If Mikhail was bonded to her, even in some small way that she didn’t understand, he would not give up. But now she had the advantage of knowing that. He’d never kill her. He’d threaten it, but he wanted her alive. It also meant that if she didn’t kill him, he’d never leave her alone.
The guard at the gate called. Christian had arrived. She told them to let him come in and listened for the sound of the door. When she heard it, she darted through the shadows of the house, stalking him. Golden Christian, surfer and aspiring actor, brought with him the scents of seawater and board wax and motor oil. Hopefully he’d be a big star someday.
“Alya?” He spun around, looking for her. “Hello?”
When she held still, he could not see her. Frowning and scratching his head, he stepped outside. He paused near the rumpled day bed. “Where are you?”
Closing silently, she hovered behind him. Even mock hunting got her going. Christian knew something was up, but domesticated humans were very bad at listening to their instincts. She watched the hairs lift on the back his neck. Uncertain, he whispered, “Alya?”
Repressing a laugh, she opened her mouth and exhaled on his nape. He jumped. She caught his arms from behind. She liked the way a little baby fat still softened his muscles, making him as sleek as a seal.
“Surprise,” she purred into his ear, sliding a hand up his T-shirt, over his smooth belly. He waxed it.
“Oh, fuck.” He laughed, a little shaky. “You’re so good at that. I knew it had to be you, but I still almost pissed my pants.”
She sent one hand coasting down the front of his jeans. Danger made him hard. As did domination.
“I think you almost came.”
Turning in her arms, he answered with an eager kiss. She ripped his T-shirt over his head. Kissing him all the while, she walked him backward to the couch. When his legs hit the frame, she gave him a firm shove and he fell on his back, his palms above his head, ready for whatever she wanted.
“Maya isn’t visiting this morning, is she?”
He shook his head.
Oh well. She could have done with two lovers—one to drink from, one to fuck. If she drank from Christian as much as she wanted, his erection would be for shit. If she fucked him first, she might die of hunger. All she could do was be expedient. She whipped off his belt and ripped open his jeans. Like a good surfer, Christian went commando. Unencumbered, his cock sprang into her hand.
“I wish I could move as fast as you,” he said.
“We’ll go slow now.” She spread her robe wide and straddled him with a sigh. She needed this bad. Ever since her rooftop encounter with Mikhail, she’d been wearing her feeders out.
“Alya,” he whispered. “You’re so damn… I can’t hold—”
“You will.” She touched his chin so he’d look her in the eye.
His eyelids fluttered and he turned his head to one side, baring his throat in instinctive submission. Crouching low, she kissed the underside of his jaw.
A cool, emphatic voice interrupted her. “Get off the Happy Meal.”
She was moving before Mikhail finished his first word, but it didn’t matter. Cold prongs pinched the back of her neck, the scent of ozone filled her nostrils and she lost control of her body.
Next she knew she was flat on the floor, her limbs locked and stiff.
He’d Tasered her.
Mikhail pressed the heel of his boot down on her throat.
“Leave now, Christian Rider,” he said, his voice flat as a psychopath’s. “Go straight to the beach and stay there. If you tell anyone, do anything at all to disturb us, I will find you and kill you. Then I’ll fly to Madison and kill your parents and your sister, Carrie, her children and their Golden Retriever. Understand?”
Alya prayed Christian would do as he was told. Her feeders were bound to her by a combination of written contract, mutual respect, a few well-placed threats and a dose of compulsion. Basically, they had to keep the secret of vampires, and not blab anything about her that would aid her enemies. In return, they were paid well to enjoy an occasional bloodletting. If they stepped out of line, though, the consequences were severe. On the other side of the coin, she worked hard to keep them safe. Christian knew she’d want him to follow Mikhail’s directions. Often enough she’d told them to stay out of vamp business at all costs.
Christian ran.
Mikhail straddled her chest.
Just like the dream. Fuck me! Exactly like the dream.
He captured her weak, rubbery arms and pinned them over her head. Her heart slammed against her ribs and her breathing went fast and shallow. To stop hyperventilating, she forced herself to take stock of the situation. Starting with her fingers. She could wiggle them, but they tingled, as if they’d been asleep. The shock’s effects were fading fast.
“What do you know about me?” Though he was nose to nose with her, he shouted. His hands hurt her wrists.
Pinned. Shouted at. Controlled. The absolute horror of the situation drove her close to panic, but instead she checked out, went numb, and observed from a safe distance.
“I know everything about you. Don’t you study your enemies? Do you even know what I did for a living before I became the head of my family? I designed security systems. World class ones. The one you use, in fact.”
Oh.
But that was interesting, actually. Something to focus on. Her head cleared a little, and she wondered why he was so angry. Wasn’t he supposed to be the Iceman?
“So yes, you are breached. Your men are down. Your cameras are feeding a prerecorded loop offsite. Your assistant is enthralled and lying for me. No one is going to come to help you.”
Mikhail couldn’t know she was frightened. She couldn’t even come off as surprised. Gathering her self-control she offered him a sickly sweet smile. “I suppose we’ll just have to live happily ever after.”
“Something like that.” His lips retracted over his incisors.
Never in her life had she been prey. She’d been betrayed, beaten, imprisoned and abandoned. Once she was even run over by a truck. But no one had ever sunk so low as to steal her heart’s blood.
“You’re a dead man.”
But he knew he’d won. His eyelids lowered as he scanned her throat. “I’ve been dead for years—and I’m tired of being hungry.”
She pushed against him, muscle and bone screaming under the strain, but he had the advantage of weight and inertia. Burning bile crept up her throat.
Stretching his body over hers, he dragged his hot mouth from her clavicle to her ear. This is really going to happen. Now.
His teeth locked down like a vise, stretching, hurting and finally penetrating her skin. Inside, she screamed. Growling softly, he tugged at her flesh, opening the wound wide before he sucked. Her blood obeyed his call and siphoned out of her body in a dizzying rush.
There was nothing to do except endure. She kept still, every muscle in her body rigid with the effort. As much as she wanted to fight—needed to fight to remain sane—thrashing like prey would only provoke him. He might lose control and drain her dry.
She hoped he could taste how much she hated him.
Over the sound of his sucking, she heard his selfish, satisfied moan. His body grew even heavier, crushing her while he drank like a greedy pig.
She measured time in swallows. On the seventh, he broke the bite, gasping like a diver coming up for air. His pupils had gone huge and unfocused, like he’d just taken a hit of something strong. Yeah, me.
With a huge heave she shoved him off balance. Before she was half up, he was on her again, dragging her back down. They tumbled across the concrete, smashing each other with elbows and fists and knees. Each time she landed a strong blow, she grinned with manic satisfaction. It felt incredibly good to hit him. She broke free and bounded onto her feet, her hands raised in front of her. He faced her squarely, a head taller but not as fast.