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She peered out toward the living room and noticed that the lamp she'd left on was off now. And someone definitely had been in here at some point, because whoever it was had covered her with a light blanket that used to be draped over one of the bedroom chairs.
It was Rio. She knew it absolutely.
It had been him beside the bed not a moment ago. His touch that had felt so good against her skin, and so cold when it was gone.
Dylan pivoted around and put her bare feet on the floor. She padded to the closed French doors, opening them softly as she strained to see anything in the lightless living room on the other side.
"Rio...are you asleep?"
She didn't ask if he was there; she knew he was. She could feel his presence in the way her heart was racing, blood speeding through her veins. Dylan walked across the carpeted floor to where she remembered seeing a squat ginger jar lamp on a little writing desk. She felt her way there, reaching out carefully for the cold porcelain base of the lamp.
"Leave it off."
Dylan swiveled her head toward the sound of Rio's voice. He was to her right, near the center of the room. Now that her eyes were adjusting to the lack of light, she could see him in the large, dark form seated on the velvet sofa, his body and long limbs devouring the petite lines of the furniture.
"You can have your bed. I didn't mean to fall asleep there."
She walked deeper into the room...and heard a low growl rumble from his direction.
Oh, God. She froze where she was standing, just a few steps away from the sofa. Was he in the throes of another meltdown like earlier? Or had he not fully recovered from that one yet?
Dylan cleared her throat. Braved another step toward him. "Are you...um, do you...need anything? Because if there's something I can do - "
"God damn it!" The sound of his voice was more desperate than angry. He pulled one of his faster-than-you-can-blink maneuvers, shooting up off the sofa and moving back against the far wall. As far as he could get from her. "Dylan, please. Just go back to bed. You need to stay away from me."
That was probably really good advice. Staying away from a vampire with a traumatic brain injury and a nuclear-grade level of uncontrollable rage was probably about the smartest thing she could do. Yet Dylan's feet kept moving, like all her common sense and survival instincts had packed up and gone on a sudden vacation.
"I'm not afraid of you, Rio. I don't think you're going to hurt me."
He didn't say anything to confirm or deny it. Dylan could hear him breathing - if the sharp, shallow panting qualified as such. She felt like she was walking up on a wounded wild animal, unsure if reaching out to him was going to win her a bit of uneasy trust or a vicious taste of fang and claw.
"You were in the bedroom with me a few minutes ago...weren't you?" She inched steadily forward, undaunted by the weight of his silence or the darkness that concealed him in shadow. "You touched me. I felt your hand on my face. I...I liked it, Rio. I didn't want you to stop."
He hissed a nasty, violent curse. She felt rather than saw his head come up sharply. There was a pause, and then he must have opened his eyes because the darkness was suddenly pierced by two glowing embers aimed straight at her.
"Your eyes..." she murmured, caught like a moth in a flame.
She'd seen Rio's eyes transform from topaz to amber when he'd stumbled into his quarters a few hours ago, but this...this was different. There was a smoldering quality to them now, something other than anger or pain. More intense, if that was possible.
Dylan couldn't move, just stood there in the heated path of Rio's gaze, feeling it rake her body from head to toe. Her heart flipped and stuttered as that amber gaze burned over her, into her.
Now he was moving, striding toward her with slow, predatory grace.
"Why did you come up on that mountain?" he asked her, his voice harsh, accusing.
Dylan swallowed, watching him approach her in the dark. She started to say that it was Eva who sent her there, but that was only partly true. The ghost that was Eva had showed her the way, but Dylan returned to the cave because of Rio.
As much as anything - including the job she thought she might be saving with her story of a demon in the Bohemian hills - it was Rio who compelled her to stay in the cave and try to reach out to him when good sense would have told her to flee. It was he who compelled her now, desire for him keeping her feet rooted to the floor when fear should have been sending her running as fast as she could in the opposite direction.
He was right in front of her now, still masked by darkness except for the eerie, seductive glow of his vampire eyes.
"Goddamn it, Dylan. Why did you come up there?" His hands were firm as he took hold of her upper arms. He gave her a little shake, but he was the one who trembled. "Why? Why did you have to be the one?"
She knew the kiss was coming, even in the dark, but the initial press of his mouth on hers went through Dylan like an uncontained flame. It seared her, hot desire shooting into her core. She melted, losing herself in the brush of Rio's lips - and, oh, Christ - his fangs. She felt the pointed tips of them as he pushed her mouth open with his tongue, forcing her to take what he had to give her now.
Dylan wasn't about to fight it. She'd never known anything as erotic as the graze of Rio's fangs as he kissed her. There was so much lethal power in him; she could feel it, coiled and dangerous, but on the very knife's edge of breaking loose. Rio held her tightly, kissed her harshly, and Dylan had never been so turned on in all her life.
He pushed her down onto the sofa behind her, his strong hands braced at her back to ease the fall. He went with her, the weight of his hard body bearing her down beneath him. She could feel the thick ridge of his sex. It felt enormous and stiff as stone where it wedged between their bodies. Dylan ran her hands up his back, slipping them under the cotton tank he wore so she could feel the flex of his strong muscles as he moved atop her.
