CHAPTER SEVEN

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Mario shouted.

The white vamps moved closer to him, recognizing danger when they saw it. Meredith stayed close to the Italian vampire’s side, though an urgency to rush to Stefan nearly overpowered her. But she’d have to fight her way through six white vamps plus Armand to do it, so she stayed put.

“If you leave, the rest of us have to go with you,” Mario continued, angry. “Without a master, we’d be toast. I have a career here. Think about your friends, Stefan—the ones who need to make a living.”

“I’ve stayed too long already,” Stefan said. He sounded drained of emotion. “And you don’t need to stay in Las Vegas. You own a city in Italy.”

“That’s not the point.”

“I am fading, Mario. There’s nothing anyone can do. Armand has agreed to let us leave so I can die in peace.”

“And you believed him?” Mario snorted.

Meredith slid past the enclosing vamps and made herself walk up to Armand. She looked him in the face, Stefan’s presence helping damp down the fear. “How do we know you’ll let him leave? You could just kill all of us right now and be rid of us.”

“Thanks, Meredith,” Mario said. “Don’t give him ideas.”

Armand met her gaze with unflinching coolness. She could see the ancientness of him, eyes that had looked upon countless centuries, countless lives, and countless deaths. “I gave him my word,” he said.

“He does have that kind of honor,” Stefan answered. “So do I. If I agree to his terms, I’ll abide by them.”

“I see both of you have already made up your minds about me,” Meredith said, her own anger flaring. “What if I decide to stay? What if I decide to let Stefan feed off me and restore him to his full strength? I haven’t made up my mind yet.”

“I have made it up for you.” Stefan’s voice was quiet. “I’m no longer asking you to stay with me, Meredith. Go home and live your life.”

“Wait a minute.” She transferred her glare to Stefan. “Just like that? I’m not good enough for you anymore?”

“Meredith.” Stefan put his hands on her shoulders and drew her aside. “Armand is right about one thing. I’m weakening and have lost perspective. I am using all my power to coerce you to stay, to trick you into believing you love me. I used to believe myself an honorable man, but what I am doing is not honorable. Armand has made me understand that.”

“Meaning—”

“Meaning that if I take my mark off you, you’ll see me for what I really am.”

Meredith stepped back. “All right. Fine. Take your mark off me now. I remember being pretty impressed by you before you made me your slave. Let’s see how I really feel.”

“I can’t here and now. You need protection from Armand’s vampires. If you’re unmarked, there’s nothing to stop them from taking you.”

“Oh.” It unnerved her to suddenly realize she was the only human in the room. Mario and Stefan might seem like ordinary men, but they’d proved to her beyond doubt that they weren’t. And Armand still terrified her, even if she couldn’t help thinking he’d be a fascinating person to put in her book. Who around these days could explain what it was like to be a knight on the Crusades?

“I will protect her,” Armand said.

“No,” Meredith and Stefan and Mario all said at the same time.

Armand smiled slightly. “You would always be safe with me, Meredith.”

“Maybe, but like I said before, would I be safe from you?”

Armand’s smile widened. “Take her and go, Stefan. You will be unmolested.”

Stefan slid his warm hand through Meredith’s. “Let us depart. I will have my staff pack you a meal for the road.”

There wasn’t much use in arguing with him right then. Meredith wasn’t the kind of woman who liked having her fate decided by a bunch of men, especially vampires, but she realized it was more important to walk away slowly now, yell at Stefan later.

Stefan began to lead Meredith out of the office. Mario fell into step with them, as did the other vampires. Spike looked disappointed he couldn’t bash heads and snack on Meredith, but he obeyed his master and kept his hands to himself.

“Did you drive her here?” Stefan asked Mario.

“Yeah, I brought the ‘Vette.” He glared at the white-haired vampires. “Which had better not have a scratch on it.”

“It will not,” Armand said behind them.

Meredith looked back. The former knight stood in the middle of the room, his long white hair hanging still and long to his waist, his ice-blue eyes holding surety of his power.

