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But Sweet Dove wasn’t to be found. He quickly learned that very few people even knew of her. Even the men who’d visited her, who had also used his body, had disappeared from the vampire world.
He now believed that Sweet Dove had killed them, or ordered the killings, though doing the job by her own hand would have suited her equally as well. Since then, nothing he’d done to try to locate her had worked. She’d slipped into some well-disguised cavern system and disappeared.
Maybe she was dead. Or maybe finding Scorpion would help lead Reyes to her. After all, Sweet Dove had been with Angelica. She’d known all about her. It was highly possible that Sweet Dove knew Scorpion.
Angelica shivered.
“Are you cold?”
She nodded.
He moved to the fireplace and lit a well-constructed stack of newspaper, kindling, and logs. When the fire burned hot, Angelica shifted to sit on the side of the tall bed. She stared up at him, the comforter loose about her waist as firelight played over her perfect cle**age and the red sequins covering her ni**les.
“Angelica, I’m so sorry for what happened just now, but I’m beyond grateful, too, because you saved the situation. I got lost for a few minutes, and you brought me back. Is there anything I can do for you?”
She released a weary sigh. “I know this is going to sound odd, but I’d really like a shower.”
He nodded. “Actually, that makes perfect sense.” He’d been there a thousand times.
She pushed the comforter back and headed to the bathroom.
Angelica let the water flow over her head for a long time. She soaped up repeatedly, trying to scrub some of the experience off her skin and out of her pores.
Her job was over, the part she’d agreed to, and sometime the next morning Reyes would take her home. He’d even said he’d do all that he could to keep her safe from Starlin in the future.
She should have felt relieved, and maybe she was. But a large part of her was still stuck at that horrible party where at least a hundred slaves had milled around dull-eyed and on leashes like hers. Except their obedience and submission were real, unlike hers. She only had to feign her captivity. She shuddered, trying hard not to think about what the rest of the night would be like for the other women.
Despite this brutal reality, she was proud of what she’d achieved tonight. She’d saved Reyes’s reputation and protected his cover. He could go forward with his plans and fulfill his mission, and in the process save tens of thousands of future slaves.
Then why didn’t she feel more satisfied?
Reyes leaned his forearm over the tall mantel, drawing deep breaths. He could recall everything now, how he’d watched the show and fallen into a strange trance as images of Sweet Dove’s torture had overtaken his mind.
Engles had stood nearby watching him like a hawk, waiting for a sign of weakness, hoping to tear him apart.
Dream-like, he could even see the moment Angelica had made the decision to go down on him, pretending that she obeyed his orders.
Horror rolled through him in waves at what might have happened had she not jumped in and played her slave role as brilliantly as she had. But it wasn’t the possibility of failing at his mission that distressed him; it was the simple fact that Engles happily would have appropriated Angelica as his slave once he was assured that Reyes wasn’t up to the task.
He couldn’t be certain exactly what had happened to him, why he’d checked out for those few minutes. He supposed Eve’s show had been too real for him. Or maybe the overall stress of the evening had finally gotten to him.
He squeezed his eyes shut and for the present worked at letting it all go. Angelica had saved the situation and now he had her home, safe and sound.
In the morning he’d take her back to Newport Beach, to her apartment, back to helping her mother and working all the long hours at her accounting job. Maybe it wasn’t a great life, but it sure as hell wasn’t the dangerous and potentially fatal one he’d brought her into.
He ignored certain other thoughts that had stolen into his mind as well, ones that involved keeping her with him for the next few weeks.
He had no right to ask anything more of her.
Even so, he moved to the wall unit to the left of the fireplace, laden with a host of books on shelves. A set of drawers made up the lower portion of the unit.
Opening the top drawer, he pulled out a red leather case and popped the lid. On a bed of scarlet velvet lay a pair of identical dark-metal chains. He touched each in succession and felt the powerful vibrations they carried. When created, the chains had been infused with his blood and carried his DNA, which meant that he could bind Angelica to him if he wanted to. He could keep her close to him with a range that rarely extended beyond ten feet.
The chains would prove he’d brought her under his complete control. But they would do more than that. He’d have a sense of her at all times, and she’d know exactly what he was feeling moment to moment.
Everything about their current relationship would be heightened, including his desire for her, his longing for her blood, his need to bury himself inside her.
He knew she desired him, so in turn, what she felt for him would be enhanced exponentially as well.
The thought of taking Angelica to bed as a willing partner while bound in blood-chains caused him to groan.
“You okay?”
He closed the lid, then the drawer.
Pivoting in her direction, he met her gaze. She wore a robe, tied up tight at her narrow waist. Her hair was slicked back, wet from the shower, which made her eyes look huge, enhancing her vulnerable humanness.
He really couldn’t ask this of her.
He couldn’t.
Instead he answered her question. “I’m fine. Tired, maybe.”
“Will I be sleeping here tonight?” She dipped her chin toward the bed. With a towel she rubbed the ends of her hair.
He nodded. “I can sleep in the guest room.”
Her gaze roved the bed. “I think that would be best.” But she frowned.
“What is it?”
“Nothing.” At that, she smiled as she met his gaze once more. “I could use some sleep. Maybe a decade’s worth.”
He realized then that whatever she could do in terms of helping him reach his Starlin destruction goal, there was another reason he didn’t want her to go. She eased something inside him he couldn’t define.
And he wanted her to stay with him, at least for a little while longer. “I need you.”
“What?” She tilted her head.
“I need you.” There, he said it again, flat out. “I want you with me for the next few weeks. The Starlin Group is hosting a festival, like your New Orleans Mardi Gras, with parades and parties in many of the local sex clubs. It culminates in a masked ball.”
