Chapter Eight

Erica found the hard muscles of Max’s thigh and squeezed with shaking fingers while she rubbed against his cock. His lips on her skin were like fire, his body like a wall of steel against her back.

She’d never wanted anyone so badly. It wasn’t like her at all to want to surrender, and it scared her. Part of her soul that she never knew existed had burst free and was clamoring for control. She wanted him to tell her what to do so she wouldn’t have to wonder.

“Please ...” she whispered finally when he drew his lips away. His teeth slide out of her skin and rather than relief that he was finished, she felt suddenly alone and without purpose. “You can take more ...” Had she really said that? Did she really want him to continue?

“No, I can’t.” His voice was raw.

She turned in his arms and leaned against him. “Isn’t there more I need to learn?” Shame heated her cheeks at the request. She had to be losing her mind. Why did she want him to do this, to own her? She’d been an independent woman for all of her adult life. She’d spent more than a decade resisting the limits anyone else tried to impose on her, and now all she wanted was this man, this vampire she hardly knew, to claim her and command her.

He grabbed her arms and shook her once, just hard enough to remind her that giving her will over to him was a dangerous idea.

“There’s a lot you need to learn. First, you don’t tell me what to take. I’ll take what I want.” He brought one finger up and tilted her chin so she had to meet his gaze. His voice softened. “If I take everything I want from you right now, there will be nothing left, Erica. We can’t play like this, not here where there’s nothing stopping me from making you mine.”

Lost in his blazing eyes, she couldn’t respond. Somewhere in her foggy thoughts a voice cried for him to do it. She wanted him, and she hated herself for being so weak.

He let her go and she sagged a little, her breath escaping in a shuddering sigh. “This isn’t me,” she said finally, wishing it were true. “I’m not usually like this.”

“I know. Believe me when I tell you, I don’t want to change you. I don’t want to turn you into exactly what you’re trying to save your sister from.”

Erica glanced up sharply. “I may not know you very well, but that sounded like a lie, Mr. Hart.”

A smile played at the corner of his mouth as he rolled his sleeves down and retrieved his cuff-links. “You don’t have to believe me, Erica. You just have to do as I say. Rule five: Call me Max.”

* * * *

‘Elegant’ was too mild a word to describe Gregori’s. Like the finest human restaurants, it seemed that no expense had been spared to make the place sparkle. Chandeliers hung in the center of every room, and the ornate windows held thick beveled panes of leaded glass that captured the reflections of dozens of candles. Strings of miniature lights decorated the potted trees that lined the main entry hall and each pinpoint of light gleamed off the polished parquet floor.

When Max and Erica arrived, an attendant took their coats while the concierge checked their reservations and showed them to a table that overlooked the huge central dance floor.

Erica relaxed when Max pulled out her chair for her. She sat down and he ordered her a wine spritzer. This place catered to her more delicate sensibilities, not the part of her that had been screaming for release since Max left her wanting and wondering in her apartment.

She began to fantasize that after a sumptuous meal, she might look down and see Elena swirling across the dance floor with her escort. She’d always dreamed that one day she’d see her twin happy and healthy and free of her addictions. The beauty and charm of Gregori’s made her think it might be possible that Elena could find happiness in this world.

With a start, she admonished herself for such a foolish thought. If Elena was happy she wouldn’t have called for help. Her words were burned into Erica’s memory; I need you to help me ...

Max ordered Erica’s dinner and the authority in his voice made her feel momentarily safe. He leaned forward to speak to her after the tuxedoed waiter left them. “I put out some feelers this morning. I found out there’s some fresh blood in the upper echelons. Some of the people who work directly for the new king have been taking on extra feeders. That could be an important lead.”

“Tell me more about the old king,” Erica said under her breath. “Why did he leave?”

“He went back to Europe. It’s a better place for an old vampire. Things are too liberal here for the ones that were turned before the 1900s.”

“That’s where you’re from, isn’t it?”

“London. But I haven’t been there in years.” He didn’t dare tell her how many.

“What’s the new king like?”

“He’s American ... young too. There was a bit of an upset when he took over. He does things differently. I don’t understand the upsurge in new feeders. It could be they’re stocking up before new rules are put in place.”

“What kind of rules?”

The waiter floated into view then and Max’s voice dropped. “Enough talk for now. When you’re finished eating, we’ll take a walk around and see if we come across anything interesting.”

Erica nodded as the waiter brought her appetizer. Max was right about the food. It looked and smelled wonderful. If only her stomach would settle enough to let her enjoy it. She wasn’t over the adrenaline rush Max had caused earlier. Her body still thrummed with desire for him. Food, even fabulous food, wasn’t going to fulfill all her needs tonight.

