by Irina Argo
Zlata shrugged. “It’s up to you. When the humans let us go, I’m not coming with you until—”
“Until what?”
“Until you change your perspective and decide to do something to end the practice of keeping Amiti bloodstock.”
Odji began pacing the room. He hated this. He really hated it. She was demanding the impossible. When he looked over at her, she lay stretched out naked on the bed like an offering, her message clear: if you make the right decision, all this will be yours, boy.
“You’re asking me to do something I can’t do, Zlata. I don’t have the power or authority.”
“But you can help us. You’re Sekhmi; the Elite trust you. You could lead the Order to prides who keep bloodstock and help us to free them. Then I’d stay with you forever. You’d be my true mate. Help us, Odji. You’re the King’s son. You have the power to help us.”
“No, Zlata. I won’t. I’m Sekhmi. I can’t go against my people.”
“Well, neither can I.”
She got up from the bed and went to the intercom panel embedded in the wall by the door. As soon as she pushed one of the buttons, the green light came on, indicating that someone was on the line.
“Please, take me out of this room. I request separate accommodations.”
Then she got dressed and waited.
Odji dropped onto the bed and tried to look indifferent. He watched as the door opened and Dr. Orlov appeared in the doorway. Zlata picked up her belongings and disappeared behind the door without saying goodbye or even looking at him.
Then the heavy door shut and Odji was alone. For a few minutes he stared at the door, not believing how fragile and short-lived his happiness had been. Then he pushed his face into the pillow, biting down on it to keep himself from screaming. Please, Zlata, come back. I can’t live without you. Please come back ... I love you.
But he kept his silence. Only a few tears escaped from his eyes, immediately absorbed by the soft fabric of the pillow. His life had just lost all meaning. But what could he have done? He’d faced the worst dilemma possible: his love or his people. And Odji had chosen his people even though it meant eternal loneliness and darkness in his soul.
Chapter 41
Zlata was shown to her new apartment at the research station. It was as luxurious as one could expect in a place like the station. There was a large plasma TV, a vanity stocked with cosmetics, matching bedspread and drapes, comfortable loveseat and upholstered chairs. There was a full liquor cabinet with crystal glassware and a small refrigerated unit.
But none of it mattered.
She headed straight to the bed and buried herself under the bedspread, soaking her pillow with bitter, salty tears. She wept until sleep overtook her and then drifted into disturbing dreams.
She missed Odji so much already that she could understand having dreams of him, but that wasn’t what was happening. She was dreaming about ... herself; she was herself, and yet she was watching herself, as though she was two people.
The following night and the night after that, her dream repeated. She saw herself at the chamber of Sekhmet, prepared for sacrifice, then in the room with Odji, feeding him and making love to him.
During the day, she became obsessed—with herself. She was missing herself and desperately wanted herself back. It got so bad that she refused feeding and was considering suicide.
Wait a minute. Feeding? Where had that come from? She didn’t feed; she ate. Was she going crazy?
She freaked out, hiding under her blanket, then staying awake all night, turning the stereo or TV on at full volume, just to fill her mind with something other than her thoughts. But nothing worked. She was still missing herself.
Within a week she was craving her own blood with an intensity that was obviously insane. She bit into her wrist and sucked her blood. It tasted terrible. How could vampires covet it so much? And, to her disappointment, it did nothing to stop the craving, which just kept intensifying every day.
Another week passed and she became physically ill, the pain slamming into her like a baseball bat. Her skin crawled, her heart burned, and she had a splitting headache, a stomachache, and searing pain in her bones and joints.
“Zlata, what’s the matter with you?” Oberon’s voice reached her through the thunderstorm in her brain. His cool, soothing palm covered her forehead. “You have a fever. Are you in pain?”
She nodded carefully; any movement was painful.
“I’ll bring you some painkillers and we need to do a blood test.”
But when he laid her arm out next to her for the blood test, he saw her ragged wrist and gasped in shock.
“What happened here?”
“Nothing.” She tried to pull away from his grip.
“Who did this to you? It doesn’t look like a vampire bite.”
She needed help; she couldn’t keep this to herself any longer. She forced herself to communicate through the pain, speaking through clenched teeth. “I’m losing my mind. I’m craving ... my own blood.”
“When did this start?”
“When I left Odji. But it’s gotten worse.”
“So, you have a fever, and I can tell you have a lot of pain. Any other symptoms?”
“You’ll laugh. I miss myself.”
Oberon started to laugh.
“Told you you’d laugh.” She felt her mouth crack into a smile.
“Zlata, Zlata, my dear, sweet child.” He leaned over her, stroking her forehead gently. “You’re not crazy. You have a rare Amiti gift. All Amiti in blood-bond relationships can inhabit their partners’ bodies in certain ways—see the world through their eyes, know what they’re feeling—and their partners can feel them, too. But your gift takes it to the next level. You can share the consciousness of your Sekhmi blood-bond: his mind, his body, his memories. You see what he sees; you feel what he feels.”
“Oh!” She finally opened her eyes to look at Oberon. “So this is Odji? Him missing me? His bloodlust.”
