Silver Dagger

by T. L. Sinclare

  "Have you ever had your house searched, Madeleine?" He asked the question casually as his seductive fingers continued their fluttering exploration of her throat. She gave a quick shake of her head. "It's very intrusive," he whispered. He bent his head to her neck and placed a gentle, lingering kiss on the pulse, now beating out of control. "I can't let you tell anyone else, Maddie."

  Tears pooled behind her lashes. One escaped over the edge and trickled down her cheek.

  "I won't tell anyone," she promised, her voice a strained whisper.

  "I know."

  His words wrapped around her heart like a fist. He was going to kill her. Is this what had happened to Danielle? Had she stumbled into this bunch of crazies and been killed because of it?

  Reacting, with only a flash of thought before she moved, Madeleine lifted her hands and shoved with all her strength against Stephen's chest. Simultaneously, she sent her knee in the general direction of his groin. She connected with solid flesh, and Stephen grunted in response.

  His hands fell away. Madeleine lunged for the door.

  Her hand reached the knob as his landed on her shoulder.

  Madeleine yelped at the painful grip. She struggled but couldn't break his hold. With seemingly no effort, he spun her around and pressed her back against the door. He stepped in front of her, once again caging her body with his own. His hand returned to the base of her throat but with none of the tenderness of the previous caresses.

  Her heart pounded. From rage and fear. Grinding her teeth together, she lifted her eyes to his. She forced herself not to flinch at the fury in his gaze.

  "Don't mess with me, Maddie," he growled, his words thick around his tongue. His fingers tightened for a moment.

  Then the hand that held her throat relaxed. Madeleine sighed with relief. A clean breath of oxygen did little to calm her pounding heart. She turned her head and stared at the tiny room behind him, her entire body vibrating with fear and rage. She tensed, waiting for the blow that would end her life.

  But capitulation wasn't in her nature. Even as she prepared for the end, she fought against it. She tried to think of a plan, some way to escape, but her mind refused to cooperate. Panic and something else—something strange and lingering in the pit of her stomach—blocked her mind from thinking beyond the fear. And the knowledge of his touch.

  Stephen's fingers caressed her skin as if apologizing for the bruises they'd caused. The tension in her shoulders began to ease. She rested against the door behind her.

  No, this isn't right. Fight him, her mind commanded.

  He cupped her jaw in his hand. There was a gentle pressure, telling her silently he wanted her to look at him. She resisted and kept her eyes averted. The memory of her dream and the dark, dangerous power of his gaze flashed through her mind.

  He slowly bent his head and placed a light kiss on the column of her throat. A shudder ran through her body, a shudder that had nothing to do with fear. Of course he'd go for the neck, she thought with a silent, delirious giggle. He opened his mouth against her skin, warm and damp. He tasted her as he moved up the length of her throat. The movement was slow and seductive. Madeleine pressed her lips together. The deep, physical portion of her thoughts swelled, quieting the fear.

  Very good, Maddie.

  She shook her head to clear it. The strange fog that had been subduing her mind eased.

  Stephen straightened. "Don't fight it." His lips brushed against her ear. He placed his hands on the door behind her, trapping her, caging her.

  "Look at me, Maddie." It was just like her dream. Over and over, night after night, she'd been wrapped in Stephen's arms. Night after night he'd commanded that she look at him. And night after night, she'd obeyed. Unable to resist, and knowing it would lead to her doom, she responded as she'd done in dreams every night since she'd met him.

  She raised her eyes to his.

  His pupils were contracted until only a pinprick of black was centered in the midnight blue. Her heart pounded and her breath came in struggling, intermittent gasps.

  "Relax." His voice filled her ears. "Just relax. This won't hurt. That's it. Relax. Breathe deep…"

  The litany of words continued, drawing Madeleine away from her fear and deeper into his eyes. The world around her faded until she was boxed in by deep sapphire-blue crystal walls. The walls surrounded them—she and Stephen, alone. Her body began to listen to his quiet commands and ease. This was where she should be. With Stephen.

