“If you’re looking for your clothes, I got rid of them.”
The tiny female voice froze him in the midst of his growing panic and he frowned. The room appeared empty.
“Who’s there?”
“Me.”
He followed the voice to his dresser. A little green pixie stared at him from the top of his mirror. Her long dark green hair was pulled into a braid and she wore a little dress made out of a filmy material that hovered around her. Sorin blinked.
There is a pixie in my room.
He paused.
Or I am truly going mad.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Morgi.”
He waited, but she didn’t add anything more. The smell of blood continued to assault his nostrils and he couldn’t help but look around the room again. The coppery scent lingered like a ghost, an eerie reminder of his crime.
“I said I got rid of them.”
Sorin ran a hand over his face before turning his gaze back to the pixie. “Why?”
Morgi tilted her head to the side. “The clothes and the blood on your skin seemed to upset you. I thought you’d feel better if I got rid of them.”
She’d answered his question, but ten more popped up to replace it. He slowly sat down on the mattress, trying to shut out the macabre images from earlier enough to concentrate. The world bucked under his feet, threatening to throw him off the bed. The power he’d gained from Gia’s blood affected him more than any wine, any liquor could have done.
Drunk with her blood, he couldn’t block out his emotions, or clear his thoughts. He swallowed hard, wishing he’d thought to rinse his mouth as the taste of Gia’s blood sent a fresh wave of guilt down his spine.
An image of Grigore carrying Gia outside slapped him in the face. He should have helped, should have carried her. He was the one who’d nearly killed her, it was his responsibility to help. And yet . . .
“You are the strangest vampire I’ve ever seen. Why does blood bother you so much?”
Once again, the tiny voice drew his thoughts from his misery. He turned his attention back to his dresser, struggling to focus on the little visitor on his mirror.
“Does the fact that I came in here covered in blood not give you the slightest hint about what annoying me might mean?” he growled. Bad enough his world had erupted into chaos, he would not be mocked by a fey no bigger than his hand. He stood and straightened to his full height, glaring at the pixie. The floor seemed reasonably solid now.
“Yes, it tells me that in addition to not drinking blood, you also don’t like to have it on your skin or clothes.”
He froze. “How did you know I don’t drink blood?”
“Grigore told me. He said I had to stay in the basement because you don’t drink blood and it makes you suck the life out of things around you.” She rolled her eyes. “I kept telling him that I’m just as fey as he is. I’ve got more lifeforce than one mopey vampire can suck out.” She frowned. “But Grigore wouldn’t listen.”
“Master?”
He whirled around as Grigore’s voice sent his heart back into his throat.
“Is she all right?”
Grigore nodded. “She will be fine.”
Sorin’s shoulders drooped, weak with relief. “I knew she was powerful. Her blood—”
He stopped himself, wincing at the sensory memories brought on by the mere mention of blood. Despite his shame and guilt, the shadow inside him still gave off an aura of pleasure at the thought. The fact that he could feel the thing’s emotions so strongly sent a fresh wave of fear over his nerves.
Suddenly he couldn’t stand to be naked anymore. He needed the propriety of formal clothes, the constraint their tailored confines provided. He went to his armoire and began pulling out clean linens.
“I am losing control, Grigore,” he whispered.
“Master?”
“I’ve resisted the call of blood for so long. I have chosen to be a man, not a monster, fed off energy instead of blood. I have lived as I am supposed to and yet I am being punished.” He turned away from his closet to stare into Grigore’s eyes, a growing horror rising inside him. “Her blood and body call to me and I fear I am not strong enough to fight it.”
“Perhaps you should revoke your deal with the lady. If you cannot—”
“No!” The word exploded from his lips and Sorin’s eyes widened in surprise at his own vehemence. Grigore raised an eyebrow, sending a rush of embarrassment flooding through Sorin. He forged ahead, not wanting to dwell on where the passion in his voice had come from.
“Self-control is not a luxury, it is a responsibility. I have made a bargain with Gia—a bargain I have already . . . benefited from. It would be dishonorable to fail her now.” His brain furiously worked to provide a logical excuse for his body’s demands. He wasn’t ready for her to leave. Not yet. “Honor is what separates men from beasts. I will fulfill my end of the arrangement.”
“As you will,” Grigore nodded. “I will arrange dinner.”
“Yes, thank you. She must eat.”
As Grigore left the room, Sorin turned back to his armoire. He had to get dressed. He reached in and began pulling out more clothes. The crisp white shift with the subtle ruffling on the chest soothed him with its formality. The tight fit of his heavy waistcoat reinforced his need for control. As he fastened his trousers around the material of his upper garments he began to feel less like an animal and more like a gentleman.
By the time he’d slipped on his pale grey frock coat and fastened his pocket watch to his vest, he felt like his old self again. The energy that had exploded like fireworks inside him earlier quieted. No longer was Gia’s blood like a raging whitewater river in his veins. Bit by bit his self control regained ground until he was focused and calm.
He looked at himself in the mirror as he picked up a brush from his dresser. He pulled it through the tangled locks hanging to his shoulders, wringing out excess water as he went. Keeping his gaze on his reflection, he watched his transformation from wild heathen to refined gentleman. When he finally pulled his hair back in a tie, he found himself staring into the eyes of a respectable man once again.
“I am a man. Not an animal.”
“That was a really weird thing to say.”
