“A girl of fifteen, out in the world alone.”
“Yes. But I do not begrudge it. I’ve met many others who have had it far worse. The first few months in the wild were…unpleasant.” She cringed. “I joined with a caravan of circus folk and Roma. They did not judge me for what I could do. One of the Roma, a real psychic, could see that I was an empath and sought to teach me. They saw the chance to make money from me, and I saw the chance to have a tent over my head and food in my stomach.”
He chuckled. She felt him stroke a hand through the long curls of her hair, combing it through his fingers. “Clever girl, joining them. They would certainly covet the chance to profit from someone with true skill and not simply well-spun lies.”
His touch made her shiver as he settled his hand at the back of her neck, still tangled in her hair. He pulled her forward and away from the wall. She went rigid, but the embrace was too alluring, too comforting, as he brought her against his chest. He slung his other arm around her, holding her to him. “What sent you away from them?”
“I thought perhaps I could control my gift. I thought, as I aged and grew in skill, I could stop myself from destroying those who touched me. There was a young boy. He was kind. He was sweet. He was a true son of the Roma.”
She smirked slightly and shut her eyes. She felt the memory around her, but she felt him, most of all. “He was like me, a little bit other. Able to speak to animals in a way that was not natural. He kissed my cheek one day.” Her hand drifted to touch the spot where that boy had only expressed the most innocent of young loves. “His name was Chal.” Her voice choked, but she had to finish her story. “He never woke.”
Silently, he pulled her to him, urging her back into his arms. She bowed her head as he pressed her cheek to his chest. She could not hear his heartbeat. He had none, after all. Well…not normally. Even still, there was a strange kind of consolation in his touch.
“For such reasons you distance yourself from the living.”
“Yes. I do not like to be reminded of what I cannot have. I hear their thoughts, their feelings, their love for each other. I cannot share in it. Besides, most others do not find a general desire to be near me. I unsettle them by my very presence. You understand.”
“I do.”
Her childhood “home” melted away from around her, and instead she found herself in a parlor. The wallpaper was a rich crimson damask. A tall chair stood by a roaring fireplace, filling the room with much needed warmth. Darkness clung to the edges of the room, and she could almost envision eyes there looking back at her. He had taken them away from her melancholy past and into his present.
The hand on the back of her neck shifted, curling around her chin, tilting her head up to look at him. “You are meant to be mine, Maxine…” His thumb trailed along her lower lip, and she shivered. “Feel me, and you will know it to be true.”
She placed a hand over where his heart should beat. The silk fabrics of his clothing were soft underneath her touch, but she could also feel the strength that lay beneath it. More than the undeniable power in his body, but what dwelled deep beyond that.
She knew to what he was referring. She had tried to ignore it up until this point—something about him that was pulling her close. She blamed it on his charisma, his undeniably seductive charm. But there was a far more insidious current that drew her near him. When he twined with her, when she felt him there in the darkness of the ether, tangling around her like roots of a tree, it was not horror she felt. It was not disgust. She could feel his thousands of years. Time immemorial that stretched behind him. A future that spanned a million times longer lay before him. A road that stretched for eternity in both directions.
It was empty. Save for one figure upon it.
No matter the face he wore, no matter the name he chose, she could see him for what he was.
He was alone.
Skies of stars that she did not know. Trees, and desert sands, and white cliffs upon the ocean. Cities, and markets, and all of humanity filled him. Love, and loss, and grief, and tragedy. Joy, and agony.
He was all those things.
Sinner, saint, husband, murderer, tyrant, fiend, demon, and lover. A hundred thousand facets of a ruby, one for each of the souls who had touched him. Nearly maddening in its expanse.
And he was right. It felt like home.
God help her, gods help her, whoever might listen…she looked into that emptiness and sought only to do her part to fill it.
Gods help her, she was falling in love.
Crimson eyes shone in the darkness like the ruby in her metaphor. “Where others may turn away from you, I find I am drawn to you like a moth to a flame,” he murmured, echoing her own thoughts. “I shall have you, and I shall not let you go.”
“And if I wish to be free?” It was an empty threat. She did not wish for such a thing, and he knew it.
The flash of a grin, of too-sharp teeth, were all she could see as the dream around her faded to nothing. With it came the rumble of his voice, dusky and dangerous. “You shall never be rid of me.”
19
Maxine awoke in darkness. She felt an ache on her throat, and she lifted her hand to touch the sensitive spot she found there. It stung to the touch, but not terribly.
She did not feel as awful as she expected. She did not feel dizzy, or woozy, or strange. All the opposite. She felt oddly rested. It was the second time she had felt the kiss of a vampire, and she knew Vlad had been exercising restraint both times. He was trying to show her that he could be trusted. That his touch was not to be feared.
The jury was still out, in her opinion.
If only she could see where she was. This was not her own bed this time. Once Eddie had opened fire, her window of freedom—a ruse and a lie as it may have been—had slammed shut. While she knew where she was not, it did not help her know where she was.
Lifting her hand into the impenetrable darkness around her, it hit something six inches above her face. Something covered in silk fabric and upholstery. Odd. Reaching to her side, she felt a similar surface a foot to her right. And to her left.
