Forbidden Drink (5 page)

“Too easy,” she breathed against me, only to feel me twist against her, obviously stronger than she had anticipated and manoeuvre in for a body drop, literally throwing her over my shoulder onto her back. See, cocky vampires equal flat-on-their-back vampires. Never lower your guard.

She was on her feet in an instant, but I had moved and countered her blow with my stake, scraping again, this time more deeply into her forearm. She growled, that nasty vampire growl they do when getting a little hot under the collar and didn't hesitate to come at me, this time her fangs were down and her eyes were glowing. She'd shifted from that sassy smart ass vampire I'd seen in the club upstairs, to a deadly accurate predator and my inner monologue chose that moment to pipe up and say,
oh fuck!

I couldn't stop the body hit, there was simply no time to brace or block, so instead I let my body go with the force of her momentum and we went head over heels in a Nosferatu-Nosferatin jumble of legs and arms and long brown and blonde hair. By luck, hers not mine, she had ended up on top of me, pinning me to the floor. Her goal was my throat, her fangs glinting in the light, her eyes only for my jugular. She didn't expect me to come towards her, she expected me to pull away, to shift to the side, anything to get away from those sharp and menacing incisors, so when I thrust my head against her nose, putting myself so close to those fangs, so close to losing the battle, to giving her the victory she desired, she didn't fight me. She just let me come full force against her face, smashing my forehead into the bridge of her nose and breaking it instantly. I never said I'd play nice.

Blood poured out all over me and her and she screeched, loosening her hold, pulling back slightly and allowing me to raise my stake and press it against her chest, just above the thumping of her heart.

Breathless, I said, “Do you concede, Blondie?”

She froze, looking down at me, then slowly lifted her gaze to Michel. There was shame in her eyes then, mixed with a little fear. I couldn't see Michel's face, what his returning look to her would have been, but she seemed to relax slightly. Maybe he'd said something telepathically to ease her worry. And then she stood up, vampire puppet-on-a-string up and offered me a hand.

When I was standing in front of her finally, I felt Michel move, a stirring in the air, a warmth at my back. Without even turning around I knew he was behind me, close.

“Leave,” he said over my shoulder.

I knew it was for Erika, because she instantly dropped my hand, winked at me and walked away toward the door. When I heard it click closed behind her, I took a deep breath in and turned slowly to face Michel. This would be interesting. I'd just kicked the butt of his favourite fighting vamp, the
Sword
in his arsenal, he was either going to shout at me or punish me. I had no idea which.

I hadn't expected the look I received though. Hunger, longing, utter desire.

“My turn,” he said in a low, growl.

Oh shit.

I swallowed. Michel watched every movement like the hungry predator he was.

“What did you have in mind?” Yay for me, my voice was steady, if not a little lower than usual.

“You land the stake, you get to pick the prize. I land my fangs, I choose.”

I just stood and stared at him. He was serious, this was definitely a game, but he wanted it to feel real. He wouldn't hold back and fighting Erika was one thing, but fighting Michel, that was a whole different ball game right there. I knew I couldn't win, I knew he was stronger, faster, sneakier than me, but could I say no? Never show fear.

I smiled and I think it might just have been as wicked as those he tends to give me. He blinked slowly and wet his lips.

“Let's dance,” he whispered, eyes never leaving my mouth.

I've fought Michel before, I've even had a stake to his chest on occasion, but that was when he'd really pissed me off and our relationship has stabilised a little since then, so my heart wasn't really, truly, committed to the task at hand. And let's face it, even if he did get fang to neck, it was going to be pleasurable. I guess a part of me secretly wanted that outcome anyway. So, the fact that it took him mere seconds to breach my meek and extremely pathetic defences and place his lips on my skin above my pulse at my neck, was not surprising. But, the fact that he didn't extend his fangs at all, was.

“You are not even trying,” he growled against me.

I laughed a little nervously, I couldn't help it. Part of me was amused by his actions, longing for his bite and part of me couldn't help feeling just a little scared at the power that was rolling off him, the strength of his grip on my body.

“I think we should change the rules,” he whispered against me. “There is obviously not enough incentive to make you commit to this enterprise.”

We were standing in the middle of the mat, he had my body crushed up against his, hands gripping my arms, just below my shoulders, face still buried against my neck.

“I land my fangs and you move in with me, permanently.”

“Oh no.” I pulled away from him, he let me, his eyes shining in the light of the room, his smile wicked. “I am not playing this game with you, Michel.”

“It is only fair,
ma douce
. You have accepted a challenge, of sorts, but are not committed enough to honour it appropriately. Perhaps a higher risk is required to get you to play? Your apartment, for your failure to land the stake.”

