The fingers tracing the fine hair at the back of my neck caressed my skin like a lover’s. “Don’t fight me. Don’t be afraid. I give you my word—you won’t remember a thing about this once I’m gone.”
I stared at him.
You won’t remember a thing.
No. I refused. I might not have control of my body, but I would not relinquish my mind. I still couldn’t speak to tell him so. What the hell was happening to me?
He slipped around my body like a shadow, keeping a careful inch of space between us. The only point of contact was his hand, the touch sparking heat down my nerve endings despite the cool temperature of his skin. His fingers entwined in the tight, dark spirals of my hair, using the grip to ease my head to the side. My scalp tingled in response to the gentle tug.
Lips closed on the column of my throat from behind. Teeth nipped, searching for the tenderest, most vulnerable skin. A small noise escaped the blockage of my vocal cords. It was the kind of noise shared by both lovers and trapped prey, and not one I could ever remember making before.
Twin points of sharp pain pierced the side of my throat, replaced by drugged heat even before my gasp could wrench free from my lungs. The gasp turned to a moan. I would have swayed, but a second hand steadied me in place. A deep, drawing sensation seemed to pull straight from my neck to a place low in my belly that was growing heavy with liquid warmth.
Stop, I tried to tell my body. You shouldn’t be enjoying this—what the hell is wrong with you?
What’s wrong with you? It was a question I’d heard far too often, and not one that had ever received a satisfactory answer. Right now, I was undeniably getting off on what could only be considered an assault, sliding into a state of blissful lightheadedness reminiscent of a post-orgasmic haze.
A complete stranger had latched his teeth onto my neck and was drinking my blood. I knew what the tableau we made must look like, and I knew how impossible it was for it to actually be what it appeared to be. I also didn’t care.
I didn’t care that vampires apparently existed. I didn’t care that this guy could easily kill me. I didn’t care that I was moaning shamelessly, letting a complete stranger take more and more of my weight as I succumbed to the swirling pleasure of relaxation and acceptance.
I still cared a tiny bit that I was supposed to forget about all of this once the stranger left.
Not happening, I reminded myself firmly.
Vertigo had already started to overcome me when I felt the points penetrating my neck slide free—an unpleasant sensation amongst all the languorous warmth. Lips and tongue soothed the raw wounds, the feeling growing distant as insistent dizziness took up more of my attention.
“Easy, now,” said a low voice. Hands guided me down to a flat surface, though the new position did nothing to ease the spinning sensation. “I’m truly sorry for the intrusion. Just have yourself a nice little kip, and forget I was ever here.”
I was vaguely aware of the brush of fingers pushing my wild curls back from my face.
“No,” I rasped, even as the darkness of sleep—or perhaps unconsciousness—beckoned. I was distantly aware of the sound of the patio door sliding open and shut.
No. I won’t forget.
TWO
“MISS? MISS. CAN YOU open your eyes for me?”
My eyes fluttered open to find two cops crouching over me—a man and a woman. Huh? I let my head flop first to one side, then the other, trying to orient myself. I was... lying on the floor, in what would be my dining room if I actually owned a dining table.
Why was I lying on the floor?
I’d been having some kind of crazy dream—
“Miss?” It was the female cop, an edge of worry coloring her tone.
“Yeah, I’m...” I began, only to trail off in search of the right word. Okay didn’t really seem to cover it, somehow. “... awake,” I finished lamely.
“Are you Zorah Bright?” the woman asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“Do you remember what happened?” asked the male cop. “You called nine-one-one.”
I blinked, puzzle pieces starting to reassemble inside my scrambled brain. Then I sat up abruptly, every muscle in my body protesting the movement. My head swam, and the female cop shot a hand out to steady my shoulder.
The man. In my shed. He hadn’t been dead. He’d broken the door and—
My hand flew to the side of my neck. It was smooth. Unblemished. I rubbed at the skin, not understanding.
“Take it easy, Ms. Bright,” said the male cop. “We knocked on the front door but there was no answer. So we did a visual inspection through the windows, and saw you collapsed in front of the patio door. It was unlocked.”
Sirens approached from the road out front.
“That’ll be the ambulance,” said the woman. “Go get the EMTs in here for her.”
“No!” I said quickly, my thoughts whirling. I couldn’t afford an ambulance ride, much less an ER visit. And if I tried to tell anyone what happened, I’d be lucky not to end up in a straightjacket. Did they still use straightjackets these days?
I shook my head, intending to clear it. Instead, it felt like my brain had melted and was sloshing around inside my skull.
“No,” I said more calmly. “I don’t need the EMTs.”
In fact, there was every chance that I did need the EMTs, but I couldn’t go down that path right now.
“You collapsed,” the female cop said gently.
I thought fast. “No, I... think I just fainted. It happens sometimes. Low blood pressure.” I swallowed, my dry throat rasping. “I just need to, uh, sit quietly for a minute.”
The male cop