He’d forgotten the pixie. Sorin glared at Morgi where she sat still perched on his vanity, staring at him with open curiosity.
“If you wish to remain in my home, you must learn a degree of respect. Stay out of my quarters.”
Morgi rolled her eyes. With a little leap off the mirror, she flew out of the room.
The fact that she hadn’t actually agreed to stay out of his room concerned Sorin, but he didn’t allow himself to dwell on it. If the tiny female invaded his room again, he would deal with her then. He was the lord of this house and, by God, he would have order. He checked his reflection one last time, making certain there was no fear or doubt etched into his face before striding out of the room.
With every step he took toward the dining room, he reminded himself of his sire’s training. Years of hard and bloody lessons combined with an unforgiving attitude toward weakness floated across time to steel him even further against temptation. He would not allow this barbaric female to take the respectability he’d fought so hard for. Cossette’s face flashed into his mind and he stumbled. He knew the price of disregarding his sire’s lessons. He’d learned.
Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to suffer the pain of her loss, using it to beat back the feelings of attraction ensnaring him toward Gia. He’d already allowed a woman to destroy him once. It would not happen again.
By the time he opened the door to the dining room, he was once again calm and collected. He looked and felt like a man, master of his home and ruler of his destiny. He would put aside his bestial thoughts and show Gia the respect he would show a human woman. Perhaps if he led by example, she would rise above her animal nature and they could proceed—
Black claws dragged down his chest, shredding his flesh as easily as his silken shirt. Agony tore his mouth open in a scream and he threw his head back and closed his eyes. For a moment all he could feel was the fire of his wounds, the hot breath of the pony-sized wolf as it snapped its jaws in front of his face.
Before he could recover enough to fight back, the wolf vanished off his chest. He fought to sit up despite the pain, opening his eyes to find a large wolf watching him, golden eyes alert and shining with animosity.
He would have known those eyes anywhere, fearful as he’d been that they would haunt his sleep for the rest of eternity. Just as she was a beautiful woman, Gia was also a beautiful wolf. From her tail to the top of her head, she was a pale shade of grey with a dusting of black fur, and from her throat down to the pads of her feet she was a stunning white. The grey fur circled down like a delicate muff to cover part of her chest, breaking up the stark paleness of her white fur. The effect was breathtaking.
His oddly-timed admiration faded as a growl trickled from her throat. Her ears stood straight up, her forehead and nose wrinkling as she bared her teeth. Tension crackled between them as her fur bristled and she fixed him with a stare that would have melted iron.
The obvious threat in her body language reminded him of the vicious surprise attack she’d launched on him. His momentary distraction from the pain in his chest ended in the blink of an eye. He put a hand to his chest, staring down at the damage she’d done, even as his skin began to heal itself.
The tatters of his shirt floated about him like little white flags signaling the surrender of his gentlemanly façade. The sight of his pale skin, ravaged by the claws of a beast, made the blood pulse in his head like a heathen drum beat. Warmth spread behind his eyes, the heat of a responding anger building inside him. His eyes widened as the scent of his own blood filled the room. The metallic taste of it coated his lips and he couldn’t stop himself from licking them in hungry anticipation. The motion sounded the death knell of his respectability and his anger exploded.
“Godammit, woman,” he screamed. He shoved himself off the ground, a dark rage coming from somewhere deep inside him. “I realize you are half beast, but I will have a modicum of decorum!” He glared down at her, openly challenging the threat in her eyes. “This is my home! I will not have you turning it into a den of iniquity, staining my honor with your bestial violence and sex. I—”
The wolf growled at him, the sound crawling over his skin and sending a shiver down his spine. Something about the vibration called to him, beckoned him closer. Confusion halted his tirade and he watched in silence as Gia’s body shuddered and her skin began to roll back.
He couldn’t help the swell of appreciation at the smoothness of her shift. It was as though the wolf rose to its hind legs to reveal a woman’s form underneath. He half expected her to turn and show a back still covered with fur and a tail. His gaze roved over her nude form and his cock stirred between his legs. He remembered the taste of her body, the feel of her wet depths as he plunged—
“Decorum?
Decorum
? You almost
killed
me! I offered you blood in exchange for your protection, not my
life
.”
He couldn’t drag his gaze from her body. The curves of her breasts, the dusky brown of her nipples, the patch of auburn curls between her legs . . . it took every ounce of his strength not to leap on her like a starving man. The demon inside him raised its head, flashing bright white teeth. It was hungry too.
Fear wrapped its icy claws around his heart. Already the sight of her naked body, the smell of her soft flesh, melted his resistance. Her sexuality shredded his self-control as easily as her claws had shredded his clothes and the man it left behind was little more than an animal. Any second now he would lose the battle and fall on her like the beast he feared becoming.
“Consider our deal vacated.”
Her words didn’t even register until she turned her back on him and started toward the door. Shock temporarily stole his reason.
“What did you say?”
She stopped and turned to face him. “I will not stay here and let you play with my life as though it’s a child’s toy. Obviously you do not possess the self-control I thought you did and I don’t have the patience to tame a wild temper.”
He stood there, struggling to find the words to express his outrage, but his words abandoned him. How dare she speak to him like that? He was the respectable one in this room, not her. She was half-animal, a beast with wanton sexuality and a monstrous appetite. It was her influence that had cause his breach of etiquette, not a
lack of control on his part.