Meredith raised her hand in acknowledgment of what he’d done, and Armand nodded quietly in response. Spike, on the other hand, looked positively disgusted. With barely concealed anger, he shoved them into the elevator and sent it rocketing up to the garage, leaving Meredith’s stomach behind. She wondered just how far underground they’d been and decided, as her ears popped, that she didn’t really want to know.

The Corvette was intact, black paint gleaming, right where they’d left it. Mario got in and started the engine, watching the vampires in suspicion, but nothing dire happened.

Stefan opened the passenger door and assisted Meredith into the seat. Meredith clung to his hand. “Aren’t you coming with us?”

Stefan shook his head. “I’ll see you there.” He glanced across her at Mario. “Get her back to the Castle. Safely.”

“Hey, I know how to drive,” Mario growled.

Stefan straightened up and shut the door before Meredith had a chance to protest. Mario gunned the engine and stomped on the gas, sending them hurtling around a row of cars and out toward the sunshine.

Meredith looked back at the circle of vamps through the Corvette’s tiny back window, but Stefan had vanished.

Stefan waited as promised on the deck of his penthouse, outside his living room, which had been restored to rights. His superefficient staff must be used to his wild surges of power.

He waited in the sun, bronzed hands resting on the top of the wall as he gazed over Las Vegas and the craggy mountains that lined the horizon. The desert wind stirred his wheat-blond hair and the sun reflected off the sunglasses he’d resumed. His back made an almost perfect triangle between shoulders and hips, pure muscle atop long, strong legs.

Meredith’s heart broke as she watched him through the glass. Why couldn’t they be two ordinary people meeting under the Las Vegas sun and getting to know each other slowly? No vampires and slaves, no rival vamps or masters. Just Meredith and Stefan falling in love.

She knew she couldn’t have that, because he wasn’t going to let her.

As soon as she walked out onto the deck, he turned his head, his hair sliding over his shoulders.

“Come here, Meredith. Please.” Again he used please as an afterthought, softening the command.

She could resist, but her body had already said yes, Master, and propelled her forward. Stefan slowly drew off his sunglasses and folded them in his hand. Meredith caught one flash of power from his eyes, and then she got lost in studying the beauty of them. Tawny like a lion’s, she’d thought at first, with flecks of green in them, framed by long lashes.

“I love your eyes,” she said.

Stefan leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Go home,” he said softly.

“I thought you were going to take the mark off me.”

“I just did.”

“Oh.” She stepped back, waiting to feel completely different. She did, and she didn’t. She no longer wanted to throw herself on the ground and hug his legs, but she still wanted to kiss those lips that knew how to drive her crazy.

What woman wouldn’t? He didn’t have to go around putting women under his power to make them want to kiss him. He just had to pass them in the hall.

And then she felt a great chasm in her heart, a void that was going to hurt like hell when the numbness wore off. She tried to look into Stefan’s eyes again, but he’d resumed the sunglasses. Mere mortals probably couldn’t handle the gaze of a vampire master, and to him, she was a mere mortal.

With tears stinging her eyes, she asked, “Can we start over?”

Slowly he shook his head. “What I need is not what you need. Go back to Santa Fe and write your books and sell your mother’s paintings. You will sell enough that she can open her own gallery.”

She sniffled. “You can predict the future, can you?”

“I can make the future. It will happen.” He trained the sunglasses on her, his mouth turning down at the corners. “Go, Meredith. Your luggage is already in your car. The bellboy will take you out.”

“I came here to write a book, Stefan. You can throw me out of your hotel, but what I do for my career is up to me.”

“I do not want you in Las Vegas when Armand takes over. Get in your car, drive out of this town, drive out of this state, and don’t come back. If you are still here when the balance of power shifts, you will belong to Armand.”

“That was your agreement?”

He nodded once. “That was the agreement.”

“So glad I was consulted.”

His face went grim. “I love you, and I want you safe above all things. Either you drive out yourself, or I tie you up and have someone drive you out. Those are your only choices.”

She stopped. “You love me?”

