Everdark

Part Four Mindless

I thought I’d done a pretty fab job of holding it together after the terrors began. I mean, damn—I’d always fallen out in the throes of the terrors in front of someone, surrounded by, well, everyone. Yeah, they bothered me. Yeah, they were awful. And fuck-yeah, I wanted them to stop. The thing is I don’t sleep as much as I used to. Tendencies, you see. So that means my waking hours, when the terrors hit? There’re more of them—more opportunities for me to experience them. They do weird things to a mortal body, those terrors. I’m starting to feel different in a way I can’t explain. Just . . . not myself. And when I do sleep, I fall hard, as in coma-sleep. Eli is usually right there. Snooping in my brain.

He’s been on a wicked-dark edge lately that part of me totally digs, and yet part of me totally worries about. I could feel the tension in him; Eli isn’t known for his patience. I mean talk about a friggin’ stick of vampiric dynamite. So unlike his brothers who I know have the same frightening power; they just . . . contain it. Luc was so easygoing and laid-back, and Phin? I guess he was pretty much the same way. They had a good grip on their anger, their power. Eli? Ka-pow! All week at the shop, I felt his anger building. He’d done pretty well keeping it contained, but every once in a while, I’d see it; he’d extinguish it quickly. Today, though, he’d had enough. He’d parked his agitated ass right in the waiting area at Inksomnia and glared half the day while pretending to thumb through the tat design albums. Flip a page, glare. Flip a page, glare. Every freaking time I looked over at him. Glaring. At me. WTF? Nyx even noticed, but she thought we were just having a lover’s spat and left it alone. Today was Saturday, and she’d taken my last two clients so I could cut out early enough to get ready for the formal dinner at his parents’. I hurried upstairs. He followed. I felt his negative energy building, growing, festering, like some big, freakish reverse orgasm. The moment we stepped into the apartment, I shot a puzzled Seth a glance and stormed into my bedroom. I walked to the window and rounded on Eli. Ooh. I was fuming.

“What is wrong with you?” I asked angrily. “Jesus, Eli,” I said for lack of a better choice of words. “All week long, something’s been eating at you. What is up?”

Eli’s stare bore into me, his brows furrowed. “Nothing.”

I blinked. Did he really just say nothing? “You’re freaking kidding me, right? You know—never mind.” No way would I be able to force Eligius Dupré into telling me anything he didn’t want to tell me. Stubbornheaded vampire. I stepped toward him, nearly nose to nose. “Whatever it is that has you so pissed off, deal.” I poked his chest. “Chill out, come to grips with it, and don’t ever show your ass in my shop again. You got a problem with me, no matter what it is, talk to me. Privately. Don’t just . . . piss and pout about it all week. I can handle whatever, so don’t hold it in and get your balls in a twist stewin’ over it all day. Got it?” I gave him a final glare. “I freakin’ mean that, Eli.”

The expression on Eli’s face changed very little; but it did change. Subtly. The angry lines between his dark brows . . . softened, and the dark flash in his eyes dimmed—somewhat. Yet I knew he wouldn’t budge. Since we were due at his parents’ house, I narrowed my eyes, walked past him, blew it off and got ready. I didn’t like arguing, and I especially didn’t like arguing and then attending a family function where I’d have to pretend I didn’t want to strangle the hosts’ eldest son until his pale face turned blue. (Not that it’d matter—they all took liberties in my head, anyway. They’d probably figure it out soon enough.) So a bad mood now shaded my usually chipper persona. Thanks, Eli. I flung open my closet, dug through the dresses hanging there, and grabbed a long, slinky black halter made of rayon that clung deliciously to my skin. I threw it across the bed and stomped into the bathroom. Eli still stood in the same place I’d left him, staring at me as though I had a friggin’ horn growing out of my forehead. I wished I did. I’d have gorged him with it. As I turned on the hot water, I swore in hot, heated, emotional Romanian—several times. I thought I’d heard a laugh in the bedroom, but I wasn’t sure. I dried my hair and dressed. After choosing a kick-ass choker of black velvet with a green-beaded butterfly in the center made in the 1920’s, a pair of silver hoop earrings, a set of silver bangles, and six-inch-high black pumps, I walked out; Eli’s icy eyes were on me again, and I was pretty positive they remained on me the entire time after that.

“Whoa, Sis,” Seth said, giving me an appreciative look as I walked into the living room,. “You look sweet.”

I smiled at my brother. “Thanks.” I checked out his black suit and tie. “You look pretty delicious yourself.”

Seth glanced down at himself and grinned. “Right? Totally Casino Royale–ish, huh?”

“Yeah—and Josie will dig it for sure,” I said, raising my eyebrows. Seth’s cheeks turned pink, and I laughed. Then, I glanced at Eli. Yep, still glowering. I shook my head, made sure Chaz had food and water (Seth had taken him out), and we left in the Jeep. I’d thought the brisk drive through the squares with the top off would chill out the glowering Dupré. We pulled up to the light and sat, and I glanced over. Nope. Still pouting. We drove on to Monterey Square, and I parked in silence. Inside, Eli disappeared to get ready. I chatted awhile with Elise and Gilles. Elise, in a gorgeous long red strapless dress, silver strappy heels, and her hair coiffed in a smooth ponytail and secured with a gorgeous silver clasp, was completely delighted to have dinner guests. Gilles, in a dark suit, regarded me as he usually did, with depth and precision. The rest of the Duprés were pretty impressive. Luc and Phin, both wearing black Armani suits and ties, looked, as Seth had said, very Casino Royale–ish. Freaking hot was more like it. One with longer hair; the other with short-clipped hair—I was surprised girls weren’t hanging around the gates of the mansion, twenty-four seven.