She was in a box. An upholstered box.
I am in a coffin!
Panic struck her, perfect and instantaneous. It overrode everything else. She squeaked out a cry for help as both her hands struck the lid. It budged, if barely. There was hope! There was—
Hands caught her wrists. She screamed, loud in the tiny space. Monsters! I have to escape—
A dark laugh came from beneath her. She was not alone. The feeling under her had not entirely been the base of the coffin. It had been him…Vlad.
She was lying in a casket with the King of Vampires.
“Be still, my dear.” His voice resonated through her. He folded her hands over her. It was also about then that she realized she was not wearing her coat. Or her dress. She felt a thick blanket over her, and beneath that the silk of her slip.
“You undressed me?” She took shelter in her indignancy.
“I could not abide by sleeping with such a tangled mess of fabric. I doubt it would feel any more comfortable for you.” He was deeply amused. “Did you not sleep better last night than you did the prior two when I left you fully clothed?”
She sputtered angrily before snarling at him. “It might also have had something to do with you drinking my blood and—”
“I did not take enough to leave meaningful impact. You slept well because you had company, I think.”
She sighed, frustrated. She hated how right he always seemed to be.
“If you have a chill, I can fetch you another blanket. I apologize I bring no warmth of my own to this affair.”
“I find it rather alarming to be in a coffin with you, and now nearly naked as well. My issues with this arrangement do not include the fact that you are cold to the touch.”
“Good.” He shifted. She squeaked as he rolled onto his side, placing her against the upholstered base of the coffin. The tendrils of his hair brushed against her cheek. She felt
his breath pour across her cheek. Her hand flew to his chest, and she felt a soft cotton shirt over an otherwise bare chest. Instantly, her face grew hot.
He quickly made it worse. One of his hands slid underneath the hem of her shift and splayed over her stomach. “I am very glad my touch does not trouble you.”
She pulled in a startled gasp and grabbed his wrist, trying to pull him away. “It does!”
“Oh?”
“Not the temperature, perhaps, but its presence!”
He chuckled darkly and lowered his lips to her cheek, kissing her there, slow and sultry. “Truthfully?” His hand slid to her side then traveled northward underneath the silk. Threatening to travel farther. “Our dream the other night would have me believe otherwise.”
She felt his desire. His amusement. His hunger for her. She felt them as if the emotions were her own. Skin to skin, soul to soul, there was no separating his mind from hers.
His desire drew hers from behind her fear, coaxing it forward like a frightened foal in the back of a barn. Urging her to trust him. Promising that there was no reason to be afraid.
She jolted, swatting at his chest. Suddenly, the air in the casket felt hot, thick, and too close. He paused in his upward drift of his touch, instead content to draw slow circles on her skin with his fingertips. The slight scratch of those long nails sent goosebumps flooding over her body.
He was too much. She was standing on the edge of a cliff, and he was urging her to jump. “Please, I can’t—”
“You can.” He feathered his kisses slowly lower, traveling to her throat, and she gasped as he kissed the spot where he had bitten her. When his tongue rolled over the wound, she whimpered and writhed beneath him. “You enjoy my embrace. Do not lie to me. I can see through you, even as you see through me. It is not only my desire I feel, is it?”
It felt so good when he had bitten her. Both times, the pleasure had been nothing like she had ever felt before. She had never been with a man, but she couldn’t imagine it felt anything like that. She found herself wondering what it would be like to share herself with the vampire over her. Images of her dream flashed in her mind, of the feel of him between her legs, buried deep inside her.
Did he truly want her?
Or was this all a game to him?
A deep, angry growl rumbled in his chest. “Do not ask such foolish questions.” His lips hovered over her ear. “You are too intelligent to be such an idiot.”
She bristled but felt her face grow warmer at his words. She forgot he could hear her thoughts. He knew her doubt for what it was. “I—”
“You are afraid. I understand. But you have nothing to fear from me. I swear it. Do you want me, Maxine?”
She was too ashamed to answer. “It’s not…it’s not you that I am worried about.”
“That is a small consolation. If not I, then what?”
“You see what happens when you kiss me or if I sleep in your embrace. Our minds become…muddled. If you saw too deep into me, if you…found me lacking, I do not know how I would survive. I—” She broke off. She didn’t want to admit to him the truth. But she might as well have been hiding the moon for how much good it did her. He could see through her.
“You fear rejection. You fear I will abandon you like all others have done.”
She remained silent, knowing that was well enough a confirmation for him. Still his fingers traced circles along her ribcage. The sensation was distracting. It made her feel something like electricity was crawling over her. It sparked something in her that was exciting and terrifying in the same breath.
“My darling Maxine…” he purred as he kissed her jawline, his breath growing warmer. “I will never spurn you. I do not give up an inch once taken. Once you are mine, I will never let you go.”
She wanted this.
She wanted to run away.
She wanted desperately to remind herself that she was his prey. She was his prisoner. He had threatened to take all that she was. She fought hard to cling on to that thought, but it shattered and fell away like a shield made of thin ice.
