Part 10 (1/2)

”Alyaushka.” He used his old pet name for her. ”I know how strong you are, but you're outmanned and outgunned.”

”I won't do it.”

”Then we'll both die.”

”You underestimate me.”

”I understand odds. You know it's the only logical plan. Tap my strength. Get out of here, however you can. Go home, get your men, call my family and rain h.e.l.l down on these people.”

She stared at him, trying to break his resolve, but he just stared back, knowing he was right. Somewhere, a bird began its morning song.

”There is no time!”

Alya turned toward the mountains, as if some last hope might be found there. A second later she turned back, her jaw set. ”Okay.”

Mikhail let out the breath he'd been holding.

She leaned over and kissed him fiercely, her hands deep in his hair. This was right. It would work.

She climbed up on the table and crouched over his body. ”I don't know how I'm ever going to do this.”

”l.u.s.t.”

They'd both ex'd at the climax of a fight. The pa.s.sion of violence helped drop the inhibitions against cannibalism. l.u.s.t would work the same way.

”l.u.s.t? You're feeling l.u.s.t now?” She wiggled backward. ”Oh. So you are.”

”You're on top of me. Naked.” That was incitement enough, but strangely, he found that the idea of imminent death aroused him. The cuffs and the smooth steel at his back aroused him. The prospect of her bite aroused him.

”You're disturbed. I've said it before.”

She didn't even begin to know. The things you learned about yourself when you were dying.

He lifted his head to meet her kiss. He closed his eyes and savored the taste of her mouth, remembering the powerful ambrosia of her blood, and how it warmed his throat and blew open his mind. She took hold of his c.o.c.k. He was so ready. He groaned aloud and thrust into her fist. ”Hurry.”

She spat into her hand, rubbed her spit on the head and then guided him in. Her brow creased as she settled over him. She wasn't ready. But she bit her lip and wiggled until she took him anyway. He couldn't repress another groan as he sank into her heat. ”Okay,” she whispered, ”I've got it.”

Mikhail said, ”Tell me when to come.”

He meant to remind her of her wicked b.l.o.w.j.o.b. It might have worked, because she turned slick and took him deeper. With the first hints of pink breaking over the horizon, she began to ride him.

She ran her palms over his chest and pinched his nipples hard. He jerked under her. But then she stroked the pain away and gave him a sad smile.

”You'll come when I bite you.”

He smiled to rea.s.sure her. But instead of rea.s.suring her, it made her cry. She didn't sob, but tears flowed down her cheeks. He wished he could wipe them away, but all he could do was watch her fight her embarra.s.sment, lock down her emotions and transform herself into a predator.

And it was this predator, not Alya, who fell upon his throat.

Play biting was highly stimulating, and once started, it took an iron will to back off. Each vamp had a point of no return, and she was racing toward it. In no time, her nips became more aggressive, the licking more frantic, the kisses bruising. Her hips rocked faster and faster. She was losing control-and he loved being devoured by her.

This is an excellent way to die.

She growled low in her throat. The sensual, satisfied sound curled around his spine.

One of her hands slid behind his neck, lifting his jaw skyward, exposing his veins and arteries. Her scratchy tongue traced his neck. Her sucking kisses called up his blood. He went lightheaded, loose limbed and warm. No wonder feeders begged for it.

She jerked upright with a short cry, climaxing fast and hard. Just as fast, she swooped down and ripped open his throat. The pain jolted through him, spurring his release. As he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, she began to suck. He flowed into her. His spirit soared free.

”Misha.” There was no holding back from her, no secrets, no half-truths. Her consciousness flowed into him and saw all of him. At the same time, everything he ever was or hoped to be rushed to join her.

”If there's a child, I'll keep it.”

A child of theirs. He'd never even considered...

Her inner voice pushed into his reverie. ”I'm sorry, so sorry.”

Outside he heard her swallowing convulsively. His heart lurched crazily, trying to compensate for blood loss. Fascinating. What had she been saying? She was sorry for something that happened a thousand years ago. It didn't matter.

She was still drinking, but she was crying again. He smelled her tears. They made him thirsty. He wished he could have tasted her one last time. Dying under her mouth was like sinking into a velvet void. Summoning his strength, he opened his eyes to see blazing wisps of orange clouds reflected in the windows of the skysc.r.a.pers.

”Finish. Go.”

Alya tore a fresh hole and sucked viciously. The black closed in gently.

Chapter Nine.

Mikhail flowed through her, icy and powerful as a river roaring out of the mountains. She'd known all along that it would come to this. That she would kill him. But now that the time had come, she hated it. He belonged in the world. He deserved to live.

But his blood leapt into her mouth, insistent. She didn't even have to suck. His strength renewed her, giving back all he'd taken and so much more. His goodness staggered her. She rubbed up against it, hoping some of it would rub off.

Alya knew exactly how much blood she could take from anyone before she did harm. Mikhail had reached that point. He slipped into unconsciousness, but still his blood sang, yes, take me.

He was perfect and beautiful. His dying thoughts were of her. He loved her. As if she deserved it. As if she'd done anything decent in her life.

The compulsion to finish the kill was strong, almost too strong, but she tore her mouth away. With a few quick strokes of her tongue she halted his bleeding and paused, gasping, confused, her head and heart br.i.m.m.i.n.g.

I've got to save him.

She had no plan. No hope at all, really. More than likely she'd be dead within five minutes. But if there was even a sliver of a chance that she could get him out too, she had to try. And if she failed, well, with any luck he wouldn't wake before the sun hit him.

Resolved, she sprang off the table and grabbed a six-foot length of chain.

Mikhail was with her. Not his consciousness, but his essence, unabsorbed and unsettled. Like a drop of dye spreading in pure water, it tinted everything she did. His caution tempered her recklessness. On her own, she would have rushed the building. Instead she crept through the door on a.s.sa.s.sin's feet, descended a few stairs and entered a long hall, her senses p.r.i.c.kling. There were guards at the end of the hall, she could hear them talking. A TV blared in the room to her right, and men shouted at it. She recognized the sound of sports. Using her finer senses she took a second sweep of the area and realized a single vamp was in a room to her left. Quiet. Maybe sleeping.