by Ann Lory
Damian’s attention returned to the present.
That, then, was the reason she had fought so hard against D’Angel and her spawn ‑‑ against him ‑‑ and why he could not end her life. No doubt he was making a mistake, but something within him couldn’t bring himself to finish her. He was tired of the vicious cycle D’Angel perpetrated, destroying lives while he protected hers, tired of her endless games.
Damn all of them ‑‑ and him ‑‑ to hell!
Alyssa’s body was limp against his, her head lolling against his arm. He was astounded at the spark of terror that gripped his heart. So long it had been since he’d felt anything, since he’d allowed himself to care for anyone, let alone himself. He listened closely and finally heard her heartbeat, a slow, but relatively steady, rhythm. He let out a heavy sigh; though he had stopped drawing her blood before the point of no return, he had still taken too much.
Her eyes opened dazedly then, and despite the confusion in her gaze, the shimmering emerald orbs beguiled him.
Without a thought to the consequences, Damian tore open his shirt, baring his chest, and ran a nail over his right pectoral. Threads of blood began to flow down his skin. Lifting her, he caught her gaze while she tried weakly to fight him.
“Drink, little one. I command you.”
Lightning jolted through his body when her lips brushed his flesh, as her arms ceased pushing feebly against him, came up and clasped his waist instead. His head arched back and his eyelids slid shut at the desire that coursed through him, raising an inferno within him. Her tongue stroked his skin as her mouth sipped at his dark offering. One of Damian’s hands clenched her hair as he opened his eyes and focused on the sight of her drinking from him.
She was the most beautiful creature he had ever encountered, and his body reacted. He had felt no desire or lust for long years, but now…now, he wanted to possess this woman, this hunter. He groaned as she finished taking her fill of his blood, and her tongue flicked along his nipple. Scorching need rushed through him, and his cock hardened and pressed against her curves as he held her.
Sirens shrilled ever closer and the screech of tires ended somewhere in front of the club. Damian pulled Alyssa away. Footsteps pounded the pavement and the sounds of commands filled the air.
Damian cradled Alyssa as he retrieved his coat, using it to pick up the silver stake and replace it in her backpack. Then he carried her and her belongings away into the night.
Always, he had walked the border between good and evil, wanting to do the right thing, but not always succeeding. His friend Jacques had repeatedly warned Damian to watch his step before he was irretrievably lost to the darkness; he would have to be cautious where Alyssa was concerned. She needed protection from those that hunted her ‑‑ and from herself. She could not be allowed to continue to hunt D’Angel’s younglings.
Guilt washed over him. She was a delicate thing, but she was a fighter. Damian didn’t know how he’d do it, but he would help and watch over her.
Blocking their presence and using his preternatural speed to move swiftly through the neighborhoods and to get to his home outside of the city, Damian knew he would be but a blur or a whisper of wind to anyone that might happen upon them. As he left the city behind them, his thoughts churned. He was already treading dangerously on the border of complete darkness. Could he save Alyssa and himself? Alyssa had caused him to feel more emotions than he had had in centuries.
Reaching one of his many homes at last, this one on a large rise near the beach so he could watch the sea, he entered and made his way down a hidden set of stairs. The doors of his chambers opened as he approached with his new houseguest. Damian moved directly to his bed and laid her on the sheets, covering her with the comforter folded at its foot.
Alyssa Quinlan was his now; he’d claimed her with his blood. Although it would take time, she would surrender to him, and when she did, he would reap the pleasure that fate had finally given him.
Chapter Two
Alyssa groaned. She slowly opened her eyes. Where am I? she wondered, looking around the dimly lit room. She lay on a bed with a dark comforter and dark sheets. A nightstand sat on either side of the bed, with a gray lamp atop each shiny marble surface. The bed itself was soft with a gray metal footboard and headboard, the frames encasing a spiraling design of rods, which gave the room an almost gothic feel. There was a dresser made of dark wood to her right, as well as an open walk-in closet filled with a vast array of clothes. The walls were a deep gray, dark and rich, with silverish trim.
