Desire After Dark (Page 38)

I want you. Three simple words spoken so fervently that, for a moment, she could think of nothing else but being in his arms, succumbing to the heat in his eyes, the longing so evident in his voice. A yearning that echoed her own unspoken longing.

Needing to touch him, she lifted a finger to his ravaged cheek. "Does it hurt very much?"

"Like hellfire."

"Are you sure it will heal?"

"In time." He took her hand in his, his thumb moving slowly back and forth over her knuckles. "Why did you let me in? I am sure Duncan warned you not to, yet you did not listen."

She stared at his hand holding hers. "I didn’t want to believe him."

He lifted one brow. "So you brought me into your home to see whether or not I would rip out your throat?" he asked, amusement heavy in his voice.

She laughed, but there was no humor in it. "I saw Falco coming after you and… " She shrugged. "I could tell you were hurt and I was afraid if the two of you got into another fight that… "

"You were worried about me?" He laughed. The soft, sexy sound moved over her like black velvet. "Ah, my sweet, you are like no other woman I have ever known."

She stared at the light dusting of curly black hair that covered his broad chest, at the finely sculpted muscles in his arms and shoulders, the ridge of muscle across his belly, and felt a sudden stirring of desire. She tamped it down. This was no time to be admiring his masculine beauty. He was badly hurt. There was a vampire out there who wanted to kill her, who had vowed to kill and kill again until she was his.

"What does he mean, exactly, when he says I’ll be his?"

"You do not want to know. Just trust me when I say he will never have you."

He was right, she didn’t want to know, but she couldn’t let it go. "He wants to kill me,"

she said. "What could be worse than that?"

Battista resumed his seat at the table. After a moment, Victoria sat down across from him.

"There are many things worse than death," he said. "Falco wants to own you, body and soul. If that happens, you will be his slave, subject to his every whim, his every desire.

You will have no will of your own, no mind of your own."

"You’re talking about more than just hypnotism, aren’t you?"

Antonio nodded. It was much more than a mere hypnotic spell. It was like stealing a mortal’s identity and leaving nothing behind but an empty shell whose only thoughts were those fed into it by its master.

Vicki looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. "Can you do that?"

He nodded again, his gaze hard on hers.

"How can you do it? I mean, how is it done?"

"Vampires have many supernatural powers."

She had come across some of them in her reading, but she had shrugged them aside.

Even though she now knew vampires existed, she wasn’t sure she believed that they could control the weather or turn into mist or wolves, or that they could manipulate people’s minds. But then she remembered Antonio had said he called his prey to him. If he could do that, maybe he could also do all the other things the books claimed. If so, it meant he could also fly, control animals, and, worst of all, make other vampires. She wondered if he had done so.

It was a sobering thought.

His eyes narrowed under her scrutiny. "You are afraid of me again. Why?"

"What? Oh, no, nothing."

" Victoria, your face is as easy to read as print on a page."

"Have you ever made another vampire?"

"No. It is a responsibility I have never wanted."

"What do you mean?"

"It is a life against nature, to be a vampire. Not everyone can adjust to such a life. Some go mad, like Falco. I have enough deaths on my conscience. Had I brought someone like Falco across, I would have all his deaths on my conscience, as well."

It was too much to think of now. She glanced at the clock. It was almost two A.M. She needed to get some sleep.

"Maybe you should stay here tonight," she suggested.

"No."

"Why not?"

There were few things on earth he feared more than being found when he was at rest, vulnerable and nearly helpless. Though it pained him to admit it, he trusted no one to know where he took his rest, not even this woman he had come to love.

"Antonio? Why can’t you stay here? You can sleep in my bedroom and shut the door and I’ll sleep on the sofa."

"I wish I could stay," he said, "but… "

"You’re probably right," she said. " Duncan was here earlier tonight. I’d hate for him to come back tomorrow and find you here."

Battista glanced out the window. It would be dawn in a few hours.

"Can I get you anything before you go?" Vicki asked, then bit down on her lip. She had nothing to offer him. Nothing but blood. The words tiptoed through the back of her mind.

As though reading her thoughts, Antonio stared at the pulse beating in her throat.

Though he had fed earlier, he needed to feed again. Fresh blood would help him heal faster, ease the pain of his wounds which, even now, burned with all the fires of an unforgiving hell.

Vicki’s eyes widened. One hand flew to her throat.

"You are safe from me, my sweet one," he said quietly. Rising, he reached for his bloodstained shirt and shrugged it on. He needed to feed before he sought his rest.

"Should you go out there now?" Victoria asked. "What if Falco’s waiting? Or Duncan?"

"I must go."

"You’re going out to… hunt, aren’t you?"

He didn’t deny it.

"Please don’t go."

" Victoria, I appreciate your concern more than you know, but I need to feed to restore my strength. If I do not, I will grow weaker. I cannot afford that now." He needed to be strong if he was going to protect her. It had become his reason for existing. He had not realized how empty his existence had become until he met her. Knowing she would be there when he rose filled each night with new possibilities.

"Does it hurt?" she asked.

"Does what hurt?"

"When you bite them, does it hurt?"

"No. It can be most pleasurable, especially if one is willing."

"Pleasurable! How? I had a dog bite me once. Believe me, there was nothing pleasant about it."

"But I am not a dog, my sweet one. The bite of a vampire can be a sensual thing. There are those who are addicted to it."

Hardly aware of what she was doing, she lifted a hand to her throat.

Battista followed the movement, his gaze again settling on the hollow of her throat. He listened to the beat of her heart, his nostrils filling with the sweet scent of her life’s blood. He smelled the heat of her skin. It mingled with the scent of toothpaste and shampoo, soap and deodorant. And woman. A woman who was in the prime of life, vibrant and untouched.