Chapter Seven

Erica woke just before seven after barely an hour of sleep.

Frustrated and jittery, she finally flung herself from the sweat-damp sheets and hurried into the kitchen to brew some tea. She sipped slowly, staring out her kitchen window at the building’s rear parking lot. She thought of Max, his dark gaze and the way her body responded to his voice and his touch. She’d never imagined giving up control to someone else, but the thought of him subtly guiding her movements, or openly commanding her, made her knees weak. How could she find it arousing to submit to him? Why did she crave more?

She finished her tea and shook the unsettling thoughts from her mind. It was a fluke, she decided. Everyone talked about getting caught up in the moment--people did things all the time that they couldn’t explain to themselves by the light of day. She’d get over it, and move on. As soon as she found Elena.

* * * *

At 6:00 p.m., Erica stood before her open closet and drew out a black dress with trembling fingers. Half a dozen times she’d picked up the phone to call Max and cancel and each time she’d taken a deep breath and steeled herself to do this.

When the doorbell rang, she smoothed her skirt and her hair, and pressed her hand tightly to her stomach to quell the butterflies. This is business, she told herself. Just business.

* * * *

This is just business, Max told himself. He’d had less trouble believing that all day while he worked from his apartment. He’d spoken to his contacts and his colleagues and circulated the details he had about Elena Talbot’s disappearance. Since keeping a reluctant human from becoming a feeder was within his job description, he felt less like he was using Erica for his own perverse pleasure. The search for Elena Talbot was an official case now, so he didn’t have to feel guilty about spending the evening with Erica, even if he enjoyed it.

When he rang Erica’s doorbell, his professional resolve wavered. It fled entirely when she opened the door.

Just as he’d requested, she wore black. The dress was strapless and the neckline dipped just a bit between her breasts.

Her neck was bare, and now she wore her hair in a loose chignon with a few thin corkscrew curls dangling here and there, just begging to be touched.

Demure black stockings and sharp-toed pumps with old-fashioned pedestal heels completed the look. Her makeup was understated, and she smelled like almond soap and indecision.

It occurred to him that if he made this difficult for her, he might still be able to talk her out of it.

“Can I come in?”

“Do you have to be invited?” She cocked her head, baring the pulse-point in her neck to his view.

He swallowed. “No more than anyone else.”

She stepped aside, and he walked into the apartment where her scent and her taste surrounded him. The overstuffed bookshelves explained the librarian vibe he’d gotten. A stack of hardcovers sat on a low coffee table next to a sofa that begged for curling up and settling in with the latest bestseller.

He smiled. “This is nice. It’s a comfortable place.”

“Thank you.” She seemed unsure of herself now. Despite the outfit and her determined stance, he wondered if she really had the confidence to pull it off. “Can I get you a drink?”

“I don’t want anything right now, thanks. We should get started. I made reservations at 7:30 for Gregori’s. It’s a private club that was owned by the prior vampire king. Since he left the country it’s under new management, but they kept the name.”

“The vampire king owned a club? Didn’t he have ... kingly duties?”

“His last duty here was to choose a new king.” Max thought of Gregori Nachevik’s chosen successor. Jake Beaumont’s appointment as the leader of vampire society in this area had shaken the vampire world pretty badly. Things were still settling, like the aftermath of an earthquake, loose dirt filling into the cracks.

“So how does vampire royalty work? If there aren’t any ... bloodlines?”

“It’s sort of like a bloodline. The former king chose a successor that he turned himself, and the rules are stricter now than they used to be. We need permission from the king to turn someone.” Max wished the rules had been in place a century ago, but things were different then.

“What about a queen?”

“There’s no queen ... right now. Female vampires usually aren’t interested in politics.”

“Tell me about the club ... What’s it like there?” She surprised him by taking a seat on the sofa. He watched her legs as she crossed them demurely at the ankle. Whatever had stopped working for him last night with Kyra kicked back into gear as his gaze traveled up her taut calf muscles. He forgot vampire politics and concentrated on answering her next question.

“It’s elegant. The food is excellent, so I’m told.”

“I don’t know if it’s Elena’s type of place. I would have expected to find her somewhere more like After Dark.”

