Sarafina rose at dusk and went to the room situated just below her captive's. In it were the controls. A hydraulic winch that could reel in the chains, a video monitor so she could keep an eye on him. There was a hidden button beneath the bed, as well, that could retract or extend the chains.
It wasn't as if she hadn't had captives before. She'd been prepared to have troublesome servants. But this was the first time she had ever had to use the safety features she had devised in case she ever got her hands on Stiles and his fellow DPI renegades.
Always before, her chosen servants were hers to command after the first taste of her blood. Addicted to her, craving her, loving her-not because of any real feeling, but because her life force lived within them.
But Will was different. She'd known it from the beginning. But she had never believed him to be an evil-doer, undeserving of life-at least, not until the girl, Amber, had told her the truth about him.
He had deceived her. Played a game with her mind. Endeared himself to her by getting inside her heart and soul before ever approaching her. Worse yet, he'd made her love him. But he'd only been using her all along, working for those animals who wanted to see every vampire destroyed.
She should have killed him outright. But she couldn't. Something about him just wouldn't let her. Perhaps he'd used his skills at mind manipulation to make her feel this odd softness toward him, even now that she knew the truth. That must be it. He was playing with her mind. She hated the weakness inside her that allowed it.
He was wandering now, naked, around the room. Still looking for some means of escape. She watched him for a time, enjoying the ripple of muscle in his thighs, even though he limped when he walked. His flanks, too, were toned and firm. Hard. He was a beautiful man despite the many scars that marked him, a strong man. His chest and belly were powerfully made. And his shoulders...
Tearing her eyes away from the monitor, she hit the button on the winch. It growled to life and began to turn at a steady pace. Glancing back at the monitor, she saw Willem stumble, tug against the chains as they pulled him toward the bed. They grew shorter, pulling him nearer, and he soon realized fighting them would be useless. He hit the bed facedown but rolled onto his back to prevent his shoulders from being torn from their sockets as the chains drew his arms to the bedposts. And then he lay there, fury coloring his face, his eyes blazing.
He wanted to kill her, she knew it.
Sighing, she left the control room, locking its door behind her.
Misty and Edward stood in the hallway, submissive and silent, awaiting her command.
"How has our guest been today?" She asked the question of Misty, who alone had been commanded to see to Willem's needs. Somehow, Sarafina sensed he would be less inclined to kill a woman. Edward might not have fared so well.
"Angry, my lady. And he refused to eat. He made a terrible mess of the room, but I've cleaned it all."
She nodded. "Come with me, then."
They followed, and she walked up the stairs to Willem's room. Unlocking the door, she stepped inside.
He lay there, naked and still, hating her with his eyes.
"Hello, Willem. I'm sorry about the chains. We'll be able to dispense with them very soon, I promise you."
"Oh good," he said. "Because I'm going to murder you the moment you do."
Even then, as angry as he was with her, the words didn't sound sincere. She wondered for a moment if he were as incapable of harming her as she was of harming him. And if he was-was it real, or was it the effect of her blood on his mind? "No, you won't," she told him. "We both know you won't."
She walked to the bedside, feeling his eyes on her. But she spoke not to him, but to her pets. "You've been a very good girl today, Misty. I will reward you now."
"If it pleases you," Misty whispered, but her eyes looked hungry and wet, and she licked her lips in anticipation.
Sarafina drew a pin from the skintight black sheath she wore and pricked her own forefinger, just a little. Blood welled, and she offered it to Misty, who took the finger into her mouth and drew on it. Fina let her have only a few drops, but she kept her eyes on Willem the entire time, and she knew he felt the hunger, the craving. She could see it. He couldn't take his eyes off Misty's mouth, where she suckled the finger. And she thought his breathing quickened just a little.
She took her finger from Misty and offered it to Edward. He, too, suckled the finger. Willem's tongue darted out to moisten his lips-involuntarily, she was sure. Sarafina let her gaze slide down Willem's naked body, and she saw his member growing hard with arousal.
She tugged the finger away.
Misty fell down to her knees, kissing Sarafina's feet. "Thank you, Mistress. How I love you."
Edward only bowed, taking Misty's hand, drawing her upright and leading her from the room.
Sarafina let them go, watched the door close behind them; then she sat down on the edge of Willem's bed. She took a small bandage from her pocket and stuck it over the tip of her finger. The wound would seep blood all night unless she stopped it.