“Hey, Riley,” Josie said, suddenly appearing behind me. I turned around and, to my surprise, found a stunning young woman in a tie-dyed, floor-length rayon gown with spaghetti straps, her long, loose waves pulled back in a clasp. The purple pumps made her a little taller. Seth stood next to her, his cheeks flushed.

Josie glanced at Seth. “I hadn’t noticed,” she said, then turned back to me. Her expression, always unreadable, fixed directly on me. “You like it?”

“Totally,” I answered with a nod. “Makes you look at least . . . eighteen.”

The smallest of smiles tipped Josie’s mouth. Her blue eyes regarded me. “You think so?”

“Absolutely,” I said, and I meant it. “Especially with the way you lined your eyes, sort of sweeping up at the outer corners.” I nodded. “Cool. Very Cleopatra-like. I’m gonna have to try that.”

Pride flashed Josie’s face. “Thanks, Riley.” She glanced at Seth. “Wanna go play Xbox until dinner?”

“Sure,” he said, then looked at me and wagged his dark brows. “Later, Sis.”

I watched my brother hurry off into the game room with a two-hundred-plus-year-old vampiress. Would I ever get used to it?

“You look sick, girl,” Luc said, suddenly at my side. “Is there anything you look sucky in?”

I thought a moment. “Square dancing dresses?”

Luc laughed. “I’m picturing it in my head. You still look pretty hot—ruffles and all.”

“Looks hot in what?” Phin said, walking up.

“Square dancing dresses,” Luc said, his eyes twinkling.

“Totally,” Phin agreed. I just shook my head.

As I said, Eli’s siblings were laid-back and easygoing.

“They don’t have someone to protect,” Eli’s voice said, suddenly against my ear. “I do.”

I met his gaze without words. He rounded on me and stood with his brothers. I promise you, a more striking group of guys did not exist. All three glanced at me. All three—even Eli—smugged up. It was ego city, with testosterone overflowing, even with overly confident, somewhat arrogant vampires.

It didn’t take Eli long, though, to resume his edgy attitude. All through dinner I could feel his tension. Even as I gawked at how absolutely freaking hot he was in a black Armani suit and tie, his unnamed irritation boiled inside him—freaking baby. Men, whether mortal or otherworldly, were just freaking babies. More than once I’d wanted to pick up a jumbo coconut shrimp by its fan tail and knock the holy hell out of Eli with it. Or grab a stalk of pickled asparagus and just . . . slap him with it. Every food item became artillery, and if I hadn’t been so pissed at him, I would have laughed at myself. What an idiot I could be. But damn, I couldn’t help it. I hated issues.

By the end of dinner, I’d actually thought Eli had chillaxed; he carried on a conversation in French with his father (in retrospect I should have suspected something was up with this, because, afterward, Gilles stared at me—a lot) and somewhat joked around with Luc and Phin. In between, though, he gave me deep, intense looks that left me breathless—and wanting to dot his eyes out at the same time. He’d grinned after that thought, and I’d really hoped he’d relax. I should have known better.

It was just after nine p.m. when we finished. Seth and Josie wanted to jump the buildings on Bay Street, and, since Luc and Phin agreed to go with them, I didn’t see a problem with it. Seth’s tendencies had grown, and I mean fast. He was nearly as quick on his feet as Luc. I’d even thought it might be a good negative energy release for myself and mentioned going, but Eli grasped me by the elbow and leaned close to my ear. “Not tonight,” he said. It was all he said before leading me in hurried silence, past the amused expressions of his parents, his siblings, and mine, to his private apartment upstairs. Had I not possessed a freakish amount of self-confidence, I might have been a little scared. I mean, seriously. Running through my body was scrumptious, mouthwatering although strigoi-tainted, grade-A crack-blood that was highly addictive to vampires, and a vampire, who’d been giving me fiery looks all night, was leading me upstairs to his totally private apartment with one helluva purpose. One would think I’d lost my friggin’ mind.

I was totally turned on.

We never made it to his actual apartment.

Once we were down his wing, the lights dimmed, shadows flickered against the aged brick walls, and Eli’s powerful presence and built-up tension all but suffocated me, closed in on me, wrapped around me like an invisible silky cloak. The farther we walked down the corridor, the darker it became, the more stifling the air, the subtle light diffusing to less than that of a candle. We were in another place, another time. At the end of the hall were the wide double doors leading into Eli’s apartment. The tension overwhelmed me. I jerked to a stop.

“Eli,” I said, the sound not as strong as I’d planned.

In a flash-second, his hands grasped me by the hips and pushed me hard against the wall; he followed me, leaning in close, crowding me. My breath caught in my throat on impact, and I stared into Eli’s icy, angry cerulean eyes. They searched mine with ferocity.

“What?” I demanded, trying to shove him. It was like pushing on a concrete wall.

“I,” he began, his voice way too steady, “don’t like sharing. What’s mine is mine alone. And I don’t like being helpless or out of control. Lately I’m both, and, as far as I can see, only two things need to happen: Victorian has to die, and whoever else has crawled inside you has to die.” His fingers dug into my hips, his body pressed against mine. Although his face was cast in gray distorted shadows, his eyes all but glowed as they searched mine; intense, radiant, and livid. “I fucking mean it.”

I looked at him, not so stunned. I’d learned a while back that Eli was more than possessive when it came to me. He was a hothead on top of it. “You know, anger management class might do you some good, or a little Xanax—”

Eli’s mouth covered mine, quickly silencing any further words of psychiatric or medical wisdom I might have offered. I didn’t care. My desire for him had been building all night, just as much as his tension had. I grasped his neck and threaded my fingers through his hair, and kissed him back—hard. Our tongues grazed, tangled, and the sensation ignited an intensity of raw need that all but lit the room on fire. I groaned, sucked his bottom lip, kissed him hard again, and shoved Eli around. His back hit the brick wall as hard as mine had. Anger and passion drove me.

