CHAPTER SIX
Stefan woke to Meredith’s scent. He opened his eyes and found his nose buried in her hair, sweet red silk flowing over his skin.
He slid his arm around her waist, finding the thin, soft fabric of a T-shirt between him and her. She moved slightly, murmuring in her sleep. Stefan raised his head.
Light streamed in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the Las Vegas sun already high. The windows were so insulated that the sun barely warmed the cool air in the bedroom. Meredith lay against him, covered by a thigh-length T-shirt, her bare legs tangled in his fine Italian cotton sheets.
He ran fingers lightly up under her T-shirt, finding her hip bare, no underwear to mar it. His heart beat faster, strength returning. He inched the shirt up as he kissed her face, willing her awake.
“Stefan,” she murmured, not opening her eyes. Her lips curved to a little smile.
She was not quite awake. With his thoughts, Stefan grayed out the windows so that the fierce sunlight dimmed into cool shadow. He kissed her hair while he slid his fingers between her parted thighs, warming her. Her honey was already flowing, her body wanting him even in her sleep.
He pressed his erection into her slowly, savoring her all the way. She made a noise between a whimper and a moan, then wriggled her hips, settling back against him.
Half cradling her, Stefan made love to her in a quiet softness contrasting the wild frenzy of last night. Out on the deck, he hadn’t been able to have her fast enough. He’d known he should go slow, but he hadn’t been able to. He needed her, he wanted her.
Now that his body had calmed and rested, he could enjoy slow moments with her, breathing her scent, feeling her body around him. Lovely woman. He wanted her to belong to him, body and soul, he craved it, and not just to keep him alive.
“Stefan.” Her eyes were open now, aware of him and what he was doing.
“Good morning, love.”
Her laugh turned to a throaty moan. “A girl should wake up like this every day.”
He pressed her backside against him as he slid deeper into her. She scrabbled for the sheets as though needing to hold on to something, and her face twisted into an expression of pure pleasure. “This is the best trip to Las Vegas I’ve ever had.”
And the best time of Stefan’s life. He kissed the sensitive skin at her temple, loving the heat of her body. She’d been made for him. He couldn’t remember anything after his coming last night on the chaise, a feeling like his body had been ripped in two. She must have gotten him into the bed before curling up beside him. He was sorry he’d passed out, but he’d make it up to her today.
Their frenzy built, his orgasm rising up to drown him. He splayed his hand over her breasts, feeling her tight nubs against his palms as she strained against him. Her eyes closed in her climax, her breathy female noises washing excitement over him and making him come almost at the same time.
They collapsed back into the pillows, breathing hard, Meredith laughing.
When he withdrew, she rolled over on the sheets and touched his face. “I guess you’re all right.”
“Mmm. I think so.”
“I was worried about you.”
There was true worry in her eyes. Stefan often took women to bed, not necessarily to feed, but to sate himself. Most were turned on by his flat-screen television and the restaurants he took them to and simply being seen with Stefan Erickson, powerful man-about-town.
Meredith’s expression told him she didn’t care a flying damn about his gadgets, his limo, and his money. He could build a one-room adobe hut for her in the desert, and she’d still look at him like she cared. Maybe she’d insist the one-room hut had air-conditioning, a bathroom, and a patio, but the point was she didn’t equate him with his money. It was all bullshit anyway, just nine hundred years of patience and knowing how money worked.
“I apologize for inconveniencing you,” he said. But thank you for caring.
“Not your fault.” She smiled, her lips swollen from his kisses. “I was afraid I’d killed you, but Mario says no.”
“Mario?”
“Yes, he put you to bed.”
Stefan stifled a groan as he imagined Mario’s laughter. Stefan wasn’t surprised he’d passed out after having sex with Meredith. He’d needed her so much that he’d sacrificed his strength to be with her.
He traced her cheek. “At least you stayed.”
“I wanted to. I wanted to make sure you were all right.”
Her hands moved across his shoulders, and he turned his head and kissed one of them. Her waist curved enticingly under her breasts, her navel a shadowed dent. He leaned down and licked it.
“Now I know you’re feeling better.” She laughed.
He made love to her again, starting slowly and building to the near frenzied pitch of the night before. He knelt on the bed and lifted her feet to his shoulders, entering her while she writhed on the pillows.
“Love you,” he said as he came. His voice was hoarse and rasping. “Love you.”
“Tell me more about this blood slave business,” Meredith said as they wound down together, limbs tangled with sheets. “Would I have to wear one of those white nightgowns? I don’t have long floating black hair, though I suppose I could dye it.”
He chuckled, running his hand through the silken wave of red on his pillow. “I love your hair just as it is. And wear what you want. I was thinking of a black leather bustier.” He cupped her breasts in his hands in approximation.
