Embrace the Twilight (15 page)

S
arafina rose at dusk and went to the room situated just below her captive's. In it were the controls. A hydraulic winch that could reel in the chains, a video monitor so she could keep an eye on him. There was a hidden button beneath the bed, as well, that could retract or extend the chains.

It wasn't as if she hadn't had captives before. She'd been prepared to have troublesome servants. But this was the first time she had ever had to use the safety features she had devised in case she ever got her hands on Stiles and his fellow DPI renegades.

Always before, her chosen servants were hers to command after the first taste of her blood. Addicted to her, craving her, loving her—not because of any real feeling, but because her life force lived within them.

But Will was different. She'd known it from the beginning. But she had never believed him to be an evil-doer, undeserving of life—at least, not until the girl, Amber, had told her the truth about him.

He had deceived her. Played a game with her mind. Endeared himself to her by getting inside her heart and soul before ever approaching her. Worse yet, he'd made her love him. But he'd only been using her all along, working for those animals who wanted to see every vampire destroyed.

She should have killed him outright. But she couldn't. Something about him just wouldn't let her. Perhaps he'd used his skills at mind manipulation to make her feel this odd softness toward him, even now that she knew the truth. That must be it. He was playing with her mind. She hated the weakness inside her that allowed it.

He was wandering now, naked, around the room. Still looking for some means of escape. She watched him for a time, enjoying the ripple of muscle in his thighs, even though he limped when he walked. His flanks, too, were toned and firm. Hard. He was a beautiful man despite the many scars that marked him, a strong man. His chest and belly were powerfully made. And his shoulders…

Tearing her eyes away from the monitor, she hit the button on the winch. It growled to life and began to turn at a steady pace. Glancing back at the monitor, she saw Willem stumble, tug against the chains as they pulled him toward the bed. They grew shorter, pulling him nearer, and he soon realized fighting them would be useless. He hit the bed facedown but rolled onto his back to prevent his shoulders from being torn from their sockets as the chains drew his arms to the bedposts. And then he lay there, fury coloring his face, his eyes blazing.

He wanted to kill her, she knew it.

Sighing, she left the control room, locking its door behind her.

Misty and Edward stood in the hallway, submissive and silent, awaiting her command.

“How has our guest been today?” She asked the question of Misty, who alone had been commanded to see to Willem's needs. Somehow, Sarafina sensed he would be less inclined to kill a woman. Edward might not have fared so well.

“Angry, my lady. And he refused to eat. He made a terrible mess of the room, but I've cleaned it all.”

She nodded. “Come with me, then.”

They followed, and she walked up the stairs to Willem's room. Unlocking the door, she stepped inside.

He lay there, naked and still, hating her with his eyes.

“Hello, Willem. I'm sorry about the chains. We'll be able to dispense with them very soon, I promise you.”

“Oh good,” he said. “Because I'm going to murder you the moment you do.”

Even then, as angry as he was with her, the words didn't sound sincere. She wondered for a moment if he were as incapable of harming her as she was of harming him. And if he was—was it real, or was it the effect of her blood on his mind? “No, you won't,” she told him. “We both know you won't.”

She walked to the bedside, feeling his eyes on her. But she spoke not to him, but to her pets. “You've been a very good girl today, Misty. I will reward you now.”

“If it pleases you,” Misty whispered, but her eyes looked hungry and wet, and she licked her lips in anticipation.

Sarafina drew a pin from the skintight black sheath she wore and pricked her own forefinger, just a little. Blood welled, and she offered it to Misty, who took the finger into her mouth and drew on it. Fina let her have only a few drops, but she kept her eyes on Willem the entire time, and she knew he felt the hunger, the craving. She could see it. He couldn't take his eyes off Misty's mouth, where she suckled the finger. And she thought his breathing quickened just a little.

She took her finger from Misty and offered it to Edward. He, too, suckled the finger. Willem's tongue darted out to moisten his lips—involuntarily, she was sure. Sarafina let her gaze slide down Willem's naked body, and she saw his member growing hard with arousal.

She tugged the finger away.

Misty fell down to her knees, kissing Sarafina's feet. “Thank you, Mistress. How I love you.”

Edward only bowed, taking Misty's hand, drawing her upright and leading her from the room.

Sarafina let them go, watched the door close behind them; then she sat down on the edge of Willem's bed. She took a small bandage from her pocket and stuck it over the tip of her finger. The wound would seep blood all night unless she stopped it.

“So it's the blood, is it?” he asked.

She only looked down at him, brows raised.

“I thought you had them drugged. Brainwashed, maybe. But it's not a drug, and it's no mind-control technique. It's the blood that addicts them. More than addicts them—it makes them mindless drones, with no will of their own. My God, I thought I knew you.”

“Don't pretend you're not dying to taste me yourself, Willem. I can see you are.”

“You're using these people like animals.”

“They are animals,” she snapped. “Misty was a crack whore who'd neglected and abused her own baby girl until she was barely alive when I found her. She was going to sell what was left of the child for more drugs.”

He went silent for a moment. Then, softly, he asked, “And Edward?”

“Edward beat his wife—the last time so badly she nearly didn't survive it. She wanted to leave him, but she knew he would kill her if she tried.” She shrugged. “I needed a new driver, so…”

“What happened to the old one?”

She lowered her head. “He was a pedophile. I thought I was doing him a favor by keeping him as a servant rather than killing him outright—but even as soulless and evil as you no doubt believe I am, I couldn't bear the sight of him. I told him to walk out into traffic one night, and he did.”

