Hungers of the Heart

  His laugh was a breath of warmth against her neck.

  His free hand caressed the lather onto the top of breast, and once again she found herself trying to arch into the touch.

  “I don’t believe you,” he said, then tasted the of her throat with a quick flick of his tongue.

  Infuriating man! She squirmed some more with no success.

  “You don’t think I could make it worth your while?” she asked, trying to sound insulted.

  “Oh, I’m sure you could. I’m just not sure I you would. I think you’d torture me just for Women can be so vengeful.”

  “Yes,” she agreed. “Maybe you should listen your own words. lf you let me move now, I’ll you time off for good behavior.”

  “I’ll take my chances.”

  His hand slid between her breasts again, drifted lower, soaping her ribcage and then starting on her abdomen. She bit her lip on a protest, imagining just how desperate he could make her by continuing the tease on her lower body. She couldn’t So she decided to offer him a temptation she sincerely doubted he could refuse.

  “I want to taste you,” she said, her voice sultry.

  Drake lost a little of his self-assurance, hand stilled for an instant. The hesitation brought a smile of feminine triumph to Faith’s lips, eve he quickly recovered and reached for the soap.

  “Nice try,” he said. There was no mistaking the desire that roughened his voice. He wet the bar of soap, then began to rub it up and down what he could reach of her thigh.

  The touch almost made her forget her evil plan, but she recovered enough to whisper again.

  I want to feel you in my mouth.” The pulsing heat II the small of her back told her how much he liked tic idea. “I want to explore every inch of you with my lips and tongue.” Another, more definite pulse, and the hand gripping the soap slowed its movements. “I want to suck you until—”

  The bar of soap slipped from Drake’s fingers and hit the shower floor. His grip on her loosened, and Faith took advantage, slipping out from under his arm and settling on the floor of the shower on all fours.

  Water poured over her head and ran into her eyes, hut her questing fingers found the soap. Even over the sound of the water pattering on the walls and hour, she could hear the shortness of Drake’s breath, and she was surprised he hadn’t fallen on top of her the moment she’d hit the floor in such a provocative position.

  Wiping wet hair and rivulets of water from her lace, she looked up at Drake from her knees and smiled.

  “You dropped something,” she said, holding up the bar of soap.

  His eyes were dark with desire as he ran his tongue over his lips, flashing a whole lot of fang. He plucked the bar from her hand and shoved it back into soap dish.

  Faith suspected he was about to reach for her, she was determined to keep her promise. She to’ firm grip on the base of his erection, effectively freezing him in place. Then she touched her to] to his tip, and he gasped.

  This was something she’d never done when under the influence of glamour. But there was denying how much she wanted to, nor was there any denying that the desire came entirely from her, not something being forced upon her by the will another.

  She opened her mouth wide and took in as of him as she could manage. What she couldn’t r with her mouth, she stroked with her hand. Dr groaned, and from beneath her half-closed lashes could see his hands fisted at his sides. He tasted and exotic, and her tongue glided over his flesh she sucked gently, careful not to nick him with fangs.

  His hands opened and closed a couple of tin she continued to work him, loving the taste of loving the knowledge that while she was the on her knees, he was the one who was helpless her assault.

  His fists turned white at the knuckles, and suddenly a low growl rose from Drake’s throat. Be she knew what was happening, he’d torn himself from her mouth and hauled her to her feet. The back was against the wall, and his hands were under her bottom, lifting her off her feet. She did the only sensible thing, which was to wrap her legs around him.

  His mouth crashed down on hers in a kiss that tasted of raging desire. One hand supported her bot­tom while the other slid between their bodies to adjust his position against her. Faith wriggled and helped as best she could.

  When he finally slid inside her, they both paused the kiss to groan in bliss.

  The pause didn’t last long. Soon, he was pounding into her, his mouth once more melded with hers. She clung to his shoulders, digging her nails into his flesh. Drake didn’t seem to mind.

  Once again, his hand slipped between their bod­ies, and he began to stroke her as be thrust. There wasn’t room for thought anymore. Only sensation. Only pleasure.

