Dancing Dragon (14 page)

Then suddenly he appeared in front of me, on his knees, pushing my legs apart. His eyes held mine and it occurred to me that his looked different, darker, not deeper, but actually darker. I wondered briefly if that was also Darker with a capital D, but then his head dipped between my legs and I my heart leapt to my throat. This could not be happening.

“Or here?” he said roughly, somehow managing to strip my jeans off me and then push up the shortie PJ bottoms I had been wearing under them - the black cotton ones covered in little hot pink kittens - and laying a kiss on my femoral artery. A place he would only ever feed from during sex.

“Would you like to watch me feed from a donor from here?” he asked, his voice turning to steel. “Is that what I should do?”

I knew he could read my mind and although I couldn't talk or even throw a thought at him, I could think, to a certain degree, so I just let myself respond in my mind. Let my thoughts tumble.
You are a bastard, Michel, you can be a real prick.
He was threatening to feed from another, in a chamber similar to the one where he had fed from a Blonde French girl and then fucked her, the last time we had been here.
What the hell has happened to you?

The problem was, I knew he could carry this through to completion, it would have been a punishment fitting the crime, or so his Dark thought. But if he did and I managed to get back to my body, I
would
leave him. If he did this to me, it would be crossing that last line, that last forbidden step. If he did this, I would leave.

His eyes flashed a dangerous combination of magenta and violet. My thoughts were a challenge that only fuelled the flame.

“How would you have me punish you, kindred? You defy me at every turn.” His eyes held mine, his body not touching me, but the heat he was creating in the space between us was scorching my skin. I shifted beneath its onslaught.

I wanted to say,
screw you
, I wanted to yell,
you're not the boss of me
, I wanted to scream,
don't do it, don't do it, don't do it
until he stopped this cruel game and released me. Kissed me. Bit me. I no longer cared what, but so long as he didn't call for a donor and feed from their neck or thigh in front of me.

We held each others gaze for so long, it was as though we were having a silent conversation by the look in our eyes alone, no words needed. I was saying,
you're better than this
, he was answering,
you have more faith in me than I do,
I was replying,
it's just the Dark talking, you can fight it
, he was saying,
I am Dark, it is what I am
, I was arguing,
no it's not, I've seen your Light
and he finished with,
watch and I'll show you how Dark I can be
.

He stood up with purpose and reached for the phone on the wall. He quickly said something in French, which I had no hope of translating, not because it was difficult, not because he spoke rapidly and too fluidly for me, on the contrary he wanted me to understand every syllable, but I didn't because I couldn't allow myself to hear those words. I just couldn't.

He replaced the receiver and turned to look at me. I took in his face, the high cheek bones, the firm jaw line, the masculine regal nose, the smooth deep cream skin; flawless, perfect, so him. I knew every inch of that long, tall and muscular body, I knew every plane, every dip and curve. I could wax lyrical over the feeling I get when I run my fingers through his long, dark, shoulder length hair. How I can lie awake at night and watch the light shine in the deep tones of the strands. His eyes, there's a whole page and half just there, the colour of the Mediterranean Sea on a special day, the Atlantic on any other. A deep, deep blue you can literally get lost in, with flecks of violet and indigo and sometimes - when things are heating up, for good or bad, like now - a magenta that is so unnatural to the human eye, yet looks so at home in him. I love his eyes. I love his hair. I love his body. And I thought I loved this man.

He didn't blink or show any emotions while these thoughts streamed through my head, he simply held my gaze and let the magenta flood in, taking over all other colour, washing away all of the Michel I knew and loved. After five minutes of silent appraisal, my mind had just gone numb. I could see Samson trying to talk to me, realising I wasn't there, I could see the look on both M & M, as they realised I had been AWOL and they had failed to even notice. I could see Michel slowly stand and remove his jacket, placing it on the armchair behind him and then crossing to the door as a quiet knock sounded.

