Dancing Dragon (34 page)

I managed to get up onto my knees, extending my thighs right out and wriggling my feet to get a bit of circulation back into them, all the while leaning on Michel's seat with my upper body. My face was over his neck and it was a few seconds before I realised I could feel his breath on my skin. I shifted quickly to get a look at him and lost all upper strength in the move. As I slunk back down into the footwell behind the driver's seat, Michel rolled over and grabbed me. His eyes shot open as his hands grabbed my upper arms. We were face to face, eye to eye. His a lovely deep, deep bottomless blue. Mesmerizing. Then with one swift motion he had me lying out flat on top of him. He shifted his weight again and I was then lying between him and the back of the rear seat. Trapped.

I held my breath waiting for him to pounce. My neck was within biting distance. All it would have taken was a dip of his face and his fangs would have been in my flesh. I'm not sure how much blood I had left in me, the move from the floor to the seat had caused the pounding to start again and the world to tilt on its axis. I don't think it did much better for him. He
was
breathing, but it was ragged, uneven and as though he couldn't get enough oxygen into his lungs. Not that he needed it, so maybe it was more he was trying to control himself. Trying not to bite.

I prayed he was winning.

We both lay there, warm body against warm body and hardly moved an inch. Then his hand started caressing the length of my arm, his eyes now closed, but his breathing not yet back under control. The touch of his hand on my arm was reassuring and disconcerting at the same time. Vampires tend to play with their food before they eat it. Was Michel even there?

“
I am here,
ma douce,
” he said and suddenly I could breathe again.

I let a shaky breath out and felt tears start to track down my cheeks. His hand moved from my arm to my face and caught each tear, without even opening his eyes.

“Are you OK?” I asked, in what was an embarrassingly small voice. He growled in response, then started rubbing my arm again as though he was sorry to have scared me with the sound.

“Not quite yet,” he said, softly. “Antonio and Ricardo are on their way.”

“Is it dark out?” Maybe we'd been here the whole day.

“No, but they have talents that can hide them from the sun.”

I was guessing those talents involved shadows. Hopefully one of them could drive the car and still survive the sun, or maybe I could get them to swing by McDonald's and grab me a Quarter Pounder on the way here. With a hamburger on board I could give Michel more blood.

As soon as that thought crossed my mind Michel stiffened. Then through gritted teeth he whispered hoarsely, “Do not think of giving me blood,
ma douce
. I am barely in control as it is.”

I swallowed and tried to think of something else. Water. Strawberry thick-shakes. Coffee. But no matter how I tried, I couldn't stop seeing the image of Michel latched onto my wrist, suckling at my blood like a hungry, toothy baby. I tried, I really did, especially as the growl in the back of Michel's throat changed from a purr to something more suited to the depths of the jungle. But no matter what I tried to do, 'blood sucking vampire' kept leaping to the front of my mind.

I knew when he was about to bite, his body although still stiff from when he had issued the warning, had changed, shifted slightly. Allowing more of my body to ease into the seat beside and beneath him, trapping me even further. I don't think he realised he had done it, it was so natural, so much a part of the predator in him. He was fighting it, I could tell, but he wasn't strong enough to move away, or strong enough to push me away. Physically he was still so weak. From aiding Avery and from the battle with Lutin.

“How much could you take before it's too much?” I asked, keeping my voice level and calm and matter of fact. If I couldn't stop thinking about the elephant in the car with us, I might as well talk to it.

He growled low and long and moved his face into the crook of my neck, inhaling deeply and then licking a line above my rapidly beating pulse with his hot, wet tongue. OK, so talking about it probably hadn't been the wisest move, but I was hypovolemic and not quite myself.

The length of his long, hard body shifted further, no longer just trapping me, but pinning me to the seat beneath and behind me. I was encased by him and the car. He still smelled of blood, but this close, this intimate, I could smell the clean cut grass and fresh salty sea spray as well. Even on the verge of being drained dry his scent turned me on. My body responded automatically and he stilled, then pulled his face away from my neck and looked at me.

His lips quirked at the edges and a spark lit up in the now violet and amethyst in his eyes.

