"Do you want a drink?" he asked.
A drink was what she needed to help her relax. "Yes, a beer!"
He nodded and turned to push his way back through the crowd. Isabelle saw the bar then. It was on the right-hand side of the floor, a horseshoe shape curving out to the edge of the mahogany floor. The bar had flashing blue and green neon lights pulsing throughout the glass bottom. A huge crowd surrounded it, all of them leaning over to yell their orders at the scurrying bartenders.
Isabelle watched in amazement as Stefan made his way through the yelling crowd. It was obvious he was used to being in such places and wasn't the least bit intimidated by the huge crowd. Jealousy flashed through her as she wondered how many women he had taken out of clubs similar to this one.
She knew what The Stooges and her brothers were like, and Stefan was much older than they were. That added up to a lot of women. She tried to shove her jealousy aside, but it was a rock in her stomach that wasn't going away. How could she ever compete with so many women?
The thought jolted her and nearly caused her to fall out of her chair. She didn't want to compete with any other women; they could all have him. Even as she thought it, she knew she was lying to herself. She did want him; it was beyond time she admitted it, but now she had the worry of how inexperienced she was to add to her growing list of concerns.
For a moment, she wanted to cry. Life was so unfair. She’d hidden away, determined not to meet someone who made her feel the way he did. Then he had shown up at her house, invaded her life, and turned everything upside down. But even worse, he was arrogant, conceited, harsh, unbending, and a complete womanizer. Why couldn't she find a pleasant, simple human who wouldn't affect her the way he did?
"Would you like to dance?"
Isabelle blinked in surprise at the young man before her. Tall and lean, his hair was dyed a platinum blond that stood up in short spikes. His chin was pointed, his eyes a dark blue. He smiled at her as he extended a long, fine-boned hand. She opened her mouth to say no, and then recalled the entire reason she decided to come here. Being a wallflower was not going to help in her mission to find someone else she wanted.
She may want Stefan, but she was still determined to try and find someone who could make her feel even a fraction of what he did. That would at least be proof he wasn't her soul mate, and she wouldn’t have to spend eternity with him.
She smiled sweetly at the man as she accepted his hand. He pulled her to her feet and led her onto the packed dance floor. Second thoughts filled her when she realized she hadn't danced since her senior prom, and she had no idea what kind of dancing these people were doing. Then she realized there seemed to be no rhyme or reason to anyone's movements. They were all flowing to the beat of the music.
It took her a few minutes to relax, but when she did, she realized she was having fun. "My name's Frank!" he yelled above the pounding music.
"Isabelle!"
He smiled at her as he wrapped a hand around her waist. She tensed; her whole body went rigid with a feeling of wrongness, of not belonging. Her mind instantly flashed to Stefan, and she ground her teeth. She was going to prove to him, and to herself, she could and would be attracted to other people. She forced herself to smile back at him as she moved to the rhythm of the music.
So what if she didn't want Frank, there were lots of other men here. The music changed, and Isabelle found herself swept into someone else's arms. She forced herself to keep smiling through the shudder of revulsion sweeping her when the tall brunette wrapped his arm around her waist. At least she was having fun dancing, and if she kept on going, she would find someone who made her feel like Stefan did. She was sure of it.
Stefan stood on the sidelines watching as Isabelle went from one man to another. He had to set their drinks down before he crushed them both. He saw the looks in the men's eyes, the way they stared at her, and it took everything he had not to march across the floor, rip her out of their arms, and destroy them. Gritting his teeth, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath to steady himself.
He opened his eyes and immediately focused on her as lust tore through him. She looked stunning as she danced and smiled; the lights played off the golden highlights in her hair and emphasized the startling violet of her eyes. The simple black dress she wore was more enticing to him than any lingerie. All he wanted was to slip it off and reveal the treasure beneath.
He tore his eyes away as lust and rage threatened to consume him. He glanced over the dance floor, noting the admiring looks he received. He began to rethink the way he’d been going about getting Isabelle. He was chasing after her, trying to force her to bend to his will. The more he got to know her, the more he realized trying to force her to do something wasn't going to work.
He would eventually wear her defenses down, but it would take longer than he was willing to wait. However, if she began to realize on her own she wanted him, she might not fight as much. If she felt even an ounce of the jealousy he did, she would come to him. Besides, if it didn't work, he could at least find someone here who could ease his need.
Stefan smiled as he made his way out to the dance floor, making sure he stayed near Isabelle so she could see him, and so he could kill anyone who tried anything with her. He grabbed the first girl he saw and swept her into his arms. She grinned at him as he pulled her against him.
Her hips ground against his as her chest pressed against him provocatively. All it did was cause a wave of revulsion to sweep through him. What was the matter with him? The girl was pretty enough, and more than willing, but he found himself sickened by her overt movements.
He wanted Isabelle, even cared for her, but he would be damned if he didn't want other women too. No one had that kind of power over him, and she wouldn’t have it now. His new plan with Isabelle was completely forgotten as he resolved to get her out of his mind and find someone who could arouse him as she did.