I knew how vampires worked, on the whole anyway. Once a challenge had been made there was no going back and this, although a game of a fashion, it was still a challenge and I had accepted it. The fact that Michel would not let me just give up on the challenge and let him win, was just all him. I guess nobody likes to have their meal handed to them on a plate, it's so much more fun if you have to work for it.

“OK,” I said slowly. “But, not my apartment, not that.” I couldn't face giving up my sanctuary. It was what kept me connected to me.

He nodded. “But, it needs to be worth your while,
ma douce
.”

I couldn't argue there, I just didn't have it in me to fight him, when all he was going to do was bite me. I shook my head at that thought. Two months ago that would have been enough, more than enough, to make me want to stake him, now I craved it. Shit. I was an addict after all.

He smiled knowingly, he'd either heard my thoughts, felt my emotions, or just knew me pretty damn well.

“The car,” he finally offered.

“What about it?”

“I land my fangs and you accept my gift, completely. You land the stake and I get rid of it, no more car in the garage waiting.”

Huh. He had me there. I so did not want to accept that car. Sure it was sexy and divine and would no doubt be unreal to drive, but it was a gift of unparalleled proportions. It would signal to everyone that I was a kept woman and I mean, come on! Bank tellers just don't drive around in BMW Series 1 Convertibles, even if they are dating the Master of the City. And, even if the car wasn't part of this deal, he'd leave it there, in the garage, bringing it up every now and then, finding another way to manipulate me into driving it. At least this way I had a chance, albeit a minute one, of winning this battle of wills.

I nodded. He laughed. Somehow, I think he had this planned all along.

We circled for a moment, just watching the other, me not really wanting to take that first step, him devouring every line of my body. I really didn't think his full attention was on the fight, part of him was already undressing me, but still, this was Michel and his concentration wasn't necessary to win.

He took the decision to strike out of my hands and lunged. If I had thought I wouldn't fully commit to the battle, then I hadn't taken into consideration my Nosferatin instincts. They kicked in big time and I danced out of his grasp, spinning to face him again, stake out and ready to go.

“That's better,” he said softly and then struck out again.

This time he came in low, so I took a flying leap towards him, intending to flip over the top of him and land the stake on his back as I flew past. It has worked before, but it's probably one of my more signature moves and Michel had seen this one and was prepared. Almost in slow motion, but no doubt just a blur, I watched him twist in the air, so he now faced me as I sailed over. I saw his hands come up in my peripheral vision, ready to pull me down on top of him. I struggled to think of an out, to think of a move that would work, a way to put my stake between me and him, but he was too fast. His fingers gripped my sides and I felt myself falling down towards him, but he hadn't grabbed my arms, they were still free.

I let him pull me down, he'd stopped my motion forward and almost slowed his, so we were heading for the floor, rather than skimming it now, but when his back hit the mat, I was ready. I used the rebound that impact created, along with my hands on either side of his body, to force myself up and over his head, in a somersault. Twisting as I made the move, making his grip loosen and my body fly away from his grasp. I landed in a crouch behind him, but he was up and in a crouch facing me in an instant. A low appreciative growl escaping his lips. His eyes were flashing all shades of blue and amethyst and magenta, swirling and sparkling around the room. Michel's eyes are one of the most extraordinary things about him, usually when magenta enters the mix, it means he's about to explode in an uncontrolled rage of some sort, but at times like this, it can also mean he is extremely turned on.

I was betting it was the turned on this time. I was hoping, even praying, that I was right on that one.

We looked at each other for a moment and I couldn't help it, it just slipped out.

“You're not even trying.” My voice was breathy, but the response it created was perfect.

His mouth dropped open. “You are paying for that,
ma douce
.”

“Prove it.”

He smiled and flew through the air towards me, but I was ready and so 'in the zone'. I danced out of his reach, leaping into the air like a ballerina, twisting my body into a spin, bringing my arms in against my chest, crossing my legs as I flew and spinning away from where I had moments before been standing. I heard his body hit the wall behind where I had been and then the grunt of air escaping him. Spin fighting is still new to me, but it's something Nero has been making me practise for weeks now. When it works it's great, when it doesn't, it can cause more problems than it's worth. Tonight it worked, but I still hadn't been able to land my stake. For that, simply escaping Michel was not going to cut it, I would have to get close.

