CHAPTER FIVE

The sensation nearly killed Stefan then and there. He held her hips, loving the smooth feel of her skin, and watched her lips part in passion. Her red hair moved on her shoulders, the breeze stirring the ends across her cheek.

Perfect, perfect, perfect. He was so damn hungry, but he knew that if he just took her they’d both die. It would be a shame to see this beautiful woman stretched out bloodless on his floor for Mario to find. She was so full of life and fire, and she needed to stay that way. Better for him to die and get it over with than drag her into hell with him.

And die he would. He felt it coming. But what a way to go. He slid his hands along her thighs, prepared to love every second of this. Meredith was resisting his mark, and he wasn’t sure how she did it. She had no power of her own—he knew that as he gently slid his thoughts into and out of her mind. She was who she seemed to be, an innocuous young woman from Santa Fe who wrote books and helped sell her mother’s artwork.

Her slight defiance served as an aphrodisiac. She almost succumbed to him, but not quite.

She rocked her hips against his, and waves of incredible feeling roared through him. This was a woman and a joining he’d waited his long life for. He clenched down on the excitement rising like a black tide, wanting to hold on to his orgasm as long as he could. He’d always been able to draw it out, to control the situation, but with Meredith his body had other ideas.

Take her, have her, take her again.

Why not? If she did not choose to save him, at least he’d exit this plane of existence happy.

He drove upward, feeling her close on every inch of him. The pleasure was maddening, and he never wanted it to stop. As a Viking, he’d been a warrior and a hunter, and he’d learned the value not only of being strong and striking fast, but of patience. One struck only when the time was right.

The time was right—now. He was fading, and the signs that he’d learned to read in the wind and the weather and the stars over the centuries told him she was the one who would save him. But while he could seduce her and coax her and make her his slave, the ultimate choice was hers. A blood slave obeyed every command but one. When a warm vampire said, Let me drink, a blood slave could refuse. That was their only power, the one check the universe had on vampires to keep them from taking over the world. Vampires had supernatural power, but in the end, they were as dependent on the slaves as the slaves were on them.

Most slaves willingly let their masters drink, though, being far gone in adoration for them. But Meredith resisted. He feared her resistance and at the same time, it intrigued him.

Her body certainly wanted his at the moment. She writhed on him, taking her pleasure, and he happily gave it to her.

“You are an incredible woman, Meredith Black.”

Her answer was a moan as her climax took her over the edge. “Stefan,” she gasped, and she rocked on him, hard, harder. “Yes.”

He held her hips, pushing himself into her, meeting her thrust for thrust, while his own tension spiraled into the sky. The climax was like nothing he’d ever experienced. Darkness rushed at him at the same time he growled his delight and slammed into Meredith as hard as he could. “That’s it, my love. Thank you.”

He felt it coming, the end of the climax, the beginnings of darkness. No, not now. I want to be with her a little longer.

The darkness won. As her look softened into after-sex pleasure, cold took over his limbs. Under her stroking hands, he stopped moving and lay still, his heartbeat slowing until it thudded to a near halt.

Meredith rubbed his chest, liking the way his crisp gold curls wove around her long fingers. “Stefan? That was—amazing.”

Amazing was an understatement. She’d never felt that way before, never felt such a connection with another person. She’d felt as though his climax had entwined with hers, her pleasure and his running side by side.

Stefan watched her with half-closed eyes, the gold glow in them fading. She stroked his smooth torso, loving the warm feel of him, feeling his pulse slow under her fingers.

“Stefan?”

He remained silent, his hands on her thighs, his fingers moving the slightest bit. Maybe he didn’t like to talk afterward. Maybe he liked to sleep first and talk later. He couldn’t exactly go out for a beer and never see her again, because this was his apartment. He could throw her out, though. He’d seemed so gentlemanly earlier tonight, so tender with her, but she didn’t really know him. Was he the kind of man who’d do the deed and then tell her to get out?

Apparently not. He continued to touch her thighs, his fingers featherlight. She lay across his body, reveling in his warmth. She wouldn’t talk if he didn’t want to. It was enough to bask in the afterglow. If all went well, they could do that again and again, until the roasting hot summer sun crawled upward to start another day.

He lay very still. Meredith raised her head to kiss his cheek and noticed that the stillness, except for the faint movement of his fingers, was absolute. He didn’t even blink.

“Stefan?” she repeated. She touched his face, his lips. No movement, no response.

Alarmed, she sat up, pressing her hands to his chest. His heart still beat but very, very slowly, unnaturally so. She smoothed his hair from his brow and found it coated with icy sweat.

Her breath slammed into her, hot with the desert night. “Oh my God, I’ve given him a heart attack.”

