In the Dark (7 page)

 

I choose yes
. With those three words, Suzanne had the uncomfortable feeling she'd somehow sealed her fate—but that was ridiculous. Destiny, fate, whatever you wanted to call it, she didn't believe in any of that shit. How many times, as a kid, had she been told to accept what life had given her, that she was fated to go nowhere, that she'd best learn to “bloom where you're planted”? Bullshit. Life was what you made it. And she was going to make hers as interesting and exciting and memorable as possible.

So, even though she was certain she'd never forget Conrad either, she wasn't stupid enough to think that this could ever be anything permanent. She wasn't looking for permanent yet, anyway. She was looking for adventure. Still, the feeling she was perched on the edge of a precipice—getting ready to either fly or fall—persisted.

Maybe it was him. How could she not be nervous, faced with the most beautiful body she'd ever seen? He was
nothing
like the other guys she'd been with—just boys, scrawny and uninteresting. For the life of her, she could not recall what she'd seen in any of them. Tonight, the very idea of them seemed mildly repulsive.

Whereas Conrad was like one of those old marble statues come to life. She had always assumed those artists had just been making stuff up. People didn't really look like that, did they? All those chiseled muscles couldn't be real? Apparently, they could.

Maybe it was the look on his face that was making her nervous. One minute he'd been hot for her, the next…it was like his mind had gone somewhere a million miles away. She didn't know how or why she'd lost his attention, but she had a pretty good idea of how to get it back.

Closing the small distance between them, she went up on her toes, twined her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his. Maybe that was all he'd been waiting for. His arms caged her, banding her so tightly to him she almost couldn't breathe. His mouth claimed hers with an urgency she'd never dreamed possible.

There it was again, that indescribable flavor that could all too easily become a habit. Better than any drug she'd ever tried. And here was the rest of it, too—all the mind-spinning, heart-pounding pleasure he'd promised. Closing her eyes, she fell into his kiss, surrendering to the experience, willing to go anywhere he felt like taking her.

His hand was in her hair again, urging her head back, so she gave him what she thought he wanted. She clutched his arms and arched her back, offering her breasts to his touch. It was what she wanted, too, so much so that she was on fire with the need for it. When he seemed to hesitate, she whispered, “Please, Conrad. Please,” until finally she felt his mouth close around one tender tip.
Yes. Perfect
.

The sensual tug of his lips—first at one breast, then the other—was sheer bliss. She hoped he'd never stop. Her legs were trembling so hard she dug her nails harder into his arms to keep from falling. Finally, when the throbbing tightness between her legs became an unbearable torment, when even rocking her hips into his, grinding softly against his erection no longer eased the ache, she began to plead again. “Please. Oh, please, please, please, please, please…”

Conrad's mouth left her breast then and took a leisurely trail up her chest and throat, all the way to her ear. “Did you want something, my sweet?”

“Something,” she groaned in agreement. “Yes.”

His mouth grazed along her neck, his teeth just scraping her skin, sending shivering sensations coursing through her. “Might I know what?” His voice was husky, sweet, amused. She groaned again.

“I don't know. I don't know. I don't know what I want.” Whatever it was, if she didn't get it soon, she would surely die.

A soft, triumphant laugh feathered her hair and then he was picking her up, falling with her onto the bed. “Perhaps I can help you find out,” he said as he began to kiss his way slowly down her body.

“No, wait.” Reaching down, she tried tugging at his shoulders. She needed him back here—now. But, he eluded her. “Where are you going?”

“I'm searching for hidden treasure,” he answered, slipping between her legs and running his hands up the insides of her thighs. “Let me see.” Her eyes were so heavy she couldn't keep them open. Her legs, on the other hand, fell apart with almost no urging at all. “Ah, yes.” Conrad's tongue flicked across her aching flesh and she gasped in surprise, in pleasure, in sheer amazement. Finally, she understood: this was why people liked sex so much.

“More,” she moaned, terrified he might stop, that he might take all these new sensations away. What if she could never get them back again? She'd die. She'd absolutely, positively die.