  Faith felt herself teetering on the edge and tried desperately to hold on, waiting for Drake to reach the edge with her. He tore his mouth from hers and pressed his lips right up against her ear.

  “Come for me,” he commanded, and she couldn’t help but obey.

  The pleasure raced through her, starting at her cen­ter then radiating outward in rapid pulses until her fin­gers and toes curled with it. Over the pounding throb of her own heart, she heard Drake’s half-strangled cry and knew that though he had pushed her over first, he’d followed right behind.

  She clung to him with arms and legs, letting her head come to rest against his shoulder as she one burning breath after another. And t1 knew that Lily had to be her first concern, she desperately wished that just this once, she could selfishly go after what she wanted for herself.

  14

  DRAKE WAS TUCKING his T-shirt into his pants, and had just tied the belt on the robe he’d lent her, the door to his room suddenly burst open. Faith jumped and whirled, but though Drake was as star-as she must have been, his first reaction wasn’t hut. . . something else.

  His Fangs descended even before he had a hint of was happening, and his heart rate skyrocketed as his nerves setup a clamor he could almost hear. Standing in the doorway with an expression halfway between a smirk and a sneer, was the Seigneur. Faith was gaping at him, but at the moment he seemed to have eyes only for Drake. The smirk turned into a malicious smile as his nostrils flared.

  “I see you’ve been the most accommodating of hosts,” he said, and Drake’s pulse picked up even more. “Armand, what are you doing?” Faith asked, still looking at him like he’d lost his mind.

  Armand kept his gaze on Drake even when he spoke to her. “Are you growing overfond of this man, Faith?”

  “What?”

  A low growl rose from Drake’s throat, and he took a step forward. His rational mind reminded him that he was no match for a six-hundred-year-old Killer. But something had roused his most primitive instincts, instincts that didn’t seem inclined to listen his rational mind.

  “I think you’ve been enjoying yourself in his Armand continued as Drake fought to keep cont of the beast inside him. “I think you’ve deluded yourself into believing he is a kinder, gentler Killer. I wouldn’t want you to lose your heart to a lie.”

  “Armand, what are you talking about?” Faith and she sounded genuinely confused.

  Drake growled again, a feral sound that Faith to turn her puzzled look in his direction.

  And that’s when his mind finally caught up his senses and he understood the clamor of his instincts. His nostrils flared as he recognized the of blood in the air, and the hunger roared in his ears.

  “What have you done?” he asked the Seigneur, voice barely his own. His muscles quivered with strain of keeping his feet rooted in place.

  The Seigneur’s malicious smile widened, stepped aside just enough to allow someone e the room.

  The girl was at most twenty years old, but it had been a hard twenty years. A passably pretty face was marred by far too much makeup, and the blond tresses that curled down over her shoulder had the coarse, brassy look of a cheap wig. She wore a midriff top that showed too many bony angles to be sexy, and her tight black miniskirt barely covered her sex. Clear plastic platform shoes made her
look taller than she really was, and the mingled scents of alco­hol, spearmint gum, and cum blended with the blood.

  Drake swallowed hard, fighting desperately against the hunger that surged through his veins. The scent of blood came from a small cut along the frag­ile skin of her neck. She made no attempt to stanch lie flow, her eyes glazed as she stared into some in­ner distance, her mind a slave to the Seigneur.

  The Seigneur reached out and dipped a finger in the trail of blood, then stuck it in his mouth and made an appreciative sound.

  “Why don’t you have a taste, mon ami?” he taunted. I assure you, the world will not miss one more whore.”’

  “Armand, stop it!” Faith cried, stepping closer to him until he froze her with a glare.

  “You forget your place, ma petite. Do not think to give me orders,”

  She bit her lip and her eyes widened in supplica­tion. “Please don’t do this.”

  He sniffed. “I’m doing nothing. Our friend here to Iced or he risks losing control of himself. wouldn’t want such a thing to happen around Lily, now, would you?”

  “You bastard,” she whispered, shaking her head.