“Gregori’s is for vampires who have regular feeders that they like to show off. If she’s gotten into a ‘contract’ with someone, she might not be able to get out of it that easily, and that may be why she called for help. Some vampires pay their regular feeders good money for exclusivity, and they help them maintain a certain lifestyle.”

Erica nodded. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get you something that belongs to her. There’s an eviction notice on her apartment, and the landlord wouldn’t let me in unless I paid two months back rent. I can’t get the money until Monday morning so ....”

Max sighed. With Elena’s scent, his job would have been so much easier. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and we’ll find her tonight. I know I don’t need to ask but, you haven’t heard any more from her, have you?”

She shook her head, and the glimmer of vulnerability in her eyes clutched at him. He turned away from her and covered his own uncertainty by placing his suit jacket on a nearby chair.

When he turned back, he was in charge again, ready to teach her what she needed to know.

* * * *

“Let’s go over the rules, and the consequences for breaking them,” Max said as he turned. His voice sent an unexpected shiver through Erica’s body, and her nipples peaked beneath the satiny fabric of her dress. Oh, God, if she felt like this now, what would happen if he touched her?

She held her breath while he unbuttoned his shirt cuffs and pushed his sleeves up. He dropped a pair of gold cuff links on the coffee table and gave her a dark look. When he loosened his tie, she arched involuntarily toward him.

“Rule number one: I’m in control at all times. Inside the club you literally belong to me. You have no purpose other than to do as you are told.”

She nodded, afraid to speak, afraid that she would sound too eager to obey his commands.

“Rule two: Don’t speak unless I give you permission. If someone asks you a question--they probably won’t--but if they do, you look at me before answering. If I don’t respond, you say nothing.

“Rule three: You never leave my side. Rule four: If you see your sister, don’t react to her. Let me know, quietly, and I’ll decide what to do from there. There’s a chance that even if she’s there, we will not be able to get to her tonight. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” Erica’s response came out as a breathless whisper. “Are those all the rules?”

“The major ones. Get used to doing everything I tell you. You can start now by standing up.”

She complied, her eyes on him. When he moved to stand in front of her, her stomach tightened, and the tingle between her thighs intensified.

He brought up one hand and traced the healing bite marks on her neck with the tip of his finger. His feather light touch made something deep within her begin to pulse.

“This healed too quickly. It wasn’t deep enough.” He ran his finger over her collarbone and across the mounded flesh above the curving neckline of her dress. “There are lots of places I could leave a mark. What would be best? Maybe the other side of your neck?” He smirked and she swallowed hard. His scent was intoxicating, like a warm summer breeze with a hint of spice. She tilted her head back when he placed both hands on her hips and guided her body toward his.

“How about here?” He lowered his head and kissed the spot just below her left ear and she made a sound that could only have been one of surrender.

* * * *

Max hovered over the sweet spot on Erica’s neck, lost in the fatal scent of her. Another taste would be his downfall. He wanted her even though he wasn’t hungry. Kyra had sated his desire for blood. What he wanted now, he hadn’t taken last night.

He told himself the scent of arousal would make Erica seem more authentic. Feeders, as a rule, enjoyed the sexual nature of the vampire symbiosis as well. It raised their internal pressure and heightened their output. Sexual excitement had the added benefit of releasing hormones into the blood that made it sweeter. With that in mind, it was practically a necessity to get her a little hot before he brought her to the club. The anticipation would show on her face in the flush of her cheeks and the swell of her breasts against her dress. He needed her in the same state she’d been in last night, needed her fighting for control so he could offer it to her.

“Turn around.” He loved that she didn’t question his command.

He pulled her against him, positioning her hips so she could feel his erection. He held her tight around the waist and lowered his teeth to just above her flickering pulse and bent her forward slightly.

The delicious sensation of her pushing against him brought on the bloodlust. He bit down slowly, just enough to let the blood well into a swollen drop beneath each fang. As he licked those sweet drops, he slid one hand down the front of her dress to cup the spot at the juncture of her thighs.

She pushed back father, and a moan escaped her lips. That’s when he began to drink.