13
Ursula sank into the warm water, allowing it to caress her tired body, taking pains to keep her injured arm out of the water so that the bandage didn’t get wet.
She had not only locked the bathroom door but also wedged the clothes hamper underneath the door handle as an extra precaution. She wouldn’t put it past Oliver—or Blake—to barge in so they could look at her naked. Both of them had stared at her with lusting eyes. With Blake, she knew for sure he wasn’t lusting after her blood, but with Oliver she had her doubts. Maybe he wanted both: her body and her blood. After all, she’d offered him her body before. Perhaps he wanted to collect on her promise, now that she was out of immediate danger.
But she hadn’t made this promise to a vampire—not knowingly anyway. She’d made it to a handsome young man, a man she’d believed to be human, and she’d made her promise out of desperation. Things had changed since. He had turned out to be the enemy.
That thought sobered her. How could she not have seen the signs? After three years living with vampires, she’d developed a sense for recognizing what features gave them away: their fluid, graceful movements, the alertness in their eyes, their seemingly perfect and flawless skin. And then of course their speed. But Oliver had simply stood there, not moving when she’d met him, eliminating the possibility of recognizing him as a vampire by his movements.
His blue eyes had mesmerized her, blinded her so that she hadn’t seen anything else.
She jerked her thoughts away from him. There was no use crying over spilled milk. What was more important now was to work on a plan of action—just as soon as she finished her bath. However, feeling how the warm water relaxed her aching muscles, how it soothed her tired body, made her want to simply close her eyes and allow sleep to take her away to a safe place. Maybe if she could just take a moment and rest, everything would look less desperate, less hopeless.
But no, she couldn’t allow herself to weaken. Determined to remain strong and alert, she reached for the shower gel and lathered her body, ridding herself of the last traces of blood and dirt that had accumulated during her escape from her prison. She scrubbed harder and harder as if by doing so, she could scrub away the scars of the last three years.
Yet she still felt dirty, sullied by the vampires who’d used her. It was a stain she feared would never disappear, no matter how much soap she used to wash it away.
Realizing the futility of her efforts, her eyes welled up. And in the privacy of a stranger’s bathroom, she allowed the tears to come. How long she cried, she couldn’t tell, but when she finally stopped, the water was tepid.
Numb from her show of weakness, she reached for the towel she’d pulled from a closet earlier and dried herself off. She pulled on her pants without her panties—those were currently hanging over the towel rack to dry—, but when she looked at her blood- and dirt-stained T-shirt, she considered Oliver’s offer of fresh clothes.
It cost her a good deal of pride to admit to herself that she wanted to feel a clean shirt on her skin. Tossing her own T-shirt on the floor, she removed the barricade in front of the door and unlocked it.
The bedroom was empty—nobody had entered it. It was a relief.
Scrutinizing Oliver’s closet, Ursula found nothing out of the ordinary: his taste in clothes was very . . . human. Jeans in varying shades of blue and black, T-shirts in a variety of colors, several business suits—which surprised her, since he didn’t look like he wore formalwear—and shoes, belts, and ties.
She opened a drawer: socks. The one next to it revealed a stack of underwear. A wave of heat shot through her. Red-faced, she shut the drawer quickly. Of course she knew that even vampires wore boxers or briefs. But she wasn’t interested which category Oliver belonged to. She already knew that: he’d picked up a pair of boxer briefs off the floor earlier.
Blindly jerking a T-shirt from one of the stacks, she closed the closet door. She quickly pulled the shirt over her head and tucked its ends into her pants. It was too large for her, which was to be expected, but it did its job.
Ursula glanced at the clock on the bedside table. At least four if not five more hours till sunrise. It was time to make a decision: stay here with the vampires and hope she could convince them to help her and the other girls who were still imprisoned, or make a run for it, hoping the police would believe her story and help her.
Which scenario had the higher likelihood of succeeding?
As always when facing a monumental decision that could change her life for either the better or the worse, she contemplated each side on its own merits. First her option of escaping and running to the police: it seemed relatively simple. Only two men were in the house, one of them a human whose senses weren’t any sharper than hers. While Blake looked strong, she had the feeling she could outsmart him. Not so Oliver. But knowing that vampires were nocturnal creatures, it was highly likely that he was sleeping deeply during daylight hours, making a daytime escape her only viable option. Besides, even if he woke, once she’d fled from the house, he couldn’t follow her if he didn’t want to be burned to a crisp by the sun.
Finding a police station shouldn’t be too difficult. She could ask any passerby for directions. But once there, what would she tell them? That a group of vampires had kidnapped her and were still holding a dozen other girls captive? No. They would think she was crazy. What if she told them that some illegal prostitution ring was imprisoning girls? It was a more likely scenario, and the police would surely investigate. She was sure that once she went to the Bayview district, where Oliver said he’d found her, she would find her way back to her former prison. She’d made sure to remember street names and memorable buildings.
