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Stop, please, stop. Don't stop. Don't leave me hanging. Don't leave me unfinished, untouched. Tear me to pieces and rebuild me, make me new, make me strong, make me scream, make me love you.
Closing my eyes, I desperately searched for something to block my rising desire. I thought of Grieve, of Heather, of my cousin . . . of everything except for the soft sound of Lannan's insistent lapping, but I couldn't hold on to the thoughts and I slid ever deeper into the crimson shadowed lust that filtered through my senses.
"I'm not enthralling you. This is only your first donation. It will feel better each time." And then he pressed against my neck again, drinking deep, and a euphoria washed over me that superseded every dark and overripe dream of ecstasy I'd ever experienced.
Except for one.
The memory of soaring as an owl over the darkened house rose up and I caught hold. I held on to it--pouring myself into the feel of the wind under my wings, of the sights and scents and sounds. The memory became a beacon, a lifeline and tether to which I held tight as Lannan's passion buffeted me. That moment--gliding into the night--was the most sublime experience I'd ever undergone. Pure, feral, primal, clean . . .
Even as Lannan's tongue against my neck drove me toward orgasm, even as I lost my control and threw myself into the dance, my mind held tight to the single image of myself-as-owl. A burning ember began to grow in the pit of my stomach, and I knew that someday, in the future when we were free from the Indigo Court, I'd return to Lannan and stake him through the heart to repay him for the depths he'd brought me to.
Then, lust hit me full force and I came again, shrieking in pain as much as pleasure as he pulled away, my blood dripping down his chin, a crazed, triumphant smile spreading wide across his face. But the part of myself I needed to save, the part of myself that could never be beaten or stripped of dignity, soared, riding the winds, winging high and wide and free.
Chapter 21
I said nothing as he handed me a bandage for my neck, which was still oozing. My knees weak, I stumbled. Lannan caught me up and--with a gentleness that belied his nature--he carried me over to the sofa and sat me down, exiting into the other room for a moment and returning with a glass of milk and a couple of chocolate chip cookies.
Staring at the food, awash in the contradictions that had rampaged through my evening, I could only look up at him, puzzled. "What . . . why . . . ?"
"You need food. I drank deep from you, but some sugar and a night of rest will restore you. Eat and drink, now, and put on your shirt. The wound is covered and shouldn't leak onto your clothing."
He returned to his desk as if nothing had happened.
I shook my head. "How can you be so nonchalant? How can you act as though you didn't just ravage me? You made me come, you made me scream your name, damn it. And you act like it was nothing."
Lannan raised his head, his golden hair falling forward as a perplexed look crossed his face. "Do you want it to mean something?" he asked softly.
"No--yes . . . I . . ." I stared at the cookies in my hand. "You drink from me--you steal my blood and act like nothing happened, like it's just a stop at the water cooler. Do you know how violated I feel? How angry I am at you right now?"
Perhaps it wasn't the wisest thing to yell at a vampire, but I felt hot and overtired and my mind had slid into a fog bank. Thickly, I bit into the cookies and sipped the milk, hoping to clear my head.
Lannan frowned, then slowly stood and crossed back over to me. He took the glass and food from me and put them on the coffee table, then helped me slip back into my bra, fastening it from behind, and then guided my shirt back over my head. Afterward, he sat beside me and took my hands in his, gazing at me so long I began to get nervous.
"Cicely, you truly are a gem. Most of the magic-born have an arrogance to match even the Vein Lords. But you . . . there's something different about you." He brushed my hair back from my face. "You're my type, you know--long dark hair, brilliant eyes, curvy and solid. Listen to me, Cicely. My kind--vampires--we're at the top of the food chain. We are no longer human. You--be you magic-born or human--are our prey. I drink from you because I can, because I want to. Your feelings really play no part in the matter either way."
Once again furious, I pulled my hands away. "If I'm just a juice box on legs, then let me go home since I've served my purpose tonight. Don't bother trying to explain yourself, because you can't. You can't ever hope to make me sympathize with you."
"Girl," he said, pulling me close so that I could smell my blood still on his lips, "listen to me. If the Indigo Court rises up, then you'll sympathize with us so fast and so hard that you'll beg me to turn you. They would eat you alive, like piranha going after a deer that stumbled in the water. They wouldn't care about your cries or your feelings or your pain--they'd eat you to the bone with your heart still beating. Don't be so quick to turn up your nose at me.">"Come back in an hour. We should be done then."
Leo looked like he wanted to do anything but leave me there, but he walked away, his eyes flashing fury. I sucked in a deep breath, stepped over the threshold, and waited for Lannan to speak.
"I see you chose to dress for comfort." A statement. "Next time, wear something sexy." A demand.
Great. He wanted the full show. He was a master gamesman, that much I could already tell. But I'd play along. I knew how to pick and choose my battles.
"Yes, sir." My voice sounded like a mouse's squeak in a giant auditorium. I forced myself to stand still in front of his desk. Make him initiate the first move.
Lannan looked up at me, his dark eyes glittering. If there had been some spark of light in them, some semblance of humanity, I might have been able to keep it together. But those abysmal orbs sucked me in and I found myself starting to shake. He was a vampire, a Vein Lord, and he was going to be drinking from my body tonight.
He slid from behind the desk and silently crossed the room. "What brings you to this fear? The thought of offering me blood?" His voice was soft, so soft I could barely catch it, and he leaned in, nuzzling my neck. "You are a lovely thing, and your scent fills the room. You know vampires have a sense of smell, even though we don't need to breathe?"
As he lingered by my shoulder, my heart skidded to the side. I already had come to loathe the man, yet his very proximity was like an aphrodisiac and even though my mind and heart resisted, my body was responding to whatever pheromones he was putting out.
"Oh, Cicely, not all payment has to hurt. Mine usually does, but keep in mind that I can--and shall--make it a pleasure for you. Blood offerings aren't always torture." He lifted my chin with his hands. "Don't worry, in less than ninety minutes, you'll be safe at home, with your friends."
But the look on his face told me I'd never be the same.
Lannan let go and walked over to a small stereo system in an entertainment center and flipped on the music. Sinuous strains wove out, coiling around me, followed by a throbbing beat. He poured a glass of wine and handed it to me. I stared into the liquid, wondering if it was safe.
