Master of Ecstasy

by Nina Bangs

  Darach didn't show his surprise. He knew few women who would speak so openly. His interest in her as a person increased almost to the level of his interest in her body. Almost. "I still dinna understand why ye wouldna work elsewhere."

  Blythe finally smiled. "Loyalty. My strength and my curse. My parents worked for Ecstasy. My grandparents worked for Ecstasy. My great-grandparents…

  Well, you get the idea." Her smile faded. "I was my family's shining hope. My parents sensed my special power from the moment I was born. That's why they named me Blythe. They believed that my gift would take me to the top in the company. They counted on it."

  "Ye canna always live your parents' dreams." Sometimes ye couldna even live your own.

  She finally met his gaze, and he didn't mistake the determination he saw there. "My family is dead." Her gaze shifted to the fire. "I'm the only one left to carry on the family tradition, and I won't stop until I reach the top. To get out of Casper, I have to prove to Textron that I can be successful with a difficult subject." She sighed. "The lousy jerk wants me to fail. He thinks I'll take his job." Her expression hardened. "And I will."

  Darach did not think she had told him everything, but right now all his focus was on one thing. "Ye willna try any more sensual solutions?"

  Her gaze was direct. "I will never again involve myself sexually with a subject. You're my subject." She paused to make sure he understood the implication. "I can usually read people's emotions, but for some reason I can't touch yours. So you'll have to tell me what makes you sad."

  He smiled at her determination. "Never may seem overlong when the temptation is great." She did not know it, but she had challenged him. And no woman had challenged him in a very long time. "And ye canna make me happy because I am not sad." He shrugged to emphasize the futility of her effort.

  Blythe narrowed her gaze. "I don't believe it. Everyone is sad about something." She paused. "Except in Casper, Wyoming." She smiled, a smile that held little sincerity. "Work with me here, Darach. I need a few repressed memories, some emotional trauma. Do you understand duty? I take my duty seriously."

  For the first time, she did not amuse him. "I understand duty verra well." He must change the subject before he blurted out a few repressed memories that would send her scurrying back to her own time. "Tell me of this woman who sat next to you."

  He watched her consider his desire for a change of topic and decide to allow it. "First off, she said you were a vampire. Can you believe it?" Blythe flung her arms wide to indicate the scope of the woman's stupidity. "When I asked her how she knew, she said that in 2002 she watched Buffy the Vampire Slayer all the time. She said that vampires take a beautiful form, but when they change they're really yuck. She was sure you were a vampire because you didn't have an aura. She also said she believed in time travel because aliens had kidnapped her, and if that could happen, so could time travel. She didn't tell me her name, and I don't want to know it."

  Blythe frowned. "I figured with delusions like vampires and alien kidnappings, she must be one unhappy woman. So I checked her out." She shook her head.

  "No serious sadness. I guess her delusions keep her satisfied. But I think Ganymede's going to have trouble hooking her up with any of the three guys. Unless one of them is a vampire or alien."

  Ganymede's problems did not interest Darach. "Ye dinna believe in vampires?"

  "No." She was very emphatic about that. "And I don't believe in ghosts, werewolves, or other manifestations of primitive minds." Her smile softened her pronouncement. "I know, I'm being closed-minded. But those things aren't real. Scientists have done extensive studies over time, but have never found definitive proof that any of those things exist."

  Any of those things. She had defined his existence with those words. He knew his smile was cold. "Mayhap I should leave ye to your comfortable certainties. I have things to do this night before I rest."

  He knew his anger was unreasonable. Why should she believe in things she had never seen? Besides, it would serve his purpose well if she did not believe in vampires. He needed a friend in the castle.

  Even though Darach had long ago found that human thoughts were rarely entertaining, he could read them if need be. But he could not touch Ganymede's thoughts. Ganymede might not have the power to defeat him in open combat, but Darach did not want to be caught unaware.

  Darach could place a protective force that none could breach across his door while he slept, so Ganymede could not destroy him in his bed. But Ganymede would try to find another way to kill him. He needed Blythe to watch during the day and report if she discovered Ganymede plotting against him.