“Yes. You’ve allowed yourself to be absorbed by his mental and physical state. He has refused human blood, and now he’s in a great deal of pain.”
“Poor Odji.” Zlata’s vision grew blurry with tears. “I need to go back to him.”
“I think that’s the best course of action. At the very least, I need to teach you how to master your new skill. Otherwise, you’ll lose your mind; you won’t be able to distinguish your experiences from your blood-bond’s. And learning to do that requires concentration beyond what you’re capable of in your current state. I can’t think of any way to relieve your symptoms other than to relieve his. And then you can work on learning to project and withdraw your consciousness at will so you’re always aware of what’s happening and to whom.”
Oberon took her back to Odji’s room, stopping her in front of the door. “One other thing. Given that Odji’s on a hunger strike, so to speak, there’s a chance that he may not want to feed from you. If that happens, this will help you bring him around.” He handed her a small dagger inlaid with onyx and mother of pearl. “Always remember that vampires find the combination of nakedness and blood nearly irresistible. Bloodlust and sexual arousal are two sides of the same coin. Amiti have used that vulnerability to our advantage for millennia.”
Zlata entered the room to find Odji lying on the bed, breathing shallowly. He was deathly pale and covered in a sheen of perspiration, his hair matted to his forehead. She put the dagger on the table and tentatively approached him.
“Odji.” She lightly touched his cheek with the back of her fingertips.
His eyes flew open. “What are you doing here?” Even though his words were hostile, Zlata felt a rush of joy.
“I came to feed you.”
“Get out.” He rolled over, turning his back to her.
Now what? She stared at his back, feeling a tangle of emotions: happiness, anger, rejection, relief.
Wait: what was the relief? Oh, it was Odji’s re
lief, not hers. She tried to focus, as Oberon had said, and followed the relief like a thread leading back to his emotional field. There she found a tangle of emotions, but it was less complicated than what she’d been feeling. She realized it was because he was only feeling his own emotions, while she’d been feeling hers as well as his. Interesting. From here she could tell whose feelings were whose.
He was being torn apart. His heart rejoiced and was reaching out to her, sighing in relief that she was here. But he was trying to convince himself that he hated her for leaving him and for daring to disobey him.
Zlata smiled inwardly. My sweet Odji, you’re just a little boy trying to play grown-up. She got naked and climbed into bed with him, nestling under the covers and wrapping her arms around his feverish body.
He wanted to push her away, but he couldn’t. “I told you,” he said, his voice raspy, “to get out of here. Do. Not. Touch. Me.”
“Of course.” She nuzzled his cheek, still sensing everything he was feeling. The vastness and depth of his love thrilled her. It filled her up, making her feel complete, knowing how much she was loved.
“Zlata, it’s very hard for me to control myself. All I can think about is sinking my fangs into your throat and making love to you. You have to choose: either accept me for who I am, because I’m not abandoning my pride for you, or leave now and never come back.”
She flicked her tongue in his ear. “Let’s not talk about it right now. Let’s have a truce.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No. No truce. Either you’re my mate and blood-bond or you’re not.”
“How can you be so stubborn? You’re starving to death. I’m here to save your life, to give you what you need, what you crave, and you’re arguing with me? What’s wrong with you?”
He pulled out of her grip. “Go!”
“Fine. You leave me no choice.” Zlata rolled off the bed and walked to the table where she had left The Convincer. Without letting herself pause to think about it, she drew the blade across the spot on her throat where Odji had first bitten her. She felt the skin slice open, and then the trail of the blood as it streamed down her chest, between her breasts, down to her groin and inner thighs.
If this didn’t release his iron control over his bloodlust and get him to take her vein, then his feelings for her would do the job. He’d have to seal her wound, at least, or she’d die.
Odji jerked and sat up, glaring at her. This was pure, unadulterated provocation, and they both knew it. She was playing dirty.
Zlata slowly walked toward him. The blood had reached her feet and she could feel the wet trail she was leaving behind her. Tossing her hair aside, she arched her back to give him a better view of her breasts and the thick stream of blood running down her body. She watched herself through his eyes; his vision had narrowed, leaving him aware only of her bare skin and her blood. All his senses and instincts were urging him to launch himself at her, but he held back. His willpower was like steel.
“What are you waiting for? Are you just going to sit there and let me die?”
She didn’t have to enter his consciousness to see that he was marshaling every ounce of strength left in him. He stood up and locked his eyes onto hers, a predator stalking its prey. Zlata had to fight the impulse to run away screaming. She swallowed her dread.
Odji dropped to his knees in front of her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer to him.
“So you think I can’t resist you, that you’ve trapped me. What if I leave you like this, bleeding? You understand that you’ll die from the blood loss, right? I won’t allow humans to interfere until the last drop of your blood leaves your body, and then I’ll lie down next to you and die as well.”
She didn’t answer him, just stood there in silence, slowly bleeding to death, blood starting to pool around her feet. She could feel the lump in his throat. Goddess, how he longed for her to accept him! Why couldn’t he accept her as she was and sacrifice his stupid Sekhmi beliefs?
A surge of anger rolled through her. “Okay, fine. Let me die.”
