I Only Have Fangs For You

CHAPTER 7

"How do you live with yourself?"

Sebastian looked up from the blonde, Lisa or Liza or something like that, to see Mina standing, hands on her hips, dark eyes flashing.

For a moment, he didn't respond. He was too stunned. Mina, who hadn't raised her voice much above a whisper since he'd met her. Mina, whose only perceivable emotion had been fear and agitation, stood next to his table, rage radiating from her like heat from a boiler.

"Excuse me?" he finally said.

"And why would you let him?" she asked the blonde beside him.

Lisa or Liza gave him a worried look. "Do you know this woman?"

Sebastian nodded, although at the moment he wasn't sure. He didn't know Mina well, but what he thought he knew was not this woman standing in front of him like a very small, pale and angry avenger.

"Mina? What's going on?"

An irritated laugh erupted from her. "See. He doesn't even know my name." She turned her flashing glare to the blonde. "I bet he doesn't know your name either."

Mina's eyes locked on him. "What's her name?"

Sebastian frowned. Okay, so he didn't know the blonde's name. Well, he sort of knew it. What he didn't know, didn't understand in the least, was why Mina was so upset about that fact.

"Go ahead, tell me her name."

The blonde now turned back to Sebastian, also waiting for him to give her name.

Sebastian's frown deepened. "This is crazy."

Mina arched a smug, dark brow. "See."

The blonde gave Sebastian an assessing look, then said, "Isn't she one of your employees? Can't you do something about her?"

Mina's eyes widened. "About me? I'm trying to help you. I'm trying to keep you from being another in a long line of women this narcissistic, egocentric, depraved vam… and… and… vain… man uses for his pleasure and entertainment!"

Sebastian stared at Mina, too stunned by her opinion of him to react. For a moment. Then rage, sharp and biting, surged through him. She didn't even know him; how had she developed such a low opinion of him? Low opinion? That was too kind. She apparently thought he was just above scum. Below actually, since he didn't think scum really had any of the attributes Mina had just given him.

Her judgment infuriated him. Who was she, a strange, uninspiring, and plain vampiress, to cast that kind of judgment on him?

"Pardon me," he said to the blonde, gesturing that he wanted to get out of the booth. "I need to talk to my employee."

She rose, and to his surprise, without comment. He slid out from the booth and stood, staring at Mina. She stepped back from him, but, also to his surprise, she didn't flee. Her chin lifted and her eyes met his.

"I think we should discuss your opinion of me somewhere a little more private," he suggested.

Mina crossed her arms over her chest and glanced around. "Why? Everyone knows what you're like already."

Sebastian glared back at her, and before he thought better of it, he seized her arm and hauled her to the back entrance of the club. Without hesitation, he pulled her toward the narrow staircase at the end of the hall that led up to his apartment.

"No," she said, her voice breathy and panicked. "Let me go!"

She struggled, digging in her feet, tugging at his fingers that held her like a vise, but her attempts to break free barely even slowed his strides. Not until he'd started up the stairs and she tripped, falling to her knees on the steps, did he realize what he was doing.

He stared down at her, seeing the distress and panic in her eyes. What the hell was wrong with him? Why did he keep reacting like a damned Neanderthal around this woman?

Yes, he was pissed about what she'd just done. Yes, he wanted answers as to why she had such a terrible opinion of him. Especially given that he'd had two valid opportunities to fire her, and he hadn't. But that didn't give him the right to drag her around like some demented caveman.

He reached down, catching her elbow. She allowed the assistance, but as soon as she was on her feet, she shifted away from him. He allowed the slight escape, because he could feel her fear curling around them like wisps of smoke. He didn't want to scare her any more.

But he did want answers.

"Why do you have such a low opinion of me?"

She didn't answer or look at him, instead she moved down another step. He stepped onto the same one, their bodies forced to face each other in the narrow stairwell. But he made sure not to touch her.

"Tell me," he demanded with more force than he intended, mainly because she still stared down at the steps instead of at him, and her reluctance to even look at him irritated him.

This time he kept his voice calmer as he pointed out, "You've only worked at Carfax Abbey for a couple weeks. What have I done in that time to give you this opinion of me?"

Still she didn't answer. More fear encircled them. Something about that fear bothered him. It was different, sharper, more desperate than any fear he'd felt before. Why?

"Better yet, why don't you tell me why you are so frightened of me?"

Her head snapped up, and she glared at him. "I'm not frightened of you."

He studied her for a minute, then sighed. "You know that's not true."

She straightened to her full height, which only brought her up to his chin, but her eyes focused on a point over his right shoulder.

"Mina-" he started, and her eyes snapped to his, narrowed and angry. Somehow he found that glare more bearable than the panic he'd seen there earlier.

"That's not my name," she stated.

He frowned, so they were back to this. "Your name is Wilhelmina, I know. But frankly, you don't look like a Wilhelmina to me. You look like a Mina. However, I'll gladly remember to call you by your full name if that will give you a higher opinion of me."