But once the police were there, raiding the building, what would happen then? She knew that the mortal weapons the police had would never kill a vampire. What they needed were stakes and guns with silver bullets, a fact she’d learned during her captivity. The police would be slaughtered by the vampires. She herself would be far enough away to escape and be able to return home. But could she live with the guilt of having sent so many men to their deaths? And what about the other girls? Could she live with the knowledge that they were still imprisoned as blood whores?
Ursula shook her head.
But was her other option any better? Could she convince the vampires from Scanguards to help her and go after her captors to save the other girls and make sure this didn’t happen to anybody else? The more she thought about it, the more she knew she had no choice. If anybody could fight those vampires, it would be other vampires. They would know what to expect and be prepared to fight them. It would at least be a fair fight. But if they succeeded, could she keep it a secret what her blood and the blood of the other girls meant to a vampire? Or would they find out that their blood acted like a potent drug on a vampire? Would they too want it for themselves?
Over and over she thought about the consequences of staying rather than trying to escape to take her chances with the police. In her gut, she knew the answer to her dilemma, but was afraid of admitting it to herself. As minute after minute passed, she couldn’t delay her decision any longer. She would stay.
However, there was one thing she had to do first: she needed to call her parents to tell them she was all right and that she would be home soon. One short phone call, only for a few seconds, that’s all she needed. Short enough that nobody could trace it back to Oliver’s house.
But since Oliver had removed the phone from her room, she had to find another one. Maybe he kept a spare one somewhere. If not, she would have to venture downstairs once he was asleep and try the library or the kitchen. Didn’t everybody have a phone in the kitchen?
Ursula reached for the remote and switched on the TV, turning up the volume so the sound masked her own actions. She was fully aware that vampires had excellent hearing, sharper than that of any human. Let him think she was watching TV.
While a dull infomercial about the latest weight loss drug droned from the monitor, she explored the bedroom.
Thoroughly, she went about her search, not leaving a single corner untouched. However, her hopes were quickly dashed: no computer with internet access, no old cell phone, no spare phone she could plug into the wall jack. What he had in abundance were music CDs and a large collection of movies on DVD.
If she didn’t know any better, she would have imagined this room belonged to a perfectly normal man, a human man, not a vampire. Everything looked so decidedly . . . normal.
Not that she had ever been in a vampire’s bedroom before. Even though she knew that most of the vampire guards lived in the same building that she’d been imprisoned in, she had never been to the lower floors where their quarters were located.
Disappointed that she had found nothing useful, she plopped onto the bed, propping the two pillows behind her back, and started flicking through the channels. When she turned her head, she inhaled a heady scent: masculine, strong, appealing. She recognized that smell: it was the same way Oliver had smelled when she’d kissed him. It did something to her. It made her want to touch herself to find release. Damn it, but she wouldn’t do it. She wouldn’t touch herself, because she was turned on by the scent of a vampire!
Shame coursed through her at the mere thought of it. No, she would not sink that low, no matter how long she’d not felt any sexual satisfaction. Even though she wasn’t shackled any longer, she would not give into her desires now. Soon she would be truly free. Then she could begin to live again.
Ursula closed her eyes and breathed deeply, trying to think of other things. Of going back to college to finish her education, of finally seeing her parents again. Of going out to movies with friends, of family gatherings, of trips to the beach. Things any normal young woman wanted. Things that had been stolen from her.
With a sigh, she relaxed into the pillows and pulled one corner of the blanket over her lower body to ward off the chill she suddenly felt. Tiredness crept up her legs and settled in her belly. Maybe she would just nap for a few minutes. Only to gain her strength back.
Ursula jerked up to a sitting position. For a second she didn’t know where she was, but then it all came back to her. It hadn’t been a dream.
“Good morning,” a male voice said, making her heart stop and her head spin in the direction it came from.
Relief took two more seconds to set in when she realized that a news caster on TV had spoken the words, greeting his viewers as he started one of the local morning shows.
Jumping up from bed, she ran to the window, pushing the heavy drapes aside. When she looked outside, she realized that even though it was already daylight, not much of it penetrated the window pane. She focused her eyes on the glass and noticed that a thin colored film was over it, which appeared to limit the amount of sunlight entering the room. She wondered whether this film worked like a sun block, even though it wasn’t dark enough to block out all rays like a black cover would have done. Was it maybe reflective on the other side, thus diverting sunlight like a mirror?
Well, it didn’t matter to her. It was time to get ready. She had to stalk downstairs and find a phone.
Nervousness made her mouth feel parched. To find relief, she marched into the bathroom and gulped down a mouth full of water from the faucet, then stared at herself in the mirror. The puffiness around her eyes had waned and nobody would ever know that she’d cried. Why that made her feel better, she didn’t know. It wasn’t like she cared about a vampire’s opinion of her.
