Everlasting Kiss (7 page)

She stared at it in horror for a minute, then shrugged. If he wanted to keep her here as his prisoner, then he could just clean up after her.

Sitting on the sofa, she nibbled at the salad, drank half the Coke, then threw the remains of the salad and the drink against the door. The green lettuce made a nice contrast to the red sauce and yellow cheese.

Fear rose in the midst of defiance as she stared at the mess she had made on the floor. And then she stiffened her spine. No matter what Erik said to the contrary, she knew he was going to kill her. Better to go down fighting back than just sit there like some sacrificial lamb and wait for him to drain her dry.

She glanced around the room. She needed a weapon, she thought. Something. Anything. But there was nothing to be found in the parlor. She searched the rest of the house, giving vent to her rising frustration as she moved from room to room.

Returning to the living room, she tried the front door again, then perched on the edge of the sofa, her foot tapping impatiently as she tried to think of a way out. She didn’t know how much longer the vampire would be gone, but after what she had done, she didn’t want to be there when he returned.

Erik moved quickly through the shadows. He preyed upon the first human he found, took what he needed, and moved on. Deciding to keep the girl had been one of the stupidest decisions he had ever made. Thinking about it now, he wasn’t sure what had possessed him to do such an idiotic thing. He couldn’t keep her indefinitely. And now that she knew where he lived, he would have to move on. He hadn’t lived as long as he had by being careless, or by trusting others. Until now, no one, save Rhys, knew the location of his lair.

Erik cursed softly. He had three choices. He could wipe his memory from Daisy’s mind, though that might be difficult now that they had exchanged blood. He could kill her. Or he could let her go, pack up his few possessions, and search out a new lair. To his chagrin, he wasn’t inclined to do any of them. His lair suited him. He had no desire to take Daisy’s life, and, somewhat surprisingly, he didn’t want her to forget him. One thing for certain, he knew he would never forget her.

Eager to see her again, curious to see if he could coax her into his bed, he quickly returned home.

A wave of his hand opened the front door. As he crossed the threshold, his eagerness to see Daisy was dampened by the sight that met his eyes. His living room, sparsely furnished to be sure, was a shambles. The carpet was splattered with tomato sauce, melted cheese, pepperoni, and lettuce, as well as a dark stain that turned out to be Coke. A Tiffany lamp lay in pieces. Sofa pillows were strewn across the floor.

Daisy O’Donnell sat on a chair in the middle of the living room, her arms folded over her chest, a defiant expression on her face.

Wordlessly, he moved past her. A quick inspection of the downstairs showed that Hurricane Daisy had blown through every room. The kitchen had escaped her wrath, but then, there was nothing in the drawers or cupboards for her to savage.

Tamping down his temper, he went upstairs and looked in the master bedroom. His bedding was piled on the floor; the pillows, too. She had emptied his dresser drawers and added the contents to the pile on the floor, along with his shoes and the clothes from his closet.

She had emptied the medicine cabinet and poured his specially blended, one-hundred-dollar-a-bottle of cologne down the sink. His comb and his toothbrush were in the toilet; she had written
I hate you
on the sink top with toothpaste, and
vampires suck
on the mirror.

She had trashed the other bedrooms as well, although the damage was minimal.

He was reluctant to open the door to his studio. He frowned as his gaze swept the room. He took a quick look in the other rooms, then took a deep breath in hopes of quieting his anger.

He let it out in a long, slow sigh, and then returned to the living room. Standing in front of the fireplace, he crossed his arms over his chest. “Do you feel better now that you’ve destroyed my home?”

“Yes, thank you,” she said, even though it was a lie. Trashing his house had been a stupid, childish display of temper, although she had to admit it had made her feel better at the time. Now she just felt guilty, and ashamed.

He took a place in front of her chair, his arms folded across his chest. “You do realize that I can compel you to do whatever I want?”

A shadow of what might have been fear passed behind her eyes. She quickly blinked it away, her lips thinning.

“You don’t believe me?”

“No.”

He summoned his power, watched her expression change from defiance to wariness as preternatural power filled the room.

Daisy stared at him as his power swept over her. It lifted the fine hairs on her arms, sent a shiver of awareness trembling down her spine.

Speaking to her mind, Erik commanded her to rise, to wrap her arms around his waist, to press her lips to his.