She half glared at him. “You would.” Her look softened instantly, showing she knew he was teasing. Well, he was mostly teasing. Thinking of Meredith in nothing but a black leather bustier was heating things up again.
She went on. “Mario told me that if I don’t become your blood slave and be willing to give up my life to you, you’ll die.”
Stefan’s hand hesitated on her skin. “Did he? What else did he say?”
“That he hadn’t wanted me to know, but you thought it was only fair. Of course, you were in a coma at the time and couldn’t really explain.” The worry flared again in her eyes. “What happened to you?”
“If I get too weak, my body shuts down until I regain my strength.”
She pushed at his chest. “See, I knew I almost killed you with sex. You should have warned me.”
“I hadn’t meant for it to happen last night. Besides, I wanted to be with you.”
He kissed her fingers, the growing warmth in his groin becoming a full-blown erection. “I want to be with you now.”
“I can see that—or feel that anyway. It’s dark in here.”
“I like it dark.”
“Of course you do, you’re a vampire.”
“You believe me now?”
Meredith smiled into his kiss. “Let’s just say I saw things last night that convinced me. You sure you won’t fall into a coma again?”
“I feel stronger than ever.” Stefan stopped her words with another kiss, parted her thighs with his hand, and began to make love to her again.
He knew she hadn’t made the decision to give herself to him, and he had the feeling that her ultimate answer would be no. But for now, he would enjoy her—enjoy this—to savor when he was alone again.
He could find another blood slave—Mario would find one for him—and convince her to give him blood, but it would be a stopgap. Only Meredith could restore him to full vampire master strength, and he knew it. Without her, he would weaken and eventually die. All vampire masters did when they got too ancient, unless they found a pure love that would restore them. Armand would face this soon himself.
Meredith was the one for Stefan, no other. He’d take that knowledge with him into true death.
Several hours and a shower later—one that involved soaping each other down—Meredith faced Stefan over the table in an alcove enclosed on three sides by glass. A waiter in white had appeared and laid the table, then presented a meal on white porcelain plates with wine in cutcrystal goblets.
“Don’t you ever just eat off paper plates in front of the television?” she asked as she slid into her seat. The waiter discreetly shook out a linen napkin and placed it in her lap.
Stefan sent her a smile that warmed her bones. He’d resumed the sunglasses, and she remembered that he told her the light sometimes bothered him. Ha—one proof that he was a traditional vampire. But she hungered to see his eyes. Waking to find him watching her with his tawny gaze had been most pleasurable, not to mention what they had done after that.
The round circles of opaque black unnerved her. Otherwise he seemed relaxed, gesturing quietly to the waiter who set plates of lobster salad in front of them and withdrew.
It was the best lobster salad Meredith had ever eaten, and she didn’t even like lobster. She toyed with the lettuce, savoring the cool flavor of the salad and bite of the sauce.
“Sometimes Mario and I watch football and drink beer,” he said. “Is that better?”
“Yes, but you probably have four hundred different channels, a hundred of them unavailable to most people, and I’ll bet your beer is served at the perfect temperature in an ice bucket. Must be a hard life, being rich.”
“I have acquired money over the centuries. I learned how to turn little into much with nothing but patience.”
“Are you patiently waiting for the blood slave who will save you?”
Stefan laid his fork down as though no longer interested in food. He lifted his wineglass. “Yes.”
She twirled designs through her sauce. “So you’re asking me to devote my entire life to you, let you feed on me when you need to, and basically be your minion?”
“The rewards would be spectacular.”
His voice was warm, with only the hint of a waver. Meredith watched his face, trying to read his expression, but with the damn sunglasses it was hard to tell what it was.
“I have a life already, Stefan. Compared to yours it might seem boring, but it’s mine.”
“Tell me more about it.” As he had last night, he sounded hungry to hear what she had to say.
She shrugged. “There isn’t any more. I sell my mother’s paintings—liaison with the galleries and buyers, keep the books. Research and write about what strikes my fancy, like vampires. My mother and I share a house but we spend whole days without seeing each other. She stays in her studio and I do my thing. We like our space.”
Stefan looked out of the long window, across the deck and the glittering pool to the stark mountains beyond. “You wouldn’t want to leave that.”
“I don’t know.”
“And there is no one in your life, no man to marry you?”
“Damn, you’re nosy. No, there are no men beating down my doors. I was asked once, but I turned him down because I found out he was a complete asshole.” She swallowed on her words, remembering the hurt she’d felt when one of her friends had gently explained that the idiot had a girlfriend in Albuquerque and figured he’d continue seeing her even after he and Meredith married.