While she ate, Max sipped a glass of dark wine. The liquid looked like blood but smelled sweet, like candy. She found herself wanting to ask for a taste, but afraid he’d admonish her for stepping out of line. It bothered her more that she liked the feeling. She was actually worried about pleasing him and doing the right thing. What was wrong with her? Why did she crave his approval--and worse, his demanding touch? This wasn’t normal.

Max talked idly about his day while Erica studied her food. Filet mignon with a medley of baby vegetables, prepared to perfection. She wished she didn’t enjoy it, wished she could push the plate away and demand they get on with their mission to find Elena. What would happen, she wondered, as she savored a bite and gazed into Max’s eyes, if she did just that? Would he punish her? Would he take her home and teach her an unforgettable lesson in obedience?

She reached for her own drink and gulped. She would have put the icy glass against the heated skin of her neck, but that would be crass.

“Is there a ladies’ room?” she asked finally. A few moments out of the spotlight of his heated gaze might give her a chance to compose herself.

“I’ll escort you.”

“To the ladies’ room?”

“You’re not to go anywhere alone. I’ll wait outside, of course.” He rose and she waited for him to pull her chair out before she stood. With his hand on her waist, they walked through the gilded mid-level of Gregori’s to a fountained portico where a sign in gold leaf pointed to the restrooms.

“I’ll be right here,” Max said. “Inside, you’re to talk to no one.”

She nodded and let herself through the heavy oak door. Inside the quiet, perfumed staging area she regarded her reflection in the full-length mirror. In the tight black sheath, she looked perfectly calm, utterly in control. She saw no outward sign of the waves of nervous anticipation that rolled through her every time she looked at Max.

In the sink area she re-applied her lipstick and ran cold water over her wrists. After a few deep breaths she decided it was time to get back to work. As she slung her purse strap over her bare shoulder, one of the toilet stalls opened and a woman sauntered out.

She was beautiful in an exotic way with almond shaped eyes of jade green and long black hair. She smiled at Erica, showing her flat human teeth as she took her place in front of the wide mirror.

“You’re new,” the woman said as she leaned forward to brush her long lashes with an unnecessary touch of mascara.

Erica nodded.

“He told you not to talk to anyone, right?”

She nodded again and smiled demurely. What if she spoke to this woman? Maybe ask if she’d seen Elena? What would Max do to her?

“Don’t worry. This room is soundproof. He won’t know you’ve said anything. I’m Vera Nighe. I belong to Benton Carlisle.”

“I’m ... Ricki. I ... belong to Max Hart.” The emotional tumult that followed her reply left Erica dizzy. She’d promised Max she would speak to no one. Should she have told this woman she was here with him? Did it matter? Why did it give her pleasure to say she belonged to the handsome man waiting for her outside the door?

“It’s nice to meet you, Ricki. I hope you enjoy yourself here.”

“Thank you.”

Vera smiled, finished touching up her perfect makeup and left. Erica waited a few more minutes while two halves of her psyche battled each other in her head. The logical side of her brain wanted out of this entire situation right now. She still had time to escape with her dignity intact and salvage her precarious self-image. The other, darker side of her mind was shamelessly begging for release. She pictured herself strolling out of the bathroom and baiting Max with a defiant look that would challenge him to put her in her place. She replayed the moment in her apartment, when, clutched in his arms as he siphoned her blood, she’d silently wished for him to tear her dress off and make love to her.

That part of her could not be allowed to take over. If she gave in to those abnormal desires, she’d be lost. She’d never find Elena if she became enthralled by a vampire.

The answer was simple. She had to get away now. Max would take her home if she asked him to--he’d probably be relieved by the request.

She’d almost reached the bathroom door when she heard the sound. The tinny, distant melody of voices trickled through the ductwork. That, by itself, wasn’t unusual. Restrooms in public buildings often had excellent acoustics. She remembered back in grammar school when she and Elena were taught in separate classrooms, sneaking into the first floor girls’ bathroom while her twin hid in the one on the second floor. They would whisper into the heating vents and share gossip and secrets.

Drawn by the memory, and the voyeuristic spirit that had awakened in her unexpectedly the night before, Erica moved toward the air conditioning duct. Covered with an ornate gold grillwork, it looked more like a wall sculpture, designed to blend effortlessly into the décor.

She listened just for a moment and what she heard made her blood run cold.

“I need you to help me. Ricki, I need you to help me.”