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"Better. Only you forgot My lord and master. But I'll let that slip this time." He stepped back, yanking me up and into his arms. "Oh girl, if I weren't using incredible restraint, I'd be in you, reaming you so hard you'd never, ever forget me."
I let out another whimper. No, please, don't let him go through with it. I knew he was going to browbeat me, but please, oh please, don't let him lose control. My body was responding to him as my heart sank and a tear finally squeezed out and slowly wound down my cheek.
Lannan grabbed me by the shoulders and forced me to stare into his unblinking, ebony eyes. They glistened like dark jewels. The look on his face was cold again, the soft sensuality gone in the blink of an eye.
Numb, trying to ignore the rumbling desire that echoed through my body, I shivered as he whirled me around, pressing me face-first against the back of the divan. His hand reached around to squeeze my nipple so hard I let out a shriek. Squeezing my eyes closed, I held my breath and waited.
The music shifted. Nine Inch Nails blared through the room, the driving beat catching me up. Lannan's laughter grew louder, his icy hands groping me as he leaned close to my neck. No warm breath to tell me he was there, but just a chilling presence.
And then he plunged toward me, his lips licking my neck, as he grunted and pierced the skin. The pain was exquisite, sending me soaring so that I lost track of my anger, lost track of my fury and rode the wave so high that I came right there, screaming as his tongue rasped against me, coaxing the blood to the surface, one crimson drop at a time.
As my blood entered his mouth, communion, a connection forged between us. It coiled like a serpent and I fought it off, fought the hunger to give in and beg him to take me under, to turn me, to make me one of his own.
"No--you're not supposed to enthrall me," I whispered.
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."
I sat very still, trying not to anger him again. He looked about two steps away from backhanding me across the room. But he let me go then, and flipped open a cell phone.
"She's ready to go home. Wait for her out front. Don't come in."