  But Blythe would not offer friendship to one she considered a "yuck." Distracted, he placed his hand over his heart.

  "Do you have a heart problem?" Her voice was quietly concerned. "I've noticed how often you put your hand on your chest. And you're mad. Why?"

  " 'Tis only a habit. I will live a long life." Truer than she knew. And he'd grown careless. He had allowed his enjoyment of his beating heart to become an unconscious action. "I am not… mad." He suspected her use of mad meant angry, but he used it in the truer sense. She would surely doubt his sanity if he told her what he really was.

  "I'd like you to stay a little longer, Darach, and tell me more about the castle, your life. History has always interested me, but I've never traveled this far back in time." She offered him a tentative smile.

  Darach could tell her that she must practice long before lying to him. The untruth glimmered in those clear brown eyes, in the nervous way she clasped the metal talisman at her throat, and the shift of her gaze from his face to his raised leg. He knew the exact moment her glance moved higher on his thigh and became sexual. Darach intended to make it very difficult for her to forget his sexual nature.

  When she had first entered her room, she had wanted him gone. Until she remembered that he was her "subject." Now she wanted him to stay so that she might use him. The knowledge did not bother him, because he intended to use her as well. He shifted on the bed, offering more of his body for her viewing, and watched her swallow hard.

  "Mayhap I can stay a while longer." He smiled at her. Darach suspected his smile would frighten small children and foolish women. He would enjoy telling Blythe, who thought she knew all, of the things that lived in darkness. He shook his head. Lack of nourishment must be affecting his judgment, because there was no sane reason for him to tell her anything.

  A faint meow from the other side of the door shifted her attention away from him. "A cat?"

  " 'Tis most likely Ganymede's cat. Leave it without." He trusted nothing connected with Ganymede.

  "I can't. I love cats. I love all small helpless animals." Her glance suggested that he would never fit in that category.

  He could tell her that Ganymede's cat would not fit either. She rose and opened the door. The cat slipped past her, leaped onto the bed beside Darach, sat down, and wrapped its fluffy white tail around itself.

  Blythe studied the cat. The cat studied Darach. If her bed got any more crowded, she'd have to sleep on the floor. But at least the cat provided a brief distraction so she could think.

  When she'd first suggested this trip to Ecstasy Inc. as a way to prove that she could interact with a client on a totally impersonal level, it had seemed like a great idea. Blythe loved the past. She loved its uncluttered reaches, its simplicity. And of course she had complete faith in her abilities. Everything had been fine until she learned about the sexual vacation part, and that Textron would be going along to monitor her progress and report back to the main office.

  Fine, so she was bitter. All those years spent busting her buns for Ecstasy, and they wouldn't even trust her to record her results and present them when she returned. They had to send Super Snoop along.

  Textron thought he was so clever choosing Darach as her subject. But maybe she could make this work. She still got no emotional reading from Darach, but a happy person would feel no need to hide his feelings. Ergo,
he must be unhappy. Blythe knew her logic was flawed, but the bottom line? She wanted to work on Darach. So much for professional objectivity. Besides, her triumph would be even greater if before making him happy she had to pry open the door to his emotions and drag them growling into the light.

  "Once ye let a cat in, 'tis often hard to get rid of it." Darach frowned at the cat.

  "The same could be said of some Highlanders." She smiled sweetly at him.

  "Ye asked me to remain, lass." He didn't smile at her.

  "Sure." She needed to kill a few seconds while she chose a meaningful question. A question that would encourage him to open up about his feelings.

  Distracted, she watched the cat lean into Darach and rub its head against his bare leg. She tried not to follow the bare-skin temptation of that leg to its obvious conclusion. Disaster lay along the imagined path of his inner thigh.

  She dragged her attention away from the siren call of his body and focused on the cat. "What brings you here, kitty?" Now, that was a meaningful question.

  Boredom. I need some girl talk. Oh, I love your dress. Green is you. And I'm seriously jealous. You haven't been here a day, and you already have a hot man in your bed.