A door on the other side of the room opened; she lost her breath as the vampire she’d fought ‑‑ Damian; she recalled he’d told her his name was Damian ‑‑ stepped into the room, wearing only a pair of snug black boxers. There was no denying the attractive picture he made. He was all whipcord muscle; his stomach was rock solid, and his arms and chest rippled in all the right places. The only flaw marring him was the long, red welt along his shoulder ‑‑ a souvenir from the slash of her silver stake.
He walked closer, looking at her as if he might devour her. She swallowed her fear and was about to roll from the bed when she realized she was chained to the headboard. She jerked at the metal links in a panicked frenzy, never taking her gaze from him.
He leaned over her and she stiffened. “Don’t touch me, vampire.”
His black eyes were cold. “I will not harm you.” The words were simple, but she didn’t believe him.
“Release me.”
“No.”
“No? No!” Her voice rose along with her terror and temper. “Where have you brought me?”
Straightening, he walked to the other side of the bed, as if everything was as it should be. “You are in my home and chained for your protection ‑‑” he looked down at the wound on his shoulder, then back at her. “-- And mine.”
“Why did you bring me here?”
He came down on the bed beside her, and she sucked in a breath, arching away from him, her hands pulling tight above her head.
“To help you.”
Alyssa was surprised by his response. “To help me?”
Nodding, he tenderly touched her forehead and brushed his fingers through her hair. He looked mesmerized. He studied her hair like he was memorizing the feel. She didn’t like it. He was too close, touching her, causing feelings to stir low in her belly.
She hissed at him and his gaze returned to hers. She shivered at the contrast between his light touch and the lack of warmth in that stare.
“Yes, Alyssa, to help you.”
“I don’t need the help of vampire scum.”
Damian growled, his lips curling into a snarl. He roughly grabbed her chin, and she couldn’t help the tiny whimper that escaped her. “But you have it just the same,” he murmured.
She tried to control her trembling, but her body wouldn’t cooperate. When he released her, she fell back against the pillows, but continued to watch him warily. “You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?” Her voice was barely a whisper, but she knew that he’d hear her with his preternatural hearing.
He brought his hand up once more when she refused to meet his eyes, steeling herself for his hurtful grip. But he was gentle, his voice soft. “No, little one. I’ve already said I won’t harm you.”
Then, to her amazement, she watched as he gradually became lethargic, his eyelids heavy and his movements slow. Somehow, his body appeared to know the sun was rising. Where had the night gone?
He lay down beside her and brought the comforter up over both their bodies. Panic rose like a tidal wave once more, and she fought to push it down. She had to think clearly, but then, being chained next to a corpse for the day was not conducive to calm.
She twisted, straining against the chains that kept her bound beside this monster.
Yes, little one, I am a monster.
Alyssa jerked. Her gaze moved over his motionless figure.
“Did you say something?”
Yes.
Like black vel
vet, his voice stirred in her mind. She gasped and tried to sit up but was jerked back to the bed by the chains. “Y-you can speak to me in my head?”
A hint of a smile fluttered across his features. It is a bond we share.
Aghast, Alyssa lay still as death as she stared blindly at Damian, her heart racing madly. Peripherally, she was aware of the candles burning in the room. She had to escape, had to find a way to free herself.
Sleep, or I will be forced to make you.
She stiffened at the idea of him controlling her. “No, don’t use your mind tricks. I’ll sleep.”
Alyssa willed herself to calm and waited for the time he’d be in deep in slumber. Once the sun rose completely, the vampires were weak, she knew; then she could make a break for it, after she freed herself from the blasted chains.
And yet, left with nothing to do for the moment, she was appalled to find herself admiring the way his black hair framed his face. His heavily fringed eyelashes lay stark against his pale features, and his mouth was full and inviting. Her own mouth went dry at the thought of those lips kissing hers.