So, she sought another defense. “I might hurt you. I might lose control.”
“You might. You can harm me. I may not be as fragile as a mortal soul, but you could do me damage if you wished it. Do you?”
“What?”
“Do you wish me harm, my sweet? Do you wish to rend my soul to smithereens and send it to the void? Rid both me and this world of my curse?”
“I…I don’t understand.”
“You hold me in the palm of your hand, even as I hold you in mine. I am trusting you with my very being. Do you mean to end me? Remember our accord. No lies between us.”
Any lie would be pointless now. He could hear her, feel her, sense all that she felt. And in return, she did him. And his words were the truth. She could destroy him.
And she found she despised the idea of even trying. “N…no.” It was true.
“Even to spare this city?”
“Please, do not be so cruel to me.”
He did not heed her plea. “Even to spare this world?” He leaned down and kissed her throat again, rolling his tongue along her. She let out a gasp and arched into him, pressing herself against his hand still roaming her side.
“Please—”
“Go on.” He slid his hand farther north, over the swell of her bare breast. She gasped as he squeezed the flesh that he found. He was not shy in his embrace, and she found her back leaving the coffin to seek out more of him as he cupped and toyed with her. “Save this world from my curse.”
She could only moan as he groped at her, his touch firm and insistent. His fingers found the hard peak and pinched it lightly. She bit back a howl, tossing her head away from him, squirming. He had thrown kerosene into the fire that had already been left smoldering. It roared to life, and she felt as though she could barely breathe.
Destroying him was the last thing she wanted. It was the last thing on her mind. She wanted him. She wanted to feel him. Gods be damned, she was beginning to yearn for his touch. “No. No—I can’t—I—”
“Good girl…”
She whimpered at his sultry words. He did not let up from his attentions. His lips were at her throat again, kissing and lapping at the closed wound, sensual and seductive, that low purr rising again. She clung to him in desperation, her hands seeking the bare skin of his chest underneath his shirt. He felt like velvet over marble. Just the slightest softness over what rippled beneath.
She should tell him to stop. She should push him away. She could not find the words. He gave her ample opportunity. He had not bitten her. He had not placed her in his thrall. There was no one to blame for this but her.
She had never known such need. And she did not know what to do.
“What do you wish from me?” His breath against her throat was no longer cold but hot, pooling against her. “I could take you as a man, as a vampire, or as both…all this will come to pass in time. I can be gentle, or I can be cruel. Whatever you desire, it will be yours.”
His hand released her breast, sliding back down her stomach, slipping underneath the drawstring of her undergarment. She gasped, her eyes flying wide as he unabashedly slid his hand between her legs and cupped her core.
“Wait—”
He chuckled darkly. She could feel his grin against her shoulder as he clearly took great pride at what he found. Her body had answered his call with a rabid fervor. “You lie to me still, my Lady of Souls.”
“I’m not—”
“Shush.” His fingers began to explore her, and her words cut off in a soft cry. She was helpless to stop him, namely because she found no desire to do anything of the sort. His sharp claws brought an edge of danger that only served to quicken her heartbeat.
“I can’t…I can’t do this. It’s too much. Please—”
He let out a thoughtful hum as he rolled his tongue over the puncture wounds in her throat. “Allow me to bring you pleasure, Maxine. Allow me to do this much,
and I will go no farther this night.”
When his thumb nudged over the sensitive bud at her core, she bit back a startled cry at what it did to her and at the sensations that ripped through her body. She felt as though she were made of molten lava, yet she felt as fragile as glass.
If he left her now, she was not certain what she might do. She was too scared to let it progress, but too desperate to let it end. I am a goddamn bloody fool.
She nodded.
He growled, a sound of hunger and desire, and she felt his fangs pierce her throat again, reopening the wound he had paid her. This time, there was no pain at all. She merely felt the pleasure rush over her.
As he drank, his hand deftly toyed with her body, careful not to prick her with his sharp nails. He was skilled. Too skilled. She whimpered and moaned beneath him, twisting weakly in his grasp.
When the purr began again, she was undone. She arched and writhed, her mind going pure white as ecstasy crashed over her in a wave. It was like nothing she had ever felt. No memory, no stolen dreams, could have ever compared to what washed over her. Her mind went reeling into bliss. She cried out.
“Vlad!”
She cried his name as her pleasure consumed her. Vlad shared in it like it was his own, and he nearly spent himself then, without ever being touched. He growled in frustration. This link of theirs—their shared minds and emotions—was as troublesome as it was amusing. While it was an intoxicating drug and a wonderful game, it challenged his control.
He nearly broke his promise. He wanted to split her wide, to bury himself in her volcanic heat, to feel that trembling and quivering body he held in his hands clench tight around him. He wanted to feel them joined in all ways at once—in body, in blood, and in soul. He wanted to take her like she had wished for in her dream.
Patience, you old bastard.
She was panting for air as he pulled his teeth from her throat and let his fingers cease their ministrations. She was twitching, her hands weakly tangled in his shirt. One of them had found its way to press against his chest, her palm over his beating heart.
Heart of Dracula Page 21