  Blythe blinked and stared. She had clearly heard the cat answer her question in her mind. Which was absolutely impossible. "What are you?" Great. Now she was talking to voices in her head. Blythe glanced at Darach, but his gaze was fixed on the cat. He didn't seem to notice that she was talking to herself.

  "You mean 'who,' of course. 'What' is so impersonal. Sparkle Stardust. I'm sort of Mede's assistant. Mede insisted on the cat form. I think it sucks." The cat's gaze turned sly. "He told me I couldn't open my mouth to talk to any of the guests. So I'm not opening my mouth. There's more than one way to skin a cat. Oops. That was insensitive to cats. Mede says I have to be sensitive to the feelings of others. Want to know something? I don't give a damn about anyone's feelings. That's just me, though."

  Darach smiled. Okay, what was so funny? He reached down and stroked the cat's head and back.

  Sparkle pushed into his hand and began a rumbling purr. "If I were in my real form, I wouldn't be just getting a few strokes. There isn't a more sensual animal anywhere than a very old, very evil vampire."

  "Old, evil vampire?" Blythe's voice was an alarmed squeak.

  "Mmm. Too bad Mede will have to off him. What a waste."

  Darach stilled, a quietness that spoke of danger.

  "What are you?" Blythe wasn't sure which weirdness she was addressing.

  Sparkle offered an exaggerated sigh. "Back to that again, huh? Mede and I are cosmic troublemakers. We disrupt the universe, cause chaos wherever we can. It's what we do. It's a great life." She leaped from the bed and padded to the door. "Except when you're in cat form and can't open a frickin' door."

  As if in a dream, Blythe rose to let the cat out. She could feel the darkness of secrets she wanted no part of waiting silently behind her. Frantically she sought to prolong the moment with Sparkle Stardust. A telepathic cat was way easier for her to deal with than what watched from her bed.

  "So you just came for some small talk? Nothing else?" Blythe did some mental arm pinching. She was talking to a cat. A small, furry, white cat.

  "I think nothing she will tell ye will be small." There was no humor in the voice of the… man behind her.

  Sparkle slipped out the open door, then paused. "Uh-oh. I forgot. I'm looking for my ghosts. Mede insisted I get Bonnie Prince Charlie, but I didn't." Her laughter was light with an underlying sly triumph. "Mede has turned into such a self-righteous butthead that I love yanking his chain. I'll tell him that good old Charlie was on another job, so I got Bonny and Charley Prince, a sixties couple from Bottleneck, New Jersey. They're perfect. They were sightseeing here in 1967 and decided to have exploratory sex on the battlements. Bought it when they fell off. What a way to go. Anyway, they're here somewhere. If you see them, give a yell."

  A yell would be easy. Blythe watched Sparkle disappear into the darkness. Okay, how long could she stand here before she'd have to turn around and face whatever was lying on her bed? How long before she'd wake up from this nightmare of cosmic troublemakers and vampires?

  "Ye fear me now." His voice was calm, emotionless. No anger, no regret. " 'Tis too bad that Ganymede's minion could not keep her wee thoughts to herself."

  "You read our minds?" Blythe turned slowly, all her pent-up fear, disbelief, and horror focused on the invasion of her thoughts.

  He shrugged. " 'Tis rarely worth my effort, but I couldna resist the cat's thoughts. She amused me, ye ken." His expression said his explanation should calm her. " 'Tis too bad I canna enter the thoughts of Ganymede, but he is more powerful than the cat." Darach's eyes grew colder, if possible. "I dinna need to read his thoughts to find a way to destroy him."

  Blythe forced herself to meet his gaze and reach once more for his emotions. Nothing.

  His smile was a slow slide of mockery. "Ye waste your time. Ye'll discover nothing about me that I dinna wish ye to know."

  This was not some horrible dream. She never dreamed of demons and darkness, would never come up with this kind of horror even in her subconscious. Blythe was perfectly centered in her personal universe. Her work demanded this. Ecstasy Inc. put its employees through psychological testing on a regular basis to ensure mental and emotional stability.

  She was sane, she was awake, and this was real. She would accept the reality and deal with it. Right after she had a screaming fit of hysterics.

