Dark Needs at Night’s Edge (Immortals After Dark #5)(26)
Author: Kresley Cole

His hackles rose. Something was happening, something she’d known was awaiting her. All she’d wanted to do was stay with him during the day, because she’d been afraid. Of what?

And he’d cruelly sent her away to be on her own. A bewildering type of panic welled inside him, so strong it left him shaken. He began sweating.

Néomi should never be afraid. Not while he had strength in his body.

His eyes widened when he heard music downstairs. Not right. This isn’t right. He grew frenzied, rocking back and forth, yanking against his chains, leveraging all his strength against one arm. Again and again, he heaved… until he dislocated his shoulder with a pop.

This gave him just enough leeway to thread his hands under his feet and unlatch the tether from the bed. He stood, pounding his shoulder into the doorframe to force it back in place, then charged downstairs. Searching for the scent of roses, he came to the ballroom.

This area had been wrecked by age – and by Conrad. Yet now it appeared as it must have been eighty years ago. The marble floor was an unbroken gleam under the light of what seemed like a thousand candles. The interior was filled with fresh-cut roses, starched tablecloths, and obviously expensive furniture. That ghostly music sounded from no apparent source.

Surreal. This situation had all the makings of a hallucination. But he didn’t believe it was. Then he saw her enter the room, looking as though she were in a trance. "Néomi?" She didn’t answer, just began to dance.

She started slowly, somehow keeping her chest, head, and arms perfectly still, while her leg unfolded and she pivoted round. When the pace quickened, she began to sweep her arms, the movements precise yet fluid.

The way she moved was like silk, as though her arms were boneless. Stunned, he muttered, "Tantsija."

Even he recognized certain steps from classical ballet, but she infused them with sensuality. There was something… suggestive about the way she danced, as if she did it to attract a man.

It was working. When she moved, he felt.

Néomi appeared spectral at certain angles. But he’d still never seen anything so beautiful. Her skin was glowing, her pale lips like a bow. The smoky outlines around her eyes just made the blue irises stand out. Her cheeks only seemed sharper because of the shadows under them.

Her face was suffused with contentment, what looked like a nearly mindless joy. He was calmed watching her, his earlier frustrations soothed. Others’ memories couldn’t overcome his captivation with what he was seeing. They grew quieter with each second, and then, for the first time in centuries, they receded altogether.

A dead dancer with joy on her face made him feel… expectation. He had a sense of looking forward to something more with her – to watching her dance again, to talking with her.

Before, he’d been accepting of the fact that he would die soon, had believed he deserved it. He was a vampire, a being he’d been taught to hate all his life.

Now… he wasn’t at all ready for the end. As he watched her, he thought, I might not be able to miss out on her.

He narrowed his eyes. I want… the dancer.

In the shower with her, he’d recognized she was special to him in some way. This evening the suspicion that she was his Bride had grown. Now he no longer denied it. She must not have blooded him because she wasn’t technically alive.

Néomi’s mine.

To have such a woman in his keeping…

For a chance with her, could he put away his plans for revenge – and his certainty that he would soon die?

She effortlessly twirled up on her toes, her black skirts and her long hair whipping around. So lovely his chest ached.

Yes, he could. She’s mine. And I’ll have her. There were obstacles, but he excelled at eliminating anything that stood in the way of what he wanted.

Soon her pace increased. She spun faster and faster. Not right. Outside, yellow lightning began to flash in front of the crescent moon, and the wind soon roared through the trees, raining leaves. The room slowly aged, decaying right before him. The music abruptly ended.

Rose petals littered the floor.

Conrad charged for her, unable to trace because of the chains. Before he could reach her, the pace quickened even more. "Néomi?"

The air grew heavier. Her expression changed, going from dreamy and seductive to terrified.

Once he reached her, he yelled, "Néomi, stop this!"

She didn’t glance up, didn’t seem able to. Her eyes were stark, her breaths ragged. When he tried to stay her, she passed right through him, making him shudder from a surge of electricity.

Every protective instinct in him screamed to life. Keep her safe… keep her close.

He couldn’t. He roared with frustration when she moved through him again.

How long could she sustain this pace? Faster, twirling away from him, until… she vanished.

Turning in a slow circle, he bellowed, "Néomi!" But the sounds continued, sounds that he didn’t want to identify: the wet scraping of bone; her scream – interrupted. Suddenly blood pooled out over the floor, soaking the petals.

Until they, too, disappeared.

15

He’d seen it. Somehow the vampire had gotten free.

When Conrad had begun yelling for her from all over the house, she’d evacuated from her studio to the bayou folly.

She planned to sleep out here, away from all the commotion. The crickets and owls were lulling, and a breeze blew. She couldn’t feel it, but the cypress needles above her combed the wind, the sound sublime. She was just about to fall into reverie when he came upon her.

He stopped in his tracks, and his eyes briefly slid shut.

"What do you want?" Néomi murmured.

He wound around jutting cypress knees to reach her. "Are you injured?" he asked, crouching beside her, surveying her.

As much as she hated to admit it, his presence was comforting. "Don’t be ridiculous, vampire. I can’t be injured." Yet her essence was depleted – it always was. And she was shaken from the relived pain. Being stabbed in the heart tended to do that to a person.

Much less when the knife twists…  She shuddered. How much longer can I continue to endure this?

"What the hell was that back there?" When she shurgged, he said, "You’re even paler than before, fainter."

"Am I to expect more insults, Conrad? You should know that I’m not one of those women who will take disdain over nothing." Had she sounded as if she was trying to convince herself? "I’d rather not converse with you."

"I don’t want to insult you." He couldn’t take his gaze from her, as if fearing she’d disappear again.

"You didn’t want to be around me earlier. Perhaps now I don’t want your company."