"So it's the blood, is it?" he asked.
She only looked down at him, brows raised.
"I thought you had them drugged. Brainwashed, maybe. But it's not a drug, and it's no mind-control technique. It's the blood that addicts them. More than addicts them-it makes them mindless drones, with no will of their own. My God, I thought I knew you."
"Don't pretend you're not dying to taste me yourself, Willem. I can see you are."
"You're using these people like animals."
"They are animals," she snapped. "Misty was a crack whore who'd neglected and abused her own baby girl until she was barely alive when I found her. She was going to sell what was left of the child for more drugs."
He went silent for a moment. Then, softly, he asked, "And Edward?"
"Edward beat his wife-the last time so badly she nearly didn't survive it. She wanted to leave him, but she knew he would kill her if she tried." She shrugged. "I needed a new driver, so..."
"What happened to the old one?"
She lowered her head. "He was a pedophile. I thought I was doing him a favor by keeping him as a servant rather than killing him outright-but even as soulless and evil as you no doubt believe I am, I couldn't bear the sight of him. I told him to walk out into traffic one night, and he did."
He nodded slowly, studying her, his face different now. As if she had revealed something about herself that made him want to know more. "So you only make slaves of people you believe deserve it. Maybe you do still have some twisted sort of morality left in you."
She shrugged. "I make slaves-or meals-of whomever I choose. I'm a vampire. They're mortals. It's the natural cycle. Morality, or lack thereof, has no more to do with it than it does when a lion devours a gazelle on the Serengeti."
"Bullshit. The lion preys on the weak and the feeble. You prey on criminals. That's a moral judgment, Sarafina, though a perverted one."
"I find it far more entertaining this way. There's a poetic form of justice to it all."
"But you make yourself their judge and jury."
"And executioner, at times. I'm above them. Like a goddess among the mortals, so I do as I please. Is there some point to this discussion?"
She met his eyes. They probed hers. Her insides warmed and clenched. How did he make her feel this way with no more than a look?
"I was just wondering what crime I had committed, Sarafina. What makes me deserve this?"
She jerked her eyes away. "Are you going to tell me you've done nothing to merit imprisonment?"
"Nothing you'd consider worthy of it, no. Most people think I'm some kind of hero."
"I am not most people, Willem. And you were following two teenage girls when I took you."
He looked up at her quickly, obviously startled by her statement. "I didn't realize you knew them."
"I don't. But even I will protect one of my own kind-at least in a situation like this one."
"The problem is, you have no clue what the situation is."
"Don't I?"
He drew a deep breath, pinned her eyes with his. "I was hired to protect them, Sarafina."
She lifted her brows. "By whom?"
"By a vampire, just like you. The dark girl's father."
She lowered her head, sighing. "A vampire hired a mortal to protect his child? Really, Willem, I'm sure you can do better."
"Sarafina, I am telling you the truth. Look at me. Jesus, you know me. We have this connection-or had."
His eyes held hers, probed them. She forced her gaze away, got to her feet, and put some distance between them. She couldn't listen to his lies. There was something in her that wanted to believe them, and she knew too well where that would lead.
"You'd like me to believe that, wouldn't you? You'd like me to think that what I felt for you was real, that this bond we have is anything more than just some mind trick you've mastered. Then you could really do your worst, couldn't you? Lure me, convince me, win my trust, then use it to destroy those girls, or, worse yet, to destroy me. Better men than you have tried, Willem Stone."
She paced the floor. He remained silent, just watching her, studying her, looking for some weakness, she knew.
"Unfortunately for you, I've lived a long enough time to know that anyone who claims to love you has a knife hidden somewhere, just waiting to plunge it into your back. I trusted you-foolishly-because I thought you were some kind of spirit. My guardian angel." She closed her eyes to stop their burning, tipped her head back, smiled bitterly at her own idiocy. "You'd think I would have known better."
"Just because I'm a man and not a spirit, doesn't mean I'm a liar, Fina. It was real, what we had. It was real."
She had to turn her back on him to blink away the tears without him seeing them. "Where did you learn it, this game you played with me? This mental trick? Was it something you picked up from your captors in the desert lands?"
"No."
"Where then?"
"It's not a trick, Sarafina. I don't know why we connected the way we did. But you...you were where I went when the torture got to be more than I could bear. You were my haven."
