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He laughed softly. “Oh, you will help me, pretty one." She didn't bother refuting the statement. He smiled and walked to the far corner of the room, his movements grace itself. Nikki blinked, suddenly realizing she could see. The night had begun to lift, and dawn seeped through the boarded up window to her right. Freedom. Yet she didn't dare move. She had no doubt he would kill her if she so much as blinked the wrong way right now... He turned, holding a syringe in one hand. Relief surged. That was why her head felt so fuzzy. He was drugging her.
"This won't put you out.” His smile made her edge back slightly. “Only stop you moving and cloud your gifts. I have no wish for you to call your lover so soon." Fear held her immobile. He knelt and slid the needle into her thigh. His hand caressed her skin, his touch hot, possessive. She closed her eyes and held her breath.
Jasper laughed and rose. Her eyes jerked open, and she watched him move to the bed. He played with her, she realized grimly. Tasted her fear, fueling its flames. Savoring it. She knew then that he wouldn't physically touch her. Not for a while, anyway. This man enjoyed violation of another kind more—the heart, the soul and the mind. Like a cat playing with its prey, he would toy with her until she broke.
Then he would use her to trap and kill Michael.
She had to escape this mad man's grasp.
Footsteps whispered through the silence. Laughter surrounded her, provocative yet chilling. Not Jasper's. Monica's.
She closed her eyes, refusing to acknowledge the teenager's presence. Bedsprings squeaked as Monica joined her lover on the bed. After several more minutes came soft moans and the rustle of sheets. All she could do was ignore the noise of their lovemaking and try to rest. Like Jasper's word games, she knew this was meant to be some perverted form of torture. But if they hoped to shock her, hoped to encourage the first tiny cracks in her sanity, they were in for a surprise. She'd seen and heard a lot worse during her years on the streets.
Yet she couldn't help the tiny hope that daylight would quickly drive them into oblivion. Or better yet, to hell.
* * * *
Pain woke her. Her heart pounded, racing uncomfortably in her chest. She opened her eyes. Jasper knelt beside her, warm breath kissing her skin, his gaze burning with desire as he watched ... And sucked blood from her wrist.
Nikki screamed and tried to jerk her arm away. He held her still, his grip bruising as he drained her life away. There was nothing she could do to stop him.
As the realization of death hit her, he pulled away.
His razor-sharp teeth left her skin, and the hot ached eased. Smiling, still watching her every movement, he licked the remaining droplets away. His tongue danced sensually across her wrist, and the two small holes healed.
The horror of it filled every corner of her mind. It felt as if his depravity had somehow invaded her soul and left it stained. He laughed, white teeth gleaming, canines still tarnished by her blood. She closed her eyes, desperate to control the rising tide of hysteria. That's what he intended, what he wanted. It was just part of his tricks, part of his attempt to break her will.
She couldn't let him succeed. Not when Michael's life was at stake. Jasper moved back to the bed. His bright gaze watched her steadily. There was no life, no emotion, in his eyes. It was almost as if becoming a vampire had robbed him of all humanity. And yet, she had an odd feeling that even when he had been alive, the look in his eyes would have been much the same. She shifted uncomfortably on the cold floor, but her muscles were stiff and unresponsive. She still clasped her knees close to her chest, though the muscles along her thighs had long ago gone numb. While the protection it offered was only illusory, she didn't want her body exposed to this man.
"You have been missing for more than twenty-four hours. Do you think your lover is frantic yet?"
"He's not...” She stopped. What was the use? He'd never believe Michael and she were barely even friends, let alone lovers. Madness had control of his brain, and he refused to hear anything beyond the boundaries of what he believed to be true.
Jasper rested his forearms against his knees, face somehow more intense as he leaned forward. “He will suffer, as I suffered. And he will feel you die, as I felt my brother die." His voice was flat, chilling in its lack of emotion. Yet his statement confused her. Why, if he was so desperate for psychic power, did he keep her alive? “I thought you wanted to get your hands on my abilities?"
Perhaps it wasn't the wisest move, asking a madman a question like that, but it was one she needed an answer to.
"I kill you now, and your lover will merely return you to death. There would be nothing to savor in such a situation."
Suddenly she understood. He thought them lovers, and wanted Michael to suffer the agony of the situation, of knowing she was a captive and yet not knowing what was being done to her. A good plan, had it not been for the fact she and Michael were little more than strangers. Hell, Michael was probably sitting back right now wondering how to turn the situation to his advantage. She doubted if she'd waste more than a second or two in his thoughts. Though he'd promised to keep her safe, and she had no doubt he would try and keep that promise.
"Why haven't you tried to hypnotize me again, then?” she asked after a moment. He'd come so close the first time.
"At the time, you were unaware and ripe for attack. Were it not for your lover, I would have had you. Right now, you would not be so easy a target, even with your mind so clouded. I have no wish to deplete my own reserves when fear and drugs can more easily break a spirit." And the pain involved would give him more pleasure, she thought. He smiled, and fear curled in her stomach. There were a few too many teeth involved in that smile. She had to keep him talking. It was her only hope. Every second she could delay whatever plans he had for her was another second Michael had to find her.
"Was your brother a vampire, too?"
His gaze narrowed slightly. He knew what she was up to, yet she sensed he was prepared to play along. At least for a while.
"He was my twin. He was never strong, never certain about this gift of afterlife. He was an easy target. I've spent a long time tracking down his killer."
And probably a long time planning Michael's death. She moved her leg slightly, trying to ease the ache, but stopped when a hungry look flickered across his face. Holding still, she cleared her throat, trying to draw his attention away from her naked body. “Michael doesn't even know your name." If he tasted her lie, he gave no sign of it.
"Then he will, before this is finished. And he will curse it long before he dies.” He rose and picked up the syringe. “I must go out. Your blood, intoxicating as it was, will not contain my needs." He slid the needle into her thigh, and she bit back a yelp of pain. White fire flashed through her veins, and her pulse began to skip. Sweat broke out across her skin, though she felt chilled to the bone. The darkness began to move, began to moan and whisper ... And dancing images of every nightmare she'd ever suffered came to life in the night before her.
She closed her eyes, battling for sanity. It was only the drug. It wasn't real. Jasper's hand caressed her arm, his touch hot with desire. She shuddered, but didn't move. Didn't dare. "Have fun, beautiful one."
His laughter rolled through the thickening night, stirring it into a passionate dance of madness.