Stefan’s sunglasses trained on her. “Thank you for telling me.”
“It was years ago. I’m over him. I’ve dated, but nothing…”
Her life had evolved into a safe routine, interrupted occasionally by her friends trying to fix her up. Sometimes the relationship lasted a few months, usually he found someone more interesting to be with or she decided to end it before she strangled him, or they just never called back.
“What I want to give you is nothing like that.” Stefan’s words were flat.
Meredith laid down her fork. “It’s a hell of a lot to ask, you know. You’re sexy as hell, and I still want to put you in my book, but I barely know you—although what girl wouldn’t be swept off her feet by a big spender who looks like you, I don’t know.”
“I do not want you to be swept off your feet. The choice must be yours, and you must decide what is best for you.”
She glanced through the glass at the pool. It was so beautiful out there, despite the roasting sun, with flowers kept lush by the hidden misters. “Armand wanted to make me a vampire to keep me away from you.” For some reason she was no longer afraid of Armand. With Stefan awake and back to full power, the miasma of fear had faded. “Wasn’t that charming of him?”
She felt the weight of Stefan’s stare. His face had gone granite hard, his body still, the sunglasses trained on her like shining voids. “Armand was here?”
“Yes, don’t you remember? Last night, as soon as you pretty much passed out, he materialized and said he’d save me from you. I tried to tell him to go to hell, but I was too terrified. I was able to get Mario on the cell phone, which is why he was here to put you to bed.”
The sunglasses didn’t move. Meredith sensed a change, something malevolent entering the conversation, the room, the planet.
“It wasn’t your fault, Stefan,” she said quickly. “You were lying there nearly unconscious. You couldn’t have done anything.”
She closed her mouth. The last thing men liked was to be placated, especially when it was about a territory violation. Men were like that—obstinate, territorial, testosterone-laden. Vampires probably even more so.
A sudden wave of power rocketed from him, sending furniture, objects d’art, and the glasses at the bar crashing into the windows. A piece of marble tile came up and slammed into the thick glass.
Stefan threw his napkin on the table and left his seat. With strong hands he turned Meredith’s head to expose her neck to the sunlight. She moved her hand selfconsciously to the scratches Armand had left.
“He didn’t bite me, not really,” she babbled. “I managed to get away from him before he could.”
His stillness was more frightening than the fact that he’d just destroyed his living room without lifting a finger. He turned abruptly away and crossed the room, his booted feet crunching on porcelain shards of once-priceless statuary.
In alarm, Meredith rose. “Where are you going?”
Stefan reached into a closet tucked near the door and pulled out a leather jacket. “To take retribution.”
Meredith took two steps toward him, wondering how on earth she would stop him and even if she should. Stefan removed his sunglasses. His eyes glowed golden and harsh, the light in them forbidding and powerful.
Then he turned away, and vanished.
Mario answered her cell-phone summons almost as fast as he had the previous night. He listened to her incoherent explanation of why she called before grabbing her by the hand and dragging her down the elevator and through the casino, yelling at the valet parkers to go get his car now.
In minutes, Meredith was scrambling into a black vintage Corvette and bracing herself while Mario screamed out onto the Strip and then around a corner to a road less trafficked.
She dragged in a breath as they hauled ass down the street at least double the legal limit. “Why do you have to drive?” she gasped. “Why don’t you just disappear like Armand and Stefan?”
“Because I’m not a master.” Mario’s face was grim as he wove through slower cars and ran a red light. Meredith clapped her hands over her eyes, but miraculously no other cars touched them. “I can slide through spaces within the building but no farther. I just hope to God Stefan and Armand stayed in the Ice Palace. If they transported to the middle of the desert or Paris, there’s not a damn thing I can do.”
“What is the Ice Palace?”
“Armand’s hotel.”
She’d never heard of it. The researcher in her filed it away as another thing for her book, but most of her brain was taken up with worry. “I know Stefan is angry, but Armand didn’t bite me. I got away.”
Mario shook his head, black hair sliding over his leather coat. “The point is Armand tried. The two of them have a gentleman’s agreement not to poach on each other’s territory. Armand doesn’t touch what’s Stefan’s, he doesn’t touch what’s Armand’s. They’re two vampire masters, and they divided this town between them. If Stefan dies, Armand and his vamps will feed and kill as much as they like.”
Meredith swallowed. “No one will come to Las Vegas anymore, then.”
“Armand is subtle and very, very powerful. They will come.”
Meredith thought about that while the grungy street full of warehouses zoomed by. “If Stefan is a vampire master, isn’t he strong enough to take care of himself? I mean, he destroyed his living room without even blinking. Why are you so worried?”
