Authors: Annalynne Russo
Blood and Bondage (6 page)
Unfortunately, the vivacious vampire had made it
perfectly clear that she’d have nothing to do with him. Years ago, she’d fed
him some line about them not being meant to be. Ever since,
with adoration from afar. That is, unless some worthless, undeserving love
interest got too close and tried to weasel his way into her heart.
Once that happened,
let anyone steal his soul mate, regardless of whether or not Anaïs would agree
to cop to that subtle distinction. The two female fledglings he’d cut up then
photographed, were sent as a reminder of that grim fact.
As intermission came to an end,
from behind the balcony’s curtain. A sadistic smile spread across his face
while he watched the scene unfold. As soon as the
maître de
’s lips
began to move, he saw the human who’d accompanied Anaïs clamp down on the other
man’s trachea, cutting off vital oxygen to his lungs.
After a bit of his own investigative work,
guy that had come to his lover’s aid time and again was the counsel general of
the BPA. Oliver Polinski not only worked for an organization that hunted down
and killed his kind, the mother fucker ran the whole damn shebang. That made
the more thrilling.
For the time being, he’d
let Anaïs have her fun, parading all over town with public enemy number one.
But soon,
home to
Chapter Six
The Desire to Drink
“Sit down,” Oliver shouted, setting Anaïs down on
the chair next to the bed in her suite. Her knees buckled at the forceful
gesture. He took a Swiss Army knife out of the pocket of his trousers and cut a
tiny slit across his left wrist. “Here. Drink. Before you topple over and
faint.” Anaïs shook her head in vigorous denial. She didn’t want his blood. At
least, not like this. She needed to be the aggressor, the one in control.
The only thing she could think about was the
brutal image reflected in the photograph. Again,
because she dared to live a life without him in it. Of course, she couldn’t
share her true suspicions with Oliver. She didn’t want to get him involved.
But involved, he was. In fact, the musky,
metallic scent of Oliver’s life essence called to her. Maybe just one little
taste. Unable to stop herself, Anaïs darted her tongue out, lapping up the thin
dribble of crimson that threatened to stain the cuff of his white collared
shirt. It tasted sweet with a hint of spicy, exotic ginger. Anaïs groaned,
intoxicated by the sultry mix of flavors.
She inhaled, taking in his familiar masculine
scent. Damn, if he didn’t smell like sex on a stick. Why was it that Oliver
seemed to cause her to swoon? That was the second time he’d made her feel dizzy.
In need of precious blood. Once his warm deliciousness hit her tongue, Anaïs’s
nipples peaked into tight rosebuds. Heat rose up from her chest and spread
across her cheekbones, then gravitated lower to settle in her loins. She felt Oliver
stir, his body inching toward hers. Liquid pooled between her thighs as her
body prepared itself for pleasure. Then he went still, hovering motionless over
her pliant curves.
Anaïs couldn’t wait any longer. She held onto
the back of Oliver’s neck, nudging him eagerly toward her puckered lips. Again
he stopped short, shying away from the kiss. Everything inside roared at her to
take the lead. But Oliver wouldn’t let her. Instead, he lifted her off the
chair and carried her in his arms to the bed.
Finally, he crushed his mouth to hers. It was
hot and demanding, searing its way to her soul. After a few moments of rapture,
he pulled away, replacing his lips with his still bleeding wrist, and forced
her to drink.
This time, Anaïs lacked the willpower to refuse.
She was starved and Oliver tasted so fucking good. She grabbed hold of his arm,
and drew his muscular forearm to her breast as she increased the suction, feeling
the effects reverberate in her needy sex. Anaïs bucked off the mattress, grinding
her mound against the ridge of his muscular thigh. With his free hand, Oliver
reached between her legs and rubbed two fingers over her sensitive clit,
relieving some of the pressure that had built. Hot damn! She needed more. She wanted
him naked, their bodies entwined in an age-old sensual dance.
Anaïs rose up, fisting his shirt in her hands.
She fumbled to undo the buttons. But Oliver grasped her wrist, stopping her
advance with a rough, no-holds bar. “You’ve had a rough night. Get some rest.
We’ll finish this another time.”
“No! Don’t leave. I’ll make it worth your while
to stay,” Anaïs said, one hand clutched in his salt-and-pepper hair and the
other kneading the firm wall of muscle underneath his dress shirt.
Oliver’s
knees teetered on the edge of the bed. One moment he looked ready to retreat,
the next, he suddenly froze. His resolve seemed to slip. Anaïs eyed the
undeniable bulge in his trousers and realized what had caused the hesitation. With
no time to waste, she reached out to stroke the thick, rigid shaft through his
pants. But Oliver swatted her hand away, then clasped both wrists above her
head to keep Anaïs from moving.
“I can’t. Not tonight,” he said, bending down to
place a tender kiss to her forehead. “I’ve got work to do. I need to get a jump
on the killer. Perhaps another night.” God damn, the man had willpower.
Something Anaïs generally admired, but not at that particular instant.
You bastard, she screamed in her mind as he
walked away from the bed, headed toward the door. The mind reader must have heard
the words because he glanced over his broad shoulder and shot her a wickedly
sexy grin.
“Call me what you will. But I’m looking out for
your own good.”
“Fine. If you say so,” Anaïs said, trying to
appear aloof. Inside, the need for his touch burned like a flame.
“I’m leaving some paperwork with Adam. It’s a
questionnaire I’ll need in order to build a profile on Gaucher. Be sure to fill
it out before you fall asleep.”