But how? Stefan was a virile male, in great shape—but then, she didn’t know anything about him. Maybe this was what vampires did after sex.

She slid from the chaise, scrabbling for the little velvet purse that went with her dress and had a cell phone inside it. Should she call 911 or hotel security? Call someone. Stefan could be dying.

Cold touched her, a chill in the air though the night was still roasting hot. Dry desert air that could peel the skin from her body was now overlaid with a coldness she’d experienced earlier today, when—

She turned. The white vampire was standing near the edge of the pool, his waist-length white hair stirring in the breeze. She could see his ice-blue eyes all the way across the deck.

The fact that she was stark naked hovering over a chaise on top of a hotel roof didn’t bother her as much as what would happen when the white vampire reached her. The water reflected weirdly on him, making his face alternately white and bluish.

She never saw him move. One moment he stood near the sliding door to the apartment, the next he was in front of her, his icy eyes holding her gaze.

Her heart raced, but she held her ground, though she was nauseated with fear. The vampire’s gaze moved to her throat, where she knew her pulse pounded like a jackhammer. The more she tried to slow her breathing and her heart rate, the faster it went.

He reached a cold finger to her mouth. He moved his fingertips across her lips, which must be red and swollen from Stefan’s kisses, tracing them slowly.

“Go inside, Meredith,” the vampire said.

“No.” The response came automatically.

Do not obey. She seemed to hear Stefan’s voice inside her head, but a quick glance down showed he was still silent and immobile.

“Leave him to me,” Armand said.

“No.” Meredith yanked open her purse. The cell phone clattered to the deck, but that was not what she reached for. The cheap cross on a chain, the one her mother had given her, fell into her hands. She raised it into the vampire’s face. “Leave me alone.”

He regarded the plain gold cross with steady eyes before reaching up and firmly taking it away from her. He balanced the necklace on his palm while she watched, astonished. No screaming, no bursting into flames, nothing.

He raised his gaze to her baffled face. “I was a Knight Templar for many years, Meredith. The symbol of Christ holds no terror for me. I died with his badge on my chest.”

“Oh.”

He took her hand and dropped the cross back into it, closing her fingers. “Keep it for those who fear it.” His grip was strong, and he was not about to let her go.

“I belong to Stefan,” she tried.

“He wants you to think so. Fight him. Let his pull leave your mind and let him die.”

“No.” The voice behind her was weak. Meredith looked swiftly at Stefan to see him fighting to open his eyes. His body remained immobile, his eyes still half closed. “No.” He tried to move, and collapsed, his arm trailing to the deck. “Damn.”

The white vampire moved on him, blue eyes glowing. Meredith shrieked and flung herself on top of Stefan, holding out her hand as though she could stop a powerful undead being with her palms. “Leave him alone.”

Armand stopped, his eyes as cold as ever. “He is using you, Meredith Black. He has made you his blood slave, and he wants sacrifice. He must drink of you or die.”

His cold touched Meredith, and she shuddered. Her mind registered one thing—this man was a vampire, sure as shooting, and he believed Stefan was a vampire as well.

Armand noted her hesitation. “He has brought you here to feed from you, again and again, and you’ll let him because you won’t be able to resist.” He threaded his cool fingers in Meredith’s hair, his lips parted, and she saw the unmistakable white of fangs against his red mouth. “Let me Turn you now and make you my own, let me save you from him.”

She stared at him in stark fear. “Wait, you mean you’ll suck my blood and make me a vampire, and that saves me from him? What saves me from you?”

“You will be free. Not a blood slave. It is the only way.”

“How about no way in hell? And I wish I would have phrased that differently.”

He put his strong hand on her neck, moving aside her hair. “Come to me. I will make it the most exquisite event of your existence.”

“Sounds like it will be all downhill from there.”

He peeled back his lips, fangs sharp, his eyes flaring blue. As his mouth came down on her neck, she shoved him with all her strength and dropped to the deck. Her knees banged the hard concrete and she felt the sting of blood on them. She shoved her shoulder against Armand’s leather-clad legs and scuttled out from under him.

She had a single moment’s advantage, which she used to lunge for her cell phone. She grabbed it and rolled away, punching in the speed-dial number for Mario and praying she wasn’t in a dead zone.

Dead zone—she really had to come up with new jargon.

Armand was on her the moment her finger lifted from the keypad. He threw the cell phone to the deck, where it spun and skittered into the glass. He jammed her head back, his hand on her shoulder, fangs ready.

“Mario!” she screamed, in case the phone had connected. “Mario!”

She heard Mario’s voice faintly crackling in the faraway phone. “Meredith?”

“Help me!”