  Armand snarled at her. “Be careful what you say. I’m losing my patience with you.”

  The scent of blood filled Drake’s head, and though he could see both Faith and the Seigneur in his peripheral vision, he couldn’t drag his gaze away ft the crimson trail down the prostitute’s neck. She was just the kind of victim vampires like the Seigneur favored: the kind who could disappear from the face the earth and cause nothing more than a raised eyebrow, if that, from the community. The kind even mortal authorities saw as expendable.

  “Come now, mon ami,” the Seigneur said, voice low and coaxing. “I know you are hungry. here is a tempting morsel for you. You may be too gone in your hunger to sustain your glamour, but I will hold her for you. She won’t feel a thing.”

  Faith murmured something too low to hear. Drake tried with all his will to drag his gaze away from blood, to look at Faith and remind himself of his humanity. But he couldn’t do it. His breath came short gasps, and his tongue tested the sharpness his fangs. The vacant-eyed prostitute took a closer to him.

  “Look at him, Faith,” Armand said. “Look at eyes, how he stares at the blood. Why, he’s practically drooling. He’s a Killer. Not the saint you’d him to be.”

  “He can’t help it,” Faith gasped.

  “Neither can I,” Armand countered. “I was a vampire for more than a century before I even heard rumor it was not necessary to kill. Far too late to break the addiction.”

  Faith sniffled, and the mortal woman continued to inch closer to Drake, the scent of her blood filling his senses so that everything else in the room seemed far away.

  “Look at him and understand what he is. I will Force myself to bear it if you share his bed, but I will not allow you to give him your heart.”

  Against his will, Drake reached out and touched lie mortal’s shoulders. His muscles quivered with the need to draw her to him, to sink his fangs into her neck and feed on her blood and her life.

  “Please,” Faith said, her voice faint and shaking. “Don’t do this?’

  Drake didn’t know if she was speaking to him or to the Seigneur, and at the moment, he hardly cared.

  “You still think he’s some kind of hero?” Armand asked, a hint of incredulity in his voice. “Ask yourself this—if I were to call Lily right this moment, would you trust him around her?”

  Even in the haze of his bloodlust, Drake heard the oppressive silence that suddenly filled the room. Pain lanced through his heart.

  “Answer the question, Faith. Would you trust a man like this around Lily? You’ve been with me six years. Have you ever for a moment feared for her life in my presence?”

  “Please,” Faith said again, her voice even softer than before.

  “Answer the question. Shall I call Lily right now? Shall I take you and this bleeding creature out of room and leave him alone with Lily? Answer dammit!”

  “No.” Faith’s voice was barely a whisper, full of anguish.

  “Say that again,” the Seigneur demanded. “Would you trust Drake around your sister?”

  “No,” she repeated on a sob.

  The pain in Drake’s heart made him hunch shoulders and wince. The prostitute was in his an now, her body pressed against him, her bleeding throat within easy striking range. Drake peeled lips away from his fangs. He closed his eyes for strike, but something held him back despite the urgency of his need. He turned his head and opened eyes, meeting Faith’s horrified gaze.

  There was only the barest scrap of humanity left in him, but he used it to shove the prostitute away from him. He had to get out. Now. But Armand stood between him and the door.

  Without thinking, Drake ran for the window, ripping the curtain aside and flinging himself at the glass. He heard Faith’s shrill scream as the glass shattered, the shards biting into his flesh to leave trails of pain. In the street below, someone else screamed as hi from the second-story window to the pavement rolled with the impact, more shards of glass she skin as he did.

  The breath was knocked out of him for a moment, and he lay there dazed as the nearby pedestrians ran to him, shouting at each other to call 911. The hunger surged at the smell of his own blood in the air. Using every last ounce of his will, Drake pressed his lips to­gether so no one would see the fangs, then forced himself to his feet and ran, ignoring the cries of the Good Samaritans behind him.

