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"I have no need to drug you. I could mesmerize you and take anything I wanted . . . if I chose to."
I froze, the drink halfway to my lips. Ice, I thought. The ice maiden. Stay still, remain in stasis, freeze-frame, do not respond. Let him do what he will and then walk away like it never happened.
"You understand that I drink from you as my right according to contract. You offer yourself to me." His voice was soft. Too soft.
I said nothing.
"Say it. Tell me that you have chosen this. I want to hear it from your lips, from your curving, sensuous, ever so life-quickening lips."
Again, silence. I stared at the stereo, willing myself to dissolve into the music. Become the chords, become the melody . . . float away on the breeze with the notes as they passed. Ephemeral.
"Cicely. I command you." And his voice was so strong I couldn't disobey.
I turned to stare at him. "I give my blood to you, I've chosen to do this. I signed the contract. Now do what you will."
His dark eyes flared and he let out a small grunt as he began to circle me. I stood at attention, unresponsive, not turning to follow. I managed to keep it together till he stopped in back of me and leaned in close. Then the panic started.
"I can make this ecstasy, or incredibly painful. Which do you think I should choose?" he whispered.
"That is up to you, sir." Struggling to keep my voice even, I began to breathe in shallow bursts. I'd rather have it hurt, to remind me of what he was.
"You must have some idea of what runs through my mind." He pressed his lips against my ear, as his hand began sliding down my right arm, his fingers icy cold against my skin. "What do you think I want to do to you? Tell me."
Damn him. It was another order. Command filled his voice and I couldn't disobey. Even though he'd promised not to enthrall me, that didn't mean he couldn't play head games and mind tricks.
I opened my mouth, unwilling to speak but unable to stop. "You want to fuck me. You want to drink me."
"Elaborate," he whispered, lifting my hair to the side and pressing his fangs against my neck. He didn't break the skin, but I could feel them there, poised, just waiting. "How would I fuck you, Cicely? What would I do to you? Tell me, in detail."
I wanted to cry but my eyes were dry. I wanted to run but my feet were frozen to the ground. My lips opened and I heard myself speaking even though I tried to bite back the words. "You'd slide your hands under my shirt and rip it off. Then, you'd unhook my bra and cup my breasts." As he licked my neck, a whimper escaped from my throat.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you? You'd like for me to undress you? What would I find if I slid my fingers down deep in your pussy? Are you wet, Cicely? Don't lie to me, because I can check, and if you lie, the punishment will be far more severe."
Shivering as his hand slid around, flat against my belly and up under my shirt, my heart wanted to run, to push him away. But my body wanted to drag him down and let him do what he would. Lannan had a drug--one he didn't need to inject or shove down my throat. Pure pheromone, pure aphrodisiac. No wonder bloodwhores flocked to the vamps.
"Yes," I whispered. "I'm wet."
"Where are you wet? Tell me." Again the soft coaxing as he pressed against my back. I could feel him, rigid and hard and furious.
Stumbling over the words, I blurted out, "My pussy. I'm so wet I can't stand it."
Lannan laughed then, raw and coarse. "Good--very good. You want me?" When I didn't answer, his voice thundered through the room. "Answer me, woman. Do you want me to fuck you?"
A cry ripped out of my throat. "Yes . . . No . . . I hate you."
With another laugh, the soft, sensual Lannan was back. He slowly peeled my shirt over my head and tossed it on the floor. Then he unhooked my bra and that, too, went on the floor. My breasts bounced lightly as they fell free of the satin and he let out a low groan and reached out, touching just the nipples. I bit my lip, trying not to show my feelings as the points hardened beneath his touch. I wanted relief so desperately, I thought I was going to cry, but I didn't want him to triumph--didn't want Lannan to win.
"Good girl." His voice was low, but still carrying the command. "Now we can get down to business. I want you to beg me to drink from you. Beg me, Cicely. On your knees, with your lips on my feet. Beg me. Now."
I fell to my knees, unable to disobey. My forehead brushed his pants legs as I pressed my lips against his polished leather boots. "Please . . . please, drink from me, Lannan."
He lightly tipped my chin up with the toe of one boot.
"I can't hear you--a little louder, please. And more heart-felt."
My face flushed, burning. If he wanted to humiliate me, he was doing a damned good job. I wanted to stake him right there.
"Lannan, please drink from me. Please!" I forced all the sarcasm into my voice that I could, but I still sounded desperate and he let out a sharp laugh.
