Vivienne?
Her heart stuttered.
Heath, is it you? Where are you? I saw you lying on a floor. I can help you—
I’m in a warehouse. Go down Charing Cross Road. It’s a large brick building. There should be a broken window in the front….
His voice died away. She tried to speak to him through her thoughts again, but got no answer. Dragging up her hems, she began to run.
What would he do to her now? So far he’d broken free of her bonds, then he’d swiftly tied her up on the piles of hay. In his fantasy, he was now licking her everywhere. On her taut nipples. Her sweet, juicy quim. Her puckered anus. And the soles of her feet.
He spanked her nipples lightly with the crop, and she moaned in pure, agonized delight. Her nipples were big and hard and flushed scarlet.
Lightly, he tapped the crop on her cunny, gently tapping her clit. She gasped and squirmed, aroused and slick.
But this was his last fantasy, and as much as he wanted to bury his cock in her quim, he had another plan in mind.
He had tied her wrists together, then ran a length of rope to bind her to the post. He helped her roll over, and gently lifted her, so she was positioned on her hands and knees. The ropes at her ankles kept her legs splayed apart. Her wrists were still tied in front of her.
She enjoyed playing prisoner. The explosive way she had come over and over as he tied her up had told him that. He licked his fingers, then massaged the fluid into the valley between her cheeks. Her generous derriere was displayed to him.
“Oh yes,” she whispered in his fantasy, “thrust your cock in my bottom. I want it so deep.”
She was giving him permission to slide his throbbing erection into her tight, hot derriere. He didn’t need any more encouragement….
Heath groaned in pain. He was trapped on the floor, too
weak to even jerk off, tormenting himself with fantasies that wouldn’t come true. His trapped cock was as rigid and heavy as a doorknocker. But he had to keep inventing new positions and ideas. He had an eternity of lovemaking to fantasize in the next few minutes.
Footsteps thundered over the plank floor. “Heath!”
For a moment he cursed his weakened mind for playing tricks on him. For conjuring Vivienne’s beautiful voice with such accuracy it sounded real.
Then he knew. This was reality. It was Vivienne’s voice. Her soft scent flooded the room. She dropped to her knees at his side. The sunlight was touching his cape, and beneath it, his skin was starting to sizzle.
“Oh dear heaven. What should I do?”
He was too weak to speak. Then he managed to croak, “Out of the light.”
He would have thought she couldn’t move him. But she hurried to his feet, caught hold of one ankle with both hands, and pulled him. He slid along the floor. It hurt, but he didn’t care. She managed to pull him to a corner. Then she gasped.
A black object lay on the floor. His cape. It must have pulled off when she moved him. It meant she could see how badly he had been torn up by the demon.
It was a gargoyle-type demon. Part man, but with claws and powerful wings. Daylight made me weak but I managed to kill it.
“You killed it. Thank heaven. But why haven’t you healed?”
Special demon, summoned by the council. Vampires can’t heal its wounds.
“What are we going to do?”
“Nothing to be done,” he croaked.
“I don’t believe that. I can’t. I won’t. Guidon told me to look in my heart. And now when I do, I know I am not going to lose you.”
Her words were like a blade through his weakened body. Tough, jaded Vivienne had looked in her heart and wanted to keep him.
She stroked his cheek. The skin there had blistered with the light, but her touch soothed.
“There must be some way,” she said softly. And he heard the powerful emotion of hope in her voice. “Couldn’t you take blood and heal the way Sarah does?”
Take blood. She was so brilliant, his Vivienne. “Could try your blood,” he rasped. “Not vampire blood. Could work …”
But she shuddered and he whispered, “You … don’t have to, Vivi—”
“No, if it would save you, you can have every last drop of my blood.” She tugged up her sleeve, baring her wrist, and she pressed it to his lips. The silkiness of her skin, the rush of her blood beneath her fragile skin, the scent of her brought his fangs exploding out into his mouth.
He didn’t have the strength to bite.
But Vivi scraped her wrist along his teeth. The sharp points sliced her skin. Blood dribbled and touched his lips, his tongue. The taste flooded him. God, yes …
He could move his hand. Slowly he caught hold of her wrist and held it to his mouth. As her blood washed over his fangs and flowed into him, he knew a rush of pleasure like never before. She had to care deeply about him to do this. And she tasted so damn good.
