Chapter 7
Everything in Kira froze at the feel of those sharp fangs puncturing her skin, but she wasn't prepared for what happened next. Instead of pain, a cascade of pure sensation flowed over her. Sweet, luscious warmth seemed to spread slowly from her neck, down her shoulders, and lower, until it felt like her body was submerged in heated chocolate. All her worries drained away in such a rush that she felt dizzy, only realizing how heavy the stress had been when it was no longer there to weigh her down.
Something thick and silky threaded through her fingers. After a hazy moment, Kira realized she'd raised her arms and was now gripping Mencheres's hair. He made a deep, guttural sound that vibrated against her neck as he swallowed. My blood.
Mencheres is swallowing my blood.
The thought should have frightened her, or at the very least, made her uneasy, but Kira found herself pressing closer to him instead. Shards of pleasure spiked in her as his fangs slid deeper in response. The heat spreading through her began to swirl and concentrate in one spot, making her gasp at the sudden intense need in her loins. Her hands tangled tighter in his hair while a dark, inexplicable urge had Kira rubbing her neck against his mouth.
Pleasure stabbed into her with enough impact to make her gasp as his fangs slid into her again. She heard herself moaning. Felt another dizzying sweep of heat. How could a bite be responsible for so much bliss?
Mencheres lifted his head all too soon, leaving cool air on her throat instead of the hard, sensual pressure of his mouth. The firm caress of his hands on her back and head vanished, too, resulting in disappointing emptiness instead of the feel of him gripping her.
She didn't even think before she yanked his head back down to her neck. "Don't stop," she gasped.
A harsh noise escaped him as his tongue slid a long, slow path across the spot on her throat where he'd bitten her.
"You don't really mean that."
Like hell she didn't. She needed more of that wonderful, seeking heat flooding all through her. More of him touching her. Her breasts rubbed against the muscled wall of Mencheres's chest as she tightened her grip on his head, keeping him cradled in the crook of her neck.
His hands reached up, clasping her wrists in a gentle yet unbreakable hold as he lifted his head away from her. That clawing need in her began to ebb, leaving behind a warm, light-headed lethargy, as if she'd just emerged from a hot tub after breathing nitrous oxide.
Kira swayed as a tingling wave of dizziness overtook her. Mencheres lifted her, then she was placed on something soft. She opened her eyes to find that he'd moved them over to the couch. She expected his mouth to be stained red, or to see crimson trails zigzagging down his face, but nothing marred his strikingly handsome features. His eyes were still bright emerald green, meeting hers with an intensity she couldn't name.
And she had not the slightest idea of what to say. The uninhibited feelings that had led her to shove Mencheres's head to her throat, demanding that he bite her again, had faded, leaving Kira torn. Was her impassioned reaction just what happened to everyone Mencheres bit? Was that why he'd said she didn't really mean it when she'd told him not to stop?
Or had she not wanted him to stop because the vampire's bite was an excuse to act on the desire she felt toward him? She certainly wouldn't let her unhealthy attraction loose under any other circumstances. No matter how well-intentioned his actions were, he was still her captor - her inhuman captor. She wasn't about to further complicate an already-twisted situation.
"Are you feeling better now?" Mencheres asked, none of her discomfiture coloring his tone.
Kira looked away, taking in a deep breath. She noticed her heart wasn't racing anymore. In fact, it had the same relaxed cadence as if she'd just woken up.
"Fine." Then she forced herself to ask, "Is that whole 'more, more!' response common when you bite someone? Or do I owe you an apology?"
Mencheres moved away from her before he answered. "It is very common." His tone was so stiff that Kira shot a glance at him. His face was utterly closed off, as expressionless as a statue. Why would you expect anything different? she asked herself. This might be a new experience for her, but Mencheres must bite a different person every day. The only reason he wasn't yawning was probably because he didn't need to breathe.
Then abruptly, he was kneeling in front of her, his hand cupping her face and his green eyes blazing into hers.
"Nothing happened, Kira. I did not bite you. You did not come back to my house. You went home from work Tuesday morning, and you have been ill in your bed ever since." A strange thickness pressed on her mind as his voice seemed to vibrate through her.
For a split second, Kira felt elated. It must be finally working! But just as quickly, dismay swept over her. If it was, then she would forget Mencheres. She'd never even realize she'd met him . . .
She blinked, and that insistent pressure vanished from her mind. Mencheres's eyes were still locked onto her, so bright they didn't even seem real; but she no longer felt the urge to fall inside their glow.
"It's not working." The strangest feeling washed over her. Regret? Relief? Kira let it go before she could determine which.
Mencheres was across the room with his back to her before her next blink. Nothing from the square set of his shoulders gave her any indication of what he was thinking.
"We try again in two days," he said.
That would make it a week since that fateful morning at the warehouse. The maximum amount of time Mencheres said it would take for the effects of her drinking his blood to wear off. Kira bit back the question that immediately popped up in her mind.
What if in two days, he still couldn't erase her memories? And if Mencheres couldn't make her forget everything she'd learned about him and the other vampires . . . would he ever let her go?
Mencheres lay on the bottom of the pool, the rays of the late-afternoon sun shining mutedly through the opaque glass. He'd been down here for over an hour in the artificially warmed water, yet even this normally relaxing pastime did little to soothe him. He kept thinking about how Kira's skin had felt under his mouth yesterday, how she tasted, and how her scent assumed a richer, deeper fragrance with her arousal.
He knew that arousal was only due to how he'd bitten her. Kira's response had been the same Mencheres had encountered from countless women and men he'd fed from before. What was so different was his response. When Kira moaned for him not to stop, for a moment, he was tempted. He could drink from her the entire time he took her, draining only the smallest amount of blood but giving her the same incredible sensations from his bite - and more. His desire had been so great that it caused physical pain for him to set Kira away. Mencheres couldn't remember the last time he'd wanted anyone with such intensity. Perhaps never.