We both struggled for control; it became an involuntary game.

Neither of us won.

Our mouths fused. My fingers clawed at Eli’s coat, pushed it off his shoulders, and it dropped to the floor. Blindly, I fumbled with his tie, and, finally, I loosened it enough to get it off his neck without strangling him. Our breathless moans and desperate kissing filled the otherwise silent corridor like a porn movie, and at the back of my barely reasoning brain I could hear it loudly. It turned me on, and I found myself seeking Eli’s bare skin, almost insane to touch him. I unfastened the buttons on his shirt, pulled the hem from his pants, and dropped it, only to find an undershirt.

“Shit,” I muttered in frustration, and I felt Eli’s smile against my mouth. He broke from our kiss long enough to snatch the thin ribbed shirt over his head and fling it somewhere; then he pulled me against him. As his mouth sought mine again, he dragged his lips slowly, erotically, using his tongue against my bottom lip, then against my teeth; it drugged me. He tasted sweet, like coconut, and that other indescribable, irresistible vampiric thing that was alluring and uniquely Eli. As my hands grazed his flawless skin, over the muscles etched into his chest and lower, into his abdomen, I shuddered at the sensation the friction caused within me. I straddled his leg, mine on either side, and leaned into him, inhaling, tasting, devouring, and he pulled me hard against his thigh. I moaned and ground into him. When his hands left my hips and grasped the length of my dress and slowly lifted it, my breath caught. Finally, we were skinto-skin. His hands raked over my bare thighs, cupped my ass, and pulled me hard against him. Our bodies fit perfectly, touching in all the right places, and my craving for him reached a level of desperation that shocked even me. My mouth moved to his throat, nipping and tasting as my hands pushed between us, grasping his belt and loosening it enough so my hand would fit down the front of his Armani slacks. The bare shaft of hard muscle I found, covered by nothing but velvety skin, made me groan against Eli’s neck. He let out a low chuckle.

I found myself suddenly flung around, my bare back now digging into the wall, scraping against the rough aged brick, allowing Eli complete control. My mind became total gravy as his hands brushed my skin, over my hips, until his fingers slipped beneath the silky triangle of material that was my thong. Wedging his leg between mine, he shoved my thighs apart and scraped the highly sensitive flesh that throbbed with need. I arched against Eli’s hand, my mind momentarily going blank. Fuck me now, dammit! my inner, primitive, craving-nasty-sex voice screamed without my permission. Maybe that sounds trashy, but good God—I couldn’t help it. Eli makes me mindless-crazy. If I’d had any inhibitions before, they would have been swiftly bludgeoned with Eli’s powerful, sensual touch. He was that potent. I moved my mouth to his ear. “Now,” I half begged, half threatened.

With both hands on my hips, Eli lifted me to his waist; I wrapped my legs around him and, kissing me, he began to move. I didn’t know where we were going; nor did I care. One second we we’re in the corridor; the next, in his bedroom. He loosened his hold, I slid down his front slowly, and Eli grasped my face, lowered his head, and tasted every inch of my mouth, and when the angle didn’t suit him, he tilted my head. Then his hands left me, found the clasp at my halter strap, and unfastened it. My dress pooled around my ankles, and Eli’s hands covered my breasts. I moaned as pleasure shot through me.

His lips left mine and moved to my ear, the sensation of his mouth dragging against my skin making me shudder and my cravings increasing to a painful pitch. My fingers dug into his back, my eyes closed, and my head dropped to the side, weightless.

“I hope I’m more than a good fuck to you, Riley,” he whispered against the shell of my ear. His hands moved to my lower back, then slid over my ass and pulled me tightly against him.

The words froze me, and my head snapped up. Amidst the haze of horniness, I stared into Eli’s eyes. I’d regained my senses; yet I could say nothing. We simply stared at each other. I had no way of answering him convincingly, except with my mouth, my body. Words meant nothing. I lifted both of my hands and grasped Eli’s jaw, and I kept my eyes trained on his as I pressed my lips against his. He stood statuelike still as I kissed him, gently, slowly, pouring all of my unstated feelings for him into that one act. Then, I wrapped my arms around his neck and simply hugged him. I buried my face in his neck and snuggled against him. His arms went around me, wrapped completely around me, and pulled me close, just as gently.

Now will you fuck me?

Damn. I couldn’t help it. I’m telling you. I. Could. Not. Help. It. The dirty request slipped out of the restraints deep in my brain and into open, vampiric-readable gray matter. Dammit!

Eli’s body shook against mine, and it was a few seconds before I realized he was laughing. I pulled back and stared into his shadowy face, peered into the depths of his ancient, disturbing eyes, and I knew then he understood me—fully. Then, he lowered his head, pressed his lips to mine, and kissed me.

“I love you, too,” he said softly. It was the first time he’d said it. I’ll never forget it, although I couldn’t say the words back. Not then, anyway. Hopefully later. He then kissed me deeply as he backed me up until we reached his massive bed. Eli lifted me, kicked off his shoes and the pants that had dropped below his hips, then followed me down into the softness of a white down comforter. Not once taking his gaze from mine, with his forearms, he braced his weight, his body above mine.. Lifting one hand, he smoothed my hair back, traced my brows, the bridge of my nose, and with his thumb, grazed my lips. I saw nothing more than half his face; the other half was swallowed in darkness. The image was intimate, sexy, and Eli exploring my facial features like a blind man became the single most erotic experience I’ve ever had. It sank to my soul, and I felt my insides flutter with excitement. I couldn’t believe someone like Eli belonged to me.