There was one second of silence, then a forceful Italian word. “Be right there.”

He meant right there. As Armand’s teeth connected with her neck, Mario’s brawny hands yanked him from her and spun him around. Meredith collapsed to the deck, frantically feeling her throat for blood.

Armand easily threw off Mario’s hold and the two faced each other, Mario breathing hard, the white vamp unmoving except for the wind stirring his hair.

“Get the hell out of here,” Mario said, voice menacing.

“You would help him? Or maybe you want to share in her blood. It’s sweet.” He flicked a drop from his lips and sucked it from his fingertip.

“I said, get the hell out.”

Mario looked less like a dancer ready for a lady’s pleasure and more like a thug you didn’t want to meet in a dark alley. His dark eyes were steady, as cold as Armand’s, his face hard.

Armand looked at him for a long time, no fear showing in him whatsoever. “Her blood will be on your hands,” he said softly. “And you call yourself a man of honor.”

Mario took a step forward, large fists curled. If Mario had looked at Meredith like that, she would have run far and run fast. Armand simply gave him a look of contempt. Then he whirled around, pale hair flying, leapt easily to the five-foot wall, spread his arms, and dove into empty space.

Meredith screamed, then clapped her hand over her mouth. She drew in several ragged breaths, her brain trying to comprehend what she had just seen. “He jumped—Wait, he’s a vampire. He didn’t turn into a bat, did he?”

She glanced above them in alarm, where a flying rat could even now be circling them.

Mario gave her an incredulous look, then burst out laughing. The cold, mean thug disappeared, and Mario the sexy dancer was back with her. “A bat? What kind of crap do you read?”

“I don’t read it, I write it.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot.”

His dark eyes sparkled, and she realized his interested gaze was on her—all of her. She’d felt no embarrassment being naked in front of Armand—she’d been too terrified—but now she flushed as Mario’s scrutiny went on and on. She drew up her knees and crossed her arms over her chest, her face hot.

“Hey, no need to hide yourself from me. I don’t see anything bad here.” He glanced at Stefan, who lay like a statue on the chaise, and his grin faded. “You had sex.”

Meredith reached for her dress and lifted it on, trying to hide her body from Mario at the same time. “We’re both stark naked beside the pool. Did you think we were fishing?”

“Don’t get mad.” Mario moved to Stefan and looked down at him. He brushed his hand over Stefan’s face, gently lifting an eyelid. Stefan never stirred. “You couldn’t resist her, could you? Idiot. It was too soon, and you knew it.”

“Too soon for what?” Meredith struggled to zip her dress up in back. “Mario, too soon for what?”

Mario looked up at her, dark eyes unreadable. “He wanted to tell you, and I told him not to. Maybe I’m the idiot.”

“Mario.” Meredith glared at him. “What is wrong with Stefan? And what did Armand mean about you having my blood on your hands?” She touched her neck where Armand’s teeth had scraped her. It had bled a few drops, but that was all.

“Armand is a vampire master, so he thinks he’s always right. He has a big following, and his vamps do whatever he says. Kind of king of the cold vampires.”

“The ones who are true undeads.”

“Yep.”

“Mario, could you please, please, please tell me what is going on? Is Stefan going to be okay, or did I slay him with sex?” She glanced at Stefan, who lay so still on the chaise, her heart hammering with worry. “Why did Armand want to turn me into a vampire to get me away from him?”

“Tell her.” The whisper came from Stefan’s throat.

Meredith dropped to her knees beside him, cradling his face. “Stefan. Are you all right? I’m so sorry.” She kissed his forehead, not liking how cold his skin had grown.

“You didn’t kill him with sex, Meredith,” Mario interrupted. He grinned. “But if you want to try with me…”

“Tell her,” Stefan repeated, barely moving his lips. “Jackass.”

Mario chuckled. Meredith felt a little better that Mario wasn’t freaking out and calling for an ambulance, but she saw nothing to laugh about.

Mario gently pressed Meredith aside and leaned to lift Stefan, as large as he was, over his shoulder. “Let’s get this big guy to bed, and then you and me will have a talk.”

Mario carried Stefan through the glass door that slid aside for him and into the bedroom. As Meredith had seen earlier, the bedroom was palatial but functional. The large bed did not look quite so large with Stefan sprawled across it—the man filled up a room.

Meredith helped Mario get him under the covers and arrange the pillows comfortably. Stefan tried to move now and again, but he seemed content to let Meredith position him in the bed and smooth the covers over him. She leaned down and touched a kiss to his lips. He moved them a little, trying to respond to the pressure, and then his eyes slid closed.

Mario waited for her in Stefan’s ornate living room. He held up a glass and ice tongs. “Drink?”