Shaking her head from such thoughts, Alyssa glared at the corpse before carefully beginning to pull against the chains that held her. She bit her lower lip to avoid any involuntary cries as the metal cuffs cut into her flesh. Blood began to bead and form along the shackles. She chanced a quick glance at Damian now and then, ensuring he was still asleep. Thankfully, he hadn’t budged.
Returning to her task, her flesh continued to tear as she strained her wrists this way and that. She ignored the wetness seeping from her eyes and the line of blood that trailed down her arms and began to drip on the pillow beneath her. She yanked and twisted her wrists to slicken the cuffs even more, hopefully enough so she could slip free.
She never felt him move, never noticed he was watching her until her gaze inadvertently clashed with his furious one. His black eyes burned like freezing ice as he leaned up on one elbow over her, clearly fully awake.
He looked at the shackles and they fell away, freeing her. Stunned for only an instant, she quickly recovered and reacted, jumping from the bed. Unfortunately, his arm whipped around her waist and dragged her back to the mattress. He covered her with his body.
She bucked underneath him, but she was no match for his strength, even though it was day. She could barely fathom how it was possible that he was still so powerful.
He grabbed her wrists and brought the bleeding wounds toward his lips. Her eyes grew wide, and she struggled to pull free, but his grip was sure and cruel. She cried out as he squeezed her wrists painfully, forcing her to stop moving. Alyssa could only watch, terrified, as his tongue trailed a burning path from her elbow to her battered wrists.
Alyssa desperately wanted to be disgusted, but her body again betrayed her at the feel of his hard length pressing her to the bed and the caress of his lips savoring her blood. His tongue swept across the cuts, and she suppressed a moan at the erotic waves shooting through her. She wanted him to touch the rest of her body with his sensuous lips, to feel the roughness of his tongue stroke elsewhere along her flesh and fulfill the promises in the depths of his eyes as they gleamed at her while he drank.
Her eyes shone with the tears she’d shed during her attempts to free herself, and he felt a tug at his heart. He could feel her fighting her emotions, the sensations that were swirling in her body matching his own. He pushed himself into her mind, immersing himself in the wonder of her newfound passions.
Alyssa could deny it all she wanted, but she desired him as she never had anyone before. So bent on her vengeance in the years since her family’s death, she hadn’t allowed herself to crave another ‑‑ just as he hadn’t in centuries. He gave himself a brief moment of amusement at the irony ‑‑ and yet, here they both lay, both breathing heavily and on fire for the other, neither of them ready to admit their longing.
She tried to turn away, but he gripped her chin. Her eyes closed, and he smiled.
Foolish girl! You think that will stop my will? Look at me.
She attempted to shake her head vigorously, but his hand held her immobile.
Open your eyes, little one.
He lowered his voice, compelling her to do his bidding, and although she tried to fight the compulsion, it was futile. Her lids lifted; she gazed into his eyes.
Her vivid and defiant emerald stare shot right to his heart, one he had come to believe he didn’t possess anymore…until he’d met her.
Her will still warred with his, but he grinned down at her with what he knew was a purely masculine and possessive smile. “Sleep, little one. Sleep.”
Alyssa resisted the persuasive lure of his voice, but, inevitably, she succumbed and slumber claimed her.
He pulled her into his embrace as he lay down, marveling at the feel of her lovely curves pressed along his hard length. Just before Damian allowed himself to rest, he let the scent of her surround him and her warmth to permeate his body.
He realized he felt some semblance of peace for the first time in centuries.
Chapter Three
He didn’t want to wake her. Not yet, knowing the moment he did, he’d be looking into eyes filled with hatred. Her dark hair held a glossy sheen, and her elegant features were still, perfect. He wanted to keep the image of her calm and beautiful for as long as possible.
Damian let one of his hands trail down her shoulder and over her rib cage, coming to rest on her hip. It seemed a natural thing to do, although he couldn’t recall the last time he’d done this to a woman, or, indeed, if he ever had. He traced a finger along her jaw line.