He licked faster, harder; then used his whole mouth to suck at the center of her heat. Her legs strained as she forced them wider, wanting him to have everything, take anything, never stop. She hadn't even known it was possible to feel like this. And then, she was on the precipice again, still not knowing: fly or fall? Fly or fall? Fly or—

“Nooo. I can't, I can't, I'll—ahh!” She shrieked as it all came apart, as she fell into a thousand glittery pieces of ecstasy, only vaguely aware of patient hands and soothing words shaping the fall, easing her into a slow, shuddering stop.

Her eyes were dazzled. Blinking rapidly, she tried to bring Conrad's face into focus as he pulled himself up to lie on top of her. She welcomed the weight of him, running her hands up his arms and over his shoulders, delighting in the feel of his muscles.

The smile in his eyes disappeared as he looked at her. “Tears? Tell me you're not crying,
mignonne
?”

Was she? “No, I don't think so.” She wiped her fingers across her lashes, surprised when they came away wet. “Well, maybe, I guess.” She looked up at him, lips quivering as she tried to smile. “But who cares? That was…that was amazing.”

That brought his smile back, with perhaps an added smugness. “So…it was pleasurable then?”

She nodded. “Definitely. Yes.”

“Ah,” he murmured, his voice softly mocking. “But was it memorable?”

She fell silent for an instant, searching for just the right words. Finally she shrugged and answered simply, “It was
everything
.”

“Everything?” The mocking tone was stronger now. Conrad's eyebrows rose. “Oh, no,
ma petite
.” Without warning, his face changed. His eyes blazed gold, just as they had in the garden, and when he smiled this time, it seemed like his mouth held far too many long, sharp teeth. “It was not quite everything yet.”

She gasped in surprise, not certain what she was seeing. He dropped his head to her neck and, just like before, the tingling began. Neither warm nor cold, both numbing and sharp, it spread through her body like an electric shock and all the throbbing pressure he'd so recently satisfied came roaring back to life. She twisted beneath him, dragging her nails along his back. She didn't understand what he was doing to her, she only knew she never wanted him to stop. “More.”

An odd snarling sound left his lips as he lifted his mouth from her neck for an instant. “Mine,” she thought she heard him say just before his teeth latched onto her throat again. But maybe she'd misheard. Maybe he'd only been repeating her own garbled command.

She answered anyway. “Yes.” This time, she was only partially surprised when the tingles intensified into a pulsing rush of heat, as though he'd tapped into a fire raging just below her skin. The bumping of her hips increased in tempo. “Conrad, yes,” she moaned again and was rewarded by the feel of him sliding, hot and heavy, into her.
Yes
.

The thrust of his hips settled into a steady rhythm and everything else followed suit. Everything—the roar of her blood, the pace of her thoughts, the sough of her breathing, even the turning of the Earth—seemed suddenly dependent on his very next stroke. And the next. And the next. The precipice loomed. Conrad pulled his mouth from her neck and slanted his lips over hers, swallowing her cries as the tension broke within her once again, stealing her breath, pumping his seed inside her.

As quickly as the storm had begun, it was over and she collapsed like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Her hands lost their purchase on his shoulders. Her body went slack. Her mind grew dim. A dull ache blossomed to life in her neck and the world around her settled into darkness.

The very next sensation she was aware of was the slow, gentle slide of Conrad's tongue running back and forth over her neck. At some point he'd pulled out of her and, from the angle of her head and the awkward arrangement of her limbs, it seemed she'd moved as well. She couldn't recall any of it.

Trying to sit up, she found herself pinned down, unable to lift so much as a finger. “What are you…?” Her voice faded. Her brain seemed to stall mid-sentence. Did it really matter anyway?

“Shh,” he whispered soothingly. “Don't move. I'm almost done.”

Move? Yes, that was clearly impossible. But, done with what? She tried to nod but nothing happened. She was tired, more tired than she'd ever been in her life, too tired to even wonder why she was so tired.

Conrad sighed. “You were very good,
mignonne
. My sweet Desert Rose. But I fear I may have enjoyed you a little too thoroughly tonight.”