“Yes. That is why I am letting you go.”

“I wouldn’t say you were letting me go as much as tossing me out of your life. You could give me the chance to decide how I feel without your mark on me.”

“No.” Stefan didn’t move, but she felt his power touch her. “I can’t be near you without wanting to make you submit. If I take you over, it will kill both of us. So please go while I still have the strength to control myself.”

Meredith’s feet wouldn’t move. Stefan half turned away from her, looking out at the city and the desert again, a city where so many people arrived with hopes of winning it big and limped away days later, back to reality.

It seemed anticlimactic to say thanks or good-bye or even I love you too, so she turned around and walked back into the penthouse, across the marble floor of the living room, then down the echoing hallway to the double doors at the end.

The same bellboy who’d brought her upstairs waited for her by the elevator. He noiselessly slid the key card into the slot to open the doors and ushered her inside. The elevator took them straight to the lobby, no funny side trips to the basement, and the bellboy led her out through the crowd to the front entrance. No checking out—Mr. Erickson had already taken care of that, the bellboy informed her.

Her car waited for her in the circular drive, her old Toyota looking rather frumpy next to the Lexuses and Mercedeses and Cadillacs that waited, purring, for their owners. Her duffel bag rested across her backseat and a hamper with the promised meal waited for her on the passenger side.

The bellboy held the door for her and shut it firmly after she got herself inside. Stefan was making sure she left.

She nodded good-bye to the bellboy and drove past the valet parkers in their Dracula capes, down the drive, and through the arch constructed to look like a Gothic gate. She blended in with the traffic on the Strip, increasing now as the afternoon waned to evening, then pulled onto the freeway to head south.

It was rush hour in the real world, commuters leaving their corporate offices in the hotels and downtown for their homes in the burbs of Henderson and Boulder City. Meredith blended in with them, inching along the freeway while her eyes threatened to overflow at every curve.

The sun sank behind the high mountains in the west as the city fell behind her. Even in summer, the desert darkened fast. Navigating the hairpin turns around the Hoover Dam at night blinded by tears didn’t appeal to her, so she took the turnoff that went down a bluff and straight across the desert floor toward Laughlin and Arizona. She’d drive to Flagstaff, an easy two or three hours, and spend the night there, far from casinos and lights and gorgeous vampires.

Why had she gone to Las Vegas in the first place? To research her next book, of course. Not to have her ideas about vampires and life and love twisted around all over the place.

The road was pitch-black, cut only by the headlights of passing cars. There was the tiny town of Searchlight out here and not much else. In the privacy of darkness with only red taillights far ahead for company, Meredith gave in to her tears.

How did she feel about Stefan? She had no idea and the jumble of the past day and night confused the hell out of her. He made love like the most romantic hero, teasing and pleasing and demanding and rough. He’d wanted her and needed her, and sex had been like nothing she’d ever experienced.

She couldn’t separate what he made her feel from what she really felt. He’d shocked her and twisted her up and then tossed her out before she could figure out what was going on inside her.

“Stupid men,” she growled at the windshield, and then sobs took her.

She pulled all the way off the road and stopped the car, knowing she couldn’t drive under the storm of weeping. She banged the steering wheel and let out all her tears. No one could hear her, no one passing cared why she’d stopped. It was just her and the car and the desert night and her ripped-out heart.

As the sobs died away to dry-heaving, she rummaged in the picnic hamper for whatever had been stocked to drink and found chilled water, flavored gourmet iced tea, and a thermos of coffee. She chugged some of the water and wiped her stinging eyes.

“I finally find the right one and he turns out to be a dying vampire with issues.” She drank some more water, nearly choking on it. “Damn it, damn it, damn it.”

She toyed with the idea of calling her mother for comfort, then discarded it. What would she say? Hi, Mom, I met a guy, but it didn’t work out. In the end, he wouldn’t bite me.

Maybe she could lie low in Flagstaff a few days before she had to face her mother. She could always claim she was checking out galleries in which to exhibit her mom’s art.