His muscles contracted suddenly and the pleasure burst. A climax hit him hard.
Vivienne heard him moan. Really, Heath’s moans were the most erotic sound. So deep, husky, and seductive. She had never imagined how good it would feel to share her blood with him.
She felt so languorous and sensual. Heath was lying on the
floor, and she joined him there, curled up against him. She could feel warmth flooding through his body.
His hips jerked suddenly. He groaned, deep and harsh. Heavens, he had come from drinking her blood.
And she felt on the brink of a climax herself. Ready to explode. As though, with just the flick of a trigger—
He sucked a bit harder at her wrist. He pinched her nipple through her dress. Then he shoved up her skirts, and his fingers plunged deeply into her sopping wet quim.
Her orgasm burst, like the sun rising over the horizon and flooding the sky with light. Suddenly she was glowing inside. Hot and shimmering. She gasped his name. The climax flooded her with a deep, heart-wrenching pleasure. She fell against him, and their hearts thundered, side by side.
Heath pushed off the floor, trying to stand. His legs wobbled and Vivi helped him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and held his hand. Hades, he had not even let his wife treat him like this. He never revealed any weakness or vulnerability.
“I’m all right,” he murmured. He didn’t want her to hurt herself trying to bear his weight. “My strength is coming back.” The wild erotic fantasies he’d spun about her tormented him. He wanted to live out every last one with her, right now.
You can’t, idiot. Remember that
.
“What are we going to do? We cannot get back to Dimitri’s during daylight, can we?”
“Flower, it’s not safe for you to stay with me. Go back to Dimitri’s and wait there. With Sarah.”
“I left a note for Sarah. I want to get you back safely.” She frowned. “Dimitri was awake during the day. And so was that vampire librarian, Guidon. How can they survive in the day?”
A hard smile touched his lips. “Because nightmares do not exist only at night.”
“What does that mean? I raced here to save you and I want more than answers that tell me nothing.”
He jerked back. Vivienne was entirely different than his wife Ariadne, who had never confronted him. “You are right, love. I owe you more than that. It’s a very long explanation.”
She sighed. “Apparently we have a lot of time.”
Dust from the warehouse floor had streaked Vivienne’s deep green pelisse where she’d lain beside him. Her hair was falling down her back in a disheveled mass. He owed her everything. That was the truth, wasn’t it? She’d saved his sorry arse. Not just by appearing here and giving him her blood.
She’d saved his life by giving him something to live for.
“I’ve been a vampire for a decade, but there is a lot I don’t know. My sire didn’t tell me anything about how life as a vampire works. When I first returned to England, Dimitri found me before I ended up staked by vampire slayers and brought me to his house. He explained the hierarchy of vampire society.”
“There really are vampire
slayers?
People who kill vampires?”
“Yes, love. There is a Royal Society devoted to it.”
She shivered. “So how does the vampire world work? Does the council act like its parliament?”
“The council is not at the top of our society, though they like to pretend they are. They try to dominate and control other vampires. There are six of them, and they have taught themselves magic and dark arts. Dimitri, however, is a truly powerful vampire, one of the most ancient ones. Dimitri and Guidon are two of the six oldest vampires who were made by the mating of an angel and a demon.”
“So those six vampires must be the strongest?”
“No. They are just the oldest. Vampires have evolved.”
“Evolved?” She looked up sharply.
“All creatures do. I know that is considered sacrilegious by
English naturalists but it is the truth. It is what I discovered when I was human, and I traveled the world. It is how vampires have existed for so long. When one vampire makes another, that new vampire is not exactly the same. If you and I had a child, for example, our baby would have parts of us both, yet be an entirely new person.”
Her breath caught at what he said. He’d used it as an explanation, but now the thought of it hit him cold. A child … with Vivienne.
No. He’d had a child. It could never happen again. And it wouldn’t because he wouldn’t make love to Vivi again.
“The rulers of vampire society are actually the vampire queens. That’s why the council was started. Some male vampires chaffed at being ruled by women.”