I could see it all, but I couldn't get away from any of it. Why couldn't I float back to my body? Just there, on the sofa in my mind's eye, sitting next to a worried Samson, surrounded by vampires who actually gave a damn. Why couldn't I just float away from here? From Michel as he brought a young redhead girl in to sit next to me on the sofa, dressed in a lightweight summery dress, thin straps, above the knee, too much skin.

Whatever was holding me here, I couldn't break it. It had to be Michel, I'd come to him because of our Bond connection and he'd held on to me because he needed me. He needed to exert his dominance over me. He needed me here in order to crush my soul.

I focused on my heartbeat, it wasn't the first time I had tried, it's what works to take me back to my body when I Dream Walk. I wasn't Dream Walking now, but it was worth another try. The regularity soothed me, the rapidity alarmed me, but neither worked to sink me into that void. I could feel the Dark around me, I didn't need to
seek
to know Michel was consumed. So,
seeking
or falling back to my body through the black nothingness of my mind wasn't an option, then maybe calling on my Light was.

I searched inside my body for the familiar feel of Light, usually so near the surface, so easy to grasp, but for some reason it was muted here, dulled, out of reach. I let a small whimper out at the realisation that I didn't even have that to save me now. Of all the situations to end up in, I never thought the most egregious would be with Michel.

The small, petite redhead looked at me with a little worry. She couldn't figure out why I was here, why I was bearing witness to this without a word. She didn't realise she was on show, part of a punishment, but even if she did, she'd have been used to it. Vampire power plays and punishments aren't few and far between. If she was a regular donor, she'd know all about those.

Michel sat down next to her, on the other side from me, he turned her gently towards him, telling her to wrap her arms around his body. She complied of course, they always do. He moved her hair aside, softly, carefully and laid a kiss against her skin above her pulse. His eyes never left mine.

In my head I heard his voice, resoundingly large, powerfully strong. He didn't need
Sanguis
Vitam
to get it there, our Bond allowed this connection, it was part of both of us, but the effect he chose to use was demanding and drowned me in its smooth, low sound - a vibration that engulfed me, inundated me and threatened to consume me.

You are mine, Lucinda, you will do as I say, you will not disobey me, you will never stray.

The world stopped spinning, nothing else existed, just him watching me watching them. He wasn't caressing her, the kiss had been an absent movement, nothing more, he was just going through the motions to punish. There was no thought of what exactly he was doing, of how detrimental to our relationship this would be. He was angry, he had let the Dark inside and now he was striking out.

I knew this was pure vampire, pure Dark, that was making him act this way. I knew it, I understood it, but I still hated it will all my heart. After everything we had been through, he still refused to embrace the Light.

I wanted to close my eyes and block it out. I wanted the ground to swallow me up and hide me from the world. I wanted to stake the bastard where he sat, about to feed from another. I hated him. I loved him. I despised him.

I don't pray to Nut too often. Sometimes though, I do, when life's really bad and I can't think of anything else to make it all go away. I don't expect her to answer, I consider it a one way street. I get to vent, maybe create a little hope within myself and perhaps she'll file it away and make things better in the future. I doubt it. Although I have met her, I get the impression she's a bit busy most of the time to be concerned with little old me. But I prayed now. I put everything of my heart and soul into it, I tried to wrap it in what little Light I could gather and send it winging through the air and space to my goddess.

Please Nut, make him stop. Please don't let him destroy what little Light he has left. Please Nut, please. This is not Michel, this is not my kindred. Please.

I can't say for sure that she heard me, I'd like to think that Michel had, but why he would have listened to those words in my mind and not any of the others I'd been thinking previously, I don't know. But he stopped, hovering over the donor's pulse, fangs still out waiting to breach that final gap and drink her succulent blood down. But in that instant he looked... destroyed. There was no other word for it. Like he'd suddenly realised how far he had almost gone and his world had just collapsed around him.

If I'd had any emotions left over to spare him, I would have felt heartache for the utter look of loss on his face, but I didn't. I was done.

He pushed the donor away and reached for me, right at the moment I saw Samson raise a hand and then slap me hard on the cheek back on the couch in St. Helier's Bay and I came snapping back to my body with pain ringing through my ears.

