Blood on Silk (22 page)

But with the flash of terror came the saving memory of her role. She was allowed to kiss him back. In fact, she had to, whatever the danger.

She slid her tongue along his, twisted around it, and sucked; his mouth hardened in response, deepening the kiss. She fought him for it, nipping at his lips, thrusting her tongue into his mouth, and curling over his teeth as if to draw him nearer.

His hand stroked her naked thigh, then slid higher under her dress and over her bottom, kneading her into his erection. She flicked her tongue over his canines, felt their sharpness, and tasted a spot of her own salty blood before his tongue swiped over hers, stealing it. He sucked, and weirdly, she felt more pleasure at that than fear. For some reason it aroused her even more.

It was mad. She was dancing, practically grinding in public with a vampire who had his hand up her skirt and was sucking the blood from her tongue. And she liked it?

Hell, yes, it was the most amazingly sensual experience of her life. She lifted one leg, rubbing her thigh against his, parting her sex to increase the pleasure from his probing erection. The hand not on her bottom slid round to hold her leg, caress it, and raise it higher. And the kiss went on.

You can
.
You really can orgasm on a public dance floor.

Gasping, she dragged her mouth free and tried to lower her leg. She was almost disappointed that he let her.

“I need air,” she said shakily.

He devoured her face with his eyes, sending all sorts of wicked shivers through her oversensitive body, and settled on her lips. He took another kiss, quick and sensual, and then stared at her gasping mouth wide-open with lust.

He smiled and threw one arm about her shoulders to guide her off the dance floor. Trembling, she closed her mouth with a snap.
Focus, Silk, focus. . . .

But it was hard to concentrate with his steely arm around her, his fingers caressing her naked shoulder, playing along her clavicle. Only when she found herself sinking into one of the comfortable red sofas facing the large window, did she manage to say in panic, “My bag . . .”

Saloman crooked his finger to someone, made another quick hand signal, and sat down beside her, his thigh brushing hers. “They’ll bring it.” The familiar half smile dawned and vanished from his lips. “You’re a constant revelation to me, Elizabeth Silk. I’m so glad you dance.”

“You mean you’ll miss me after you kill me?” She wasn’t quite sure why she brought the subject up. Right now, it just seemed safer than the sex thing she’d been relying on for the last half hour.

“I will.”

She cast him a lopsided smile. “Don’t spare my feelings by pretending.”

“It will be a good death, and a sweet one.”

“Not for me,” she disputed, wondering vaguely when she had learned to treat her own demise with such callousness.

“Oh yes. For you,” he said as a waiter deposited her bag on the sofa beside her and a tray containing the wine bottle and glasses on the table in front of them. As the waiter hurried away, Saloman leaned forward, blocking her view, and trailed his finger down her chest and cleavage, where it lingered, brushing the swell of each breast in turn.

Elizabeth’s body flamed all over again. She clutched the bag to her side like a lifeline.

“I promise,” Saloman said huskily.

“Thanks. I’d rather keep my sour life.”

“A life with mere academic thrills? Without wild, intense sex?”

She stared. “I can get wild, intense sex whenever I want to.” It sounded so childish that she bit her lip as soon as the lying words were out. But Saloman frowned, as if displeased.

“Not like I can give you.” He leaned even closer, hiding her from view with his body. His hand slipped under her dress to cover her naked breast. “Here and now, if you wish.”

His hand was bliss and torture at once—on her aching breast, tweaking her nipple between his fingers. Almost with awe, she realized she had the advantage back, that he’d forgotten about her bag.

“I think,” she managed, surreptitiously sliding open the zipper, “that you overrate the intensity caused by imminent death. On the contrary, I find it—er—a turn-off.”

“Liar,” he whispered, caressing her nipple between finger and thumb, over and over. Where in hell was that buzzer? She found it, pressed it, and as she slid her hand free, her knuckles brushed against the cold, hard shaft of the wooden stake.

If you get close enough, you stake the bastard
, Mihaela had said. Well, she was close enough, but she wasn’t stupid enough to imagine he’d let her do it. Nevertheless, she left her hand resting against the bag’s opening. If the hunters didn’t get here fast, the stake might be her only possible defense against certain death. How long did she have?

And how did you kill a man, a
being
, who was fondling your breast like a lover? At least when you liked it as much as she did. “Stop that,” she begged.

To her perverse disappointment, he did stop, removing his hand in such a way as left her breast exposed to him, its rosy nipple stretching out in a silent plea for more attention. Gasping, she snatched up the strap of her dress, glaring at him.

“You have such beautiful breasts,” he excused, and for some reason she melted all over again.

Struggling, she said, “Do you really have time to lavish such attention on all your victims?”

“My Awakener is special.”

“Then perhaps you owe her more than a quick shag and murder.”

His eyes darkened impossibly. “I never said anything about a
quick
shag.”

Oh, God help me. . . .
“I’m more concerned with the murder.”

“You won’t be.”

Her fist tightened around her bag, ready to draw the stake if the opportunity arose. “You have no right . . . ,” she raged.

“Actually, I have.”

She stared at him. “Because of might? You’re stronger than me, so you can take my blood and kill me?”

“I am and I can. But I meant right. You are only one human.”

“I may be ‘only’ to you, but I’m pretty important to me.”

“Kiss me,” he whispered.

In spite of everything, her heart turned over. Grief and anguish rose up, but couldn’t quell the anger that had been festering and building since this began. She jerked back to avoid his questing mouth.

As if unaware of her sudden reluctance, he followed, looming over her.

His mouth covered hers. He stroked her neck over the old, sensitive wound, and she gasped against his lips. Was it to be now? Her fingers twitched on her bag, before his hand covered them and held.

“Death comes after the sex,” he murmured against her lips. “Otherwise, where’s the fun in it?”