  His smile widened and for the first time touched his eyes with real amusement. "I dinna usually drive beautiful women to hysterics."

  "Get out of my mind." Anger. Good. Maybe the anger would hold back the wave of fear threatening to wash away all reason. "And get off my bed."

  "Ye challenge me. I like that." He patted the covers beside him. "Join me so that I may tell ye what I am."

  "No." Blythe's world might be spinning out of control, but she still retained enough common sense to know that climbing onto that bed with Darach-the-demon would be the biggest mistake of her life.

  His gaze darkened, and Blythe felt the threat all the way to the core of her terrified soul.

  "Come to me, Blythe." The soft, husky murmur of his voice wrapped around her, pulled her to her feet, and propelled her to the bed.

  Shocked, she stared down at him. Close up, his pure physical presence caught at her, made her legs shake, and forced her to cling to the bed's poster for strength. "How did you do that?"

  He reached out and pulled her down beside him. "I can do many things. Let me show ye."

  She perched on the edge of the bed, every tensed muscle poised to attempt escape at his first move toward her neck. Her voice of reason was in I-told-you-so mode. I told you to find a subject at home, but oh no, you had to search for some exotic challenge in the past. Hey, you found him, stupid. Now what're you going to do with him?

  "If ye need help deciding, mayhap I have a few ideas." His soft chuckle promised a thousand nights filled with new sensual experiences.

  He must be growing more arrogant, because for the first time she could feel the touch of his mind on hers. Or maybe she was just growing more sensitive to his alien presence. "You're still in my head. I hate that."

  She felt him touching her mind, trying to soothe her from the inside out. It wouldn't work.

  Unexpectedly, her mind was free of his presence.

  "Thank you." Now she could ask the really tough question. The question that ideally she should ask from across the room. No, from the other side of the closed door. Uh-uh, not far enough. It was a question asked safely from her own time with 554 years between them.

  "Your question is written in your eyes, Blythe-with-no-other-name. Ask it." His voice was dark arrogance. He'd probably use the same tone as he murmured carnal intentions against her bared neck.

  "Okay, here it goes. Are you a vampire?" Her voice was a whisper of sound. Obviously, if he couldn't hear her he coul
dn't answer. She could live with a non-answer right now.

  "Aye."

  His voice was just as soft, but it was loud enough for her to hear. Loud enough to make her clench her hands into fists to keep them from shaking. Loud enough to make her heart skip a few beats and her whole body tense for a fight-or-flight adrenaline rush.

  "Oh." Was she articulate or what? You'd think that during one of her life's most momentous events she could come up with a more enduring quote. Something posterity could remember fondly after the vampire sucked her dry.

  "Ye need not fear me. I dinna desire your blood."

  Hah! She'd just bet he didn't.

  He slid his fingers the length of her bare arm, a warm glide of what she supposed he thought was a calming gesture. She could tell him that his touch could never calm her. He wisely kept his fingers away from her neck.

  "Right. No fear. No teeth in neck. I believe you." She didn't believe him. If he was a vampire, and she was too terrified to make that judgment, then she didn't think her neck was safe.

  Darach sensed her tension, her terror. He would feel regret if he had not long ago banished that emotion from his… heart? The thought of his beating heart soothed him, as it always did. Absently he placed his palm over it, then jerked his hand away as he realized what he was doing. He must break that habit. Enemies looked for weaknesses, and his heart was a human weakness.

  He must calm her or she would be lost to him. If she feared him, she would not spy on Ganymede during the daylight while Darach slept. He searched beneath this first reason and found another. If she feared him, she would not talk with him, would not share her body with him. And he knew that he wanted both.

  "Ye fear what ye dinna understand." He clasped his hands behind his head and leaned back against the headboard. Blythe would be less fearful if she thought his hands could not easily reach her.

  She nodded, her gaze uncertain. Darach watched her glance slide from his clasped hands down the length of his arms and skitter across the patch of bare skin where his shirt gaped open. He smiled. He would join with this woman, but first he would gain her trust.