Slowly, he lowered his head, grazed my lips with his, then moved to my ear. “Watch me,” he whispered erotically, and I felt myself grow wet at his seductive words. “Watch what you do to me, Riley.” He pulled back and stared into my eyes; the possessiveness, the intense longing I saw there rocked me. Without another word, he moved, pushing his hard length fully into me. I was wet and ready and about to absolutely die with need, and his eyes grew dark with desire at contact. I wrapped my legs around his waist and moved with Eli, our bodies and rhythm becoming one, my heart beating enough for the both of us, and the whole while I kept my gaze trained on his. I held on as the orgasm built, strong, intense, until it erupted deep inside me. Its strength finally forced my eyes to close, and my body arched with pleasure against Eli’s as waves crashed over me; over him. Finally, the climax began to descend. As it came to a rest, Eli wrapped his arms and legs around me and encased me completely, and I let him. It was as submissive as I’d ever get—with anyone. Eli wasn’t after submissive, though. I knew what he wanted—the L-word—but I couldn’t give it to him right now. Not that I didn’t feel it, but . . . it’s hard to explain. He knew, though, and patiently waited. My feelings for him were greater than for anyone I’d ever encountered, and it scared me. He knew it scared me. I hoped one day it wouldn’t.

How long we lay there, our bodies wrapped and melded, I had no idea. I’m not even sure when I fell asleep. One minute I was completely relaxed, content, being drugged by the sensation of Eli’s fingers dragging up and down my spine, his intense intimacy unlike anything I’d ever experienced. The next minute, or hour, or however long, I sat up, looked around, dazed and confused. Eli was nowhere, and I was in a strange, unfamiliar place. A church? An old Spanish mission? In ruins, the brick and mortar were covered in vegetation, something wild and out of control like wisteria or ivy, and surrounded by a dense wood. It wasn’t Savannah but somewhere . . . else. I was alone. The heavy scent of rain and damp, along with ripened plant life, permeated the ruin, and overhead, the roof was almost completely gone. Nothing but a few old rotted rafters remained, the rest of the gap spindled and webbed with aged vines. It was night, and shots of moonlight breached the porous roof, illuminating the floor in splotchy, distorted, uneven patches. And although I was alone, several lit candles sat clustered together near the front of the ruin, and their flames caused shadows to skip across the brick. In the corner, beneath the only remaining stained glass arch, a long, wide stone bench stretched invitingly. After glancing around and seeing nothing or no one, I noticed how weary my body was, and I picked my way across bracken, sharp-hulled acorns, and scattered pine straw to the bench and sat down. One lone candle flickered in a ruby-colored glass holder on the sill. I pulled up my feet, which were bare, and wrapped my arms around my knees. It was then I noticed I wore nothing more than a white silky slip with satin straps, and it glided smoothly over my bare skin as I moved. I could have been completely naked, the slip was so skimpy, and as it was, I had nothing beneath it, anyway—no panties, no bra. No wonder I was so cold....

“Riley,” a voice said.

I jerked my head toward the voice but saw no one. Adrenaline raced through me; yet my heart pounded slowly. My eyes searched every inch of the ruin, but found nothing.

Then, the whispers began.

Riley, Riley, Riley, Riley . . .

Over and over, my name fell from unseen lips, harsh and intimate at the same time, and I gripped the brick sill of the window and scanned the room. Whispers were everywhere; yet there was no body, no physical voice to connect them. A gnawing sensation of panic crept upon me, and I hated the feeling. I wasn’t scared of anything or anybody, but I’d rather see what was coming at me than cower like some fool by a window. The sense of dread grew, and I knew someone was about to die a horrible death.

Then, suddenly, as if those particular thoughts beckoned, in the time it took me to involuntarily blink my eyes, he was there—Victorian Arcos.

“Riley,” he said, smiling, and I immediately knew the whispering voice I’d heard seconds before did not belong to him. “You came to me.”

“Not a willing participant,” I assured him. “You brought me here.”

“Are you sure?” he said, still smiling.

“Dead positive,” I answered. He moved slowly toward me, and I watched his every step as he seemingly glided over the bracken. His hair, dark and wavy, fell loose to his shoulders, and brown eyes regarded me without blinking. He wore dark jeans and a dark shirt, loosened at the collar. His skin was young and flawless, his lips perfectly shaped, the cut of his jaw that of a vibrant twenty-one-year-old man. A thick vein ran from the side of his neck and disappeared beneath his collar—another sign of youth, vitality. He smiled then, white teeth flashing against an olive complexion, and I knew having me inspect him so thoroughly thrilled him. “Don’t get your hopes up, sunshine,” I offered. “I just like to know my enemies inside and out.”

Victorian squatted beside the bench I sat on and traced my jaw with his forefinger. “I am not your enemy,” he said gently. “I am your destiny. And you will know me inside and out. I promise.”

I flinched. “Sorry,” I said, and shifted so my face wasn’t so easily accessible. “I’m not into younger dudes.” I glanced around, hoping to change the subject. “Where am I and how in hell did I get here?”

“Like it or not, my love, this is your fantasy. Your dream,” he said in a heady Romanian accent, and without my permission, moved closer. I was thrilled and appalled at the same time. “I am honored to be in it. And for the record, you are much, much younger than I.”

“You’re a killer,” I accused. “I saw what you did to that girl, in the parking lot, and the one at the bar,” I said, knowing he wasn’t the killer, but I had to know who was. I darkened my expression. “You make me sick. And don’t kid yourself. You force your way into my dream, just as you force my reactions. I damn sure don’t have them willingly.”

A look of puzzlement crossed his features. “What are you talking about?”

I smiled. “Don’t fuck with me, Victorian. I’m not an idiot. Like you repeatedly say, your venom is inside me forever. I can see, feel your moves, your kills, feeds, how you terrorize innocents.” I glared at him. “You’re a monster.”

His puzzlement grew; his brows furrowed into an expression I’d not witnessed before. It was almost believable.