“You would let me, wouldn't you?” he asked, huskily. “You would let me feed, even though you do not have enough to spare. And you would enjoy it.” He took a sharp breath in and closed his eyes. “I smell your desire. I feel your body moulding to mine, becoming more compliant.” His eyes opened again and now magenta washed the amethyst and violet away. “I want to drink from you so badly, I am fighting to remember who you are.”

“I am your kindred Nosferatin, Michel. Don't you dare kill me.” I hadn't said it as forcefully as I had intended. It probably should have been backed up with a bit of my Light. But for the life of me I didn't have the strength to resist him. If he chose to bite me right now, I would indeed let him.

He stared at me for a few seconds, the magenta fighting a returning mauve in his eyes. And then he lost the battle.

His fangs slid into my skin at the side of my neck and his arms went around my body pulling me hard against his chest. As the first pull of my blood went into his mouth I heard him cry out in my head,
Non!
It sounded so full of remorse and anguish, it damn near broke my heart.

I wanted to say something, tell him it was all right, I'd be fine, he wouldn't kill me. I tried to form the words in my head, even as my mouth failed to respond to my command to speak them. But I couldn't, because I didn't have enough blood to spare and what little he was taking now, was already too much.

I let the blanket of darkness that had been threatening to cover me for the past few seconds envelope me and I faded away from the car.

The second time I awoke from Michel attempting to drain me I was back at Samson's house. Lying on the bed Samson had laid me on when we first came to London. Michel was sitting up beside me, leaning against a pile of fluffed up pillows, reading from a tablet computer. The shutters were closed on the nearby window, but he had switched a small table lamp on, so the room wasn't the eerie unnatural glow of UV shuttered light, but an incandescent one instead.

He looked down at me where I had obviously stirred and smiled.

“
Ma douce
,” he said, simply. “How do you feel?”

I checked my body, stretching slightly under the covers, acknowledging that I had been stripped naked - not an uncommon occurrence when Michel places me in bed unconscious – and noted I didn't ache. My head felt fine. I wasn't dizzy or light-headed. I reached up and felt for the fang marks on my neck, but couldn't find anything new, just the same old
Sigillums
Michel had marked me with before. No new raw bite marks, no trickle of blood.

Michel's finger came down and traced one of his marks lightly, beside my own hand.

“They saved you,” he said, a haunted look crossing his eyes. “I would have kept feeding. By the time Antonio and Ricardo arrived, you would have been dead. Me too.” He attempted a smile then, but failed miserably. “It was the sensation of my
Sigillums
under my lips that broke through the blood lust. Not to mention the Light that began to emanate from your own
Sigillum
here.”

He brushed against the other side of my neck where a light and colourful tattoo-like design graced the fang marks of one of his
Sigillums
. My Light had placed it there when he had marked me, trying to remove the
Sigillum
of another: Gregor. I had wanted that original
Sigillum
gone, so I had added my own Light to Michel's
Sanguis Vitam
and together we had banished Gregor's mark. In its place now was Michel's
Sigillum
with my
Sigillum
wrapped tightly around it. Bizarre, but beautiful. Also a damned obvious mark that prospective employers did not seem to like.

“Huh,” was all I managed to get out. Michel finally smiled.

“I am so sorry,
ma douce,
” he said, sliding himself down the bed and snuggling into the side of me. His arm came over my waist and his face nuzzled into my neck, kissing above his marks. “You tasted so good.”

I wasn't quite sure if I had heard him right. His voice was husky and muffled against my skin.

“Did you just say I
tasted so good
?” I asked, pushing against him slightly.

He chuckled. “You are safe,
ma belle
. The blood lust has passed, it is merely memories now. But memories I can't seem to get out of my head.” His teeth scraped along the length of my neck.

“Michel!” I screamed, my whole body going tense.

“Are you scared of me,
ma douce
?” he asked, nibbling his way up to my jaw. “You are healed, I managed to do so as soon as we returned here. I will not harm you. You have enough to spare.”

“Michel?” I said again, this time a little timidly, in a question.

This was not like him. He would not be so cruel to attempt to feed off me again when he had almost killed me a short time ago. He would normally be tip-toeing around the issue of feeding from anyone and definitely not hinting at feeding from me.

“I want to taste you again. You are mine.”

