“And you believe him?”
“No.” I laughed, pulling his head down to capture his soft lips in a quick kiss that lasted a bit longer than I initially intended. Michael’s arms tightened, pressing me against his strong body. His skin was warm and his heart pounded against my breast, proclaiming his life and strength to my own cold form. I started to break off the kiss, telling myself that I had too many things to take care of, when Michael deepened it, running the tip of his tongue along the seam of my lips. My own body instantly responded, my mouth opening so his tongue could dart in, tasting me.
French kissing a vampire was an art form that Michael had mastered during our years together. He could kiss me without pricking his tongue on my fangs, but there was never anything hesitant or careful about it. He explored my mouth, opening up senses and feelings within me I hadn’t realized were laying dormant, waiting for him and his touch. In his hands, I felt almost human again.
I moaned softly against his mouth, my fingers threading through his hair. With a little pressure he guided me backward until I felt something pressing against the back of my knees. Running his hands up and down my back, he slowly pulled his mouth away and smiled down at me, his eyes sparkling with some kind of mischief. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask what he was thinking when he gave my left shoulder a little shove, pushing me onto the bed.
“Make time stand still, Mira,” he murmured in a low, husky voice that sent a shimmer of warmth over my body. “Give us tonight.”
Parting my knees so he was standing between my leather-clad legs, I sat up and grabbed a fistful of his shirt. As I lay back down, Michael crawled onto the bed, placing his elbows on either side of my head as he leaned down and reclaimed my lips. My eyes fell shut as he wrung another moan out of me, my body instinctively arching against his. I wanted to feel all of him. I needed to feel all of his soft, warm skin pressed against the length of my body, but I would follow his lead. Michael was in control and I was enjoying every second of this escape while I could.
Moving his lips along my jaw, Michael shifted his weight onto his left arm, allowing him to slip his right hand between our bodies. His nimble fingers slid over my ribs and up to cup my breast, his thumb rubbing over my nipple through the rough lace of the bra.
“Have you missed me?” he asked in a harsh, breathless whisper, running his lips over mine.
“Very much.” My hands fumbled for a moment, searching for the edge of his shirt. I finally found it, allowing me to run my hands up his back. His muscles flexed and danced beneath my fingers. He kissed me again as his fingers pulled down the bra, freeing my breast for his teasing fingers.
“Not nearly enough, I think.” Changing directions, he ran the tip of his tongue along my flat stomach from my belly button, up along my ribs, skirting along the edge of the red scar left from last night’s wound before finally settling on my bare breast. His tongue swirled around my hardened nipple, his teeth grazing it.
My eyes fell shut again. My fingers dug into his blond locks, twisting to get a better hold. I arched against him, my heels digging into the edge of the bed. I needed to be closer, to become a part of him.
“You’re driving me mad.”
Michael chuckled, his hot breath dancing across my damp flesh from where his mouth had been just moments before. “That’s the point.” My angel moved back up to my lips, kissing me deeply.
Wrapping his arms around my waist, he rolled over onto his back, pulling me on top of him. “Bite me, Mira,” he said, moving his lips to kiss down my jaw to my neck.
“Not tonight, my angel,” I said, lifting my face so I could kiss his lips again, but he kept his head turned so his neck was before me. The main artery throbbed at me, beckoning. The darkness stirred inside me, but I struggled to push it back down again. I was still half starved, needed to gorge myself on blood not only to heal but to regain my full strength. But I wouldn’t feed off Michael. I had taken too much of his blood too often. His warmth and laughter kept any lingering pangs of hunger at bay.
“Please, Mira. Bite me. I need this.” His words escaped him with a harsh, desperate quality that sent a chill through me.
I sat up so I could look down at him, my desire suddenly cooling. “Please, don’t push me, my angel,” I said wearily. “I need you strong.”
“I can handle it.” His right hand cupped my cheek. He tried to pull me back down but I wouldn’t budge.
“No. You should go back downstairs.” I moved so I was now sitting beside him, my hip pressed against his.
“Please, Mira,” he said, his voice wavering. Something in his tone finally caught my attention and I stared into his eyes. They looked a little glassy, as if he was sick. Frowning, I pushed into his thoughts. Jumbled and fragmented, it took me a couple seconds to make sense out of them, but there was one repeating one; the need for the pleasure my bite brought him.
I pulled loose of the tangle of thoughts in his brain and smacked him hard enough to snap his head sideways. “Enough!” I was more frustrated with myself for letting this happen than at him. Michael had become addicted and come begging to me for his next fix. His interest in sex had nothing to do with me and everything to do with my feeding off of him.
He looked at me like a wounded puppy and I bit back a groan. “I need you to be focused. I can’t get Sadira out of here safely without you,” I continued in a soft but firm voice, resisting the urge to cup his cheeks with my hands. Pushing off the bed, I got to my feet and paced away from the bed, readjusting my bra so my breasts were covered again. A horrible, hollow ache throbbed in my chest. I had fooled myself into thinking that I’d held his interest.
When I turned back, Michael was standing beside the bed, straightening his clothes. His eyes still looked hurt, but he had pulled himself back together. At least for now. Maybe he wasn’t too far gone yet. It didn’t matter. I was done with him. When we reached the Coven meeting place, I was putting Michael and Gabriel on the next plane home. They would be of no real help after that, and keeping them at my side would only put them in unnecessary danger. I wouldn’t ruin what was left of Michael’s life.
“Go downstairs. I’ll be down in a minute,” I directed, forcing the words up my raw throat. Michael nodded again and left the room. I sat on the end of the bed and followed him with my mind. He did as he was told and went directly to the room that held Sadira and the others.
Putting my elbows on my knees, I leaned forward and rested my forehead in the palms of my hands. I was destroying Michael by being in his life. Why had Gabriel’s mind come through this so unscathed? He was always a solid rock at my back. I had fed from him in the past and yet his mind suffered none of the damage I apparently had wrought with Michael.
But there was no answer. Michael was crumbling before me and it was my fault. I’d thought I was someone important in his life. I would never be so foolish as to describe the emotion as love, but at least some emotion that would be used to describe a person. But to him, I was just the source of intense pleasure, like a drug.
Being addicted to the bite of a nightwalker was a common enough occurrence, but it was also easy to avoid. If you never fed from the same person more than once, or if you did and always wiped his memory, the problem was avoided. But eventually we all ended up with a human companion that we drifted back to for a long span of nights in the name of pleasure and companionship. In time we drained them. We drained them of more than just their blood, but their willpower, their dignity, and their lives.
My thoughts were scattered again when someone knocked on the door. I looked up at the mirror over the bureau to find my face blissfully blank. It was nice to look so unaffected when I felt like screaming.