.

Mouth watering at the smell invading my senses, hunger hit me like a punch in the gut and I wailed with want. Someone had left a warm body bleeding for me and I knew I should have felt horrified but the smell was dizzying. The sight of pierced and torn skin, along with that unplaceable smell, awoke a primal hunger within me that felt wholly different from the one I’d sated less than a day ago feeding on Miss Roux’s brother.

My fingers elongated unbidden into sharp, black-stained claws that cut into the skin of my palms when I didn’t unclench my fists. I groaned, imagining that smell - so, so sweet - invading my senses as my teeth broke skin. I couldn’t stand up to cross the room and satisfy that need, the blow to the back of my head had me nauseous and disoriented. But the urge to find some relief from the gnawing hunger had me slowly pulling myself across the room.

I was struck head-on by a door flying off its hinges before it went skidding across the floor. That was how Cam found me: bloodied and beaten, wailing as I attempted to crawl, my claws reaching for a member of his pack that looked more dead than alive. His attention went first to the man nailed to the wall as he moved to stand between us. I stared back up at him, claws out and eyes glazed over nearly white.

“Put your claws away.” Cam’s voice was low and unsure, his expression lost and conflicted.

“I can’t!” I cried out, my voice breaking. “I’m trying, but I can’t!”

Every time I’d ever brought my claws out it had been a conscious decision; it was to warn away a threat or to take one on. I wasn’t sure when or if I’d decided to bring my claws out this time. All I knew was that, even with Cam in the room watching, I wanted to sink my teeth into the man dangling behind him and feed until there was nothing left.

“Callum!” Cam shouted, his eyes not leaving mine. Another Channon appeared in the doorway and froze at the sight before him.

“Cam?”

“Take Darcy down to her room and lock the door," Cam ordered him.

"I haven't done anything!" I exclaimed, my own voice causing my ears to ring and my head to ache worse than it already did.

"Maybe." He looked me up and down, suspicion and horror clear in the inky void of his eyes. "That's for Andreas to determine."

"No, I-" but I wasn't sure what I wanted to say or how to finish what I'd already started saying. Would my protests or explanations even matter to Cam? When it was one of his own in such dire condition I could only doubt.

Being isolated from the Channon men for awhile didn't seem like the worst thing in the world at that moment. My stomach growled, churning and angry, commanding my arms to pull my aching form closer but Callum came around to crouch in front of me before I could make any progress. I avoided looking at him as he grabbed me by the shoulders - his hold surprisingly gentle considering the scene he’d entered into - and he lifted me into his arms when it became clear that I couldn’t stand on my own. Not for my lack of trying, rest assured. If I hadn’t been able to get on my feet under the effects of the smell in the room then there was no way I was going to suddenly function under threat of being imprisoned somewhere else in the house.