And then I got it. This wasn't just the memory of feeding from me, his blood lust resurfacing, this was his vampire wanting to stake a claim. Lutin had almost won the
bjóða
, had almost won the right to take me from him. His vampire wanted to make sure I was still his and no one else’s. The only problem was, I didn't think I did have enough blood to spare and I definitely didn't have the courage to test it just yet. I'd be fine after a meal and a few hours of just being in Michel's calm and controlled company, but when he was so near the edge like now, the thought of letting his fangs near my neck sent a shot of pure dread through my veins.

“No blood,” I whispered into his ear. “Claim me another way.”

There is, of course, only one other way to be claimed. He didn't argue with me, he must have realised that feeding wasn't a welcomed option right now, so he quickly stood up off the bed, stripped in lightning speed and was under the covers before I even blinked. Vampires.

“Lucinda,” he murmured, as his body covered mine, his hips spreading my thighs wide as his groin settled between my legs. “Mine,” he managed to get out before his mouth claimed my lips and his hips rolled slowly, forcing his way inside. “All mine,” he groaned against my teeth.

I wasn't ready, but I didn't care. I'd almost seen him die last night, I needed to feel him too. He eased his way out and then back in again, inch by slow inch further, until he was completely sheathed inside my hot core. And then he just stilled there, his mouth still pressed to mine, his tongue still devouring mine. I thought he wouldn't move, but he did; slowly, treacherously, teasingly.

My body arched off the bed as heat quickly swelled inside me, curling my toes and catching my breath.

“Yes,” he breathed against me. “You are mine.” And then that claiming genie, the one we thought we had rid ourselves of, was back.

His movements sped up, as he attempted to climb down my throat into my body and I attempted to climb up his and through him. We found a rhythm. Fast and hot and urgent. With each roll of his hips, each thrust of his hard length inside me, I cried out my own need and hunger in return. And with every pound of flesh on flesh, skin to skin, I heard his own thoughts in my head.
Mine. Mine. Mine.

Our bodies quickly became slick with sweat, gliding against each other, our movements so hard and rough and urgent. I was screaming, he was groaning, the bed was banging against the wall and still it wasn't enough. Not nearly enough. His lips trailed along the edge of my jaw and I thought perhaps he was going to feed from me anyway, despite my insistence he didn't. So, I did the only thing I could think of to distract him, sex obviously wasn't doing the trick. I nestled my face into his own neck, found his rapidly beating pulse beneath my lips and bit. Hard.

Blood welled up in my throat, spilling past my mouth and down my chin. I swallowed reflexively and the shock of tasting all that metallic blood made me pull back from Michel's neck, but his hand came up and crushed my face back against his skin.

“
Drink,” he commanded in a rough voice. “Dear God,
ma douce
, drink.”

I couldn't pull away, his hand was too firmly wrapped in my hair. He was still pounding into me even faster than before, if that was possible. But despite the shock of the blood in my mouth I was riding a high, so close to coming, even though distracted by the taste of metal on my tongue. Only a couple of seconds had passed since he had demanded I drink, but the closer I came to orgasming, the harder it was not to suck in a breath through my mouth. To do that, I would have to swallow.

Finally, the urge to scream as I came overcame the abhorrence to tasting blood and I swallowed. And as the first full mouthful of blood washed down my throat, the orgasm exploded. I sucked in another draw of Michel's blood and I was gone. On a high so exquisite I thought I was flying. I drank and drank, more and more of his blood, until it was Michel who pulled me away from his neck, laughing at my pathetic attempts to get back to that enticing blood I could smell and see and still taste.

“My little vampyre,” he whispered against my cheek and thrust one last time deep inside me, spilling himself and claiming my body once again. “Mine by blood and flesh,” he panted out as I milked the very last of him into me and he collapsed against my body fully sated.

Michel's arms came around my waist and he pulled me close against his side, a possessive movement. As though he had no intention of ever letting go. His lips found his marks in the curve of my neck and he laid kiss upon kiss above them.

“Mine,” he whispered and I giggled.

I giggled? I took a deep breath in and realised the room was spinning slightly. Closing my eyes didn't seem to help, I could still feel the tilt of the room, the spin of the world as it slipped off its axis.