Leaving the TV on to provide cover for any noise she made, she carefully turned the door knob and eased the door to the hallway open. The light was dim. Only one small wall sconce provided light at the opposite end. The floor below seemed to be dark.
Having assured herself that nobody guarded her door, she snuck outside and silently shut the bedroom door behind her. Taking caution to tread lightly, she walked toward the staircase. The plush rug underneath her shoes provided sufficient cushioning to absorb the sound of her footsteps.
When she reached the head of the stairs, she gripped the railing then eased one foot lower, then the next, careful not to trip. As she descended, leaving the third floor behind her, it got darker. As she had guessed, no lights were turned on on this floor. She could only see a faint shimmer of light coming up from the first floor, most likely from the light in the entrance hall.
When she set her foot on the last step, reaching the second floor, she continued to use the handrail for guidance. Halfway there, she encouraged herself.
The house was quiet. Oliver was probably sleeping. And Blake, even if he was awake, didn’t have the kind of hearing a vampire possessed. If she remained quiet and breathed only shallow breaths, he would never hear her.
A few more steps and she would reach the top of the last flight of stairs.
“Leaving us so soon?”
Her breath hitched, and her heart skipped a couple of beats. Then Oliver’s hands were on her, forcing her away from the stairs. Within a fraction of a second, she found herself pressed against the wall, his body and arms forming a cage around her she couldn’t escape from.
Seconds passed with nobody speaking.
“Speechless?” he mocked.
“I . . . ” She hated that he was right. No words came from her throat as her brain still dealt with the shock of being caught. Or maybe it was the shock of feeling his body so close to hers.
“Ursula, Ursula . . . ” He shook his head as his hand moved to her face to brush a strand of her black hair out of her face. “What an unusual name for a Chinese girl. Is it even your name?”
Defiantly she thrust her chin up. “My father was a big fan of Ursula Andress. And there’s no law saying I have to have a Chinese name because I’m Chinese.” Even though she did, of course. Her middle name was Chinese, and all her relatives called her by her Chinese, not her western name.
“I see your father has great taste in women.”
“I’m surprised you know who she is.”
“She was a Bond girl.”
Ursula had seen the many DVDs Oliver owned, but she hadn’t bothered looking through them to find out what he was interested in. Apparently he liked 007.
“Now let me go.” She pushed against him, but he didn’t give an inch.
“No.”
Angry at his refusal, she pressed her lips together.
He laughed softly. “You really thought you could sneak out of the house without me noticing?”
She decided not to correct him. There was no need for him to find out she was trying to call her parents.
“I thought you’d lived with vampires for the last few years. Didn’t that teach you anything about us? Our skills?”
His head came closer. “Our desires?”
She swallowed hard at his insinuation, but at the same time she was unable to break eye contact. His blue eyes looked at her with such intensity that she felt paralyzed.
“Yes,” he said even more softly, “especially our desires.”
His gaze dropped to her lips, and just by doing so, he made them tremble.
“Do you remember our kiss?” He didn’t wait for an answer, not that she had the strength to give one. “When I close my eyes, I can still feel your lips on mine.”
She sucked in a breath, and the subsequent expansion of her chest caused her nipples to brush against his hard chest. His eyes instantly widened before he responded by pressing his body harder against hers.
“And I remember what you offered me.”
Finally she found her voice again. “I’ll never sleep with a vampire!”
He lowered his lids so quickly, she couldn’t see his reaction to her words. “I figured that much. But tell me, if I were human, would you have slept with me?”
She gasped at his bold question. “That’s not a—”
“Just answer the question,” he interrupted. “If we had met under other circumstances, and if I were still human, would you have done more than just kiss me? Would you have gone to bed with me?”
She turned her head away to escape his penetrating eyes, but his hand on her chin forced her head back to look at him.
Would she have slept with him? Ursula studied his handsome features, his stubborn chin, his large nose, and strong eyebrows. She tried not to look at his lips, but they were hard to avoid. Yes, had they met on a university campus or been introduced at a party, she would have dated him, taken him back to her dorm room and stripped him naked. But this was not how it had happened.
She shook her head. “No!”
“Liar,” he whispered without malice. “My pretty little liar. How much I wish right now to still be human.”
Frozen in place, she watched his lips approach. When they touched hers, it seemed without haste, almost as if he was giving her time to pull back. Yet she couldn’t escape the growing need inside her, even though she didn’t want to admit it to herself. She wanted to feel his lips again.
When his mouth pressed more firmly against hers, she tilted her head and parted her lips. A low groan came from Oliver’s throat and bounced against her. Then his tongue stroked over her lips before dipping inside her.
She’d never felt anything so soft and . . . gentle, almost as if he was afraid of scaring or hurting her. But the only thing that scared her more than his kiss was her reaction to it. If he asked her now whether she would have slept with him, her answer would be a resounding yes. Luckily, he was too busy kissing her to ask any more questions.