“Because Stefan is unpredictable. He’s weaker, he’s pissed about it, and hell, he could flatten this entire town to get his vengeance if he wanted, even not at full strength. I live in this town—I want to stay here.”
“That’s not the only reason you’re worried.”
“No. Armand’s just as powerful as Stefan, and Stefan’s the one who’s been having draining spells. You zapped his strength—Armand moved in.”
“Wait a minute, you told me last night I hadn’t hurt him.” Her face got hot as she remembered just how she’d hurt him.
“You didn’t.” Mario floored it around a complicated curve back to an intersection that crossed the Strip. He was forced to wait from sheer press of traffic, but once across the Strip he careened into an alleyway beside another tall hotel. “You showing up at all has weakened him. It’s like his body knows you’re the one and is shutting down to wait for you.”
“Oh, hey, no pressure,” Meredith said. “If I don’t become his minion, he dies, and I feel terrible. I become his minion, and I’m his slave-girl for life.”
Mario swung into a garage, slamming his car through the wooden gate, tires squealing on the slick pavement. “If it was up to me, I’d chain you to his bed and tell him to go for it. I owe him my life, and I’m running out of ideas to keep him alive. But he needs you to have the choice, so I won’t do it, sweetheart.” He slammed on his brakes, and Meredith braced herself against the dash.
A dozen white-haired vampires poured into the garage to surround the car. Most wore leather, some had chains wrapped around their arms, all had eyes even more bloodless and soulless than Armand’s.
“And now I’m in the middle of a vampire gang war,” Meredith said. She yelped as the door opened and a white-haired vamp dragged her out. “Watch it, this is a new shirt.”
“Leave her,” Mario snapped. He glared at the white vamp and amazingly, the white vampire backed off.
The group didn’t depart. They surrounded Meredith and Mario, looking mean. Chains leapt to hands, and Meredith knew these men could kill her faster than she could even think about running.
They were a little more wary with Mario but not much. Mario held up his hands. “I only came to get Stefan out. I’ll take him home so he won’t bother your little party anymore.”
One of the white-haired vampires whose close-cropped hair reminded her of Spike from Buffy the Vampire Slayer spoke. “Yeah, he’s there with the master. Armand figured you’d come for him. You send her in, the master will let him go.”
Mario didn’t move, but Meredith felt his power touch her like heat from a radiator. “She’s not going anywhere without me. And we’re not leaving without Stefan, so get used to it.”
Spike’s gaze went remote as though he were listening to an inner voice. Then he snapped out of it. “I have orders. I’m to bring you both.”
“Like I said,” Mario growled.
Spike grinned, a malevolent glitter in his eyes. “He didn’t say anything about letting you go again.” He licked his red lips and gazed speculatively at Meredith.
There wasn’t much they could do but allow the white vamps to herd them toward an elevator. Six of them, including the Spike vampire, crowded into it and the doors shut before they zoomed downward.
The elevator opened into a cavernous room deep in the bowels of the hotel. It was decorated lavishly, like Stefan’s apartment—but where Stefan’s place was light and glass, Armand’s emphasized black and shadows.
“Why do people stay in this hotel?” she murmured. “The Ice Palace—sounds cold to me.”
Spike grinned. “For the atmosphere. Vampires, and it’s haunted. They love it. ”
Meredith agreed that some people probably wouldn’t be able to resist. This was Las Vegas—no doubt the staff had been trained to provide an experience that was scary but not too scary. The scary people were the ones behind the glitz and glamour of the hotels. In early days it was mobsters, now it was CEOs and vampires.
Double doors at the end of the black room opened by themselves, and Meredith and Mario were ushered into an office. At least, it was nominally an office. There was a desk with a computer, but the rest was decorated in early medieval. Stools and benches covered in opulent brocade throws stood in every corner, tapestries covered the walls, and a heavy sword hung in a glass case beside the tattered remains of a blue surcoat with a red cross emblazoned on it.
Meredith gazed at it in wonder. I was a Knight Templar, Armand had said. I died with his badge on my chest.
One entire wall of the room was glass, and behind it lay a view of the city—a real view, but of course there couldn’t be windows this deep underground.
“Cameras feed him real-time images,” Mario told her.
“Where is Stefan?” she demanded, glaring at Spike. His cold blue eyes unnerved her almost as much as Armand’s did, but she lifted her chin and tried not to let him know that.
Spike jerked his thumb at another set of doors, which opened at the moment to let in Stefan and Armand.
Meredith sagged with relief to see Stefan unhurt, but the look in his eyes bothered her. So did the look in Armand’s. The man was almost glowing in triumph.
“Mario,” Stefan said, training a glare on his friend. “Take Meredith out of here. He’ll let you go freely. I’ve agreed to pack up and leave Las Vegas.”