"Stop." She whispered the word.
"All I had to do was wait until the pain got bad enough, close my eyes and search for you. And I'd find you there. I'd stare into your eyes, and the next thing I knew, I was with you. Inside you, somehow, but outside you, too. I could see and feel everything you did. I could hear your thoughts. But I could see you, too."
"Lies. All lies."
"When they released me, I couldn't find you again, the way I did before. I tried, I tried everything. I only managed that once, when I became so goddamn desperate to see you again that I was close to losing my mind with it. I lay on my bed, and I slammed my cane into my mangled foot with all my might and.. .it worked. The pain was enough. I found you again."
"Stop!"
He went silent, but only for a heartbeat. "It's true. I only wanted to find that innocent, beautiful Gypsy girl I'd fallen in love with-to find out what had become of her."
She swallowed the lump in her throat. Her heart ached.
"You were the only thing that kept me alive and sane those months I was held and tortured. Tell me that girl still lives in you somewhere. Tell me she hasn't turned into a monster without a soul or a conscience."
She whirled on him. "If you think those men in the desert caves tortured you, Willem Stone, you had better think again." She gripped his shoulders, lifting his upper body from the pillows. "What I do will make the pain they inflicted pale by comparison!"
Then she bent and sank her teeth into his neck. She tasted him, and she lost herself inside his mind.
Willem tugged at the chains that held him, but he wasn't sure whether he wanted to push her away or pull her closer. God, the feel of her mouth on his neck, the gentle suction. He found himself arching his neck toward her. Let her drink him, let her drain him, he didn't care, if she would only just get closer.
As if reading his thoughts, she slid her body over his, lying on top of him. Inexplicably she released his throat, her lips sliding over his jaw, to his mouth, and he kissed her then. He let his mouth and his tongue do what his hands couldn't. He made love to her mouth with his, and he felt her entire body trembling in reaction. He tasted her tears, and he knew her threats were all just an act, a defense mechanism borne of past pain and betrayal.
Her legs straddled his, and one of her hands reached behind her to bunch her black skirts up around her hips. He couldn't see her, but he could feel her flesh, bare against his. When she lowered herself over him, he moaned and arched his hips. It was heaven and hell all mingled and confused in his mind. He craved her, he wanted her, and, in that moment, he loved her as much as he ever had.
She lifted and lowered herself rapidly, her body slamming down over his so powerfully it hurt, and yet the pleasure was so intense it didn't matter. It all blurred together, the pain and ecstasy, melding into one blinding sensation too potent to identify.
The orgasm rocked him to the core. And as the waves subsided, he realized her forefinger was in his mouth and he was sucking at it like a nicotine addict sucking on a cigarette.
He turned his head away, letting her finger go. And only when she moved her hand away did he dare to look up at her face. She wasn't looking at him but straight ahead, or maybe within herself. She looked...off. Upset. As if someone had just hit her upside the head with a two-by-four and she was still seeing stars. He hoped that was how she felt. It was how he felt, and he would have hated like hell to be there alone.
"Sarafina," he whispered. "I felt everything you felt, just now." He arched against her, still inside her, causing delicious friction that made her close her eyes and shiver with pleasure. "God, I still do," he said.
"Quiet."
"But, Fina..."
She pressed her forefinger to his lips to silence him. A scarlet drop beaded there, and he couldn't stop himself from licking it away.
"Sleep, Willem. Sleep and let the elixir of my blood do its work. Once it has..." A single tear rolled freely down her cheek. "Once it has, you won't lie to me anymore."
He was tired, some heavy weight settling over him, even as she slid hers off him and got to her feet on the floor. "It won't work, Sarafina. Not on me. I'll never become like your drones are. Mindless, obeying without question. It's gonna be different with me, Sarafina."
"Silence." She smoothed her dress down over her hips, leaned over him to press her mouth to his again.
When she lifted it away, he said, "It's already different with me. You're drowning in me as much as I am in you, aren't you?"
"Sleep," she commanded, straightening, turning toward the door.
But before she did, Will saw more tears welling in her eyes. They flowed like rivers over her flawless, pale skin. A sob was torn from her chest as she fled from him.
Rhiannon liked the modern conveniences, though Roland detested them. She liked flying by jet, when she could get a red-eye flight that posed no danger of exposure to the sun. She liked fast cars, though Roland's dislike of motor vehicles bordered on the phobic. She liked clothes and furs and jewels, and she liked music and art and travel.
