by Мишель Роуэн
Then I moved my hands up into his dark hair and pressed my now dress-free body against him. Without my stilettos our seven-inch height difference was evident, but I could manage. I pulled his face closer to mine and brushed my lips against his.
"I love you," I told him. "Even in this lousy little motel room."
With a flick of my hands over his broad shoulders, I removed his expensive black jacket, which joined my dress on the white-tiled floor. It was Hugo Boss. He had ten of them exactly the same in the closet at his townhome. I'd counted. Then I pulled the black shirt out from his pants, unbuttoning it from the bottom to the top, and it joined the clothes party on the floor.
Thierry's pale chest had a light sprinkling of dark hair on it. He was toned, but he didn't have a bodybuilder physique, which was fine with me because I wasn't into the big and bulky. His muscles were lean and hard and felt good under my touch. In the center of his chest were some faint scars left over from when he'd been human. He'd been left for dead when Veronique had found him and sired him. This was what was left from his own near-
death experience at the hands of the people who'd nearly killed him. I kissed his chest, running my mouth over the scars.
Then I led him to the bed, and I sat down on it and slowly undid his belt. Black, of course, like the rest of his wardrobe. I slipped my hands under the waistband and slid his pants over his hips, and he leaned over and our lips met in a kiss that made my mind go blank to all other worries or stresses. When Thierry kissed me there was only him, the taste of him, and the need for more and more.
After a moment he broke off the kiss, but kept his mouth close to mine so I could feel his warm breath on my lips. "It's been a difficult evening. If you wish to wait until we get back to Toronto, I would understand."
I grinned at him. "And let this fabulous room go to waste?"
I scooted back a bit to make room for him and felt the bed dip as he kneeled on it in front of me.
"An excellent point." He lowered himself on top of me and I felt his hot mouth slide over my collarbone, then down to my breasts. My hands tangled in his hair. He trailed his hands lower over my abdomen to the top of my panties, which he quickly and efficiently disposed of. They were red to match the dress, because matching inner wear to outer wear is very important to me, for some strange reason.
I loved it when he touched me like this. His hands and mouth could do things to me that they should teach men in school. I arched off the bed and stifled a gasp at his intimate touch. After a moment he returned to my mouth and kissed me so deeply I thought I would pass out.
"Thierry—" I kissed him back just as hard and wrapped myself around him to pull his body even closer.
I will tell you a secret about Thierry de Bennicoeur. Being a master vampire automatically made him cool with his emotions and actions. It was difficult to get used to, since I was accustomed to dealing with such things as blind dates who wanted to get into my pants an hour into the first date.
Thierry wasn't like that. He was respectful. He was cool and reserved. He was—
I moaned as he slowly entered me. —he was a freaking sex god.
Some relationships got boring after a while. The physical relationship gets tired and dull.
But every time with Thierry—and admittedly it was not a daily, or sometimes even weekly occurrence—but every damn time was better than the time before.
Like tonight.
The man drove me over the edge.
Literally, in this case, because at that moment we fell completely off the bed. That had definitely not happened before. Thank you, small-town motel rooms.
"Sarah—" His voice was hoarse against my lips. "I love you."
"I love you, too."
I suddenly felt warm. Really warm. And not just because my world was being rocked. I wouldn't have noticed the sensation at all, if I hadn't already been in tune to it from feeling the same way on the dance floor. I nuzzled Thierry's neck and licked the side of his throat.
It made him groan.
"The witch…" I murmured.
"What about her?"
"She said something about… about hurting you because I'd gone to the prom with the guy she had the hots for."
His hands slid from my breasts down to grasp the backs of my thighs to bring me even closer to him. "And?"
I sank my fangs into the side of his neck.
"Sarah… stop…" But his tone wasn't terribly persuasive. In fact, it sounded more like an encouragement to continue.
Besides, I couldn't stop. I don't think I could have even if I'd been thinking clearly. All I could think about was the smell of him (good), the feel of him making love to me (very good), and the taste of him on my lips (very, very good).
After a couple of minutes, though, he clamped his hands on my upper arms and with effort managed to pull away from me.
The room was dark but I could see him clearly. My eyesight was one of the things that had improved since becoming a vampire, but this was even better than normal. Definite night vision. All the color was gone but it was a crisp black and white as if the moon shone directly above the room.
Frowning, Thierry brushed his fingers against the wound on the side of his neck. I watched as the fang marks grew smaller and smaller until they disappeared completely. I could heal well, but not like this. Thierry healed like a champ.
I was certain he was going to be angry with me and say cross things, but he simply stared down at me.
"Are you well?" he asked after a moment.
Was I well? What a strange question. I was well. I was damn well. I don't think I'd ever been so well in my entire life, as a matter of fact.
"Do I look well to you?" I asked, and my voice sounded very odd. It had this strange, sultry thing going on.
His gaze lowered to take me in and, in the position I was currently in, there was a lot to take. I was certain he was able to see me as well as I could see him. His eyes flicked back to my face. "You do. But that was not normal behavior for you, Sarah. I'm worried what this means."