Maybe she had the right idea after all; they should avoid each other. So what if he never had her? He'd had many disappointments in his long life. This wouldn't be the first, and it sure wouldn't be the last. It was probably better for both of them if he left her alone.
Involuntarily, his gaze darted to Isabelle as she laughed with the tall, brunette man she danced with. A bolt of sizzling envy swept him. His hands clenched on the tiny girl in his arms. She seemed to take it as an invite as she pressed against him. He resisted shoving her away in disgust, storming across the dance floor, and pulling Isabelle out of here.
He would not do it; he would not let her get to him that way. He refused to. He realized then he needed to get as far away from her as he could. It wasn't just a need to bed her anymore; it was becoming an obsession. One he would be free of. She was beginning to ruin his control and his life! Tonight he would go back to the house, get his stuff, and leave.
As he thought it, he found himself feeling a strange sense of loss. He didn't want to leave her, wasn't even sure he could leave her. He ground his jaw more brutally. Yes, he could leave her, and he would. She was just a woman for crying out loud, a woman like the thousands of others he'd met.
The song ended, and he released the girl he'd been dancing with. Isabelle was quickly claimed by someone else. The small girl before him moved back toward his arms, but he turned away, searching for someone else, anyone else who could spark some lust within him.
Isabelle danced for well over an hour. She passed between many men, none of whom aroused her in any way. With each new one, she became more and more determined to feel something for one of them. Dancing was becoming less fun as her aggravation mounted along with the discomfort in her feet.
She had seen Ian and Jack dancing happily. And she’d seen him. Jealousy threatened to strangle her when she’d spotted him dancing with another woman. It fueled her determination. She flirted more outrageously and danced more suggestively with the men, but the only thing she experienced was a growing sense of revulsion and an urge to move into his arms. She refused to do it. He seemed qui
te content without her, and she would be damned if she was the one who went to him.
Instead, she wanted to get off the dance floor where she could find a place to curl up and give in to the tears of frustration threatening to choke her. It was all so unfair, all of it, and she resented every single second of it.
When the next song ended, Isabelle stepped away from her dance partner, determined to escape. She made it two feet before arms swept around her. She knew instantly who held her by the jolt rocking her body. Her urge to flee vanished as she turned toward him.
Damp with sweat, Stefan’s black hair was tussled boyishly. The sight of him melted her heart and caused a fluttering in her stomach. Without thinking, she reached up and brushed his hair back, startled by the wave of tenderness washing through her.
She hesitantly met his gaze as he stared down at her with turbulent eyes. His jaw clenched so firmly a muscle began to twitch in his cheek. The air of hostility surrounding him disturbed her as she tried to figure out what caused it.
Then, the look vanished as the hunger she’d become accustomed to replaced it. Her breath escaped her as that look sizzled through her. Then, he was pulling her against him. Her body melded to his. The world disappeared as he rested his forehead against hers. His black eyes filled her vision and pierced her soul. What she’d been trying so relentlessly to find with everyone else blazed to life. She pressed against him, her heart thumping in her chest as a feeling of contentment, of coming home, stole through her.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and turned her head to rest it against his shoulder. It didn't matter the music pulsing around them was fast. Nothing mattered as she moved in time with him, relishing in the feel of his solid arms around her and the warmth of his body enveloping her. She welcomed the feeling of strength and security rushing over her.
Stefan closed his eyes and lay his cheek on top of her silky head. The fresh apple scent of her hair filled his senses. Beneath that, he could smell the sweetness of her blood and her delicious natural fragrance. He found himself growing hard as desire finally awakened in him, desire and something more, something astonishing. Something that shoved all his earlier resolutions away.
He felt as if he were home and finally found the place he belonged. A deep urge to protect and cherish her rocked him. With horrifying clarity, he realized how much he cared for her. He wanted so much more than just her body; he wanted all of her.
Fear lanced through him as his hands clenched on her. He didn't need this; he didn't want to feel like this. It made him vulnerable in a way he hadn't been since he was a child, and he didn't like it one bit.
He wanted to get away from her as fast as he could, but he couldn't bring himself to release her, couldn't bring himself to step away. The music ended, and it was Isabelle who pulled away first. Her eyes were cloudy; tears brimmed in their vivid depths. The sight of her tears shook him. He instantly wanted to make those tears go away, to shield her from whatever was upsetting her. Then, he realized he was the one tearing her apart.
He released her instantly, too upset with himself to do anything else. She stared at him for a little longer before turning and bolting off the dance floor. He watched her go as she hurried through the crowd. A sense of loss enfolded him, but he refused to go after her.
He needed to figure out his own emotions; he had to get rid of the horrible vulnerability filling him before he could be near her again. He needed to get away from her before he began to care for her more than he already did. He knew what happened when he cared about people, and he wasn’t about to let it happen again.
Isabelle pushed her way through the crowd, determined to put some distance between her and Stefan. It seemed useless. His scent adhered to her; her skin still burned everywhere he touched. The door at the back of the club beckoned to her like a homing beacon. She slammed into the bar, shoving against it roughly, and nearly falling in her eagerness to be free.