“Of course. Men like to control women,” she said.
“No one controls the queens. They are far too powerful.”
“But they let the council continue?”
“I suspect they let it continue because it serves a purpose for them. The queens can manipulate the council members against each other to get what they want.”
“It is rather like negotiating English society,” she said thoughtfully. “Matrons have their powers, lords have others. And all are in a constant battle to get what they want.” Before his eyes, she sobered. “Is this my world now, the vampire world? But I’m not a vampire. And not mortal. Do I belong anywhere?”
With me
. He yearned to say it. But it wasn’t true.
His back began to grow hot. Had a shaft of sunlight penetrated here into the deep shadow?
“Oh my goodness, your back is bleeding again. I don’t understand …” Her hand moved gently over him, but he flinched. His back felt like it was on fire.
“You need more blood, Heath.”
Her sweet wrist was at his mouth in an instant. He plunged
in his fangs, heard her little cry of pain, then she relaxed against him. He drank. But the pain didn’t ease, his wounds didn’t heal.
He wanted more of her blood. More of its taste.
“Heath?” She tried to pull her wrist back.
No, he couldn’t let her go.
“Heath, stop!” She pushed at his jaw, but he wouldn’t break free. She tried to pry his mouth away, but he clamped harder.
She was his. He would never let her go. And he would drink every last drop—
She slapped at him, but she had no strength. Realization flooded him. He was
killing
her. But he couldn’t stop. Instinct told him to shove his fangs deeper into her flesh and take all her blood. His fangs wouldn’t release.
Panicked, he jabbed his finger into his eye, and the sharp jolt of pain broke the hold. Limply, she fell to the floor, but he moved swiftly and caught her in his arms.
Heath held her, stunned. Horrified. His arrogance had taken his wife’s life, and now he had done something even worse. He had almost killed Vivienne, after she had saved him.
She was so weak now. He licked her wrist, afraid to, but he had to seal the wound.
The taste of her blood didn’t take control of him this time and one swift flick of his tongue stopped the flow of her blood. But she was white faced and her lips were a purplish blue. She was dangerously weak.
They couldn’t stay here. She could not lie on a dusty, damp warehouse floor until dusk. She needed to get water and food, she needed to lie in a proper bed and regain her strength.
He could put her in a hackney and send her back to Dimitri.
No, he couldn’t, not when she was unconscious. She could get robbed or raped. He had to take her, but it would be too far to travel to Dimitri’s mansion on the river. He could tend to Vivi at his Mayfair town house. His torn-up cloak would protect him from sunlight.
It wasn’t that he was worried about saving his godforsaken butt. He had a duty to stay alive to heal Vivi, then to continue to heal Sarah.
Assuming, after what he had just done to Vivienne, she ever let him try to help Sarah again.
13
H
er blood was draining away. Her head swam. Panic roared up. She hit him, clawed at him, screamed at him, but nothing was working. She was dying, and he didn’t care. He wasn’t going to stop. All he wanted—all he’d ever wanted—was her blood….
Vivienne jerked up in the bed. Sheets tumbled off her chest, and she discovered she was wearing her green gown. It was streaked with dirt and dust. She was still wearing her shoes, as though someone had put her to bed in haste. Somewhere, a clock gave three low, petulant bongs and sunlight peeked around closed drapes. Where was she?
Then she noticed small red marks on her wrist. Her dream hadn’t been a dream. It had really happened.
She brushed her tangled hair back, trying to remember everything. She remembered following Heath’s voice in her head. She had found him in a warehouse, in a room rapidly filling with light. Then she’d offered her blood to save him and he
wouldn’t stop drinking. She’d fought him, but he was far too strong. He had almost
killed
her. The one man she’d thought she could trust.
The thought made her feel instantly nauseous. It made her heart ache.
But he was a vampire. As much as she’d tried to ignore that truth, it was there. He had tasted her blood and lost control with her.… Vivienne got out of bed.
Think of the practical right now
. Blinking away useless tears, she set about determining where she was. This was not her room at Dimitri’s house. If she were a captive of the vampire council, she would be in a cell. That left Heath’s place—she must be at his house.