“Why do I feel drunk?” I asked, my words alarmingly a little slurred.

Michel pulled back and held my face by the jaw in one of his hands. “Open your eyes for me,
ma douce,
” he asked, gently. I did and watched as he studied one, then the other. “Your pupils are dilated.” He smiled at the slightly horrified look on my face. “You are drunk on my blood. It will pass. I have Antonio bringing you some food now.”

Drunk on his blood. I closed my eyes and waited for the nausea to arrive. Humans don't do ingestion of blood well. I'm half human, but most of what ails a human, ails me. Still, no nausea came. Just a feeling of slight euphoria and a craving for more of Michel's blood.

My eyes flicked open to see Michel still watching me. I looked at his calm, deep blue eyes for a second and then found myself trailing my gaze down his jaw and neck to find my bite mark. It had almost completely healed, but I could still see a faint mark and a little dried blood. My fingers came up automatically to trace over where I had latched onto his neck. The desire to return my face to that spot and bite again was phenomenal.

I swallowed and his smile grew bigger. “You want more?” he asked innocently, tilting his jaw up and exposing his neck to me. A move unnatural for a vampire. They would only expose their neck to someone they trusted. It was a show of trust and respect. The neck was the most vulnerable spot on their body.

Before I even realised what I was doing my lips found the skin in the curve of his neck. His low appreciative growl made me hesitate. He wanted me to bite. I closed my eyes and willed myself to pull away. If I was feeling drunk now, what would more of his blood do to me?

Michel pulled me gently back and lay me on the pillows. “It is all right,
ma douce
. My blood cannot harm you. It is the Bond that allows you to drink from me. It is purely a bonus of our joining and close connection. Not all kindred can drink from their Nosferatu.”

“Why would our Bond let me do that? What good can come of me drinking your blood? I'm not a vampire. I don't need blood to survive,” I asked, my words still a little slurred, but already starting to sound a bit more like the normal me.

“Did you not enjoy it?” he asked, tracing a finger down the side of my cheek.

Did I enjoy it? Hell, yes. It was like drinking a fine exotic wine. If I was a vampire, I'd say it called to me. I craved it even now. Was I a vampire-blood junkie?

Michel laughed at my thoughts, but was interrupted by a quiet knock on the door to the room. He stood up smoothly and didn't bother to cover himself as he walked to the door and spoke quietly to the vampire on the other side. Antonio no doubt. I didn't move. Moving was not a good idea right now. Michel shut the door and returned with a tray of food. I could smell the coffee, it called to me too. He placed the tray on the bedside table and helped me sit up with several pillows behind my back. I didn't keel over with vertigo, so things were looking up. He slid back onto the bed beside me, fully naked and looking like a Greek god. Normally I would be distracted by the sight of him there, his long lean frame, muscled thighs and washboard abdomen. But my eyes kept going back to his neck.

“When will it pass?” I asked, as I closed my eyes to stop myself from licking my lips at the sight of his pulse beating beneath the surface of his skin.

“It will get easier, but it has been awoken within you now. You will always be attracted to my blood.”

I felt the tray of food settle between us, the smell of coffee brought me back to myself.

“Eat,
ma douce
, it will dull the effects,” Michel said taking my hand and stroking the back of it with his thumb.

I opened my eyes and made sure I just looked at the tray of food. Concentrating on bringing the mug of coffee to my lips, then following it with several bites of a sandwich; cheese and ham. Both actions helped ground me, bringing me back to me. After I finished one sandwich and the mug of coffee, I went on to another, then followed it with a piece of chocolate mud cake before I dared to look back up at Michel.

I managed to meet his amused eyes without feeling that undeniable pull to salivate over his jugular.

“You have no idea how much of a turn on you drinking my blood is to me,” Michel whispered into the space between us. I noticed even thinking and talking about it had an effect on him. I couldn't miss it with him sitting there buck naked on the bed before me.

“Don't tempt me,” I said evenly, enjoying the fact that I was no longer slurring my words. He just laughed. A beautiful full bodied laugh that filled the room with sunshine.

I let his laughter wrap around me, I luxuriated in the feel and sound of his happiness. He was alive, he had won the
bjóða
. It could have ended so differently. I would have died if he had. It didn't bear thinking about.