Fresh air assailed her, and she inhaled gratefully. She was still shivering from the aftereffects of his touch. She couldn't do this anymore; she simply couldn't do it. She wrapped her arms around herself and fell against the cement wall as she desperately fought back the tears threatening to fall. She hated him for doing this to her, for making her feel like this, for disrupting her perfectly enjoyable life. She hated him because, even now, she wanted to feel his arms around her again. She wanted him to hold her and to learn every inch of him.
In his arms, she felt whole, complete. Now, without him, she felt vulnerable. She didn't even like him, how could he make her feel like this when she didn't even like him? And yet, she had to admit to herself; she did like him. She liked his lazy smile, the way he looked at her, the fact he was willing to help build the house, and help her mother with Kathleen. She liked he made it possible for Aiden to have a large party, the way he saved her and Julian, and how he protected her from Jess. And she was beginning to like the way he made her feel like a desirable, precious woman —the way he made her feel like she was something he couldn't part with.
She was even beginning to like the way he made her body feel.
A tear slid free as she realized everything she’d been fighting against was happening anyway. He’d managed to work his way through all her defenses, and he’d worked his way into her soul. She wanted to hate him for it, but she found herself unable to summon up strength for the emotion. She couldn't hate him; she could never hate him. She knew that now.
Isabelle bent her head as she shuddered. It was time to concede defeat. There was no use fighting against the inevitable. She wanted him, and God help her, she was beginning to need him. She felt empty and alone whenever he wasn't near. Why fight something if it was meant to be? Why keep putting herself, and him, through this torture?
She straightened away from the wall. All she wanted to do now was go home. She was grabbing for the handle when a thick, large hand snatched her arm and spun her around. Isabelle cried out when her back hit the wall.
"Look at this!" a man cried.
Isabelle blinked in surprise at the four men in front of her; one was tall and blond, another short with red hair, and the other two of average height with brown hair. Their eyes leeringly scanned her body. She stiffened angrily and stepped away from the wall. "What do you think you're doing?" she demanded.
Then, the smell of them hit her. She instantly recognized what they were as their eyes came back to hers. "Well, I'll be," the redhead said as his eyes surveyed her again.
Isabelle's hands clenched, but she didn't make a move. They were her kind, but unlike the feeling she experienced on first meeting Stefan, dread coiled within her belly. She forced herself not to show it, forced her face to remain impassive as they surveyed her. They smelled awful; they smelled wrong.
They smelled like death. She knew these were the ones of her kind who took pleasure in killing humans and thrived off the power it gave them. She had never encountered anything like them before, but she’d heard about them. She'd just never thought she would meet them.
"Excuse me," Isabelle said coldly.
"No need to get so haughty," the blond said. "We've never run across a female of our kind so lovely before. We're a little curious."
"Your curiosity has been satisfied; I need to get back inside."
She moved to go around them, but the blond grabbed her arm and shoved her back. Isabelle released a small hiss. "Oh, she's a feisty one," he leered.
"I like it," one of the brunettes said.
"Let me by," she spat.
"Just calm down, gorgeous," the redhead said. "We just want to talk to you."
"Let me by!"
"I don't like her attitude."
"Neither do I," the blond agreed.
"And I don't like yours!" she shouted.
"I think she needs a lesson in manners."
"So do I," the other brunette said.
She tilted her chin defiantly. "Trust me, you won't be the one to give it to me," she snarled.
They all exch
anged quick, smug looks. "I always wondered what our kind tastes like. She smells sweet."
Fear caused the demon inside of her to burst free. She lashed out, tearing across the blond's chest and spilling his tainted blood. He jumped back in surprise as his face twisted into a grimace. She rushed to the side, determined to get back inside while he was off guard. A hand seized hold of her hair, ripping her back, and slamming her into a massive, solid chest. The blond quickly recovered, his eyes blazing red as he came at her again. The other two came forward; their teeth gleaming in the dim lights of the alley, their eyes a vivid, malevolent red.
Full-fledged panic tore through her as she clawed at the hands holding her hair. Satisfaction spurted through her as she tore into his skin. A ferocious snarl echoed in her ear, but the grip didn't lessen as her head was jerked back with a sharp crack that sent pain blazing down her neck. The redhead and one of the brunettes grabbed her arms and pinned them to her sides as the blond stopped before her. She kicked out at him, but he deftly avoided her as he came to her side.
Panting heavily, Isabelle's terror was starting to consume her. For some reason, a picture of Stefan formed in her mind. She silently screamed his name as the blond’s teeth sank into her neck. She lost all thought as agonizing pain tore through her body, blurred her vision, and knocked all the fight out of her.
Her entire body felt as if flames engulfed it and fire licked over every inch of her skin. It seared the marrow from her bones. She wanted to break free, but she found herself unable to move through the agony tearing her body to shreds.
A loud roar echoed in her ears moments before the teeth were ripped from her neck tearing across her skin. She stumbled back, slamming into the wall, as her hand touched the jagged tears in her neck.
"Isabelle!" She blinked dazedly at Stefan as he grabbed hold of her shoulders. "Isabelle, are you all right?"
She focused on him as his eyes blazed blood red. She opened her mouth to tell him she was fine, but a wave of blackness pulled her under.
Boxed Set Page 43