At that, he stood up and cradled her in his arms, kissing her frantically at first, then more slowly and deliberately as his mouth moved to her neck. When his hot lips reached the open wound on her throat, he latched on and began swallowing ravenously, and she could feel his ecstasy as the burning liquid filled his body and restored his vitality.
She marveled that, having lost so much blood already, it could keep pouring out of her and into him without any ill effects. In fact, it only made her feel stronger. Or was it that she was feeling him getting stronger?
Finally, satisfied, he sealed her wound with his tongue and broke the contact. He brought his mouth to her ear and ran his fingers through her hair.
“I love you, Zlata. I love you so much, and I want us be together. There’s nothing in the world I desire more. But I can’t change who I am. Please accept me.”
Zlata felt the depth of his desperation. She saw him as a small child, dying in the snow with frozen limbs, crying for love he had never known. Then he was pressed against a large male chest, the warmth of the man’s body captured inside the fur coat that enveloped both of them. Odji’s heart was filled with devotion to this male, who had brought Odji’s freezing body back to life with his love. She knew that for the rest of his life, Odji would be indebted to this male; he’d die rather than walk away from his savior.
She understood him, but how could he ask her to do something he couldn’t do himself? She’d seen her people butchered on Sekhmet’s alter. What made him think she could just close her eyes and pretend it had never happened? How could she live the life Odji was offering her, enjoying luxury among the Vampire Elite, while her people were living in utter misery and despair just underneath their comfortable bedroom?
“I can’t.” She swallowed hard. “I love you Odji, and being with you would be a dream come true. It’s everything I desire—to fall asleep in your arms and be woken up by your kisses. But there’s a loyalty to my people that’s stronger than me. I can’t be happy while Amiti are suffering as bloodstock. Oh, I’m so lost ... ”
He buried his face in her hair and they stood there, locked in each other’s arms, as though time might stand still if only they didn’t move.
Chapter 42
The twice-weekly trip to Irkutsk, the closest city to the Project research station, to buy food and supplies took the better part of a day. Sometimes the Project staffers assigned to make the trip saw it as just another chore, but sometimes they looked forward to getting to the city—so Desiree considered herself lucky that she’d been able to trade her scheduled trip with another staffer and make it to the city today. She was both excited and frightened as she climbed into her truck and barreled off down the road. She’d been called by her blood-bond and was now going to him, perfectly aware that this relationship, if discovered, could cost her her life.
Her blood-bond and mate was Crian, the Alpha of the Hunter pride.
She forced herself to run two of the necessary errands—after all, she’d want to do them even less once she was with him—and then easily located the hotel, where they’d met for a previous rendezvous. She parked the truck behind the building, shifted into her Amiti form, and raced to Crian’s room.
She’d barely reached the room when the door flew open and she was swept inside. Crian picked her up, kicked the door closed behind him, and held her against the wall, covering her face with kisses as if he hadn’t seen her for centuries. She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders and responded with hot, wet kisses across his eyes, cheeks, and mouth. Passion rising, his heavy male scent enveloping her, she ran her tongue around his ear and bit down.
“Take off your clothes,” Crian ordered.
She pulled off her fur coat, still kissing him furiously. Crian pulled her sweater off, but when he started to unfasten her bra, she pushed him away.
“You make me crazy! I told you
I’m not feeding you anymore, not until you stop your filthy hunting business.”
“Oh, yes, my heart, I heard you—eight hundred years in a row. You’re not feeding me. And yet you still run to me when I call. Don’t lie to yourself, Desi. You want me; otherwise you wouldn’t have come here.” He pressed his body hard against hers and tore her bra off.
“You know this is dangerous for you. Oberon could find out. He’d kill you,” she protested, even as she surrendered to him.
“Trust me, if he hasn’t figured it out in eight hundred years, he never will.” Crian slipped his hands to her waist and slid her pants and panties down her legs till they dropped to the floor. She toed off her boots and kicked everything aside, laughing. Crian drew in a hissing breath as he cupped her plump breasts in his palms. Desiree was so aroused that the pleasure was almost painful.
“Crian ... ” Her legs felt like rubber when he unzipped his pants. She tilted her head, baring her throat to him, unable to resist him for another second. She’d never been able to; in the eight centuries they’d been lovers, she’d never tired of him, craving him with an intensity of a drug addict. “I hate you ... ”
“I love you too, baby,” he growled, grabbing her waist with one hand and lifting one of her legs with the other. He rubbed his hard, hot cock against her flesh, sliding it back and forth between her legs as he pressed his open mouth to her jugular. Her body spasmed with anticipation—but she also knew that Crian loved to draw out her torment, making her wait for him to satisfy her.
His hands glided across her body, down her stomach to the tender spot between her legs. Desiree jerked at the feeling of his fingers on her core, her body ready to explode. Chuckling softly, he ran his tongue along her neck and sucked the tender skin there, hard but without piercing it, bringing her to an impossible peak of arousal.
“Do it. Damn you! Do it! Crian ... ”
“Yes, baby?”
“I can’t ... Have mercy ... bite me. Damn you, bite me.”