Her eyes searched his for a moment, then looked away again. "It won't."

He sighed. "No, I didn't think so."

They stood there for a moment, he watched her and she watched a point on the floor.

"Why are you so scared of me?" he asked softly.

She shifted away as if she planned to move down a step and then bolt. He couldn't let that happen, not before he understood what had brought on this outburst.

"Mi-Wilhelmina, talk to me." He placed a hand on the wall, blocking her escape down the stairs.

She glared at him with more anger and more of that uncomfortable fear.

"You can bully your mortal conquests," she said, her voice low. "But you can't bully me."

Sebastian sighed. "My earlier behavior to the contrary, I don't want to bully you. Or anyone."

"You can't seduce me, either," she informed him.

"I don't… " Seduce her? Was that what all this was about?

"Do you want me to seduce you?" he asked with a curious smile. Maybe that was the cause for her crazy outburst. She was jealous.

She laughed, the sound abrupt and harsh. "Hardly. I just told you that I didn't want you to seduce me."

"No," he said slowly. "You told me I can't. That sounds like a challenge."

Irritation flared from her, blotting out some of the fear. "Believe me, I'm so not interested."

He raised an eyebrow at her disdain. "Then why do you care about me being with that blonde?"

"That blonde?" she said. "Is hair color the way you identify all your women? It's got to be a confusing system, as so many of them are bound to have the same names."

He studied her for a minute, noting that just a faint flush colored her very pale cheeks

"Are you sure you don't want me to seduce you?" he asked again, because as far as he could tell, there was no other reason for her to care about the identification system for his women.

She growled in irritation, the sound raspy and appealing in a way it shouldn't have been.

Sebastian blinked. He needed to stay focused. This woman thought he was a jerk; that shouldn't be a draw for him.

"Why did you say those things?" he asked. "What have I done to make you think I'm so terrible?"

Her jaw set again, and her midnight eyes locked with his. "Are you going to deny that you're narcissistic?"

He frowned. "Yes. I'm confident maybe, but no, I'm not a narcissist."

She lifted a disbelieving eyebrow at that. "And you are going to deny egocentric too?"

"Well, since egocentric is pretty much the same as narcissistic, then yes, I'm going to deny it."

Her jaw set even more, and he suspected she was gritting her teeth, which for some reason made him want to smile. He really was driving her nuts. He liked that.

He was hurt that she had such a low opinion of him, but he did like the fact that he seemed to have gotten under her skin too.

"I think we can also rule out vain," he said, "because again that's pretty darn similar to narcissistic and egocentric." He smiled slightly.

Her eyes narrowed, and she still kept her lips pressed firmly together-their pretty bow shape compressed into a nearly straight line.

"So you see," he continued, "I think this whole awful opinion that you have formulated about me might just be a mix-up. What you thought was conceit, which is also another word for narcissism," he couldn't help adding, "was just self-confidence."

His smile broadened, and Wilhelmina fought the urge to scream. He was mocking her. Still the egotistical scoundrel. Even now, after she'd told him exactly what she thought of him. He was worse than what she'd called him. He was… unbelievable.

"What about depraved?" she asked. Surely that insult had made him realize what she thought.

"What about it?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, looking every inch the haughty, depraved vampire she'd labeled him.

"Are you going to deny that one, too?" she demanded.

He pretended to consider, then shook his head. "No, I won't deny that one. Although I'd consider myself more debauched than depraved. In a very nice way, however."

He grinned again, that sinfully sexy twist of his lips, and her gaze dropped to his lips. Full, pouting lips that most women would kill for. But on him, they didn't look the slightest bit feminine.

What was she thinking? Her eyes snapped back to his, but the smug light in his golden eyes stated that he'd already noticed where she'd been staring.

She gritted her teeth and focused on a point over his shoulder, trying not to notice how broad those shoulders were. Or how his closeness made her skin warm.

He shifted so he was even closer, his chest nearly brushing hers. His large body nearly surrounding her in the small stairwell. His closeness, the confines of his large body around hers, should have scared her, but she only felt… tingly.

"So, now that we've sorted that out," he said softly, "why don't we go back to my other question?"

She swallowed, trying to ignore the way his voice felt like a velvety caress on her skin. She didn't allow herself to look at him, scared to see those eyes like perfect topazes.

"Why are you frightened of me, Mina?"

Because she was too weak, she realized. Because, despite what she knew about him, despite the fact that she knew he was dangerous, she liked his smile, his lips, those golden eyes. Because she liked when he called her Mina.

Because she couldn't forget the feeling of his fingers on her skin.

She released a shaky breath. But she wouldn't tell him that. Her admission would just leave her more open, more vulnerable to him. She couldn't be vulnerable again.

Not to mention, she'd learned a long time ago that her fear and pain were all her own. She couldn't count on anyone else to protect her. Not really.