“I never terrorize, my love,” he said. “And I’m anything but a monster. I adore women. I control my feeds, and my victims live.” He shrugged. “With tendencies, of course.” His eyes penetrated me, intense and sincere. “I have mercy, Riley Poe. I swear it. And of course I force my way into your dreams. You’re a hardheaded mortal.” He smiled. “I like that about you. And the chase gives me a hard-on like no other.”

I ignored his confession and perversion. “The Duprés paint a very different picture of you and your brother, and I tend to believe them. Not you. I mean, seriously. You did try to suck all my blood out at Bonaventure, or did you forget that?”

Victorian’s eyes darkened. “I could not forget if I tried,” he said gently, his voice even, controlled, seductive, and if I wasn’t mistaken, somewhat remorseful. “But you are mistaken. I would never have killed you. I would have turned you, yes, and then you’d be mine forever. I am selfish, but I am nothing like my brother.” His eyes scanned my body, regarding me closely, intensely, like a lover’s caress. “I know what you need, what you want and desire, Riley Poe.”

“Yeah, I desire for you to stop calling me Riley Poe,” I said sarcastically.

Victorian laughed softly, his eyes trained on mine. “I’ve watched you for far longer than you think, Riley. Since you were a young girl, I’ve known you, desired you.” The muscles in his jaws clenched; then, without warning, a hot, seductive sensation washed over me, uncontrolled, unwanted, insatiable. Victorian didn’t move an inch; yet I felt his hands on me, everywhere, his voice an erotic brush of air against my skin. I wanted to scream in protest. I struggled not to writhe with desire. He easily controlled me with his mind. “You want my hands on your body, tracing every curve and bit of softness you have,” he said, his words drugging me, and at the same time I felt the sensation of his hands trailing my arm, skimming my collarbone, pushing the satin strap aside, letting it fall over my shoulder. “You want my mouth on you, my lips following my fingertips,” he whispered. I felt his lips in the hollow of my neck, then across my collarbone, my jaw. I sat, totally frozen, powerless to move as Victorian awakened every sexual sensation he had no right to awaken. Invisible manacles held me hostage as I sat in the window seat, and although I struggled, I could not break free.

“You want me, Riley,” he said, and though he sat stone-still, my slip eased down my breasts as if invisible fingers grasped the silky material and pulled. “I am only obeying your silent command,” he whispered, and warm breath brushed the sensitive peaks as though teasing with his lips. The slide of silk against my thighs as the hem of the slip rose slowly made my insides rush with excitement. I hated it. I wanted it. I tried squeezing my thighs together, but they wouldn’t budge.

“Don’t fight it, Riley,” Victorian said smoothly. “It is me you desire, me you long for, me you want to feel deep inside you. Open ... for me.” Invisible fingers dragged over my skin as my slip rose above my hips, and sensations of unwanted pleasure darted my body like needle pricks. I gasped as hot breath brushed between my thighs. “Open,” he demanded seductively. “You are so unique, so beautiful.”

“No,” I said, the sound barely above a whisper. I wanted to cry, shout, kick out; I wanted to hurt....

I wanted to come.

Warmth, wet and delicious, delved inside me, again and again; I gasped. I lost my breath. “No!” I sobbed, louder, just before the intensity of climax crashed over me.

“Riley!”

My eyes fluttered open and stared into Eli’s angry, flashing eyes. Confusion webbed my conscious thought, pleasure made my body shudder, and I had to blink several times and look around before I remembered where I was and what was happening. Eli, his arms braced on either side of my hips, stared up from between my thighs. He moved over me, and with his hands he held my head still, forcing me to look at him. We were naked, in his bed, his body covering mine, my senses and nerve endings humming from the sensual caresses from his mouth and his tongue.

A split second before it hadn’t been Eli.

All at once, and so fast I didn’t see him move, Eli pushed off me. Looking at him as he stood beside the bed, his face angered, his body rigid, I had a crazy moment of raw adoration. I thought I’d never seen a more beautiful soul than Eligius Dupré.

I hated that he was angry with me. Shame flooded me; ire built, and at that moment I didn’t think I could hate anyone—rather, anything—more than I hated Victorian Arcos, and I was damn tired of his screwing with me. I pulled the sheet up to cover my naked body.

“I’m not angry with you,” he said quietly, his voice controlled, totally on edge. He knelt down and grasped my chin, then turned my face toward his, almost painfully. A dangerous fierceness took over his features; gently, he grasped the sheet from my fingers and released the sheet. “Never feel shame,” he said. “You are powerless, and he is powerful and obsessed with you; you cannot fight him. You will not win, and you will never rid your mind of him. He won’t let it happen.”

I stared in disbelief. “What?” I said incredulously. I pushed up on my elbows, and, unable to say anything, I gaped. No way was he right. “I don’t believe it.”

Holding my chin, Eli crept closer, covered my lips with his, and kissed me. It was more than a kiss; it was a brand, a memory of possessiveness I was surely meant to carry until death. The firmness of his lips, the drag of his mouth as he claimed mine, the slow tease with his tongue, made my body quiver, my nerve endings fire, my skin flush with heat. Suddenly, he pulled back and regarded me.

“You’re mine, Riley Poe,” he said, his voice dark, determined. “And while you may not be able to stop Victorian, I can.” His eyes searched mine. “I don’t share. Remember? He has’ to be stopped.”

Eli moved so fast, my vision saw nothing more than a hazy streak. I leapt from the bed, allowing the sheet to fall to the floor. “Eli, wait!” I cried, and I knew panic was close. “What are you going to do?”

At the door, Eli stopped, and I noticed he’d already changed. Dressed exactly as he had been the first day I saw him through Inksomnia’s storefront window, in worn jeans, a white tee and boots, with a shouldered backpack, he looked like any average badass guy on the street; mysterious, dangerous, not to be messed with. I knew he was all that and much, much more. I also knew his answer before it left his mouth.