"What it means…" I sat up and slithered closer to him so that our lips were only an inch apart. "Is that you make me lose my mind. Your touch, your kiss, your body, it's all I can think about."
His gaze darkened. "Is that so?"
"Yes. And I know you feel the same way about me. That's why you want the annulment."
I heard the words leave my mouth. It was strange. It was as if I was watching from a long way away. As if this was a movie of some much more confident person with my face.
"You want me. You can barely contain yourself when you're around me. You want to do very bad things to me."
His breath hitched as I pulled him closer and flattened my breasts against his hard chest.
"I don't know what you mean," he said.
I raised an eyebrow. My mouth was so close to his I might as well have been kissing him.
"Oh, I think you do. Don't you remember? A night not that long ago? The taste of my blood drove you insane with need."
His brows drew together. "That was a horrific mistake."
"Was it?"
"I nearly killed you that night."
I smiled and traced his face with my hands and brushed my mouth over his in a brief kiss.
"But you didn't. I'm fine. I'm here, with you. Do you think I would have stayed with a man who I thought would kill me?"
"Sarah," he breathed. "You're not yourself right now."
"Of course I am." I kissed him and slid my tongue into his mouth searching for his until I found it. For all his protests, he didn't stop me and instead kissed me back. Very hard. I smiled against his lips.
I reached around and moved my dark hair away from my neck. "Bite me, Thierry. Sink your fangs into me and drink as much as you like. I want you to taste me."
I heard a low growl and it made my body ache with desire. He brushed his mouth against my throat. "Don't make me do this, Sarah."
"I'm not making you do anything. You want to."<
br />
"Yes, I want to. But—"
I pressed my throat against his mouth. "Lose control, Thierry. Lose that control you hold so closely to you. It's the only thing with the power to keep us apart."
His heart beat as rapidly as mine had earlier in the bathroom. "What did she do to you?"
That was a very good question. Even as I wrapped myself around Thierry's body like a slutty anaconda, begging for him to bite my neck, I was asking myself the very same thing.
The last time he'd bit me it had almost killed me. The moment he'd tasted blood he'd lost his control, his center, that I knew he worked so hard to maintain. I was trying to make him do something he didn't want to do, even though a part of him was screaming inside for him to do it I knew it. I could feel it. I could taste it.
He grabbed my wrists and pushed me down onto my back on the questionably clean motel carpeting and crushed his face against my neck.
Most of me was ecstatic that I was having this effect on him, breaking down all of those annoying barriers of his. But a very small piece of me was screaming inside to stop him before it was too late.
The larger part of me told the other part to shut the hell up and stop being a total party pooper.
He pulled away a little and I could see that his silver eyes had changed to black. He searched my face, perhaps for some sign that I wanted him to stop. When he saw no red flags, he lowered his face again and his teeth grazed my throat just over my pulse.
His fangs begin to penetrate my skin, a small but exquisite pain, but then he stopped as if frozen in place. He pushed back and stared down at me and began shaking his head slowly. There was a look on his face that I don't think I'd ever seen before. I'd seen blankness. I'd seen anger. I'd seen concern and I'd seen passion.
But I'd never seen panic.
"No," he managed. "I can't do this."
I tried to draw him back to me but he moved away from my touch.
"I won't hurt you again." His voice was barely a whisper. His eyes were pools of darkness.
"There's something wrong and we'll figure it out, but I won't hurt you again."
Before I could say anything, he got to his feet and headed directly to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him.
I heard the lock click.
My disappointment slowly faded to disbelief.
What the hell? I looked around the room. What the hell just happened here?
But I couldn't claim that I'd blacked out. I remembered everything.
Holy crap. I'd gone all black widow spider on him. I'd bitten him and tried to get him to bite me back.
I'd become a total biteaholic.
I crawled up onto the bed and pulled the covers over me. A sudden wave of extreme sleepiness washed over me and I only had one more thought before I fell deeply asleep.
Maybe going to my high-school reunion to feel normal again hadn't been such a wise choice after all.
Live and learn.
Chapter 8
I pried my eyes open and looked at the digital clock next to the bed. It was ten o'clock.
Almost twelve hours of sleep and I couldn't remember a single dream, prophetic or otherwise.
A very good start.
The memory of what happened last night flooded over me. I groaned from disbelief and embarrassment and pressed my face down into the pillow. I honestly couldn't believe I'd suddenly turned into a neck-biting nympho. But that was last night. It was over now. I felt much more centered. A good night's sleep will do that.
"You're awake," a deep voice said.
I grimaced.
I peeked over the starchy white sheets at a fully dressed Thierry sitting on a chair next to the television stand. The curtains were drawn, so it was still dark in the room.
"Good morning," I croaked.
"How are you feeling?" he asked.
"Better."
"That's very good to hear. We'll have to keep a very close eye on any unusual behavior, Sarah. And we must find the witch you spoke with last night. I've already made several calls to find out her location."
