He lifted his head and sighed, sounding both sad and threatening. ‘She is not strong enough to Bond with such as you, so I imagined I was mistaken.’ A pinprick of red glowed in his pupils. ‘Only then I found her, and the demon inhabiting her body, trading in her soul.’ Keeping his eyes on mine, he fastened his mouth again over the bite on my hand. ‘
Heat sparked between my legs and I dropped my head to my knees, trying to ignore it, trying not to hear the soft sounds of his feeding. His fingers tangled in my hair and he lifted my unresisting head. ‘And when she plunged her knife towards my heart’—he took my other hand, pressed, it to the pink starburst scar under his ribs—‘I understood.’
Images and words from the night before slipped like a slide-show into my mind. His insistence that I was Rosa, the pleasure of his bite, the terror that he would kill me, my Alter Vamp stabbing him, the memory of him
‘No,’ I whispered, my mouth dry. ‘I have no Master.’
A bleak expression crossed his face. ‘To take you as her Bond, to join with you, is worthy revenge.’ He kissed his lips to mine and I tasted my own honeyed blood. ‘She knew how much I coveted you,’ he murmured, ‘but to allow a demon to use her soul is something I can not allow.’ His mouth brushed against my ear. ‘You shall give her a message from me. It is the only reason I do not kill you.’ His words made me tremble.
I saw myself reflected in his obsidian eyes, but I skated as though on black ice, fearful of what might be hidden in their depths. ‘I. Have. No. Master.’
He smiled. And my fear dissipated as liquid warmth pooled inside me.
Smiling back at him, I touched my fingers to his perfect pretty face.
He sat and stretched his legs out. ‘I carry the True Gift, Genevieve.’ He threw back his head, exposing his neck, and drew his thumbnail down the side of his throat. Thick claret-coloured blood seeped from the slash and my pulse beat eager and fast.
His beautiful face filled with peace as he pressed a fingertip into the wound. The trickle ran faster, to pool in the hollow at his throat. ‘The blood is strong here, nearer the heart.’ He reached out, traced a cool, wet line down my jaw. Tilting my face, I nuzzled into his palm, darting my tongue out to taste. He slid a hand round my neck, his thumb stroking over the pulse thudding in my throat.
‘Come. I freely offer you my blood.’
I rested my hand on his chest. His flesh was cold and still. Unease rippled through me, then it was gone. I leaned over him, inhaled the copper and liquorice and sweet Turkish delight of his blood and underneath, a rich, dark spice that was all him.
Shivers pricked over my skin.
The pressure of his hand on my neck increased, pulling me closer.
I looked up. His eyes were black pools, tiny flames flaring in their pupils. Fear made my mouth dry, tightened my stomach.
Need swept through me and I touched my lips to his blood, its rich tang sparking against my tongue. I covered the slash with my mouth and sucked. The glorious nectar slipped cold down my throat, spreading a dazzling chill that frosted over the jagged edges of my pain and burnt it away.
‘Enough,’ he murmured, hands clasping my head, pushing me away.
Desperate, I sucked harder, teeth biting into his skin, fingers digging into his flesh.
‘Genevieve, it is enough,’ he ordered. ‘You will stop.’
He shuddered beneath me, the sudden beat of his heart thudding against my breast, a promise of more to come. I lifted my head, spilling my magic over and around him. It was too long since I’d taken the pleasure it wanted. He rolled us until he was staring down at me from above, his hands capturing my wrists beneath my back, his fingers pinching into my skin. Lust and magic fizzed in my veins, demand throbbed hot and wet between my legs. Flames burned deep in the black of his eyes and his lips pulled back from needle-sharp fangs. Through the material that separated us, I felt him pressed against me, hard and ready.
‘I am no human or newly Gifted vampire to be caught in your magic, Genevieve.’
‘And I am sidhe, and you can’t hold me with yours, Malik.’ I paused on the edge of the precipice, knowing I wouldn’t stop him, that I didn’t want to, even as a sliver of terror sliced into my gut. Who would be the master, who the slave? Or would we be neither?
He stayed silent, unmoving. What was he waiting for? Then the knowledge slipped into me. He didn’t want to take, he didn’t want passive acceptance, he wanted me to offer.
The feeling was curious, tantalising, seductive.
My pulse jumping under my skin, I arched my back, lifted my chin and gave him my throat. Something flickered in his eyes for an instant, then his expression changed, turning dark, predatory, and somehow more desolate. A tremor shivered through me. His hands closed painfully round my wrists as he bent his head and placed his lips to my pulse. I tensed, anticipating the pain. And the pleasure.
Then, too fast for me to even register, he was gone.
I lay there, limp, gazing up at the amber crystals hanging from my ceiling. Other than my own shuddering breaths, the room was silent.
But I could still hear his voice in my head as he spoke his message for Rosa.
An odd quiver of fear chased the lust and magic from my body.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Daylight woke me as a heat-laden breeze drifted through the window and ruffled the white sheet across my bed. The sky was clear and blue, and I wondered why there were no clouds. There’d been clouds in my dreams: black clouds filled with the echoes of Malik’s words. Clouds that flowed down my throat and froze me into a solid block of ice that slowly melted, leaving me drowning in a sea of blood. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and sat up, pressing a hand to my stomach to try and dispel the fear twisting there.
Just dreams, that’s all. Nothing more. Just my subconscious processing what had happened.
My bronze jacket, black skirt and even my torn briefs were neatly folded on the chair. I frowned at the small pile. Beneath the chair, my shoes sat side by side, clean. Malik had folded my clothes and polished my shoes. Something about that didn’t fit. I opened the wardrobe to put them away and caught my reflection in the mirror. For a moment I stared.
The honey colour of my skin glowed with a warm sheen, my eyes sparkled like polished amber, and my flesh had smoothed out over the angles of my bones. I looked so good I could sell vitamins, never mind that I was healed. If that’s what drinking a vampire’s blood could do, no wonder they were subtly billing themselves as the new elixir of life and beauty. The only thing marring my new healthy perfection was my breasts. They felt fuller, perkier—but that wasn’t the problem. The revenants had made a meal of me, and the evidence was still there.
I touched a fingertip to one fang mark, just above my right nipple. Why hadn’t they disappeared along with the rest of my injuries? Then I checked out my left arm. Sweat broke out on my skin. The bruises Malik had marked me with still encircled my wrist, faint but definitely there. A wave of dizziness made me sway. The mound at the base of my thumb was smooth and bite-free. My stomach clenched with nausea and I sprinted for the bathroom and retched into the toilet.
What was the message Malik had given me for Rosa? He’d spoken in a foreign language and I didn’t speak anything other than English. But I didn’t need to get it translated: I’d understood him, and I didn’t even want to think how that could happen.
I heaved again, but there was nothing left inside me.
Jerking the shower on, I turned the heat up high and stood under the burning stream. I braced my hands