With a look of longing that will haunt me for the rest of my days, I watched Eli’s face change from loving to one of pure determined hatred. “I’m going to fucking kill him.” He turned and moved through the double doors, then stopped. His back remained to me, his posture unyielding, still as death. “Wait for me,” he requested quietly.

Then, he was gone. Within minutes, the rumble of his silverback sounded, idled, and then roared up the street. I stood and listened until the motor faded completely away.

Eli was going after Victorian. Just like that, up and gone. Really? How would he even know where to look for him? I wanted to beat the hell out of Eli, and it was a helluva lot easier to stay pissed than it was to mope about his leaving. I didn’t have time for that, so pissed seemed the better route for me. After climbing in and out of the shower, I pulled on the dress Eli had so sexily discarded hours before, then grabbed my purse and pumps. At the double doors I paused and glanced over my shoulder at the rumpled bed. The clock read 4:58 a.m. With what seemed an involuntary muscular action, I drew in a deep, long breath, taking in Eli’s scent to litter my lungs, my taste buds, my memory. I knew what he did, he did for me. I also knew, somehow, he wouldn’t find Victorian. Not easily, anyway. The other invading my mind? How could Eli find him if we didn’t even know who he was? Eli had an explosive character. His emotions ran high in everything he did. When he was pissed, he was pissed. When he was happy, he was elated. And when he loved, man, he seriously loved. So it really didn’t surprise me that he’d taken off in an angry cloud of dust to find the two things causing me misery. It didn’t console or take away the edge I already felt inside. Within my rib cage, my heart ached—my fucking heart—and a hole had begun to tear, ragged inside my chest. Who knew what would happen? I hated that it all mattered enough to me that I felt pain. Angry, I closed my eyes briefly, breathed, then shut the doors and started down the corridor.

Philippe Moreau, the Duprés’ butler, stood in the kitchen, a white cup and saucer in his hand, and a kettle on the stovetop. Dressed in a long navy robe and slippers, he turned at my entrance. Aged eyes regarded the dragons inked into my arms, the angel wing at the corner of my eye, and then, met my gaze full on. “Will you have tea, Ms. Poe?” he asked, in a very proper and French manner.

“No, thanks, Philippe,” I answered, and headed to the door, where I paused. “Eli’s gone,” I said, not really knowing why I did.

“He will return,” Philippe said comfortingly, as though he knew.

I nodded. “My brother?” I asked.

“He is in the game room with the others,” Philippe answered. “Shall I call for him?”

I shook my head. “That’s all right. I’ll call later.” No sense in dragging Seth home on a Sunday morning and making him suffer my badass mood. I had supplies to order for Inksomnia, some designs to go over with Nyx later, and a few things to pick up from the store—a typical Sunday. Seth might as well stay with Josie and the guys and have a little fun. “Later, Philippe,” I said, then pushed out of the kitchen’s screen door and into Savannah’s early morning.

The sun wasn’t up yet, but a dim, hazy glow hung in the air as I made my way to the Jeep. Thick fog wafted over Monterey Square and slipped through the live oaks, swallowing the black iron streetlamps along the walkway. Barefoot, I tossed my pumps and purse into the passenger side of the Jeep.

And into the lap of a body that wasn’t there a half breath ago.

“Where ya goin’?”

I jumped and sucked in a breath. Luc grinned, and I glared at him. “Don’t do that, Dupré. God. You’re gonna give me a freaking heart attack.” I slipped behind the wheel.

He grinned wider. “I know CPR. I’d save you. So? Where?”

I looked straight ahead. “Home. I got a business to run, you know.”

“At five a.m.?”

I jammed the keys into the ignition, but before I could start the Jeep, Luc’s hand stilled mine. I sighed. “He left.” I glanced at him.

A slight breeze caught his crazy hair and tossed it across his forehead. He pushed it back and met my gaze in the dim light. “Yeah,” he said gently. “I know. He asked me to ride along.”

“No,” I said. “I don’t need a babysitter anymore.” I turned the Jeep’s engine over. “I’m not a helpless mortal, Luc. I can take care of myself.”

Luc grinned. “He said you’d say that.”

“Well,” I answered, glancing at him, “Seth will be with me this time. And as far as we can tell, there is no threat close by, right? The newlings have moved on.”

“Seth is here. And the newlings have moved on. For now.”

I frowned. “Preacher is right next door. I’ll be fine.” I pointed. “Get out.”

Luc didn’t budge.

“Don’t you have a girlfriend or something?” I asked, knowing full well he did not. “Seriously dude—you’ve gotta move out of your parents’ house, or no decent chick will have anything to do with you.”

He grinned. “That reminds me. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about Nyx. Is she involved?”

I put the Jeep in reverse. “No way, Dupré. I wouldn’t want her mixed up in all of this.”

Luc leapt out and was at my door before I could blink. He met my gaze with a sincere one. “Would you have held back from Eli, had you known what you know now?”

“No.” I didn’t even have to think about it.

Luc smiled and pushed off the door. The yard lamp cast a yellow glow down on him, and I studied the severe similarities between Luc and Eli. Other than the dark blond, crazy hair, they looked very much alike—same disturbing eyes, same cut of jaw, same mouth. Well, almost the same mouth. “Your mind, then, is open game for me. That way I’ll know if you’re in trouble,” he said, grinning, and gave a confident nod. “Yeah. I think I like this plan better, anyway.”

I shook my head and glanced over my shoulder to back out. “I hate this plan. I think this plan sucks.”

Luc laughed. “It’s either this plan, or the one where I come babysit you full-time.”

I scowled. “Fine.”