  Warnings rushed through her mind. Something was wrong. She should be able to fight. She should want to fight.

  The glitter of his eyes and the steady drone of his voice kept her captive, clouding her understanding until she saw his lips move, but no recognizable words came from them. Her eyelids drooped to half-mast, blurring her vision. Sounds that didn't seem to come from his lips swirled and resonated in her head. Words circled, commanding her submission. Her fear faded.

  Resting against the door, Madeleine tilted her head to one side as his sweet, seductive lips lightly brushed her forehead. Words of praise and encouragement flowed through her mind. She turned her head and placed a light kiss on his palm as it cupped her cheek.

  That's it, love. He kissed her eyelids closed. Even behind her closed eyelids she saw the deep blue. The color seemed to move through her body, a warm internal caress that sent heat to her center. So beautiful. He teased the lobe of her ear with his teeth. Her mouth opened, aching for his possession.

  "Please," she whispered, surprised at her ability to speak. She knew she shouldn't want him, but she did, and all the erotic fantasies locked in her mind since she'd met Stephen were freed. She couldn't control them. Each image more tempting than the last. Warm, naked bodies wrapped around each other. Hot, open-mouthed kisses. His strength around her, inside her, hard and deep.

  The first soft touch of his lips tantalized her. She'd spent the week trying to avoid thoughts of Stephen's kisses. Now his mouth was all there was. His mouth gently melded to hers, soothing and tempting her. Slowly, ever so slowly, he licked the crease of her lips, seeking entrance into the warm depth of her mouth.

  Open for me, love.

  It registered that he couldn't have spoken those words aloud. The concern drifted away as his lips pressed deeper into hers. She opened her mouth, wanting his taste. Stephen teased the inside of her mouth, not demanding or taking, but asking for a deeper caress. The silent request was too much for her to resist.

  She tried to recall her own warnings, but the thought disappeared before it was fully formed, leaving only Stephen and the sensual, seductive web woven around her. Her only craving was for more. More of him. Her body begged for it. The soft silk of his hair brushed the back of her hand as she placed her arms around his neck. The strange compulsion was gone. She no longer saw the glowing blue walls. The cracked paint of her apartment was again visible. Instinctively, she knew she could escape—could break free of his touch—but oh, she didn't want to. She wanted to sink deeper into the fantasy.

  His mouth touched hers but it wasn't enough, wasn't deep enough. She needed him to fill her. He rubbed one hand down her back, pulling her closer, pressing her against the hard line of his body.

  A delicious ache started at the apex of her thighs and inspired tiny fires in all corners of her body. A picture of Stephen easing her need, sliding into her body, filled her mind. She wanted him.

  She groaned softly as his thigh slid between her legs as if it were the most natural place for him to be. Yes. This was what she wanted. She arched her hips against the subtle pressure and was rewarded with more mental praises and a groan of pure pleasure from Stephen.

  Feel me. Tell me what you want.

  She pulled her lips from his and drew an unsteady breath.

  "More," she whispered.

  Yes.

  His mouth returned to hers as if he couldn't bear to be away from her taste. The warm, teasing kisses disappeared in a rush of heat and light. She immediately welcomed his tongue inside, sucking
lightly on it, seduced by the hot male flavor of him. She rocked her hips against his muscular thigh. The fiery coil that was forming deep in her center tightened, and she couldn't stop the groan that escaped her throat.

  She took control of the kiss. She slid her fingers into his hair and held him captive for her pleasure. His moan vibrated through her body, and she felt a spike of triumph. One hand slid down her back, pressing her against his leg, setting a rhythm that spread tension through her body.

  She cried out as he pulled his mouth from hers. He planted sharp kisses along her jaw. His hand rested against her cheek. She turned and scraped her teeth along his palm, needing some way to convey the violent ache centered between her thighs. The hardened tips of her breasts brushed against his chest with the rapid rise and fall of her tormented breath.