Roland had very few likes and only a handful of passions. She was, of course, one of those. His dear Jameson was another; like a son to him, though Rhiannon herself had been of the opinion the young one could use a good thrashing more than once since she'd known him. And this was one of those times.
"I'm so sorry that Amber Lily isn't here to see you," Jameson said as he hugged Roland, slapping his back in manly fashion.
"No matter. We didn't exactly warn you we'd be stopping by. We're just back from a cruise to Hawaii. Driving cross-country by night in one my beloved's cursed autos, naturally, and we couldn't pass by without stopping to say hello."
Rhiannon listened to Roland fill Jameson in on the details of their cruise, her eyes locked with the meek and mild Angelica's the entire time. She waited for Roland to pause in his conversation before saying, "What do you mean, Amber Lily isn't here?"
Angelica sighed, looking away. "I was against it, Rhiannon."
"I have to say, this is a nice place you've found," Roland said, as always, trying to play the peacemaker.
"It's a gloomy, isolated, ancient mansion on the foggy, rainy shore of Lake Michigan," Rhiannon said. "Of course you think it's nice. Now, if you don't mind, can we find out where my precious niece is?"
Roland sent her an adoring, indulgent smile, nodded once, and Rhiannon turned to Jameson, crossing her arms over her chest and waiting.
"She and Alicia are celebrating their high school graduation with a week in New York."
She blinked slowly. Her hands curled into fists so that her nails pierced her hands. "By themselves?"
"Rhiannon, I'm her father. I know her. And trust me when I tell you that if I hadn't let her go, she would have run off on her own."
"And you couldn't at least wait for a time when we were in residence so I could keep an eye on her?''
"Rhiannon, Jameson and Angelica surely know what's best for their own daughter," Roland said softly. Though she knew he had doubts.
"Angelica has already stated she was against the idea," Rhiannon said. "Obviously she hasn't yet learned to stand her ground."
"Or maybe it's just that I trust my husband's judgment," Angelica snapped, then she turned on her heel and left the room.
"What judgment?" Rhiannon shot after her.
Jameson stepped in front of Rhiannon before she could go after his wife. "Easy, princess," he said to Rhiannon. "I'm not as stupid as you seem to think. I was practically raised by vampires, after all. Give me some credit for picking up a little caution along the way. Amber and Alicia are perfectly safe. I have someone keeping an eye on them."
Rhiannon lifted her brows. "Who?"
Angelica reentered the room, a magazine in her hand. She thrust it at Rhiannon. "Him. That's who."
Rhiannon glanced down at the cover of TIME. The rugged face of a man, superimposed over a rippling American flag, stared back at her. She looked at it, then looked up again. "A mortal? You've put my niece's safety in the hands of an ordinary mortal? Has the constant rain in this godforsaken place mildewed your brain, Jameson?"
"Spoken like a true desert dweller. This man is no ordinary mortal. Read the article."
"As if there's time to read when our precious Amber Lily is on her own in the city. Stiles and his rogues have been hunting for her forever."
"They have no way of knowing what she looks like. Besides, she checks in every night by phone."
"And has she checked in yet tonight?"
Jameson glanced at Angelica, who glanced at the clock.
"Call her," Rhiannon said.
When the cell phone in her purse bleated, Amber Lily almost jumped out of her skin.
She and Alicia had spent the entire day safely ensconced in Aunt Rhiannon's posh Long Island home. The place had everything. A hot tub and a sauna, a home theater with a huge screen and surround sound, state-of-the-art DVD player, stereo and computer systems, high-speed Internet, and an endless supply of movies and music.
They'd been trying on some of Rhiannon's trademark gowns, all of them skintight and floor-length, with daring low necklines and high leg slits, when suddenly the cell phone wept pitifully.
Both girls went dead still and silent, their eyes meeting.
It rang again, and Amber hurried to where she'd left her bag slung on a chair, rummaged inside, pulled out the phone. As it rang for a third time, she looked at the digital panel. "It's coming from home."
Alicia sighed in relief. "Your mom, checking on us. We haven't called in yet tonight."
It rang a fourth time.
"It's not like we didn't try," Amber said. "It's not our fault my parents are dead to the world during the day, or that your mom was out somewhere. And this isn't exactly the kind of news I could leave on the machine."
