Page 62 of Chain Me
I watched him, startled by his reaction. He was staring off as if seeing something far beyond this space. Far beyond this reality. A wistful tilt to his mouth betrayed his true nature more than ever: a creature unmoored by the constraints of time.
“Remember death,” he declared, uttering the phrase with a chilling sense of finality. Slowly, he sat back and his hand hooked around my waist, drawing me against him once more. “It means remember death.”
“That sounds like something a Gray would want on a tombstone,” I admitted, trying to picture the mysterious culprit. “Perhaps they got their necklace at the same sale you got yours?”
A lie of course. The way he fingered the thin chain—always without seeming to realize it—revealed its personal nature. He hadn’t bought it at some thrift shop. No. It held far too much sentiment. A gift?
Though that presented more mystery as to why its twin just so happened to have been hiding within my childhood haunt and family mausoleum. Foryears, judging from the dust surrounding it, if not decades. Centuries?
“Unless of course,” I added, shrugging away the morbid connotations, “you gave it to some poor ancient Gray woman you seduced.” Though most likely not within an airplane traveling to only God knew where. I could claim that scorecard, at least. “She stole it, because we Grays are nothing if not spiteful, and left it somewhere only one of her poor, bumbling descendants would be able to find it. Was it Agatha?” I wondered, naming one of the members of his thorough list. “You did write her name rather peculiarly—”
“You are a singular creature.” He gripped my chin, tilting it so that I faced him. Lips pursed, a ruthless sweep of his gaze was all he required to decipher me. “To be honest, if there were more than one of you with your abject lack of self-preservation, I’m sure your bloodline wouldn’t have lasted this long. Poor Agatha would have already wandered off a cliff on a whim.”
“Or an evil vampire would have goaded her off,” I croaked. Because he had the gall to profess that he had an interest in her that extended beyond her plain looks and massive fortune. “Poor Agatha—”
“Agathawould have written me a check during our first meeting,” he countered, suddenly serious. “Youinsisted upon your own terms, no matter how reckless and inane they might be. The first time I offered you an out, you stripped naked and demanded you have your way.” He pulled me closer and his thumb swiped my lower lip as if in punishment. “I told you to make yourself unappealing at the club. So you decided to dance in a way that made me offer up more time to that bastard Raphael just to keep you out of his reach. I turned you away for your own good, yet you came marching back with your chin in the air, daring me to have you again.”
He sighed, such a hollow, tortured sound. “Then I leave the country to try to regain my sanity, only to return and find you on my doorstep. And again, when I try tofinallylet you go, you get on your knees and suck my cock.” Awe painted his voice, as did anger, and hopelessness, and eternal frustration. “At every turn, you confound me. At every attempt to ignore your albeit lacking charms, you find a way to hook your claws into me. You called me the monster, but frankly, I must admit that I am at a loss when it comes to you. A part of me suspects that if Ididkill you, you’d merely come back to life, giggling with glee that you’d finally managed to break my resolve.” His other hand came to cradle the side of my face, brushing the stray curls back. “I’m confounded by you,” he reiterated. “So I have decided that the only way to survive you with my sanity intact is to utilize you. As I see fit.”
My breath caught at the raw lust his tone revealed. As if chasing the reaction, he worked the tip of his thumb between my lips, seeking out my tongue.
“And how is that?” I managed to ask.
He seemed to mull it over. “I will no longer resist your impulsive inclinations. I’ll merely combat them. The next time you question my supposed lack of attraction to you, I will take it as an invitation over an insult.”
I drew my thighs together, aggravating the slight ache between them. “Oh?”
“I’ll strip you naked,” he mused. “For a start, at least. There is no use in humoring you like one would a sane woman. You thrive on this—corruption. I think it’s what you’ve wanted all along.”
I thought back to our very first meeting, when he’d barged into my bedroom and presented a choice: life or death?
“Stripping naked or dropping to my knees does seem to be an effective way to render you speechless,” I admitted. Then my teeth skewered my lip. “As is presenting a, let’s sayunlikely, challenge to your understanding of vampire biology.”
He remained silent for so long. I flinched when he finally moved and settled his hand along my hip. Outstretched, his fingers grazed the flat of my belly. The sight triggered a flurry of emotions too complex to name. They thickened my throat and obstructed my breathing—overwhelming in every aspect.
“Regardless of what happens between us… I don’t want to face this alone,” I admitted, my voice hoarse.
“You won’t. It is true that this ‘challenge’ is unexpected,” he finally confessed. “Though, I would ask that you not make a habit of deconstructing my concept of reality.”
“What did Raphael mean?” I asked. “When he said that my bloodline is cursed. That you knew someone who—”
“It doesn’t matter.” He brushed his mouth along my jaw, taking his time in the advance toward his true destination. I inhaled raggedly, my lips parting even before his finally settled over mine. This kiss was slower than the others. Deeper. Savoring instead of frantic. His flavor lingered on my tongue, and I took my time deciphering every subtle nuance of it. He was a creature born to be deciphered.
He could taste as unyielding and relentless as ice in some aspects one moment. Then hot like winter spice the next. Sweet like wine, all the while laced with a bitter, dangerous hint that made my stomach constrict and heat spread through my belly.
When he started to pull back, I followed, craving more. His blood was an addictive substance, but even it was unmatched compared to him.
“I really do need to speak to the pilot.” The raw regret in his tone soothed any sting of rejection I might have felt. He looked tormented as he pulled away and stood. Surprising me, he reached for my seat belt and unfastened it before helping me to my feet as well.
Instead of toward the cockpit, he led me down the length of the cabin and into a space dominated by a bed. Something I suspected a vampire’s private jet might otherwise not contain.
“You need sleep,” he said, urging me onto the mattress. “The bathroom is there.” He nodded to a small door just beyond the bedroom. “I shouldn’t be long.”
I watched him go. Even disheveled in his polished suit, the man remained unmatched in poise. Doubt, that terrible fucking thing, was harder to quash without his mouth to silence it, however. That vicious voice returned, slightly louder than before.
You think he truly wants you? It’s all lies, Eleanor.
The only way to banish the thoughts was to enter the bathroom—unusually spacious with a wide sink and enough space to wash myself in comfortably—strip my soiled dress, and attack my body with a warm, wet cloth. I washed slowly, swaying in time with the plane’s various jolts and tremors.