  She couldn't be passive; the need was too great. She leaned forward and placed a hot, open-mouthed kiss at the base of his neck. He straightened as if electricity had shot through him. He pulled her mouth away.

  "Too much," he muttered.

  She shook her head. "More."

  He kissed her again, a little harsher, a little deeper, a little less controlled. Satisfaction shimmered through her. She dropped her head back against the door, surrendering to the pleasure of his lips high on her neck. Any remaining caution evaporated.

  The violent rhythm of her heart pounded in her throat and was echoed in the unsteady beat between her thighs. She arched her neck, offering herself up for more.

  "Please," she whispered, her body consumed with need, not knowing what she was begging for.

  Yes.

  He opened his mouth against her neck. A brief stab of pain was lost in the flow of pleasure that washed over Madeleine. He sucked the soft skin of her neck, seeming to draw her life into his body. Her world became concentrated, centered on two points—the draw of his mouth on her throat and the steady press of his thigh between her legs. She clutched Stephen's arms, begging him silently to end the torrent of pleasure. It was too much and not nearly enough.

  She moaned. Her body battled on one front to hold the pleasure and, on another, to end it, seeking a final completion she knew was just beyond her.

  The ache in the center of her body grew. Madeleine swirled her hips hard against his thigh.

  He jerked his mouth away from her neck. She cried out at the violent loss.

  "No!" It was a plea and a command. He couldn't stop. She needed him. Without thinking, responding only to her body's desires, she pulled his mouth back to her throat. She was so close. The need for release surged through her body, obliterating all thought. His mouth on her neck and the hot pressure between her legs would satisfy her. She needed him.

  He hesitated. Interminable seconds passed. She hung in anticipation.

  "Please."

  With a harsh moan, he placed his mouth on her skin and began to suck. Madeleine gasped. His hands cupped her bottom, urging her hips in a fast, delicious rhythm that matched the pull of his lips. This was what she needed. Her fingers dug into his shoulders—holding him as the one solid object in her glittering world of pleasure. The fire that had been building inside her exploded, spinning wildly, until it shattered, sending jolts of pleasure to the far reaches of her body.

  Warmth spread through her limbs. Her only strength was the power to cling to his shoulders. The haze over her mind thickened. She vaguely acknowledged that he'd stopped the seductive caresses to her throat, her need no longer desperate. His voice, filled with disjointed sounds, circled through her head. Scattered words reached her. None made sense.

  "…belong to me…your secret…knowledge is yours alone…mine…"

  Her lips curled into a satisfied smile. She opened her dazed eyes and looked at him. A trickle of blood dribbled down the side of his mouth.

  Darkness covered her as she sank to the floor.

  ***

  Stephen thrust all ten fingers through his hair, forcing it away from his face and holding it there for one brief moment. He jerked his hands down and continued pacing. He stopped at the end of the couch and looked down at Madeline. Her lithe body lay draped across the tattered cushions. The pounding of her heart vibrated through his ears and shook his whole body. The scent of her arousal was sweet and so strong he could almost taste it. Her body was warm and open. Waiting for him.

  He wanted her. Still. Again.

  He bared his teeth in a silent snarl and walked to the far end of the small room. The movement brushed his trousers against the bulge still waiting in his pants. He wasn't supposed to get hard. And he sure as hell wasn't supposed to stay hard. He'd gotten what he wanted. He should be satisfied.

  Unfortunately, his eyeteeth hadn't retracted either. He wanted more.

  He'd taken too much already, and he wanted more. He wanted to bury himself in her body, absorb her heat. He found himself back at the end of the couch. Her head was tilted to the side. The tiny wounds were already starting to heal. By tomorrow they would have almost faded.

  Unfortunately, the bruise wouldn't. Damn. He curled his hands into fists. He hadn't lost control like that since he was a fledgling. He should have taken more care, but the pleasure of entering her body, the rush of her life force flowing into him, had melted the control he'd learned so long ago.