  ***

  FAIH STARED AT the window through which Drake had jumped. Shards of glass clung to the frame like jagged teeth, some of them stained with Drake’s blood. Not speaking to her, Armand crossed the loom and looked out the window. The sacrificial mortal he had brought still stood frozen in the middle of the room, her eyes staring straight ahead, seeing nothing.

  Someone pounded on the door, and Faith heard Armand utter some bland explanation for the disturbance, but all she could think about was the look on Drake’s face when she’d said she wouldn’t trust him with Lily. The misery in his eyes had stopped her breath in her lungs, and she hated herself for letting Armand manipulate her like this. Again.

  She sensed him coming near her and stepped away, eyes averted. She couldn’t stand even to look at him, and if Drake had gotten her the gun already she would have shot him dead.

  “I’ in sorry—” Armand started, and Faith actually snarled at him like a feral cat, her sense of self-preservation overwhelmed by her outrage.

  “Don’t even speak to me,” she spat, so angry she wanted to gouge his eyes out with her nails.

  To her surprise, he didn’t snarl back. For long, agonizing minutes he stood there beside her, not speaking, not moving. Faith struggled to calm herself, put the anger she usually kept so carefully contain back in the cage where it belonged. Every cell in body revolted at the idea of submitting to him, of following his orders and treating him with the rest he demanded. But she had to think of Lily. If gave in to- the urge to tell him exactly what thought of him, then very likely she wouldn’t around to protect Lily. And that was unacceptable.

  When Armand spoke again, his voice was very soft and held none of the malice he’d exuded earlier.

  “I meant to show you that Drake was as much monster as I,” he said. “It appears I’ve merely proven to you how monstrous I myself can be.”

  Faith was so startled by the admission that eyes were drawn to him against her will. He was staring at the floor, the corners of his eyes and tight with strain. His Adam’s apple bobbed swallowed, then shook his head.

  “I must apologize for my behavior,” he said, looking at the floor. His voice had turned crisp and businesslike, but not enough so to mask the in his expression. “It was.. . childish of me. control was excellent for one so hungry. Had been here, she would have been perfectly safe.”

  A lump swelled in Faith’s throat, but she refused to cry. Armand had so much power over her, but in this one thing she would stand firm—s
he would not let him make her cry.

  He sighed heavily. “I will return this young woman to where I found her. When I come back, we shall hunt Henri once more.”

  Faith’s jaw dropped. “You’re going to let her go?” She’d assumed the girl was doomed from the mo­ment Armand had approached her.

  Armand shrugged. “We fed last night. Her mind has been absent throughout. What reason have I to kill her?” Some of the usual steel returned to his voice and posture. “Have you ever known me to kill without reason? Is that the kind of monster you be­lieve I am?”

  She would never apologize for her opinion of him, hut she knew that was one crime of which he was not guilty. “No, Seigneur.”

  He waited for the span of several heartbeats, per­haps hoping she would say something more. She stepped up to the window instead, looking out, reach­ing with her psychic senses, ignoring Armand while she searched for Drake. But he was long gone.

  ***

  WHEN ARMAND RELEASED the whore from his glamour, she succumbed to the effects of the alcohol of which she reeked and collapsed onto the pavement. He coaxed her out of the way of the pedestrians, then tucked a bill into her exposed bra. She thanked him drunkenly, and he left her to sleep it off while he walked back to the house, trying to stay alert for Henri’s presence while inside his thoughts flew and collided with one another.

  He had made a complete and utter fool of himself tonight. He didn’t even think he needed the mirror that was Faith’s eyes to see that. Her heart would never be his. He knew that with unshakable cer­tainty. Indeed, he wasn’t even sure if it was her heart he wanted. Perhaps it was no more than her respect, or even her approval that he sought. If so, he had chosen a spectacularly bad way to go about obtaining it.

  And since when did it matter to him what one insignificant woman thought of him? He was a Seigneur. It was his job to rule and control his peo­ple. It was not his job to be liked by them. A Seigneur couldn’t afford sentimentality, couldn’t afford soft­ness of any sort. If he could cut himself off from his emotions completely, that would be best of all. Unfortunately, such was not possible.