She started as his fingers brushed against her jaw, nudging her chin toward him, so her eyes met his. Golden topazes that glittered as if there were fire locked in their depths.

Once again she was reminded of the ill-fated moth drawn to an enticing flame. She swallowed, but she couldn't break their gaze.

"You don't have to be afraid of me," he assured her quietly.

Yes, she did. God, she did.

Before she realized his intent, his full lips brushed hers. Just a fleeting sweep, soft and silky and so sweet. And gone before she could respond.

He lifted his head, and she stared at him, never having closed her eyes. His gaze roamed her face as if he were reading her thoughts, or he wanted to. Then he dropped his mouth to hers again.

This time, his lips were more than just a whispering caress. They brushed against hers in a repeated friction until she couldn't help but react. Her eyes fluttered shut and her lips tentatively moved under his, caressing him back. Soft velvet skin stroking, molding together perfectly.

His tongue flicked against her bottom lip. Hot, roughened silk added to the warm velvet of his lips. She hesitated at the new sensation. Her body tensed as he pulled her fully against his hard chest. She'd never felt anything as wonderful, the pressure of her suddenly aching breasts flattened to him. The rippling of his muscles, powerful against her, under her hands.

"Mina," he murmured against her mouth, his voice heavy with need.

His need fired hers, making her body burn. She strained against him, her hand moving over his arms, his shoulders.

His mouth became more urgent, moving over hers in hungry kisses. His tongue tasting hers, his hands moving to her hips, walking her backward until she was between his hard chest and the wall. Pinned and trapped.

A flash of darkness, of cold and wetness whizzed through her mind.

She whimpered. Fear poured like ice water into her heated body, clearing her sensation-clouded brain. Her hands came up to his chest, pushing at his muscled strength, and Sebastian moved back, but didn't break the kiss. His lips gentled, once more light caresses, soothing her, coaxing her to respond. His hands moved to her face, stroking her, gentle soothing touches, and quickly the fire returned, heating the chill in her veins.

"Mina," he murmured, pressing kisses to her jawline. "I want you."

Helplessly, she moaned. Oh God, she wanted too. Her hands knotted into the front of his shirt, as his lips returned to hers. Again his tongue swept over the seam of her closed lips. She opened for him. His tongue tasted her in slow fiery sweeps. He groaned, the deep, rich sound rumbling in her mouth, against her chest.

She moaned in response, her body reacting to his touch, his need, his desire. She kissed as if she was starving, her need overwhelming her.

Then she felt them, pointy and razor sharp nicking the inside of her lower lips. Then a puncture, and shocking sweetness.

Terror choked her, and a strangled cry escaped her. She shoved at Sebastian, hard. Then she was running, scrambling down the stairs, seeing nothing but the hallway below.

Sebastian called to her, but she didn't look back. She didn't wait to see his expression. She didn't want to see him. She didn't want to ever see him again. At that moment, she just had to escape. Flee. Try to outrun what just happened.

She raced into the hallway, not even sure where she was going.

"Mina!" Sebastian called again, his voice echoing off the bare drywall, seeming to come from all directions at once.

A desperate, terrified cry wrung from her tightened throat, and made her feet move faster. Aimlessly running down the hall. Until somehow she found another set of stairs.

Nearly slipping on the narrow steps, she caught herself and barely slowed her pace.

The stairs led to another hallway, and at the end, she saw gray, metal double doors. They had to lead outside.

She reached them, fumbling with the many bolts and chains that secured the doors. She heard a noise behind her, but she was too frantic to sense who it was. Not that she didn't know. It had to be Sebastian.

She twisted the last lock and threw the heavy doors open, escaping out into a dark, damp alleyway. She heard the door slam behind her, then nothing. No footsteps, no familiar voices. Nothing except the constant roar of traffic on the street. Horns and the endless din of the city.

Still she sprinted to the street, racing past pedestrians. Bumping against some of them in her urgency. Their touch causing her more distress. Puddles of dirty water from an earlier shower splashed over her feet, her legs. She barely noticed.

She kept running until she was a block away from Carfax Abbey. Maybe two. She didn't know. She turned into a dank alley, pressing her back against the wet, dirty bricks of a building.

Her hands trembled as she pressed them to her mouth, trying to block out the taste, slightly salty and so sweet, in her mouth. Trying to forget the gentleness of Sebastian's lips. And the need still raging throughout her body.

She dropped her hands from her face, looking down at her trembling fingers. Faint traces of red marred her pale fingertips like spots of crimson paint or rouge. But the streaks weren't anything so harmless, so normal.

Blood. She tasted it on her lips.

Not her blood. Sebastian's.

Just as her fangs had pricked her own lips, they had also pierced Sebastian's. And she could taste him, feel him, even that small amount, inside her. His essence in her, real and warm and so thrilling.

And everything she'd never wanted to taste or experience again.