  And maybe beyond carelessness, there had been the need to mark her, to claim her so all could see—human and vampire.

  He'd taken too much from her. He should have stopped. He didn't need much to sustain himself, and the mere act of biting her would have bound her to him. But he'd continued on—lost in her taste, lost in the feel of her body, lost in her need for the pleasure he could give her.

  What was wrong with him? Other human women had found pleasure at his touch—it had never lured him beyond his limits.

  Only Madeleine. He'd finally managed to regain control and leave her, but she hadn't let him go—hadn't let him leave until she'd been satisfied. He smiled. She would be a demanding little lover. That thought led to others—Madeleine over him, demanding her pleasure, her plea for "more." His body tightened at the image.

  He should have killed her. The Council was expecting it. No one in the human world would even be surprised, not after the police told them about her vampire delusions. It was the logical thing to do. Her mind was quick and strong. She'd push the limits of the block he'd put on her, and he'd have to reinforce the blood connection to keep it strong.

  She's going to be trouble. Just kill her.

  He tensed at his own thoughts.

  He'd killed before. Often. She was just another human.

  She was just worried about her cousin, and I don't think that's a good reason to end up dead. He heard Nicholas' voice in his head. Oh, the fledgling was wrong. That was precisely the reason she should end up dead. Families were dangerous things to vampires.

  But the question remained—what had brought Madeleine into his life? Was it coincidence or design? There was too much at stake for him to assume she'd stumbled into his life at this time. He needed to know. Before he killed her.

  The slow, steady beat of her heart began to change, increasing as she struggled back to consciousness. Stephen looked around and finally dropped into the only other chair in the room. He grabbed a book off the shelf, not bothering to look at the title, and opened it, purposely creating the picture of casual. He crossed one leg over the other, hiding his persistent arousal. His teeth were still extended, but that would help add to her fear.

  He stared at the words on the page, not seeing them, focused on the subtle changes in Madeleine as she made the transition to wakefulness. He could almost feel the soft flutter of her eyes as she came to. When he was sure she was awake, he looked up from the book and glanced in her direction. She smiled for a moment before the greeting turned to confusion, then confusion evolved to horror.

  "Oh my God. You really are a vampire." She sat straight up. Her eyes glassed over, and she swayed in her seat. Stephen was beside her before he commanded his body to move. He place
d a stabilizing hand on her back.

  "You need to move slowly."

  "Don't touch me!" She pushed away from him, ignoring his advice. She hurled her body off the couch and put the heavy piece of furniture between them. Her fingers gripped the fabric as she used the armrest to keep herself vertical. Stephen rested against the back and waited for her to regain her equilibrium, his body tense, preparing to catch her if she fainted again. Not Maddie. After a few deep breaths, she raised her eyes to him. She slapped her hand against her throat. "You bit me!"

  "Yes."

  "I can't believe you bit me."

  "It was necessary. Now would you please take a seat before you fall down?" He stood and stepped away from the couch, giving her space to feel safe. "Having you swoon in my arms was enjoyable, but once a night is plenty, don't you think?"

  "I didn't swoon," she muttered, but she stepped around the end of the couch and slowly lowered herself onto the cushions. She might be terrified, she was definitely pissed, but his Maddie was nothing if not practical. She lowered her head into her hands as if the weight of her skull was too much. "I never feel this bad after giving blood."

  He felt a tiny shaft of guilt. The mere thought of it shocked him into silence. He hadn't felt guilty about anything in years. It was a useless human emotion. Still, he was causing Madeleine some discomfort because of his loss of self-control.

  "Yes. I apologize for that." He hadn't been prepared for his own apology but was glad he'd said it. "Normally, you wouldn't have even noticed."

  She raised her head and looked at him, the thought of "are you insane?" clearly on her face. "I think I would have noticed if someone bit me."

  He shook his head and wandered into the small kitchen. "No. You might have felt a slight twinge but no pain, no lingering aftereffects. The teeth marks typically fade by morning."