“Excellent,” he said, grinning. I’ll drop by later. And don’t worry about Seth. He’s cool. And Riley,” he said, his face serious. “He’ll be back. Soon.”

Turning the Jeep, I rounded the graveled circle drive by the kitchen entrance and pulled up next to Luc. “I know he will. And seriously, thanks. I mean it.”

“No prob.” He leaned over and tapped my temple with a forefinger. “I’ll be right here.”

“That’s such a comfort,” I said, gave a half-forced grin, and pulled out into the square. Deciding to get myself together and grab a coffee, I headed to Skidaway to the original Krispy Kreme, where I got in a fairly short line of die-hard Kremers who wanted that first, fresh, hot batch of doughnuts of the morning. Being the JFJ (junk food junkie) that I am, I ordered a dozen regular glazed (they melt in your mouth) and a large coffee with cream and sugar, then headed back home. I listened to the relative silence of early Sunday morning in Savannah as I made my way back to Inksomnia. Eli had started teaching me how to concentrate, to filter out all the extra sounds I could now hear, and hone in on just my immediate surroundings by focusing on one single sound. I wasn’t totally good at it yet, but at least now I wasn’t going nuts. When he first taught me, I had to close my eyes, breathe deeply, and concentrate so hard that my brain hurt. It was like being in a large convention room with two thousand people, all of them droning. Finally, I did it, and it was a relief. It wasn’t easy to turn on and off, and sometimes it took me a few minutes to achieve control, but I was getting better, and I could now do it without squeezing my eyes shut. I mean, Jesus. It was kinda funny at first, but I quickly grew sick of hearing people humping and moaning all the friggin’ time. God, they were having sex everywhere. I felt trapped in a porn dream. So this morning, after I shut out the other unwanted noises, I found everything was pretty calm, as it used to be before I had two strigoi bloodsuckers try to drain my life force. Light traffic; somewhere, a dog barking its head off, and, in the distance, a semitruck grinding its gears and chugging along the bypass—these were normal sounds.

I should have realized this was the beginning of a sonot-normal day.

By the time I pulled onto the merchant’s drive and parked the Jeep behind Inksomnia, it was a few minutes after six a.m. Preacher and Estelle’s light in the kitchen flickered on, so I crossed the cobbles to their back door. The haze was brighter outside now, but the sun still hadn’t cracked over the city. I knocked lightly, and in seconds Preacher came to the door. The beam of light that shined behind him revealed his usual long-sleeved plaid shirt tucked neatly into a pair of worn dungarees and a big smile. He and Estelle always got up early, so I knew I wasn’t intruding. When his gaze lit on the Krispy Kreme box, the smile grew.

“Oh yeah, dat’s my girl right dere,” he said, then kissed my cheek and pulled me into the small foyer. “Was cravin’ dem tings earlier. Almost went out myself to get dem.” He lifted a brow. “Don’t let your grandmodder see ’em. She says da sugar makes me act all crazy.” He chuckled softly.

“I heard dat, ole man,” Estelle hollered from the kitchen. “Riley Poe, you git in here and bring dem tings wit you. Dat ole man acts crazy widdout da sugar, dat’s right. Sugar makes him crazier.”

I smiled at Preacher. “Yes, ma’am.” I flipped open the box. Preacher lifted a doughnut out and in two bites had it gone. I shook my head, grabbed one myself, took a bite, and headed for the kitchen while my surrogate grandfather licked his fingers. I set the box on the table and sat down.

“I hope you left room in dat bottomless pit of a stomach for some magic,” Estelle said with a fake scowl, inclining her head toward the simmering pot of tea on the burner. She grinned and glanced at the doughnut box. “You save me one now, dat’s right.”

“Absolutely,” I said. “And yes, ma’am, I have plenty of room.”

Estelle bustled over, wearing a hot pink Da Plat Eye T-shirt and a multicolored brush skirt, with a knotted head wrap to match. She smelled fresh, like Dove soap and something . . . herbal from the shop. Satin ebony skin shined in stark contrast to her white smile. “Drink up, Riley Poe. Don’t want dem Duprés lookin’ at you like you was a pork chop.”

I shook my head and smiled. “I don’t think they like me as much anymore,” I said, and shrugged at the questioning look on my surrogate grandmother’s face. “Tough meat.”

Estelle stared for a second, then burst into laughter, shaking her head. “You crazy white painted girl, dat’s right.”

I grinned at Preacher.

He did not return the cheer.

When Estelle left the kitchen, he leaned over the table and looked hard at me. “What’s wrong wit you, girl?”

I met his stare. I could never get anything past Preacher. “Eli left. He’s going to kill Victorian. And I guess try to find the other one.”

Preacher took a sip of steaming coffee and stared at me over the rim of his cup. “If he can find him, anyway. Dat Arcos boy is slippery.” He set the cup down. “And I ain’t too sure he’s as bad as his brodder was.” With a long, bony forefinger, he rubbed his jaw. “Sometimes, family makes a person do crazy tings, yeah? And he sure has it bad for you, Riley Poe.”

The memory of Victorian’s recent words rushed through my head. “He . . . said he’s known me for a long time, Preacher. As in from when I was a kid.” I looked hard at him. “How can that be?”

Preacher flicked something from his sleeve, rubbed his gnarled knuckle, then raised his head to look at me. “Maybe he been watchin’ you from da hell stone all dis time,” he said slowly. “I know dat when dey was entombed, dere powers was stripped, and dey was cursed. Dey couldn’t smell your blood, couldn’t crave. But maybe dey could see, hear. He must’ve picked up on you somehow, dat’s right.” He shook his head. “Might be why he wants you so powerful. Maybe he’s been knowin’ you for a long time, girl.”

Victorian Arcos really did love me? “That’s . . . weird.”