“No.” She’d drunk plenty of wine and knew if she had a cocktail on top of it she’d slide to the floor. She trusted Mario, sort of, but wasn’t sure she trusted Armand not to put in a return appearance. A shiver ran through her, and she wondered if she’d ever feel safe sleeping alone again.

“I wish I’d stayed home,” she began.

But she really didn’t wish that. She wouldn’t have met Stefan, and her night with him had been wonderful—up until he’d passed out and Armand had showed up, that is.

She accepted the bottled water Mario handed her. “Just tell me what’s going on,” she sighed as she popped the top.

Mario lounged on Stefan’s leather sofa and propped his feet on the coffee table. He wore nonshow attire—jeans and tight black T-shirt, square-toed motorcycle boots, his black hair pulled into a ponytail.

“Stefan needs to feed,” he said. “I didn’t realize he was this weak, or I’d have reinforced the wards around the hotel. Armand got in because Stefan is breaking down. He didn’t tell me how far gone he was, damn it all.”

“Stefan needs to feed—because he’s a vampire?”

“That’s right. Living vampires feed on the living. We need life to give us life. Understand? We make blood slaves who devote themselves to us, who are willing to sacrifice their own blood to keep us alive. But it’s their choice.” His dark gaze drifted to her neck, and Meredith resisted the urge to press her hand to it.

Mario’s lips twitched. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Stefan’s already marked you. I can’t take you away from him, and if I try he’ll kill me. Six hundred years of friendship don’t matter when instinct will make him kill to protect his minion.”

“Minion.” Meredith made a wry face. “How flattering.”

Mario’s half smile became a grin. “It’s just a term, not a description. Anyway, you’re his, and I wouldn’t violate the rules to try to steal you. Armand tried to take advantage of Stefan’s weakened state to nab you for himself.”

“Let me get this straight—Stefan needs blood, only the blood slave can give him blood, and I’m now the blood slave, but it’s my choice whether to let him feed on me.” She thought of Stefan lying so still and cold in the next room. “If he needs it so bad, why don’t I just let him bite me?”

She grimaced as she said it, picturing Armand’s sharp fangs and cold eyes. She fingered the shallow scratches on her neck.

“That’s why.” Mario took a speculative sip of wine. “You have to give yourself to him body and soul. You have to want him to bite you and not mind if something goes wrong and you die doing it. You make the ultimate sacrifice to keep him alive. If you go to him without giving all of yourself, he’ll lose strength that much quicker. And he might not be able to stop himself drinking you dry and killing you too.”

“Terrific.” Meredith took a long swig of water, which she now wished was vodka. “So I can’t just say here, Stefan, have a sip. I have to be willing to die for him if necessary.”

“If you fall in love and become his true blood slave, you will. You won’t want anything else.”

“Gee, I thought when I met the right one it would be a little different. We’d pick out a house in the burbs and plant geraniums and get a cat.”

Mario looked serious for once. “You can still do that. As long as you’re there for him when he needs you.”

Meredith traced the top of her water bottle. “What about you? You seem healthy. Do you have a blood slave following you around, calling you master?”

Mario’s grin widened and the hard look left his eyes. All he had to do was turn that smile on a woman and she’d be on her knees. He likely had no problem getting blood slaves.

“It’s different for me. I’m not a vampire master.” He took a casual sip of wine, his throat moving slowly, his eyes closing like he savored nectar. “My relationships with blood slaves can be a little more casual. They still have to be willing, but it doesn’t have to be a life-or-death bond.”

“How lucky for you.”

“Not that I’m not looking for the right one. Just not ready to settle down yet. I’m only six hundred.”

His smile was infectious. Meredith couldn’t believe she was sitting here discussing blood slaves with a six-hundred-year-old who didn’t look a day over thirty-two. Meanwhile, the man who wanted to make her his slave lay half comatose in the next room.

“Will he be all right? I mean, if I don’t give him my blood right now, will he die?”

Mario shook his head. “I’ve seen him like this before. It comes on him suddenly sometimes. He’ll recover and probably be pissed as hell.” He gave Meredith an unreadable look. “It might help, though, if you stay with him tonight.”

Meredith set down her water bottle. She gazed over the sumptuous apartment, from the flat-screen television to the lit pool gently moving beyond the glass doors. “I don’t think I’d feel safe returning to my own room anyway.”

“I strengthened the wards around the hotel. Armand won’t be back.”

Meredith remembered Armand’s hungry mouth and the wild exhilaration in his eyes as he dragged Meredith’s head back. She shivered, rubbing her arms.

“Well,” she said, “I’ll need my toothbrush.”