by Irina Argo
“You. Are. Proposing. To me?”
“Yes. Please do me the honor of being my mate” His gut had never lied to him; he was on the right path. No ifs, ands, or buts.
Cara threw her arms around his neck and sobbed into his shoulder, soaking his shirt with her tears.
“I’m taking that as a yes.” He lifted her in his arms. “Now let’s get out of here.” Cara closed her eyes and sighed contentedly.
Her eyes were still closed a few minutes later, when Anock set her down on the white leather couch in his living room.
“You can open your eyes. This is where you’ll live from now on.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“If I open them, you’ll disappear and I’ll be alone again. I want to keep dreaming.”
“You think you’re dreaming?” He almost choked on the words.
“Of course I am, because this can’t be real. I’ve been dreaming about you for three years.”
“You ... you saw me in your dreams?”
“Yes. Exactly as you are. Resplendent, like an Olympic God, strong and kind, loving and tender, with amazing blue eyes. It was so lonely in my cell, and in my dreams I had a partner, a mate. We met often and spent a lot of time together.”
“What did we do?”
She blushed. “I can’t tell you.”
“I already know.” He pulled her closer.
“How?”
“Because I saw your dreams, Cara. I was there. And I believe I felt everything you felt. I think we shared the same dreams.” With the tip of his tongue, he licked her tears away, moving from her chin up to her eyes, covering her eyelids with his lips, indulging himself in her night-lily scent and the salty taste of her tears.
“Have you run out of tears yet?”
“I don’t know.”
* * *
Cara’s mind was working feverishly. She was out of the cells. She had to run, had to find a way out. She’d lie to him; she’d tell him whatever he wanted to hear. Let him think that she’d been dreaming of him when in reality all she ever wanted was her freedom back. Every single day, in spite of all the torment, the sickness, the abomination of the catheter piercing her skin and drawing the blood from her body, and the agony of loneliness, she’d managed to keep focusing on visualizing herself free. Cara was a realist; she’d been sure she’d die in that cell, and the only means available for her to fight for her freedom was the power of her mind and manipulative skills. For three long years, losing hope with every passing day and slipping into dark periods of despair, she’d had to pull herself back, again and again, fanatically centering on her goal.
Then Anock had appeared in her cell. It was a miracle that he was interested in her. What was it that made her so special? She seriously doubted that she was even attractive; three years of bloodletting had reduced her to no more than a shadow of her former self. But there must be something that kept him coming back. She had to discover what it was and use it to her advantage.
For the past month she’d been studying him intently. It was clear that he had an image of her in his mind, and she knew she had to discern the contours of that image, and then do whatever she could to mirror it, to reflect back to him whatever his fantasy version of her was. If she could, odds were she’d get out of the damned cell.
She taught herself to read even the merest hint of changes in his body language, facial expressions, tone of voice. He wanted to protect her; therefore, she must pretend to be fragile and helpless. So she did. His heart melted when he saw her smiling sorrowfully. So she did. He longed for her to anticipate his visits eagerly and greet him with affection in her eyes when he arrived. She did, she did, she did. She recreated the image of herself she saw in his mind and became its living embodiment.
Now, finally; she was out of the cell. But she still wasn’t free: she had no place to go, no documents, no money, and worst of all, no powers. No shielding.
He’d brought her here to toy with her—even if he thought he loved her, Cara knew that Sekhmi didn’t know how to love—and the moment he got bored he’d send her back to the bloodstock cell. She had to find a way to hold his interest for however long it took for her powers to come back.
“Are you feeling better, Cara?” Anock’s low voice interrupted her thoughts. “How would you feel about a nice bubble bath?”
“A bubble bath?” Of course: he wants to see me naked.
“Yes. A bubble bath.” He lifted her again and carried her around a corner of his room she hadn’t registered earlier, to a huge, luxurious bathtub. Behind it, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked a beautiful garden with a koi pond, and the opposite wall held a plasma TV and stereo speakers.
Wow, this guy must really love taking baths.
Anock sat on the side of the tub, holding Cara on his lap while he turned on the faucets, adjusted the temperature, and sprinkled in a scented powder that immediately started transforming into a decadent mound of bubbles. Then he rose again and turned to sit her down on the edge of the tub.
“It’s all yours.” He started to leave the room.
“Anock,” she called quietly, rising to her feet. “Stay.”
She didn’t have to fake the tremor in her voice. The real performance was about to begin, and she was terrified that she’d screw it up.
He stopped and turned around slowly.
She reached behind her to undo the buttons holding her tunic together and then let it slide to the floor, revealing her naked body. Hold on, Cara. This is what he wants to see.
Anock was moving toward her slowly, his lips parted, transfixed.
He wants you innocent. It arouses him. He likes you shy. Fighting her instinctive need to keep her eyes on a potential predator, she lowered her gaze and willed herself to blush.
Anock came closer. His shirt rubbed against her bare skin.
“Give me your lips.”
Cara raised her face slightly, willing herself to be subtle. A single mishap now could destroy her, would certainly cost her her freedom. Careful, Cara. Don’t do anything; let him do it.