She opened the door and stepped out of the car. Hot desert wind, only slightly cooler than daytime temperatures, buffeted her hair and dried the tears on her face. She gulped the air like she did the water, liking the clear, sage-scented breaths of it.

A motorcycle slowed and pulled in behind her. Meredith sighed, wondering what to say. Sorry, Officer, I just needed a good cry.

The man who approached her wasn’t a policeman. He wore black leather and no helmet, and she recognized the cropped white hair of Armand’s vampire minion who looked like Spike. Fear hit her and she grabbed the door handle, thanking God she’d left the engine running.

Before she could even open the door, he was on her. His tall body pressed her against the car, leather chafing her exposed skin, his lips pulled back in a snarl. His eyes glowed light blue in the dark and his fangs glittered.

She struggled. Screamed for help, praying someone out in the desert would hear. Her cell phone was out of reach in her car, and she wasn’t sure it would work out in the boondocks anyway. And would Mario respond or leave her to die?

Because she was going to die, that was all there was to that.

“Stefan,” she screamed.

The vampire slammed her head against the car. The world reeled, and she tasted blood in her mouth. He tore open her blouse, knife in hand, exposing her breasts.

“I love leftovers,” he hissed. Then he raked his talons across her eyes, blinding her. She felt his knife all over her body, ripping her open, his teeth tearing her throat. He was not going to bite her to savor her or Turn her, he wanted one thing and one thing only. Her blood. Her life.

Stefan! her mind continued to cry while pain arced through her, followed by a numbness that made her so dizzy she started to vomit.

And then a bright light flared, brighter than anything she’d ever seen in her life, blinding her even through the blood in her eyes. The vampire who was busy killing her shuddered and screamed, his keening loud in her ears, and then the world vanished.

When she woke, she expected a hospital—a white room, machines beeping, tubes snaking into and out of her body. But the bed felt luxuriously soft, the sheets ultrafine, not hospital utility. She couldn’t focus her half-closed eyes to tell what color the room was, and she heard no beeping, only low masculine voices.

An all-male nursing staff. That might not be so bad.

She tried to move, to open her eyes, to ask a question. Pain roared through her and all she could do was groan.

“Meredith.”

Stefan’s voice, cut with worry. His hand warm on hers. Meredith closed her eyes and began to weep with relief.

Another touch, this one cool, skin like satin. “I do not know if it will work. She is almost gone.”

“We have to try. I will try, anyway. Whatever it takes.”

She felt Stefan slide his hand under her neck and raise her body. It hurt, dear God, it hurt. Was he going to bite her? She remembered the Spike vamp’s foul breath on her face, his teeth in her skin, the knife blade cold sharp. She whimpered.

“It’s all right, love. I have you now.”

She tried to say, “Stefan,” but it came out a gurgle.

Someone banged into the room, out of breath. “Is she all right?” Mario’s voice asked. “I was driving like a maniac. I thought he’d kill her.”

“He nearly did.” The cool voice belonged to Armand, the Spike vamp’s master. She tried to squirm away from him.

“I thought you said she had free passage,” Mario growled, the very thing Meredith would have asked if she could talk.

“He broke away from me,” Armand said. “He is dead now.”

“He almost took Meredith with him.” Mario went silent as though looking her over. “Damn.”

Stefan’s tone was flat. “She will die if we don’t help her. I am glad you’re here. We need someone to watch, to keep it from going too far.”

“What are you going to do?” Mario sounded very worried.

“The blood of a master can save her,” Armand said.

“Yeah, and put Stefan in a coma again, from which he might not recover.” Mario leaned over the bed—Meredith felt his warmth and smelled leather and sweat. “That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it, Armand? For him to weaken himself all the way trying to save her? Maybe you’ll kill him while he lies helpless?”

“No,” Armand said, the word harsh.

“She will drink from both of us,” Stefan said. “A little from each.”

“You’ll still be weaker than he is,” Mario pointed out. “Which I bet he’s counting on.”

“I would give her all of it to save her life,” Stefan returned.

