She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. In the heat of things, she wanted to give everything to him, anything he wanted. But considered in cold light, the thought of him dining on her was kind of gross. He would be, in effect, a two-hundred-pound mosquito. On the bright side, though, he was not a walking corpse.
Considering his disgruntlement, she shouldn’t have been surprised by his next words.
“Tell me about your heart.”
But she was, because she was in such denial about it that night. The organ in question lub-dubbed in its sloppy, half-assed way against her ribs. It was hard to lie to Gregor, particularly now, when he was so sweetly rumpled and concerned. All his attention was riveted on her. He would hear it if she lied.
“I was born with a heart defect.” Without thinking she reached up to stroke the sunken scar. “Four of them, actually. It’s called the Tetrology of Fallot—a funny name, I know. I had to have corrective surgery when I was born, and several more times, well, ten times all together. There were complications, you see…”
Skipping this, skipping that, skipping over scary details, massive infections, long hospital stays, one malpractice suit, the simple fact that her heart was a lemon, and going in for the big lie. “I’m fine now. It’s just that my circulation is bad.”
Gregor dropped his eyes low, to his mug, maybe, or the rising steam. “Your pulse is odd. I’ve never heard anything like it.”
Yeah, ’cause most folks with hearts like hers were dead.
“Is this why you won’t date anyone?” he asked.
“No, and why is my business, so don’t go there.”
Still he was finding his mug fascinating.
“I’d rather you share the truth with me by your free will, Madelena.” His voice was so soft that the threat almost didn’t register with her.
“You know Faustin, just because I had sex with you doesn’t—”
Quick as a snake, he grabbed her wrist. “That was more than sex. You know it.”
“Let go.” She strained against his grip. When he didn’t let go, she said, “I have to pee.”
That worked. Invoking bodily functions always worked. She fled to the bathroom.
Chapter 7
Like the rest of his place, the bath was mostly empty and scrupulously clean. She sat on the toilet, face buried in her hands, thinking. Thinking for a long time, even though the options were few. In the end she decided that running like hell was her best option. There was nothing else to do, no way to make this thing better.
If she’d only listened to her common sense, she’d be safe in her jammies. Instead here she was hiding in a vampire’s bathroom, a vampire that was getting serious on her. If any male creature in the world could be counted on to be content with a one night stand, she’d think the inventors of the Dine and Dash would be right at the top of that list.
Goddamn Gregor Faustin. Whatever she did next, she was going to hurt him, and that was the last thing she wanted to do.
She put off talking to him a few minutes more by cleaning herself up. As she did, she noticed a purplish spot on her shoulder. Squinting, she leaned in close to the mirror to see it. It was in fact a spectacular bite mark on her shoulder. And there was another on her neck. And another. And another. A necklace of bruised teeth marks. It looked like she’d been mauled by a pit bull. She remembered him nipping her, but this was out of control.
“Faustin!”
Looking none too happy himself, he came to loom in the bathroom door.
She pointed to her neck. “I want you to fix these right now.”
“No.” He was so curt she wanted to slap him.
“What do you mean, ‘no’? I’m not your chew toy. This is disgusting.”
He strong-armed her in front of the mirror and stood behind her, holding her there. “The bites are clean, but I promise you, they won’t fade fast.”
With gentle fingers he massaged the bruised flesh in circles. As he did, she flashed back on the moment of the biting, the pain sharpening the pleasure, him inside her, possessing her.
“When you’re alone, you are going to touch these bites and think of me. You’re going to come when you think of me possessing you.”
“No. I won’t.”
In the mirror she saw his big hands over her breasts, the purple of the scars dark between them.
His lips were on her hair, on her brow, at her ear. “I’ve marked you as mine.”
No, no, no.
“Madelena, I can’t control this thing—neither can you.”
As he spoke, his hands became rough and his kisses urgent rather than coaxing. All her resolutions cracked. She couldn’t think straight. Her breasts ached, she wanted him inside, she wanted to bend over the sink that moment and take him.
“You feel it.”
Maddy shook her head, denying it even as she softened against him. “No,” she whispered. That word was all she had to hold on to, the only right answer. Whatever was happening between them, it was just too late. “Gregor, please, don’t.”
Their eyes met in the mirror. His hands ran down her belly, over her hips. His voice snaked its way down her spine. “Tell me what’s going on.”
Instead she reached back to caress his face and lifted her mouth to his. If he knew how to read it, her answer was in her kiss—her regrets, her apologies. Their tongues slid together briefly, then he left her mouth to kiss down her throat, to nurse at her faulty pulse. Her eyes drifted shut.
This had to stop.
Maddy opened her eyes. What she saw in the mirror shocked her. She didn’t even recognize herself. Embarrassed, she looked at the floor, but she had to look again, just to understand what she’d seen.
Gregor’s head was a shadow against her neck. Fascinated, she lifted a hand and sank her fingers into his dark hair. The heavy-lidded woman in the mirror matched her gesture—a woman who looked like she could fuck an army and ask for more, a woman with a vampire’s brand circling her throat.
Gregor lifted his head and nodded his approval, meeting her eyes in the mirror. “Now you see who you are. Is it any wonder I want you?”
His hand skimmed straight down her belly. Eager for his touch, she widened her stance, and his fingers slipped into her cleft. Of course she was wet, wet like Niagara Falls was wet. That first sliding stroke almost made her come. His other hand clapped over her breast, teased a nipple. Helpless, she trembled in his arms while he played her like he knew her every secret.
“You’re so damn hot. I want to suck you dry,” he growled into her ear. “I want all of you, Madelena, and sooner or later, I will get what I want.”
“You can’t.”
Her heart was going nuts, her head was spinning. She didn’t know if she was going to come or die or both.
Snarling, he pushed her head down so she was bent over the sink. “Spread your legs.”
But he didn’t do what she expected. Instead, Gregor dropped to his knees and repaid her for her blow job.
He spread her cheeks wide and lapped his cat tongue around her asshole. He sucked and bit her ass until his saliva ran hot down her crack and swamped her pussy. Maddy clawed at the sink, trying to keep her feet, knowing he was going to bring her to her knees.
It was torture.
“Fuck me,” she begged. “Please.”
Instead he forced her legs even wider and probed her with his tongue. His tongue, which should be illegal. Slurping and sucking her tender flesh while his long finger caressed her G-spot. She gripped the sink tight. His tongue zeroed in on her clit.
“Gregor…”
She was so wet it was flowing down her legs. He was drinking her.
The room spun, she couldn’t feel her limbs, but at her center she went supernova.
“Ah!” Blackness was on her, a black convulsive wave. She fell through it, and came down hard.
Next thing she knew she was on her back, staring up at the bathroom ceiling. Gregor was holding a wet cloth to her forehead, his face ashen. “You hit your head on the sink.”