He brushed her lips with his. “Do you want me?” he exhaled.
She knew, of course, that the answer was supposed to be yes—but she also knew that he wanted her shy, innocent, too afraid to tell the truth. If she didn’t answer, would her body do the talking for her? Would he interpret her pounding heart as a sign of arousal?
But even as she hesitated, she sensed his desire surging even higher, and she remembered that the predator in him would be drawn to her fear itself, to her hesitation. Ironically, the thought made her feel more confident that she’d get what she needed from him, and she had to work to hold onto the fear.
Your heart’s beating fast; you’re scared. Think of the cell; think of the cell.
Anock grabbed her by the waist and pulled her body against his—and then he was the one who hesitated. He was still for a moment, and then slowly raised one hand to brush his fingertips across her lips..
“Part your lips.”
Think of the cell, think of the cell. He loves your fear, wants you to obey. Submit. It’s the price of your freedom.
She parted her lips.
Anock caught her lower lip with his teeth, then pressed his lips to hers, pushing her mouth open, pushing his tongue into her mouth. Possessively, he wrapped her hair in both hands and held her steady while he was kissing her. Then he set her on the edge of the tub and parted her legs.
“Unbutton my shirt,” he ordered.
Arms shaking, you are very nervous. She began unbuttoning his shirt but her fingers wouldn’t cooperate. Anock pulled his shirt apart, buttons flying off and clicking as they landed on the floor. He pressed his lower body between her legs. She could feel his pulsating cock through the fabric of his pants.
Like an animal totally separate from herself, her body responded with a surge of desire and a flood of wetness between her legs.
Cara was ap
palled by her reaction. Her thoughts blew past her, out of control, and she tried to rein them in. Was she really attracted to him? No, she couldn’t afford that luxury. Sekhmi meant nothing but captivity for Amiti, and she wanted nothing but freedom. Come back, Cara. Tune in to him. What does he want now? Give it to him.
But regardless of her intentions, she was enraptured. No, no, no, you can’t let that happen. You’ll be signing your death warrant, sending yourself back to the bloodstock cell.
But ... what difference does it make whether I pretend to enjoy this or just let myself really enjoy it? She knew—didn’t she?—that there was all the difference in the world.
Bewildered, she sat unmoving and hardly breathing, trying to fight her craving for him, but it was too late.
“Tell me you want me.” Anock’s voice was a growl.
Cara’s answer was the pulsating heat between her legs.
“Tell me.” Anock repeated, his hot breath on her neck sending her intentions adrift.
What was she supposed to say? It had slipped her mind.
“Cara,” he groaned, lifting her face, devouring her with his mouth. His every touch burned through her skin.
“Tell me ... Tell me you love me. Don’t lie. I will feel it. Tell me ... ”
She remained silent as her eyes filled with tears. Her world was a broken hologram and every piece reflected him.
Anock.
Chapter 57
Cara woke up to the kind of afterglow only Amiti experienced, her body thrumming and congested from overproducing blood. She pushed the discomfort from her mind, focusing instead on the very pleasant sensation of lying in Anock’s arms, and like a gasp, memories of the previous night came rushing back to her.
Was it her imagination, or did remembering what they’d done make her body surge all over again, go even further into overdrive?
She didn’t have time to think about it much, because just then she felt his body shift. He knew she was awake; he must’ve noticed the change in her breathing. One of his hands slid along the curve of her back just above her buttocks; the other dropped down to cup her waist. To her swollen flesh, his touch was right on the boundary between pleasant and unbearable—or maybe it was both at the same time.
Oh, this could be her ticket to freedom. When they were making love, she’d been sharply aware of Anock’s attention returning to her vein again and again. He’d placed his mouth on it, sucked on the thin skin of her throat, even bit down slightly, but never pierced her skin. But maybe now, sleepy, with her blood throbbing hard through her body, practically begging for him, maybe this was her moment. And if she got the blood-bond, not only would it give her power over him; it would also act as a catalyst, kicking her powers into gear.
“Anock,” she murmured, pretending she was still half-asleep, stretching languorously under his touch, ignoring her body’s protests. “Good morning.”
“Good morning, sunshine.” He rolled her over and propped himself above her, smiling, his gaze scanning her face and then coming to rest on her exposed neck.
Remember, when in doubt, do nothing. He must think it’s his decision. She lay motionless, focusing on Anock, trying to tap into that legendary Amiti intuition and understand the struggle going on inside him.
Suddenly Anock rolled away from her and crashed to the floor, writhing as if he’d been set on fire.
Her concern for him was utterly real. She threw herself off the bed and knelt next to him. “Anock, what is it? What’s happening?” Gently, she shifted his head so she could cradle it in her lap.
“Nothing,” he gasped, and then seemed to collect himself for a moment. He shoved himself off of her, up off the floor, snatched his clothes, and staggered out of the room without putting them on.
Cara panicked. What had just happened? Did he think it was her fault? Was it her fault? Maybe it was; she had no clue. More importantly, what was he going to do next? Would he send her back to the bloodstock cell? She had no choice: she had to run. Now might be her only chance.