“Tired,” she whispered, as her mind started to slip into darkness again.

“I know, little flower. My apologies.”

She heard the rustle of blankets as something warm and soft was settled over her. She heard the bed creak as he lay down beside her again and folded her into his arms. She thought she felt the warmth of his breath against her ear as his voice whispered, “Sleep now and forget,” but she must have been mistaken, because it seemed as though she was already asleep, as though she had already fallen deep into a dream.

 

 

 

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” a soft voice murmured in Conrad's ear, startling him back into consciousness. His eyes shot open, only to be met with an excruciating brightness. Someone must have pulled aside the heavy drapes that hung over his windows. Brutal daylight washed the room, like a flood of daggers. His heart racing, he twisted around, his fangs lowering automatically into position. He had to force his mouth shut when he realized there was no threat to be neutralized, no enemy to be vanquished, when he remembered where he was, and with whom. His bedroom. Desert Rose. Fuck.

Swearing silently, he turned away from the girl and buried his face in the pillows He clenched his teeth, swallowing the bitter venom that filled his mouth, waiting for his pulse to slow and the kill instinct to subside. He only hoped it would be soon, or at least soon enough.

And all the while…“Con-rad,” she chanted in singsong as she walked her fingers up and down his back. “Time to get up. Wakey-wakey.”

No. It could not possibly happen soon enough. “Get away from me,” he snarled in warning.

“Well, someone's a grumpy bear this morning, isn't he?” Heedless of the danger she was placing herself in, Desert Rose leaned over his back to press a warm, wet, entirely too sloppy kiss on his cheek. Her hair brushed against his face setting his nerves on fire.

Conrad shrugged his shoulders in an attempt to dislodge her. It didn't work.

“You really might wanna think about getting up, you know,” the girl said as she began to bounce up and down on the bed.

Deep breaths
, Conrad thought,
calm down
. The scent of her filled his nostrils. Her blood called to him to take it.
No. Think about something else
. Like her innocence, the tears she'd almost shed for him, the sweet trust in her eyes.

“It's getting to be almost noon here.”

“Yes.” Conrad sighed. He was almost in control again. “It does that. Same time each day. Now, stop bouncing and shut the curtains.”

“But, how come? Don't you wanna let the sunshine in?”

His control dissolved. Who did she think she was, anyway—some new front man for The Fifth Dimension? “I said shut the damn curtains. Now!”

“Okay, well,
you
can stay here and sleep, if you want. I'm gonna go out and enjoy this beautiful day. So I guess I'll say good-bye now.”

Now she had his attention. She couldn't be serious? Half turning, he squinted and looked her over. Yes, apparently, she was. She was already dressed, right down to her boots. Her face looked hazy, but he supposed that was just an effect of the light. “Where, exactly, do you think you're going?” he demanded in what he hoped she'd recognize as an ominous tone. Had he told her she could leave? He didn't think he had.

His question seemed to surprise her. “Nowhere, really. I'm just, you know,
going
.” She shrugged. “But, um, I was thinking we could, you know, maybe see each other again sometime?”

“I don't think so.” He briefly considered forcing her back to sleep. He could do it, of course, but it would be an effort. Besides, it was probably better if she
did
go. These days, he almost always slept more soundly alone.

“N-no?” The girl's eyes widened into an expression of forlorn dismay. “B-but, I thought maybe—”

“No,” Conrad growled, annoyed at having to repeat himself. “We will
not
‘maybe see each other again sometime'.” What had the girl been thinking? “I
will
be seeing you again, right here, next weekend. There will be no maybe about it. Is that understood?”

“Oh.” Her cheeks flushed. Half-smiling, she murmured, “Well, gee, I guess I could do that. If I'm not too busy or, you know, if I don't forget all about you by then.”

Another angry snarl lifted Conrad's lips. “Do you honestly think it's a good idea to annoy me like this?” He'd never taken well to being teased—and certainly not in the morning. The morning! He couldn't even recall the last time anyone had dared wake him at this time of day.