His smile was sharklike; all teeth, no humor. "Me, but you still should've known better. Martin, who I tortured the day we met, contacted me after the explosion because he knew I hadn't done it. Yet you, my once-treasured lover, were so convinced I might that you let me believe you were dead."
I barely heard the last sentence. My mind seized upon one thing, shock replacing my anger.
"Marty contacted you after the bombing? But that would mean he . . . he wasn't . . ."
"Wasn't killed in the blast," Vlad supplied, his lips curling. "Terribly cruel of me to let you believe that someone you cared about was dead, wasn't it?"
Rage collided with a tidal wave of joy. Those wildly contrasting emotions proved too much. I lunged at Vlad, snarling, "Damn you!" while happy tears sprang to my eyes.
He caught me, lifting me several inches off the ground. At this height, we were eye level, and the look on his face would've made me take a step backward if I could.
"Don't," he said, the word falling like a hammer. "You're the only one who's struck me without retaliation, but you're not my lover anymore so I won't be as lenient again."
I hadn't intended to hit him. True, I'd wanted to shake him until his fangs rattled for letting me believe my best friend was dead - and wait until I got ahold of Marty! - but that urge drained away as I stared into his eyes. His expression was so thunderous I should have been afraid, but something other than fear began to fill me. Unable to help myself, I glanced at his mouth. It looked hard, but if I leaned forward a few inches, I knew it wouldn't feel that way . . .
Suddenly his mouth was on mine, proving that I was wrong. It did feel hard. The stubble on his face felt rougher, too, plus I'd have bruises from how forcefully he yanked me down to him.
And nothing had ever felt better. Rapture burst forth, scorching everything else in its path. I kissed him back so fiercely that I tore my lip on his fangs, yet the sting didn't register. All I knew was his taste, like spiced wine mulled with the darkest of fantasies. How his arms crushed me closer while his heat seared through my clothing. The sensually brutal way his tongue twined with mine, and the overwhelming urge I had to touch him as fast as my hands could race over his body. I needed him as much as the jagged breaths I snuck in between kisses, but another emotion proved stronger, giving me the strength to push him away despite every cell in my body howling in protest.
"What are you doing?" I managed.
His expression was nothing short of ferocious, and if his gaze grew any hotter, I'd burn beneath it.
"You've never had angry sex. I'm about to show you what you've been missing."
At those words, the throbbing between my legs became painfully intense. In spite of that, I stopped him when he swooped down to kiss me again.
"You said you'd never take an ex-lover back."
His mouth descended to my neck with devastating effect. "You've proven to be the exception to my rules."
Those burning lips made the cool pressure of his fangs feel that much more erotic. Still, a deep-seated hurt overrode the passion slamming into me.
"Not all of your rules."
Vlad made a sound too harsh to be a growl. "You won't be satisfied until you've brought me to my knees, is that it?"
"Why not?" It shot out of me with all the recklessness of my still-broken heart. "You brought me to mine."
He released me so abruptly I had to use the couch to steady myself. Without his body against mine, I felt cold despite the pleasant warmth of the room.
"I told you that you can't have it both ways, and that's true for us as well."
Did I miss something? "What are you talking about?"
"I'm Vlad the Impaler," he said, biting off each word. "I've survived for over five hundred years because if someone crosses me, I kill him, and if I am betrayed, I exact my revenge. I told you this when we met, yet you're still upset when I act on it."
"Oh, you don't have to remind me how merciless you are," I said, bitterness leaping to the surface.
"Obviously I do," he replied. Then he cupped my face with hands so heated they felt like brands.
"You claim to love me, but the man you love doesn't exist. That man wouldn't have survived years of beatings and rape as a boy because sheer hatred kept him from breaking. That man wouldn't have impaled twenty thousand prisoners to terrorize a larger advancing army because fear was the only tactical advantage he had, and that man wouldn't have imprisoned one of his closest friends for lying to him over a woman he was enamored with. I am not that man."
His hands dropped and he stepped back, his expression still frighteningly intense.
"You see, you don't want me to love you. You want the version you've made up. The knight, even though I'm the dragon and I always will be."
Then he left. This time, despite my calling out, he didn't stop. In the seconds it took me to get to the hallway, he was gone, the two open windows at the far end still vibrating from his exit through them.
Chapter 22
I went down to the second floor, so upset over Vlad's accusations, I walked right by my family without seeing them.
"Leila," Gretchen snapped, jerking my attention to the sitting room I'd just passed. "What is your problem?"
"What's my problem?" Hysterical laughter bubbled, but I choked it back. "I wouldn't know where to begin."
My father's gaze swept over me, taking in my mussed hair, swollen mouth, and sparking right hand.
"Gretchen, I want to have a word with your sister."
She shrugged. "Go ahead, I'm not stopping you."
"He means leave," I said wearily.
This was the last thing I needed, but I'd put him through hell recently, and everyone knew how paybacks worked.
She got up, muttering, "You're lucky Vlad covered my expenses for the year," under her breath.
"What?"
"Gretchen, go," my dad ordered.
She did, leaving me alone with my father. I plopped onto the couch opposite his, noting the differences between this sitting room and the one I'd left. The colors were lighter and there were no weapons or barbaric shields over the fireplace. All at once, I hated the apricot and cream decor and the white hearth with the insipid oil landscape above it. This room lacked complexity, fierceness, passion . . .
It lacked everything that Vlad was.
"So he's covering Gretchen's expenses for the year." Of course he hadn't told me that. Vlad seldom mentioned his thoughtful deeds. "That's very generous of him."
My dad glanced around pointedly. "He can afford it."