“Shit.”

“Just stand by and make sure she doesn’t drink too much. We want to heal her, not Turn her.”

“Right,” Mario snarled. “You maybe don’t, but what about him?”

Armand’s cool voice cut through Mario’s blustering. “I gave my word.”

“He’s serious, Mario. I trust him.” Stefan hesitated, a catch entering his voice. “I have to.”

“All right, but she drinks from him first,” Mario stated.

“Agreed,” Armand answered.

Meredith felt herself lifted—in Stefan’s arms, she knew every inch of him intimately. It was wonderful to snuggle against his shoulder, to breathe his scent and feel his warmth envelop her.

“Drink from him, Meredith,” he whispered. “It’s the only way.”

She heard a soft grunt of pain from Armand and smelled the bite of blood. She tried to turn away. “Don’t want to be vampire,” she mumbled.

“You won’t be, sweetheart. His blood will make you better. You need to get well.”

Or she’d die. She knew that. The Spike vampire had torn her apart, she felt that in every aching limb and stinging slash of skin.

Stefan lifted her again, and Armand slid a leather-coat-clad arm behind her back. Stefan’s hand rested in her hair while he guided her mouth to Armand’s neck.

Blood filled her mouth, hot and tangy like fiery spice. She gagged and tried to spit it out, but Stefan’s hand and Armand’s arm held her fast. “Drink,” Stefan whispered.

Gasping and nearly choking, Meredith swallowed. Fire burned its way to her stomach and flowed out to her fingertips. She felt the slightest, tiniest bit better—enough to realize how truly bad things had been.

She drew in another mouthful, the spicy taste not as harsh this time. Armand made a soft noise in his throat, and his fingers moved in her hair. Meredith opened her eyes to see his leather-clad back, his tail of white hair slide across it as he tilted his head. His blood filled her mouth and she swallowed, another burning sensation scouring her body.

She took a few more gulps, feeling less nauseated after each. Finally she drew a breath that didn’t hurt and gave a little sigh of relief.

“Enough,” Stefan said.

Just a little more. She would never dream of doing this to a normal human being, but the blood of a vampire master wasn’t bad. Tangy. Let me have more. Just one sip.

“Enough.” Stefan pulled her away.

Meredith still felt weak and dizzy, but a hell of a lot better than she had. She sagged against Stefan, enjoying breathing without too much pain. Armand stretched his long legs out on the bed and rested his head on the headboard. His eyes were half closed, his lips parted as though he were in the ecstasy of an orgasm. A gash of red stained his neck.

“Mario,” Stefan rumbled under Meredith’s ear.

A blade glinted as Mario handed a knife to Stefan. Meredith flinched, not liking knives anymore, and looked up to find Mario’s expression grim and angry.

Stefan made a small cut in his own skin and guided Meredith to his neck as the blood began to flow. She caught it between her lips, understanding now why vampires loved what they did. The hot taste of blood, of Stefan’s life force, was almost like the excitement of sex.

Stefan tasted different from Armand. Stefan’s taste was darker, more mellow, and yet it had a bite, like brandy aged in old wood. She licked him and slid her arms around his strong waist, loving him for making this sacrifice for her.

Mario was right, he was seriously trusting Armand not to attack him while he was weakened. Armand might be languid with afterglow at the moment, but Meredith could sense the white vampire’s power. He could flatten them all in the blink of an eye. And if Armand was that powerful, what must Stefan be like when he was at peak strength?

As healing flowed through her, Meredith decided she wanted to know. She would find out what Stefan was like as a vampire master. She would make him let her.

Stefan’s strength filled her and made her shudder in reaction. She drew back, licking his heady taste from her lips, her heart pounding but not in pain or fever. She’d never felt this good in her life.

“Oh God,” she said, dragging in a breath. “I think I’m going to come.”

Armand made a small noise as though he were, too. Mario grinned down at her. “I guess that means you’re better.”

Stefan said nothing. His own breathing ragged, he gathered her close and held her hard, pressing soft kisses to her hair.