The blood overproduction was worse than she’d realized, not just discomfort but weakness and pain. Her legs buckled when she tried to spring her feet, and she felt her stomach lurch with nausea, but she pushed through it and managed to stumble to the closet. Grabbing one of Anock’s shirts, she tried to shove her arms into the sleeves. But she was shaking so hard that her hands couldn’t find the openings.
Wait. What am I doing? She stopped. Am I losing my mind? What was she thinking? Really, she was going to just run away from the Royal pride’s residence, which was probably as heavily guarded against Amiti like her as it was possible to be? And even if by some miracle she did manage to escape, hadn’t he said that she’d be back up for auction faster than she could blink?
Discouraged, she sank to the floor, then almost immediately rose to her feet again. No. Anything, anything but the cell.
She had to stop panicking and calm down so she could think straight again..
When her gaze caught on the bathtub, her instincts screamed that a bath was the opposite of what she should be doing; they wanted her in full flight, halfway out of the country by now. But a reasonable voice in her head was remembering that lukewarm baths lowered fevers, so getting into the tub was likely the best way to get her temperature down and her strength up. The same reasonable voice was also observing that it would keep her instincts from seizing control and sending her running off in a blind, reckless panic, which would buy her some time to get her head screwed on straight before she did anything stupid.
She went over to the tub, turned on the water, squeezed lavender-scented bubble potion out of a bottle perched on the tub’s rim, and watched the falling water and frothing bubbles until she calmed down a bit. When the tub was full, she sank into it, closing her eyes.
The tepid water made the ache in her body tolerable while the lavender relaxed her mind, and Cara had almost drifted off to sleep in a post-adrenaline fog when she sensed someone watching her. Expecting Anock but not knowing what he’d do, she opened her eyes—and then quickly crossed her arms across her breasts. Two very tall, very handsome males stood in the middle of the bedroom staring at her. Vampires. She started to slip under the water, then stopped when she realized it was a little late to hide from them—and even if it hadn’t been, submerging herself would not be a solution. She settled for making sure the bubbles covered her nakedness—though she had no idea what she’d have done if they hadn’t.
“Hold up; we’re not here to hurt you. I get it now. This is why Anock has been acting so weird. I would’ve done the same thing if I had such a beautiful mermaid in my bathtub,” one of the vamps said, smirking. They both came closer to the tub and sat on the edge of the pedestal.
“Hi, I’m Kennet—Born of Fire—or just Ken, and this is my brother Shakir, Grateful.”
“I’m Cara,” she stammered.
“Don’t be afraid; we’re not going to harm you. Obviously you belong to Anock and he brought you here. We’re here because we’re worried about him.”
“Why?”
“He’s skipped his scheduled feeding three times already. That’s too long even for a Sekhmi as strong as he is.”
“Why did he do that?” Pay attention, Cara; this is important.
“We’re assuming that he doesn’t want anyone else’s blood but yours.” Ken replied. “So here’s our question for you: do you want to stay with Anock?”
“If he wants me to stay. I can’t bear the thought of losing him.” The only thing I can’t bear is the thought of never escaping from your damn pride.
“Then you need to figure out how to resolve this feeding problem. Otherwise, we run the risk of losing him.”
“The feeding problem?”
“You’re well aware that Anock is a Sekhmi vampire and needs to feed on blood to survive, correct?”
She nodded.
“And do you know that Sekhmi vampires live on Amiti blood, like yours?”
“Taking your vein is out of the question. Don’t even think of blood-bonding with him. If you kill our brother, we’ll find you no matter where you run and you will die.”
“Why do you think I would kill him?”
“Isn’t that what you’re planning? To lure him into a blood-bond? You have so much extra blood in your body that I can hear it gushing through your veins from here. And we know you can control it. Don’t even think you can fool us.” Both of the vampires were still smiling when Ken finished talking, but their eyes had changed. Cara thought it was the creepiest thing she’d ever seen.
“Control it? Seriously? Do I look like someone whose plan is going really well? Anock’s gone. Do you think I’d be here, like this”—she gestured at them, at herself in the tub, sending bubbles flying through the air—“if I could control it?”
“Relax.” Ken flicked some bubbles into her face. “We have no plans to hurt you—yet. This is just a warning. I know you understand what we’re talking about.”
She nodded again.
“Good girl. And here’s your chance to show us that you have good intentions.”
He produced, seemingly from nowhere, a small wooden box inlaid with mother of pearl. Setting it in front of him, he unlatched it and raised the lid. Cara stared at the familiar blood-drawing paraphernalia, a dressed-up version of what she’d seen on a weekly basis down in the cell, tucked into red velvet as though it was part of a beautiful ritual, not a tool for the subjection of Amiti.
“Get rid of some of that extra blood. Feed him.” They rose and left the room.
So this was what they thought she needed to do. Her mind rebelled; too many traumatic memories were linked to these tubes and needles. But Cara was determined: she was not going to faint; it was just another catheter, and she was doing it herself, of her own accord. Kind of.