“Mother fucker!” I exclaimed in Samson's face.

But, I'm not really sure who I was talking about. Him or Michel?

I think it must have been Michel. My kindred who was now so laden with Dark.

The one who had broken my heart.

Again.

The phone ringing interrupted Samson's apologies and Marcus's laughter and Matthias's frozen bag of peas being placed on my cheek. Marcus answered it and went to hand it to me.

“It's Michel,” he said, still trying not to laugh at my outburst from before.

“Tell him to get fucked!” I shot back, refusing to take the phone from his outstretched hand.

The room fell silent,
Sanguis
Vitam
shot through the air, the vamps went preternaturally still.

“Better still, tell him to find another doormat to abuse, because this one's shutting up shop and moving out.” I stood up, pushing Samson aside. “I hope he rots in hell,” I said over my shoulder as I stomped out of the room heading for the stairs.

I'd pack light, I didn't need much, I'd still work at
Sensations
and book into a motel until I could find myself a place to stay. I needed the money and while he was forced to be away at the Champion's instructions, I could at least fill my bank account, but I would have to reconsider my position when he returned. We'd grow weak of course, not being near each other. We'd grow so weak, we could possibly die. Right now, death sounded about right.

There was a knock on the door to my room. I didn't answer it, just continued to shove clothes in my bag, willy-nilly. Matthias's voice was tentative, but grave.

“Luce. Michel needs to talk to you. He's begging. Begging, Luce. Please, don't make me listen to my master beg.”

“You're not my problem, Matthias. You've done your job, you've been a good guard. Now I relinquish you from the task, I'm out of here.”

“You can't relinquish me, Luce, only Michel can and he's told me I don't have to follow you now. Please, Luce, just hear him out.”

“Like he heard me out back at the
Palais
?” I shook my head, I wasn't going to get into it with the hired help.

Michel's voice in my head interrupted my mental ranting.
Ma douce, please talk to me. I have sent her away, I did not feed. I am...

I slammed my shields home and banned him from my mind.

With my bag packed I headed out past Matthias and the still unanswered phone and stomped down the steps.

“Where will you go?” Matthias asked, but I knew he was getting instructions from his master. Michel couldn't reach me telepathically right now, but he sure as hell could reach Matthias.

I ignored him.

At the bottom of the stairs Samson appeared with a packed bag. I glared at him for a moment and then realised he wasn't subject to the Durand manipulation and control, he could leave too.

He smiled at me and took my bag from my hand, hefted both over his shoulder and headed for the garage. I took one last look around the lounge and followed him out. He was already raising the garage door. The sun was still up, but it was at least cloudy, still, he'd need to hide in the back, under cover until I got us wherever the hell we were going to go.

“Please, Luce, please just talk to him. My God,” Matthias said, big beefy hand over the talking end of the phone. “I think he's actually crying,” he whispered, with such shocked emotion it made his voice squeak and catch.

I turned slowly to look at him, seeing Marcus's stunned face over his shoulder further in the shadows. Matthias was chancing the weak sunlight, as it streaked into the now fully opened garage door.

“Good,” I said with feeling. “I hope he hurts, but it could never be as much as he has hurt me.”

I slipped into the car and started it, reversing out of the driveway without seeing where I was going. Luckily, no one was walking their dog past the gate, nor were there any cars passing right when I swung the BMW, a little wildly, onto the road and then shot forward at great speed to get away from my pain.

Of course, I couldn't out run it, I couldn't hide from it either. I even couldn't avoid Michel. Every few minutes he'd try to reach me in my mind, call to me softly, tell me he loved me, he'd made a mistake; an awful, horrendous, unforgivable mistake. But then he'd ask for forgiveness anyway and I'd just snort in reply. Sure, I forgive you and then you do it all over again when something else makes the vampyre-within get out of control. I was done. I was so damn done with it all.

