Page 66 of Eternal Craving

I read the inscription of who lay within:Thomas A. Haywood, aged 37.

Sunaria yanked on my sleeve and gave me a disapproving look.

I raised my eyebrows only to quickly lower them again when the idea of being buried alive came to mind. I longed for a soft bed, a luxury I’d once taken for granted. The next time I got to lie on sheets, I promised myself I’d savor every second.

Despite that, as we settled into the mausoleum, I drew comfort from lying with Sunaria with her wrapped once more in my arms. But nightmares came and went, providing a myriad of images during my restless sleep. I was fighting an invisible force, held in some continuously revolving bad dream.

I awoke with a jolt and found myself alone.

Sunaria had left my side without waking me. My breath left me, and I was gripped with fear. I slid open the stone slab and climbed out.

Sunaria had reassured me that she’d placed Jacob with my sister.

What if she’d lied?

Outside, I looked all around, trying to get my bearings. Leaves and twigs rustled as small creatures scurried away and then I heard voices carried on the wind. I followed the sound down a grassy bank. The gravestones were smaller here, many of them sunken and tilted.

Sunaria was in conversation with a young man dressed in a well-cut suit. She flirted with him, stirring my jealousy.

“What do you think?” she asked, glancing over at me.

“About what?” I kicked up dry, yellow leaves.

She gestured to the stranger and he approached me, conveying nervousness intermingled with excitement.

She smiled at him. “Arnold, isn’t he everything I told you he’d be?”

He nodded.

I cringed. “What?”

Sunaria threw her arms around him, and he leaned into her and grinned.

My glare made him let her go.

Sunaria’s tongue traced her upper lip. “Thirsty?”

“I am a little, yes,” Arnold said, glancing from her to me.

“Daumia?” Sunaria smiled at me.

I knew to refuse would displease her, but I hesitated. Despite my recent attack on the soldiers, this was wrong, cruel even. I sensed her growing impatience.

My gaze locked on Arnold, and he seemed to catch the subtle change in me, as I honed in on him, the mark of a hunter.

He bolted.

Sunaria’s hands rested on her hips. “Well?”

She sent a pulse of anger my way.

This hunger was a vicious, ancient thing. A savage internal scream clawing at my sanity, promising death if I denied it what it craved.

I tracked Arnold through the graveyard and into the woods, and with a shove, I had him down on the ground and then flipped him over. Sunaria ran her fingers through my hair and then her pressure increased, as she held me there on top of him.

Arnold struggled beneath me. I felt a familiar rush as his blood flooded my mouth, causing a tingling sensation throughout my body. All became familiar and knowledge flowed as he drifted. I rocked him, grateful for both the sustenance and the information. Tracing his steps through time, he unwittingly introduced me to people he’d known, adventures he’d taken, cities he’d visited, and the books he’d read.

Arnold the architect. Amongst the scattered designs within his mind, we settled upon one of the plans he’d drawn, followed the ink upon the page as it manifested into structure. I recognized these corridors, bedrooms, and staff rooms, and as we passed through the courtyard, I dug deeper, willing him to go ahead as I lingered, taking my time in Felipe’s senatorial office.