Is she dead?
The feminine voice came without warning. Damian lay motionless in the bed, his thoughts guarded.
It has been taken care of.
She’s dead, then.
Infuriated, Damian sent his anger roiling at D’Angel. I told you, it’s been taken care of. She’ll no longer hunt you, and that’s all you need to know.
He could feel puzzlement, then her rage, before the emotions quickly subsided. Damian wasn’t fooled. He could feel the calculating predator within her, her attempts to probe his mind.
What is she to you, Damian?
Damian didn’t have an answer. Nor did he know why he was so bent on helping Alyssa. Leave it be, D’Angel. I don’t question you, and you have no need to understand my methods.
Would you let her harm me? Her voice was coy, sweet; he could see her face clearly, preening at him.
No.
Very well, so long as you have a handle on her.
I do.
Just as quickly as she had appeared, she was gone. Damian sighed. He knew it wasn’t the last he’d heard from her, not by a long shot. D’Angel, the one who’d made him, was biding her time to express her anger.
He closed his eyes at the fresh wave of pain that enveloped him at the thought of her; she was a constant sorrow buried deep within. Within what? Damian thought. My heart? My soul? Neither exists. Still… His hand touched his chest in wonder.
Focusing his attention on the one who had suddenly created all these problems, he spoke. “Alyssa.”
A dark angel held her in his arms, his black eyes burning into her, scorching every fiber of her being. One hand lay gently on her hip, while the other caressed her cheek. Sighing, she nuzzled in closer to this dream man, glorying in the heat that seeped into her core as his solid body pressed so intimately against hers. His scent flooded her senses. She never wanted to wake.
The sound of her name whispered against her ear brought a rush of desire surging through her ‑‑ and with it, the sense of reality. Alyssa abruptly tensed, her eyelids snapping wide. She looked up at the man cradling her protectively against him.
He smiled at her, but the expression didn’t reach his eyes. “Good evening.” His low voice glided over her skin, raising goose bumps. He must have mistaken her shiver for fear. “Cease your worries, Alyssa.”
“How can you say that when you tried to kill me, when you to
ok my blood not once, but twice?” She held her wrists up for his inspection.
“Well, in all fairness, you did try to kill me, too.”
When it was put that way, it did seem tit for tat, but he was a vampire, undead. He didn’t deserve to live. On the tail of that thought, she heard a hiss of breath and knew that somehow he had heard her.
He glared at her, eyes suddenly blazing, then left the bed and jerked her to her feet. Her head wobbled and her hair fell wildly around her face. “You live only because I allow it. I permitted you to get in a few strikes last night, but I am faster, stronger, more powerful than you could possibly imagine. You believe I am a monster, a beast from the depths of your nightmares.” His voice remained at the even level of softly spoken menace, and his fangs lengthened. “Remember that, and try not to push me too far.”
Alyssa didn’t move a muscle. Fear beat at her; she knew what he said was true. She did live only by his grace, such as it was.
“Go and bathe. I’ll wait upstairs. Do whatever you want in the house, you’ll be safe here, but don’t try to leave. I’ll know your every movement; if you attempt to escape, I’ll hunt you down. I promise you won’t like what you’ll pay for your defiance.”
He released her; only then, as she fell to the floor in a crumpled heap, did she realize she’d not been standing on her own. Alyssa watched him leave the room without a backward look. Scrambling to her feet, she glared at open doorway, wishing a more final death on him.
What was he thinking to keep her here? What were his plans?
Snorting in disgust, Alyssa pushed aside her questions and uncertainty about what fate would next deal her and walked across the room to what appeared to be a bathroom. The chamber was another large one, with dark gray marble floors and an inviting hot tub to her right.
She touched the arched chrome of the hot tub’s faucet, but decided against using it; she didn’t want to get too comfortable, after all. Passing by the double sinks and bright florescent lights shining over the dark marble counter, she pulled her hair back and examined herself in the mirror.