Preacher laughed softly. “Only you would say dat, Grandchild.” He grasped my hands between his dark leathery ones. “You watch yourself, baby, and I mean dat. Make sure your brodder stays wit you. And if you want Jack and Tuba to stay—”

I smiled and shook my head. “No, Preach—it’s fine. Really,” I assured him. “But if things get crazy, I’ll let you know. Okay?”

“Hrumph,” he grumbled. “You always did have dat hard head on ya. Don’t be shamed to ask for help, Riley Poe.” He rose and kissed my cheek. “I’ll take a stick to dat backside, and I mean dat.”

“I know, and I promise,” I said, thinking it funny that Preacher had never taken a stick to my backside. “I love you,” I said, rose, and hugged him.

“I love you, girl,” he said, and pushed a small sachet into my hand. I glanced down. It was coarse burlap, the size of a golf ball, and filled with . . . something. He looked at me gravely. “Sprinkle it outside your apartment door and all da windows,” he said quietly. “Do it tonight, before you go to bed.”

I nodded. “Okay.” Hell only knew what was in the sachet.

Estelle bustled back into the kitchen as I was leaving. “You want some crabs, Riley Poe? Capote bringin’ dem later on. He an’ Buck out dere on da Vernon right now pullin’ traps, dat’s right. I’m makin’ some hush puppies, too.”

I grinned. The Vernon was a brackish saltwater river that ran close to Skidaway Island and emptied into the sound, and Capote, when not’ playing his sax, was out in the mouth of one of hundreds of creeks, crabbing with old Buck. And Estelle made the best hush puppies on the East Coast. “Definitely. I’ll come by later.” I kissed my dark grandmother good-bye, left several doughnuts on a plate for them, grabbed the remainder of the box, and left.

At the time, I didn’t realize it, but soon I’d learn that nothing as simple as Savannah blue crabs, Gullah hush puppies, and Krispy Kreme doughnuts would ever grace my life again. But it took the rest of the afternoon to figure it out. The whole while, Eligius Dupré remained in my head. I’d be willing to bet a month’s pay he did it on purpose. Of course, he wasn’t the easiest guy to forget. I already missed him.

After taking Chaz for a walk, I loaded my iPod into the home unit, selected Sevendust, and spent my morning cleaning the apartment, tidying up the shop, and ordering supplies online while jammin’ to “Unraveling” and “Ride Insane.” It was a cool freaking band, and for a while it put out of my head Eli Dupré and the heat and emotions he stirred within me. I cranked up the volume, hoped Bhing from SoHo Boutique next door wasn’t too irritated with the music, and rocked out. She was usually pretty cool about things like that, and for the most part, I didn’t abuse it. Like, I didn’t crank the music if it was too early or too late. This was the middle of the day, so I felt okay about it. The pounding hummed through my body, soothed, settled me. That was what fantastic tunes did to me. The music put me into the groove, and soon my bad mood had evaporated.

I checked my business e-mail and discovered a special on Skin Candy ink. Since it was my favorite brand, I stocked up. I also ordered another load of Inksomnia tourist T-shirts. I confirmed my appearance and temporary shop at a tattoo convention in November, went over my scheduled appointments, and studied the descriptions I’d drawn on plastic wrap (I hold it to the client’s desired body part chosen for the person’s art and then draw a rough sketch to the contour of the person’s shape) of requests the clients had left. One girl, a nurse at St. Joseph’s, had asked for a dragon/flower combination. She wanted a feminine yet traditional dragon. I sketched the head of a dragon whose body wound around and turned into swirly vines and flowers. By the time Nyx arrived at four p.m., I’d settled onto the floor with my sketch pad. Nyx joined me, and together we hammered out some pretty sick designs. Several hours passed. Seth called to say he, Riggs, the Duprés, and Zetty were doing a little training and would be home around ten p.m. or so. I said fine. So after Nyx and I ran next door for crabs and hush puppies at Preacher’s, we settled back down with our designs. It was after eight p.m. Chevelle’s “Sleep Apnea” played quietly (as quietly as Chevelle could play) in the home unit, and Nyx and I slipped into artist mode.

“That one is going to take at least two sittings,” Nyx finally said, leaning over the design I’d drawn for a girl of a Japanese cherry tree, with different-sized blossoms sprouting all over the spindly branches. It was a pretty large project that stretched from the thigh, up the rib cage, and over one shoulder.

I glanced at my friend. Nyx wore her pigtails stuffed through side holes of a black and white striped skully, a black Iron Maiden T-shirt, and a pair of black jeggings and clunky Mary Janes. She scrunched her nose and peered at me with those huge, blue expressive Nyx eyes. “Don’t ya think?”

I nodded, then froze. First, the fine hairs on the back of my neck rose. Chaz’s frantic yelp broke through my subconscious, and I leapt up. Second, a cold, frigid sensation crept over me. Third, my body jerked, totally on alert, and I scanned the living room. I’d toned my superhearing down so much that I’d not been paying attention as I should have. I’d definitely have to work on that.

“What’s wrong?” Nyx asked, then followed my actions and glanced nervously around the living room. “Did you hear something?”

Chaz’s growl, then high-pitched yelp met my ears.

“She definitely heard something,” a voice said from the darkened hallway, coming from my bedroom. “Didn’t ya, babe?”

I blinked, and three young male vampires stood in my apartment.

I hadn’t even heard them enter.

Too bad I hadn’t thought to sprinkle Preacher’s magic dust.

I jumped up. As I stared at the speaker’s youthful face, positive I didn’t recognize him, my hand eased down the front of my baggy jeans to the concealed silver blade strapped neatly against my thigh. “What’d you do to my fuckin’ dog, asshole?”

And in the very next split second, Nyx’s scream reverberated off my apartment walls as one of them grabbed my best friend by the throat.