He nodded slowly, studying her, his face different now. As if she had revealed something about herself that made him want to know more. “So you only make slaves of people you believe deserve it. Maybe you
do
still have some twisted sort of morality left in you.”

She shrugged. “I make slaves—or meals—of whomever I choose. I'm a vampire. They're mortals. It's the natural cycle. Morality, or lack thereof, has no more to do with it than it does when a lion devours a gazelle on the Serengeti.”

“Bullshit. The lion preys on the weak and the feeble. You prey on criminals. That's a moral judgment, Sarafina, though a perverted one.”

“I find it far more entertaining this way. There's a poetic form of justice to it all.”

“But you make yourself their judge and jury.”

“And executioner, at times. I'm above them. Like a goddess among the mortals, so I do as I please. Is there some point to this discussion?”

She met his eyes. They probed hers. Her insides warmed and clenched. How did he make her feel this way with no more than a look?

“I was just wondering what crime I had committed, Sarafina. What makes me deserve this?”

She jerked her eyes away. “Are you going to tell me you've done nothing to merit imprisonment?”

“Nothing you'd consider worthy of it, no. Most people think I'm some kind of hero.”

“I am not most people, Willem. And you were following two teenage girls when I took you.”

He looked up at her quickly, obviously startled by her statement. “I didn't realize you knew them.”

“I don't. But even I will protect one of my own kind—at least in a situation like this one.”

“The problem is, you have no clue what the situation is.”

“Don't I?”

He drew a deep breath, pinned her eyes with his. “I was hired to protect them, Sarafina.”

She lifted her brows. “By whom?”

“By a vampire, just like you. The dark girl's father.”

She lowered her head, sighing. “A vampire hired a mortal to protect his child? Really, Willem, I'm sure you can do better.”

“Sarafina, I am telling you the truth. Look at me. Jesus, you
know
me. We have this connection—or had.”

His eyes held hers, probed them. She forced her gaze away, got to her feet, and put some distance between them. She couldn't listen to his lies. There was something in her that wanted to believe them, and she knew too well where that would lead.

“You'd like me to believe that, wouldn't you? You'd like me to think that what I felt for you was real, that this bond we have is anything more than just some mind trick you've mastered. Then you could really do your worst, couldn't you? Lure me, convince me, win my trust, then use it to destroy those girls, or, worse yet, to destroy me. Better men than you have tried, Willem Stone.”

She paced the floor. He remained silent, just watching her, studying her, looking for some weakness, she knew.

“Unfortunately for you, I've lived a long enough time to know that anyone who claims to love you has a knife hidden somewhere, just waiting to plunge it into your back. I trusted you—foolishly—because I thought you were some kind of spirit. My guardian angel.” She closed her eyes to stop their burning, tipped her head back, smiled bitterly at her own idiocy. “You'd think I would have known better.”

“Just because I'm a man and not a spirit, doesn't mean I'm a liar, Fina. It was real, what we had. It was
real.
”

She had to turn her back on him to blink away the tears without him seeing them. “Where did you learn it, this game you played with me? This mental trick? Was it something you picked up from your captors in the desert lands?”

“No.”

“Where then?”

“It's not a trick, Sarafina. I don't know why we connected the way we did. But you…you were where I went when the torture got to be more than I could bear. You were my haven.”

“Stop.” She whispered the word.

“All I had to do was wait until the pain got bad enough, close my eyes and search for you. And I'd find you there. I'd stare into your eyes, and the next thing I knew, I was with you. Inside you, somehow, but outside you, too. I could see and feel everything you did. I could hear your thoughts. But I could see you, too.”

“Lies. All lies.”

“When they released me, I couldn't find you again, the way I did before. I tried, I tried everything. I only managed that once, when I became so goddamn desperate to see you again that I was close to losing my mind with it. I lay on my bed, and I slammed my cane into my mangled foot with all my might and…it worked. The pain was enough. I found you again.”

“Stop!”

He went silent, but only for a heartbeat. “It's true. I only wanted to find that innocent, beautiful Gypsy girl I'd fallen in love with—to find out what had become of her.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. Her heart ached.

“You were the only thing that kept me alive and sane those months I was held and tortured. Tell me that girl still lives in you somewhere. Tell me she hasn't turned into a monster without a soul or a conscience.”

She whirled on him. “If you think those men in the desert caves tortured you, Willem Stone, you had better think again.” She gripped his shoulders, lifting his upper body from the pillows. “What I do will make the pain they inflicted pale by comparison!” Then she bent and sank her teeth into his neck. She tasted him, and she lost herself inside his mind.

 

Willem tugged at the chains that held him, but he wasn't sure whether he wanted to push her away or pull her closer. God, the feel of her mouth on his neck, the gentle suction. He found himself arching his neck toward her. Let her drink him, let her drain him, he didn't care, if she would only just get closer.

As if reading his thoughts, she slid her body over his, lying on top of him. Inexplicably she released his throat, her lips sliding over his jaw, to his mouth, and he kissed her then. He let his mouth and his tongue do what his hands couldn't. He made love to her mouth with his, and he felt her entire body trembling in reaction. He tasted her tears, and he knew her threats were all just an act, a defense mechanism borne of past pain and betrayal.

Her legs straddled his, and one of her hands reached behind her to bunch her black skirts up around her hips. He couldn't see her, but he could feel her flesh, bare against his. When she lowered herself over him, he moaned and arched his hips. It was heaven and hell all mingled and confused in his mind. He craved her, he wanted her, and, in that moment, he loved her as much as he ever had.