I carried my spin on around the room, ramping up the speed, so that when I was back near Michel, I was just a blur. Most vampires are in awe of this move, usually allowing a small window of opportunity to land the stake. Michel has seen this manoeuvre before, but every time he has stood stunned while I executed it, I had planned on that being the case again. But, maybe he wanted me to drive that damn car more than I had realised, because he came towards me, rather than standing stock still. And the resulting crash of our bodies against each other stole my breath and rattled my brain, so when he pinned me to the floor, my arms both held firmly above my head, by just one of his hands, I was seeing stars and unable to do a thing about it.

“You are amazing,” he breathed against me, his own chest rising and falling on top of me with such speed. I struggled, trying to buck free of his body on top of mine, I even tried to throw my head against him, but he held firm and just kept his face out of reach.

A simple twist of his hand and a soft thump of my wrists against the mat on the floor beneath us and my stake fell away. I was disarmed and unless I could move him and get to my stake this was over. His free hand came up and stroked my hair out of my face, I refused to look at him, to admit defeat. He knew I wouldn't concede, so he didn't ask. He just gripped my hair tightly, almost painfully and turned my head to the side, exposing my neck. I fought him, I pushed against his hold, almost as though he
was
my enemy and his intentions weren't carnal but murderous. I would not give up. I would not show fear. I would never give an inch.

I tried to wriggle my body beneath him, to get a leg free to maybe knee him in the groin, but he just growled and manoeuvred himself between my legs, pushing against me, flattening me, stilling me. He held me there for a full minute, my heart in my throat, tears stinging my eyes. I don't know why they were there, I just guess I don't like losing.

When he sensed I had settled, he slowly lowered his mouth to my neck, softly kissing my pulse, licking over the top of its rapid beat, grazing his teeth against my skin. I wanted his bite, I wanted it with every fibre of my body, but this was a battle and I
would not give in
.

I twisted my arms and rolled my body at the same time, almost managing to upset him and throw him off me. I'm stronger than I used to be and I think I caught him momentarily off guard. For a second, just a split second, I thought I had him. His body weight shifted, I felt my back leave the floor and my foot gained purchase so I could use my leg to further push against his hold and then he rallied, growled, gripped my hair tightly, pulling me back to the ground and twisting me painfully on my side and his fangs pierced my skin.

The bite was excruciating. I don't think he realised he had not tempered it all. Usually the sting lasts only a split second, but this time he was too caught up in the fight to think and he let me feel the force of his dominance, the right of his win, through the pain at my neck. I whimpered, managing not to scream, although perhaps a scream would have broken him from his moment sooner, but I did struggle against his hold, making my neck move under his mouth, forcing him to grip me tighter, firmer, to stop his fangs from tearing at my skin. Then, maybe because I was fighting and making it hard and he wanted me more compliant, or maybe he just woke up a little from his battle crazed bubble, but his desire washed through me in a tsunami of a wave, forcing my breath from my lungs and my body to still, only to be replaced by a hunger for him so raw that it made me ache.

I breathily whispered, “Michel.” And received a purr from the back of his throat in reply.

He still gripped my hands, but now I was pushing my body up towards him, wrapping my legs around his waist and holding him tight. He groaned against me, removing his hand from my hair, tracing down my side, down past my breast, over my hip, to my short skirt, which he somehow managed to rip off me, with a small lift of his hips and a flick of his wrist and a smattering of
Sanguis Vitam
. Before I'd even realised he'd gotten rid of it, his body was against me again, his erection obvious through his trousers, pushing against my underwear. His hand returning to my top, feeling his way slowly up my stomach, finding my breast and taking his time tweaking it, stroking it, kneading it.

I moaned and he shuddered in response. Removing his fangs and licking where he had bit me. He still gripped my hands, seemingly reluctant to let them go just yet; a small ache had started in my shoulders, unable to shift them only making it worse.

“My arms,” I whispered.

He lifted his head and looked at me, amethyst and indigo swirling in his eyes.

“I don't think so. You are still mine,” he breathed against me before his mouth met mine in a rough crush of lips and teeth and tongue, almost trying to climb inside me, to get closer to me, to eat me.

He pulled away to let me breathe and I took my chance. “You've won, Michel. The car stays, but this wasn't part of the deal.”

He didn't let me go, just ground against me, circling his hips in a little dance, body to body.

“You don't want me?” His eyebrows raised in mock shock. He knew damn well I wanted him. I would always want him, regardless of any negative emotions I may harbour, as soon as he touched me all thoughts of elsewhere were always lost.

“Let me have my arms and I'll show you how much.” I held his gaze.

“Not tonight,
ma petite lumière.
Not this time. You have made the game too sweet, to end it just yet.”

I stared at him. “What are you playing now?”

“My game, my rules. I'm taking my prize.” And his hand came up under my top, grabbing it at the neckline and tearing it slowly down the front, baring my chest to him, save for my bra.