I cleared my throat. "I don't want to see her again. She might turn me into a toad next time."
He didn't smile at that. His cell phone rang and he pulled it out of his jacket pocket. "We must leave shortly. I'll give you some privacy to dress."
He opened the door and went outside the motel room to take the call.
I lay there for another minute and stared up at the ceiling mirror that reflected only a messy bed with an indentation where I lay. Then I forced myself to get up, have a quick shower, pull my hair back into a short ponytail, get dressed, and shove my used clothes into my overnight bag. Then I sat on the side of the bed and tried not to think of much of anything, but that didn't work out too well.
I was fine. I felt fine. Nothing was wrong. The sooner we got out of there and got back to life as usual, the better. I could put this unfortunate little trip out of my mind forever.
Two necks bitten. That would be it. Finito. The end.
Stacy must be some strange witch. What kind of a stupid spell was that, anyhow?
Being turned into a toad would have been so much worse.
My inner pep talk was working, and when Thierry re-entered the room I was ready to go.
I was even smiling a little.
He raised an eyebrow. "I'm glad to see that you are looking well."
"I am. Look, I know what happened last night was really strange. I'm sorry. I promise it won't happen again."
He studied me for a moment. "I don't blame you. You weren't yourself."
No, that was very true. If I'd been myself I would have been all awkward and apologetic instead of sultry and seductive. So not me. There was a small part of me that wished I could be more confident like that all the time, but if it came with an uncontrollable thirst for blood, then I'd have to pass.
Maybe I'd look at this situation as a good opportunity to be thankful for what I already had. I was always looking for a way out, a way to be what I used to be, aka normal and human. I had never really appreciated that being a vampire fledgling wasn't all that bad.
Except for the hunters, of course.
Thierry took my overnight bag from me and held open the door. I slid my sunglasses on and, with a smile as optimistic as I could manage, walked outside—
—into the blazing hot core of Hell.
I screamed and held my hands up to shield my face. The glare from the sun wasn't just a glare, it was a burning agony that seemed to be trying to fry my brain. My vision went white and spotty and I felt a searing pain on my hands. I'd never felt anything so hot in my entire life.
Thierry grabbed the back of my shirt and pulled me back inside the room and shut the door. The pain eased immediately. I was actually panting when I looked at him. I didn't like the expression on his face.
My hands looked as if I'd been at the beach all day covered in vegetable oil. Bright pink.
Smoke rose off the surface of my skin in wispy curls.
"Your eyes are black," Thierry said.
"Oh, my God." I scrambled to pick up my sunglasses from where they'd fallen on the floor and I put them back on. I stilled myself and concentrated. Did I feel like biting him? No.
But my eyes were black?
I almost got my ass completely fined by the sun. By sunlight.
But sunlight didn't bother me. Not much, anyhow. Sure, I was a little more sensitive to it and it made me feel like taking a nap after being out in it for too long. But this? This wasn't right. To say the very least.
If I'd been out there any longer I had no doubt that it would have killed me.
"Wh… what's a nightwalker?" I asked him.
"Pardon me?"
"Stacy… she mentioned something in passing last night. I didn't even pay any attention to it. But she asked me if I knew what a nightwalker was. She said I should ask you."
He hesitated. "A nightwalker is a type of vampire that existed a long time ago. One that has more of the
common, mythic traits associated with vampirism. It is due to this rare form of vampire that we have so many misconceptions about what we truly are. But nightwalkers no longer exist." His expression was unreadable. "What else did she say?"
I thought back to the strange conversation I'd had with her after she told me she knew I was a vampire. I'd assured her that I was nice and normal and not a monster.
And she wanted revenge.
Oh, shit.
"She cursed me, didn't she?" I said. "Maybe to be one of these nightwalker things?"
"I believe she cursed you, but since we don't know that you have any more symptoms, we can't jump to any conclusions. It does seem as though she is drawing on common vampiric myths in whatever she's done to you, though."
"And now I can't go outside." After the blazing heat of the outdoors—and being that it was actually minus-ten Celcius in February that wasn't a good sign at all—what else was wrong with me? "Am I going to be stuck here until the sun goes down?"
I glanced around the room, which now felt like a badly decorated prison cell.
"We must go back to the city."
"You go." My voice was shaky. "I'll stay here."
"No, I won't leave you here like this. We'll return to Toronto and then we'll locate the witch and have her break the curse. It's as simple as that." He sounded so calm and confident that I wanted to believe him.
He stood with his back against the door. He didn't attempt to come any closer to me. I couldn't say that I blamed him much after what had happened last night. Or maybe he was afraid that I'd go supernova and spontaneously combust.
I take it back. This was definitely worse than being turned into a toad.
I sat on the edge of the unmade bed. "But how can I drive back to Toronto with you?
Your car is covered in windows. I'll be like a microwaveable bag of popcorn in there."
He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "It's simple. We will put you in the trunk."
My eyes widened. "Are you serious?"
"No. I was attempting humor again to help lessen the gravity of this situation."