"Aren't you going to answer it?" Alicia asked.
'No. We already decided they might have bugged the cell phone, or maybe they have some other way of tracing it. We'll just call them back from Aunt Rhiannon's line."
"Good thinking."
As the phone rang again, Amber pushed the power button to turn it off. Then she dropped it back in her pack. The two girls walked to the living room, moving carefully on pairs of Rhiannon's stiletto heels, and sat down. Amber picked up Rhi's telephone and dialed her own number.
Her mom picked up on the first ring, sounding anxious. "Amber?"
"Yeah, it's me, Mom. Sorry I didn't answer before. The, uh, the reception's kind of funny here. Comes and goes, you know?"
Alicia frowned at her. Amber covered the mouthpiece and whispered, "There's no point in us scaring her to death, is there?''
Shaking her head, Alicia sighed and sat back in her chair.
"I'm just glad to hear your voice and to know you're okay. And I-" There were muted voices, then, "Oh, for God's sake, all right! Amber, um, your aunt Rhiannon is here, and she really wants to talk to you."
Amber shot a look at Alicia. "Aunt Rhiannon is there?" She covered the mouthpiece with one hand and whispered to Alicia, "New plan. Aunt Rhi is there."
"Yeah, just a minute, let me put her on before she has a coronary."
Amber scrambled to her feet, studying the telephone on the end table, and finally finding the speakerphone button and pushing it.
"Amber? Where are you, child, are you all right?"
Amber licked her lips. "I'm fine. For now. Listen, don't say anything to scare Mom, okay?"
There was a pause. She could picture Rhiannon's face so clearly, could imagine her looking worried, then covering the expression easily. She was so smart. God, of every woman she had ever known, vampire or mortal, she admired her aunt Rhiannon above them all. She might not have to confess to her father after all.
"Of course, love. Please, tell me all about the adventures you've been having."
"We really are fine." Amber was so glad to be able to tell someone what was happening, besides her parents, who would overreact. They always overreacted. ' 'But our hotel room was broken into. And we think it was bugged."
"Oh, I agree, the Metropolitan Museum is spectacular. And what did you do next?"
"We thought we were being followed. But then I ran into this vampire-I know I'm not supposed to interact with those I don't know, but she was all right, Aunt Rhi. In fact, she reminded me a little bit of you."
Rhiannon sniffed. "Her name?"
"Sarafina."
"I have heard of that actress. She's a recluse. A loner. Some say she has a dangerous temper."
"Maybe so, but she got rid of the guy who was following us. We didn't want to go back to the hotel, so we came to your place. That's where we are now."
"Ah, a lovely choice. And you're comfortable there?"
"Comfortable and safe. No one knows where to find us."
"Well, that's good to hear. I think you should continue with that plan."
"You mean...stay right where we are?"
"Exactly, child. Roland and I will be on the first flight, and we'll be sure to see you the instant we arrive back in New York."
"Thanks, Aunt Rhi. I promise, we won't leave this house until you get here."
"I'll hold you to that."
Rhiannon handed the telephone to Angelica, so she could speak to her daughter. She drew the necklaces from her silk handbag. Each was made of pink-toned pearls, alternating with tiny shells, on long strands. She'd picked one out for her darling Amber Lily, and then decided to purchase one for Alicia, too. She was a dear thing, for a mortal.
Turning, she wondered whether to betray her beloved Amber's trust, or head home and deal with this on her own. She eyed Jameson and Angelica, as they held their heads close together near the phone to speak to their daughter, smiling and fully reassured by whatever she told them. God, Amber Lily knew her mother very, very well. Jameson was as tough as any vampire ten times his age. But Angel was fragile. Like Rhiannon, she'd been a captive, a lab rat for the DPI once, long ago. Unlike Rhiannon, she'd emerged from the experience damaged and broken, with wounds that would never heal.
No, Amber Lily was right to want to protect her mother from the truth. Perhaps Rhiannon should simply rush home, pack Amber Lily and Alicia up and personally escort them back here to their dreary lake-shore mansion.
And then she would deal with whoever had frightened her niece.
Rhiannon was certain it was the right thing to do. Angel need never suffer the horrible fear for her daughter that she had suffered once before. The tender vampiress could not survive going through that kind of torment again.