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She, too, lets out a soft moan. “More.”
I obey, dizzy and overwhelmed by the onslaught on my senses, and still my mind won’t shut up.We’ll have fun.I try to focus on the way my muscles feel, powerful, like a drawn bow ready to fire.
“That’s enough,” she orders firmly. Her hand tugs at my hair as if trying to pull me away.
A growl rumbles through the room and it takes me a moment to realize that I’m the one making the noise. I’m strong now, stronger than any human. She can’t stop me. I’m done being helpless.
“I saidenough.”Her voice is cold as ice.
“No!” The word is muffled against her skin. With a loudpop,a piece snaps off the wooden headboard beneath my fist.
Slowly, she raises her hand to my throat, her fingers curling around it. I almost laugh – if her intention is to strangle me, she will be dead before she accomplishes her task.
The laughter dies before it can sound out, cold creeping up from my neck to my chin. The muscles in my jaw spasm, tightening furiously, refusing to move when I order them to. As the cold extends, it creeps into my windpipe. It feels as if ice crystals are forming in my throat, cold and sharp. Unable to swallow, the blood pools in my mouth until it overflows, dripping from my chin.
The pain is so sharp and urgent, my hands go to my neck, clasping the hand that is wrapped around it as I gasp for air. The moment I let go of her, she shoves me back with a surprising amount of force. Frustrated, burning with the need for more, I catch her wrist, lurching back forward. I grab onto her hair, tilt her head, and try to sink my teeth back into her neck. Before I can make contact, the ice returns to my throat. This time, I’m sure it’s going to split my throat open.
With an undignified yelp, I startle backward, grabbing at my neck. I slip off her lap. Before I can get my bearings, she slaps me hard enough to send me stumbling the rest of the way to the floor. The pain is brilliantly sharp and bright, making my ears ring. I'm sure if she used her backhand, she would have dislocated my jaw.
Breathing heavily, I dig my fingers into my thighs, trying hard to stop myself from attacking again.Maybe I could overpower her.But getting hit has brought some sense back to me, reminding me that, actually,I don’t want to do that.Breathing raggedly, I take stock of my body and my senses. I'm on all fours on the floor, blood on my lips, cheek burning hot. Blinding hunger fills me, nearly pushing every other thought out of my mind. I know this is my fault. I let it get too bad. This is why so many vampires are locked up in a tomb somewhere – because they lose control and hurt someone. I was so afraid of the monster I am now that I inadvertently made it worse.
Still getting my bearings, I raise my eyes to her. She’s looking down with pursed lips, her face full of cold irritation. Her blue irises have nearly been swallowed up by widened pupils, a side effect of my venom.
She glances at the holes in her expensive-looking dress where my fingers were only moments ago. Some blood has dripped from her wound down to the neckline and left dark stains on the navy fabric. Her hand is pressing a tissue against her neck, red flecks quickly blooming on the white paper.
“So that’s what I get,” she murmurs as she gets to her feet, dangerously high heels coming to rest on the floor before me.
Anger and frustration flare in me at the thought of losing the taste of her blood – going back to being powerless – but there is also a tiny part of my brain present enough to realize that I’m being an absolutely ungrateful bitch. She steps past me and I follow her heels with my eye as they clack over the wooden boards to a sideboard. She uncorks a bottle of wine, pours herself a glass, and empties it in one swig.
The smell of the woman’s blood clings to the air. I can’t stop myself from inhaling as deeply as I can, indulging in its sweetness. Before I know what is happening, I’m growling again. This would be embarrassing if I had a single brain cell to spare for feeling anything else but desire. Fighting back the urge to just jump up and attack her, I curl up, burying my hands in my hair as if my arms could somehow shield me from this onslaught on my senses.I’ve had enough,I try to tell myself. But I want more, or rather, that darkness sleeping in me wants more. It wants excess.
“I’m sorry,” I manage to press out between my teeth, still fighting myself.
“What was that?”
I peer up at her through my arms. Her dress parts at the side with every step and maybe it’s the angle, but her legs look infinitely long and graceful as she comes toward me. She crouches and gently removes my hands from my hair.
My jaw opens involuntarily, ready to bite. I yank my hand back from hers and press it over my mouth.
“I’m sorry,” I repeat, voice mumbled. “About your dress and…” I’m not good at apologies. “I lost control, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Her expression is as haughty as anything I've ever seen. “You didn’t.”
Ugh.“I know, I just… You…” Have I lost my damn tongue? Why am I stuttering like an idiot? But the thought is quickly drowned out by the memory of what she interrupted – that guy's hand creeping under my shirt, my nails haplessly scraping at the wallpaper.
I meet her ice-blue eyes with my own, almost nauseous from the rush of the blood. Slowly, I remember where I am and how I got here. “What do you want from me?”
Her expression softens a little. “I won’t touch you, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
She shrugs and gets up. “It sounded like things were getting heated in here.” She nods toward the man lying unconscious on the floor.“Alastor won’t be very happy if he finds out you attacked your customers, so I made sure they won’t remember what happened here – only that it was the best night of their lives.”
“So what, you’re just a knight in shining armor?” My voice is more bitter than intended. Wiping the blood from my mouth with my sleeve, I steady myself to get to my feet.
Her expression is carefully neutral. “You could say that.”
“But?”