I could fight the Prophesy from another city, I could carry on my responsibilities to the Nosferatins, the Norms and to Nut from somewhere else. I didn't need to stay here, I had a little money saved, we could get away.

“How much money have you got, Samson?” I asked over my shoulder.

“I have ample to keep us safe, mistress,” came his muffled reply under the blanket. Although he could handle a little sunlight, he was still only a level four master, he would begin to burn. He wasn't taking any chances.

“I'm driving us to the airport, we're getting out of here. Have you got your passport on you?” I'd packed all my documents and I could leave behind my stakes and my satellite phone in the boot of the car - airlines wouldn't let me take
them
. I'd be able to order more weapons from Nero's Nosferatin community though. I'd kept in touch, they would fashion me more, so I wasn't worried about travelling unarmed.

“Yes. Where do you plan for us to go?”

“I don't know, I'll book us into the Novotel at the airport and we'll make a decision there.” Suddenly even staying and working at
Sensations
didn't seem right. I needed a complete break.

I drove up to the Novotel's covered entrance and let Samson out with the bags and then went and parked the BMW. I didn't give a shit that it was the short term car park, Michel would have the car collected at some stage, I was turning my back on it all now.

By the time I came in to the hotel lobby, Samson had booked us adjoining rooms. I thanked my lucky stars for Samson. He hadn't questioned my decisions, he hadn't tried to talk me out of it, he hadn't insisted I speak to Michel. He had just gone along with everything, dropped his own life and come to my aid. I knew it was the blood bond, or in our case a Light bond, the bond we shared due to him being in my line, but I also felt like it was more. He wanted to help me, for me I think. He was my friend.

Is this what Erika had been like to Michel? He had thought her a friend, family even, and she had betrayed him. Please, Samson, I mentally wished, don't do that to me. I wouldn't survive.

Michel did, my little inner voice chimed up. He's still battling it, but he's alive and now you've left him too.

I didn't betray him, I shot back. He almost betrayed me, though. Almost, my inner voice whispered and then mercifully shut up.

I phoned Doug, to let him know I was quitting. He had already been contacted by Michel, so didn't sound surprised. He didn't ask me where I was, he didn't try to tell me to come home he just said, “You need anything at all, Luce, you just call. I'll be here.”

I forced the tears that sprang to my eyes away and hung up the phone.

Samson and I ordered room service. For me, although I wasn't in the slightest bit hungry, coffee and chocolate cake would do. For Samson, the room service waiter. I squashed my unease as he easily glazed him and had his fill. He needed to feed, he'd faced the sun today for me and he wasn't getting my vein. So, I said nothing and just started on my chocolate overload comfort food and soul settling caffeine.

I asked Samson to pick a destination. Anywhere in the world but here. I didn't listen to his telephone conversation with the airline, but when it was done he came and sat down in front of me, a look of uncertainty, with a helpful dose of concern, all over his face.

"I've booked the flight," he said quietly, reaching to hold my hand. I didn't really want to hold his hand, but touching a member of your line can be medicinal. I needed grounding, Samson grounded me. "I've chosen Birmingham, it's the closest airport I could get to a little place called Tewkesbury in Gloucestershire."

"Gloucestershire?" I asked, still a little numb despite the strange choice of destination he had chosen.

He looked a little uncomfortable. Took a deep breath in, to fortify himself it would seem, and then went on. "I've been doing some research. Um... you told me your biological father's name was Baxter, right?" I just nodded, totally not getting where this was all going. "Well, I knew a Baxter, back when I roamed England many years ago." He let a little huff of a laugh out at that. "Well, over a century ago, anyway."

I frowned in reply. Just what the hell was he getting at? He rolled his shoulders a little and smiled at me. It was tentative.

"I hope you don't mind, but I think I found a relative of yours. A great, great, great something or other, uncle. I think I knew him."

Well, that was a shock. I hadn't expected this line of conversation, that was for sure. And I suddenly realised, I had momentarily forgotten all my worries, wrapped up in the story slowly unfolding from Samson's lips.