Anaïs turned over onto her stomach, and groaned
into a soft, plush pillow as her unrequited lover slammed the door shut. She
was frustrated—sexually and otherwise.
What gives? Men never refuse my advances.
Originally she’d picked Oliver out of the crowd
because she thought she could overpower him without too much of a fight. Boy was
she wrong. With most other man, she had been the pursuer, the predator. Always
ready to take what she wanted, then leave them on their knees begging for more.
But with Oliver, the opposite turned out to be true. Whenever he came around,
she felt weak, powerless in the wake of the man’s sexual prowess and
domineering presence.
A natural-born leader, he’d grown accustomed to
pushing people around. Much to her chagrin, Anaïs proved just as easy to
manipulate as the rest. Hell, she’d invited him up to her room to fuck his brains
out. What better way to forget about
most recent stunt? Yet once again, Oliver took charge, bending her to his formidable
will. Sure, he’d allowed her to drink his blood; but the key word there had
been allowed.
It wasn’t only his ability to take control of
her body that scared her. He had the power to read Anaïs’s thoughts and force her
fears and aspirations to rise to the surface. Already, he knew too much about
her connection to
That fact alone unnerved her. So far, he hadn’t pushed for answers, but she it
was only a matter of time. Soon he’d also uncover the truth about her past.
As far as she was concerned, Christine was the
only person who knew about the tragedy of Anaïs’s youth, and that’s the way she
wanted to keep it. It had been four hundred years since she’d locked away the
details of her father’s betrayal and subsequent death. She had no intention of
rehashing all the gory details. Still, Oliver had a knack for being able to
strip her bare in order to reveal all her best kept secrets.
Although I just might enjoy letting him get me
naked in the process.
Before she could explore her feelings for the
BPA’s counsel general, Anaïs had to find the root of
the items on the questionnaire Oliver had left for her, she realized that a
pattern had begun to develop.
superficial charm, manipulation, lack of emotion, and a grandiose sense of self
to name a few. Sure, many of these traits were inherent to the vampire species,
and that included her. Yet
Then, it came time to fill out the section of
the profile that asked Anaïs to recall her last few interactions with the
killer. It wasn’t until she had written the third narrative, that it finally
hit her. Once she discovered the common thread, it felt like a ton of bricks
had been lifted off her shoulders. Other than the new photographs
to find, their other interactions had been taken quite some time ago.
Coincidentally, the encounters occurred around the time that she’d struck up
what
One such event had unfolded in December of 2008
when Francois, a handsome, fifty-something playwright had taken up temporary
residence in her Parisian flat. They’d met at a performance of his work at the Théâtre
des Champs-Elysees
.
While the human had been utterly enamored by Anaïs’s beauty and
charm, he had turned out to be nothing more than passing fancy on her part. For
a month, they’d made love day in and day out, sharing bodily fluid as if it
were water. However, in the end, the playwright’s flighty whimsicality didn’t
prove to be a good long term match. She’d craved the brainy, intellectual type
and unfortunately, Francois hadn’t quite fit the bill. That was the last time
she let romance lead her astray.
Not long after they’d ended the affair, she
received a huge assortment of wilted, long stem roses with a note from
I see you’ve ended your silly infatuation.
Missing you.
P.G.
Another threat had arrived in May 1997, almost
fifteen years to the day. Christine had recently passed and her grieving
husband, Aristotle, needed an escape from reality. He’d stolen away from his vast
responsibilities as the head of the
York City
visited
a little over a week, then left, having made the decision to cede the position of
power he long held to his only son, Andreas. Anaïs couldn’t remember the exact
words in the message
the time, she had merely thought he was a sadistic freak. Now, she realized his
behavior went beyond that. The puzzle pieces were starting to come together and
all she had to do was confide in Oliver and let his people work their magic.
Easier said than done.
Chapter Seven
The Body Count
After leaving
Anaïs’s hotel room, Oliver
received a call from a buddy of his by the name of Ronan O’Shea, a man who
worked for the NYPD. It was a call that came often when suspicious,
supernatural deaths registered on police radar. Luckily, his detective friend
remained active on the BPA payroll and knew exactly what to look for and who to
contact if he found anything out of the ordinary.
In this case, two female bodies had washed up
the shores of the
and limbs missing from the rest of their burned, battered torsos.
Since Adam was
the most efficient agent he had at collecting forensic evidence, Oliver called
in someone to relieve him at the Four Seasons. The two of them met by the docks
a short time later, ready to get down to business. They not only had to work
fast to gather the information they needed, they also had to dispose of the
remains of the charred bodies. While the sun from the previous day had already
burnt the vampire corpses to a crisp, they still had to make sure that no proof
of their existence would ever be unearthed by human hands. It was a dirty job,
but somebody had to do it.
It was almost sunrise by the time they’d wrapped up the investigation
and headed back to BPA headquarters. Oliver had put in a few hours of sleep,
then woke up refreshed and eager to get back to work. Once in his office, he
pulled out the paperwork
Anaïs
had reluctantly agreed
to fill out. The agent left in Adam’s stead had faxed the information to him
that morning, so he sat down at his desk and browsed through the files. Nothing
proved surprising in the Myers-Briggs personality assessment, considering he’d
already seen the bastard’s graphic handiwork. Pierre Gaucher displayed all the
classic characteristics of a serial killer. In addition to the psychological
profile, the photographs he’d taken and the crime scene he’d left behind left
little doubt in his mind. Yet the man was smart, leaving no fingerprints and
very little clues to help Oliver’s team hunt him down.