“You’re twisted and weird,” she whispered, and because she couldn’t help it, brushed her mouth across his lower lip.

“And you want me.”

“That’s just the vampire thing. . . .”

His lips stretched into a smile while they kissed her. “That humans are drawn to evil vampire sex appeal? Equating sex with evil, you’ll notice. I wasn’t aware of your enjoying the attentions of the vampire I killed for you in Bistriƫa, or falling for the charms of my good friend Zoltán. Perhaps Dmitriu was before me?”

“You’re an idiot.” She grasped his shoulders to push him off, and then, fascinated by the feel of the steely muscles under her fingers, let her fingers linger there instead.

“Elizabeth . . .” He laid his hand on her knee, caressed up the length of her thigh. “Nothing compels you but your own desire.”

“Then I can walk out of here right now?”

“If you so desire.”

She stared into the face so close to hers that the tiniest of movements would brush her forehead against his, her lips to his mouth. Her breath vanished. “I do desire.”

Would his arms drop from her? Would he stand aside and just let her go, cold and frustrated and alive?

His hand slid back down to her knee. “But then I’d leave, and your friends just entering the building wouldn’t find me.”

Her breath returned in a rush. She gave an involuntary jerk of her head, trying to see if the hunters had indeed arrived to end this torture of agony and pleasure. But all she could see was his dark shoulder blocking her view.

She gazed into his pitiless, shadowed face. “Then it’s over? Will you kill me now?”

His lips twitched. She didn’t think he ever intended it as a smile. “No. But we still have time for the sex.”

In a movement of bewildering speed, he rose, dragging her with him and spinning her onto the dance floor. He held her close into him. She found herself clinging to his shoulders, dizzy and disoriented.

“They’ve come to kill you, and you’ll stay here for sex?”

“It’s a game,” he assured her. “Can you orgasm before they interfere and stop it?”

Though her hand itched to slap him, the rest of her body screamed out for the orgasm. Her mouth wouldn’t work at all until he covered it with his. Seduced all over again, it began to move under his lips. He held her by the buttocks, one palm on each, his fingers digging and kneading, pressing her into the hardness of his erection. Her entire body flamed. It was as if the last dance had never been interrupted.

Except that, from the corner of her eye, she saw Mihaela enter the room, István and Konrad at her heels.

She dragged her mouth free. “Too late.” As hard as it was to speak with triumph when the body yelled with fury and frustration, she did her best.

He laughed, a soft, melting sound that seemed to shoot straight to her womb. “Sweetheart, we have all the time in the world.”

Other hunters entered too. She recognized some of them from the headquarters building. “No, we haven’t.”

His lips stirred against her ear, sending new, exciting shivers all the way down her neck and spine. “I could fuck you here. If anyone noticed, they wouldn’t care.”

Her fingers gripped his shoulders, half in warning, half in wicked longing. “I suppose it’s a minor crime for a vampire.”

“There is no crime in mutual pleasure.”

She gave a small deliberate wriggle over his erection and with fierce triumph, saw his eyes gleam. As the watchful hunters moved around the dance floor, observed from the bar by a woman in black and the anxious young waiter, Elizabeth stood on tiptoe and whispered in Saloman’s ear. “How does it feel to be trapped?” She dipped her tongue in his ear. “By your own lust?”

“Tell me,” he invited.

She smiled, trailing her lips along his jaw to the corner of his mouth. “I’m freed. My friends are surrounding you, closing you in with your unfulfilled desires.”

“Then you’d better pray I let you come quickly.”

Christ, she was so sensitive, so aroused, that if she moved, just a little against his erection, she would come right now. With a superhuman effort, she held still. It was he who moved, deliberately gyrating.

“I can live without sex,” she whispered. “I’m good at it.”

He smiled. “No, you’re not,” he said, and kissed her mouth.

She couldn’t resist closing her eyes.
Last kiss . . . oh God help me, help him. . . .

His torturing hands caressed their way up her body to her throat. She opened her eyes. Konrad and Mihaela had seen them; were bearing down on them. The woman in black—Angyalka herself ?—vaulted over the bar and ran toward the dance floor. At once, several people fell in behind her, presumably vampires.

Without warning, the music stopped. For an instant, the tableau seemed to freeze. Saloman, one hand almost caressing her throat, dropped the other around her waist and met Konrad’s fierce gaze. The hunter, careless of being seen in this moment of emergency, held the inevitable wooden stake.

“Let her go,” Konrad commanded.

Saloman laughed. “In the immortal words of our hostess—bite me.”

He tensed, his legs flexed, and he leapt. Elizabeth felt as if she were flying. Her stomach rolled as she shot up through the air in Saloman’s hold, impossibly high, impossibly fast over the faces of the stunned crowd. The velvet black sky with its myriad of sparkling stars seemed to rush down to meet her, dragging her through the open dome window into its cool, breezy grasp. But the powerful, only too solid arms that held her were Saloman’s.

A
t some point early on in the bizarre flight, her abject terror got lost in wonder. The world jolted as it sped by her eyes, in between long, soaring swings that felt more like the flying dreams of her childhood than anything with a basis in reality. Hanging on to his shoulder with one hand, the fabric of his shirt with the other, she registered the beauty of the city from this angle: the crowded rooftops of Buda against the blackness of the night sky. She even had odd glimpses of blurred people moving in the streets below.

“Are we flying?” she exclaimed. She dragged her fascinated gaze up to his face in time to see his gaze flicker to her in something like surprised approval.

“Alas, no.” His gaze left her. She felt again the tensing of his muscles and the weird soaring through the air that made her want to clutch her stomach. “Merely jumping.”

They landed with a soft thud, and almost before she realized it, he was running again—running far faster than was humanly possible across the rooftops and leaping over the spaces between.