"So?" I said, when he just sat there and watched me. "He's dead though, right? Or was he a Nosferatin, like me?" If so, he could still be alive. I felt a frisson of excitement go through me.

"He
was
a Nosferatin, he died though." I felt surprisingly devastated. I didn't know this Nosferatin, even if he was an ancestor. But, in the brief time of being aware of him, I had grown attached. Bizarre.

"Oh," was all I managed to get out.

"I know where he was buried," Samson said. "I thought you might like to see. You know, touch the gravestone of a Nosferatin from your family line. I thought it might be nice, to reconnect with who you are, where you have come from."

I felt my eyes fill up with tears. This was so sweet, so unexpected. Samson was trying to give me something to focus on, other than my heartache. A family member from years gone by. Someone he knew. A Nosferatin like me. I flung my arms out and wrapped them around my vampire.

"Thank you," I whispered. "Thank you."

The next flight out that he could get wasn't until tomorrow. An evening flight thankfully, it would be easier on Samson. Most vampires travel by private jet, but we were being forced to go commercial. Samson had been willing to hire a jet, but there just hadn't been any available who could take us on such short notice. He didn't complain, just booked our business class seats with Air Emirates. We'd have brief hour-long layovers in Brisbane and Dubai, but Samson would be able to glaze the cabin crew to allow us to stay on-board, thereby avoiding any potential sunlit locations.

We booked for an extra night at the hotel, so we would have shelter for tomorrow and then he headed to his room for whatever it is he was going to do in the night.

“I'll stay nearby, Luce, I won't go out this evening in case you need me. Do you think you will feel the pull from here?” he asked at the adjoining doorway to his room.

“Possibly. I'll let you know if I do, we can go together.”

“Good.” He nodded and closed the door behind him.

I spent the first few hours channel surfing, the next few pacing and then the hours between 4am and 6am crying. I'd promised myself I'd stay strong, but when Michel's persistent attempts to get me to answer his mental pleas stopped, the tears came. It was what I had wanted, so why did it hurt so much?

I showered at eight, dressed in my familiar wear, black short mini skirt, black fitting T-Shirt, black boots and jacket. My stakes & knives were in my car. I checked on Samson, who had been internet surfing all night and was only just getting some shut-eye, and ordered up room service again for breakfast. Fresh fruit salad, pastries and conserves and a fluffy white coffee. I still wasn't hungry, but I was determined to stave off weakness with fuel. It was worth a try.

The knock on the door for my brekkie made me jump, but then everything did right now. I didn't look at the waiter when I opened the door, just held it ajar and pointed toward the small table and chairs in the corner.

He walked in and placed the tray down and then turned to look at me. I wasn't paying attention, the smell of coffee had all of mine.

“You look sad,
elska
.”

I jumped again, but managed to keep my startled scream in. I didn't think Samson needed to come running.

Yet.

“Lutin? What are doing here? Bringing me my breakfast?”

“It pleases me to serve my
elska
. You are hungry?” He lifted the lid off the fruit platter and pastries. “Hmm,” he said, poking at a croissant. “Not as nice as in
Álfheimr
. If you were to allow me to take you home, you would be surrounded by beauty and tastes beyond your wildest imagination.”

“This is my home,” I answered defiantly, refusing to consider the possibility that
Álfheimr
actually existed at all.

“Is it?” he asked pointedly, taking in my packed bag on the floor and then my passport and travel documents on the side table and then looking back at me.

I was the first to glance away.

“
Here,
elska
. Eat.” He brushed aside my discomfort and held a chair open for me at the table.

I looked at him for a moment, taking in how he was dressed today. Faded jeans again, that hugged his body criminally close and a white loose shirt, untucked, black boots with silver tips and a silver bracelet of some description on his wrist. It shone in the lights of the room and had an intricate design wrapped around its circumference. I couldn't see a beginning or an end, it just looked like one solid, two inch wide band decorated in flowers and vines and other indistinguishable images. It was beautiful and I hadn't realised I'd been staring at it for several minutes when Lutin appeared before my face.