And yet it was more than lust. When he'd been unable yet again to penetrate her mind, the relief that filled him was undeniable. He couldn't help but wonder if reluctance on his part played a role in his inability to erase Kira's memory. Yes, there was another possible reason for his inability to alter her thoughts, but the truth was that he didn't want her to leave. It was a pleasure seeing Kira's face each day. Her voice was something he found himself straining to hear whether she spoke to him or not, and her close proximity occupied his thoughts far more than he would ever let her know.
It was ironic; he held her captive, yet she'd captivated him.
Mencheres rose from the pool, abandoning this futile pursuit of tranquility. One thing would make him feel better, and it had nothing to do with basking underwater. He would have Gorgon pull all of Kira's information, discreetly and thoroughly. Mencheres had already decided to claim her as his so she would be left in Bones's care once he was gone. Now all he needed to do was ensure that Bones knew whom to look after once that day came.
The fact that this was one of the few items he was prioritizing didn't escape his notice, but he didn't care. He could pretend that Kira hadn't become important to him, or he could accept it and find a way to proceed regardless. Denial had never assisted him in the past.
"Gorgon!" Mencheres called out. He didn't even wait for the other vampire to come out onto the deck before he spoke again. "I have a task for you."
Mencheres could hear Kira pacing in her room. She'd been doing that for the past two hours. Doubtless, she was again chafing at her circumstances, for which he could not blame her. Her time with him had gone on longer than either of them had anticipated.
Still, in her sixth day since drinking his blood, he did not catch even the slightest glimpses of Kira's thoughts, which he should have been able to do by now.
He could no longer pretend that his blood was just taking an unusually long time to wear off in her system. It was time for him to make a decision. And he dreaded it.
"Screw it," Mencheres heard Kira mutter before she shut her door and came down the stairs. He stayed seated in the living area, keeping his expression composed, as if he hadn't been tuned in to her every nuance for the past few hours.
"I need to call my sister," Kira said as soon as she saw him.
He raised a brow at the urgency in her voice. "Is something wrong?"
"I hope not," Kira muttered. "Library phone okay again?"
"Yes," Mencheres replied, watching Kira as she almost ran toward there. What had her so agitated? When she'd hung up on her sister last night, Kira had been fine. Worried, but otherwise calm. Now she acted as though she'd just walked on her sister's grave.
Mencheres heard the mechanical beeps that signaled Kira dialing, then her tense breathing as she waited. After a dozen rings, Kira let out a curse, then hung up and dialed again.
He came into the library just as Kira muttered another curse and hung up again. Her face was pale.
"She's not answering. Something's wrong."
Mencheres didn't reach out to her, but to his bafflement, his first inclination had been to stroke her in a comforting way.
"You've been unable to reach your sister other times before, yet nothing was amiss," he noted.
"This is different. Ever since later this morning, I just . . . felt that something was off." Kira shot him a pensive look. "You'll think it's crazy, but sometimes I just know things. Call it instinct, gut reaction, whatever, but I've had it all my life."
On the contrary, he was one of the few people in the world who could relate to knowing things based on an unusual inner gift. Or at least, he used to relate.
"Concentrate on this feeling. Focus," Mencheres stated.
She looked surprised at his instruction, but then her brow furrowed, and she began to pace in a slow stride. Silence and concentration had sharpened Mencheres's gift when he was younger and unused to it. Then over time, he'd honed his ability to call visions forth at will. He'd even been able to use his power to locate people over countless miles, especially if he'd tasted that person's blood.
Until his visions abruptly ended and all he saw was darkness. Symbolism was often a part of his visions, and Duat, the underworld where his soul would travel to await judgment by the god Anubis, was a place of uniform darkness. Death was coming for him, but Mencheres would choose his own end. One that best served his people.
"If I'm right, and something bad happened, Tina would be in a hospital. I need to make another call," Kira said. She went to the phone and started dialing, not waiting to see if Mencheres objected. He said nothing, watching as her fingers twisted together in agitation.
"Mercy Hospital and Medical Center," he heard the operator's voice intone.
"I'm checking to see if my sister has been admitted," Kira said, taking in a deep breath. "Her name is Tina Graceling. She might also be in the emergency room."
"One moment." Hold music filled the line for several seconds, then the operator's voice again. "Yes, Tina Graceling is a patient here. Please hold while I connect you to the nurses' station."
Mencheres didn't speak as Kira was transferred and another voice explained to her that her sister was in critical but stable condition. From what he deduced, it wasn't due to an accident but a recurring medical ailment.
"Thank you," Kira said before she hung up. Then she met Mencheres's gaze.
"She's in intensive care." Her voice was raw, her scent swirled with fear, agitation, and guilt. "She hemorrhaged and was brought to the hospital by ambulance this morning . . ." None of this should matter to him. Kira's sister was in a hospital; there was nothing more she could do to help her, and an unknown mortal's poor health was truly not his concern.
But Kira cared, and because of that, he did, too. Regardless of all the reasons why she shouldn't matter to him, Mencheres found that he couldn't bear to see Kira in pain.
Yes, he cared far, far too much.
He'd kept Kira here with the original intention of protecting the secrecy of his race, but as the days passed, Kira's greatest threat wasn't to the vampire world - it was to him.
She made him feel things he couldn't allow himself to feel at this point in his life. No matter how hard it was, it was time for him to remove that threat. He had no other choice if he intended to stay the course he'd set.
"Come," Mencheres said, holding out his hand.
Kira's brow furrowed, but she took it. Beautiful dark lady, he thought. I wish I didn't have to do this.
He had Kira locked in an unbreakable grip before she could even gasp.