His hands bracketed her hips, drawing her body tight against his as he kissed her deeply. And as he did so, he let her know that she was completely at his mercy. When she understood that she was powerless to resist him, he released her from his hold and took a step backward.

“Exactly,” he said. “Anything I wish. Perhaps you should contemplate what that means while you’re cleaning up the mess you’ve made.”

Cheeks burning with humiliation, she spun away from him, her movements as jerky as a robot’s as she cleaned up the mess on the floor and put the living room to rights, then marched down the hallway toward the guest room.

Erik dropped down onto the sofa, one arm draped along the back, silently berating himself for his strong-arm tactics. What did he hope to gain by keeping her there against her will? And what was he going to do with her now?

Daisy fumed silently as she stood in the middle of his bedroom, wondering where to start. Muttering an oath that would have made her father blush, she began hanging up Erik’s clothes and putting them back in the closet. She couldn’t help noticing that he only bought the best, whether it was shirts, slacks, or sweaters. His scent tickled her nostrils as she hung up a long black cloak reminiscent of the type Dracula always wore in movies. It was a compelling scent.

She folded his underwear and put it away, then put the sheets on the bed, only then wondering what need he had for a bed when he slept in a casket in the basement.

Going into the bathroom, she washed the toothpaste from the sink top and the mirror. Could he see himself in a mirror? In the movies, Dracula had no reflection. She wasn’t sure why. One supposed authority on the subject said it was because a vampire had no soul, but Daisy didn’t think that was possible. How could anyone live without a soul? And if they didn’t have a soul, did it leave the body when the vampire was turned? And if it did, where did it go? Of course, since vampires weren’t truly alive, but Undead, maybe a soul was just so much excess baggage.

With a shake of her head, she dropped his comb and his toothbrush into the wastebasket. Funny, she had never thought about vampires brushing their teeth. Did they have coffin breath when they woke in the morning?

Reluctant to return to Erik’s presence, she plopped down in the middle of his bed and contemplated her immediate future. What was he going to do with her, or to her? Whatever he had in mind, she was certain she wouldn’t like it the least little bit. She liked his kisses, though.

The thought brought a rush of heat to her cheeks. His kisses should have been repellant, disgusting, so why weren’t they? Or maybe they were. Maybe he had used his vampire mojo to mess with her mind so she only thought they were pleasant.

She shuddered with the memory of his thoughts controlling hers. It had been a horrible experience. She had felt him inside her head, heard his commands, and been helpless to refuse.

I can compel you to do anything I want.

Now that was a scary thought. Of course, she hadn’t believed him when he said it. She wouldn’t make that mistake again. When she got out of there—
if
she got out of there—she would consult her grandmother. Nonnie O’Donnell was a white witch of the highest order. If anyone could conjure a spell to keep Erik out of Daisy’s mind, it was Nonnie.

Daisy bolted off the bed when Erik appeared in the doorway.

His gaze swept the room.

“I hope it’s done to your satisfaction,
master
,” she said with as much sarcasm as she could muster.

His gaze moved over her, ever so slowly, lingering on her lips, the swell of her breasts, the curve of her hip. “I’d like the bed better if you were in it.”

“I’ll bet you would!”

“You might like it, too,” he said with a wicked grin.

His words made her heart race. Had that been a threat? Would he force her to submit to him?

Erik swore softly. He hadn’t meant to frighten her, but he had. She stared at him, wide-eyed, like a deer caught in a bright light. He could hear her heart pounding, smell the fear on her skin.

Blowing out a breath, he shook his head. “I’m not going to hurt you.” How many times had he said that? “You must know that I can’t let you go.”

“Why not?”

“Because you know where I rest.” He spoke to her as if she were a child who must be made to understand. “No one living knows that.” He stressed the word
living
.

Her face paled. “I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”

“Of course. That’s what they all say.”

Daisy stared at him. How many others had he killed? Would she become one more casualty in a long line of men and women he had silenced? The thought made her knees go weak.

Erik muttered an oath as all the color drained from her face. Fearing that she would faint again, he swept her into his arms, then sat on the edge of the bed, holding her close to his chest.

“Daisy, Daisy,” he murmured, his voice low, husky with desire. “What am I to do with you?”

She stared at him through the thick veil of her lashes. Her eyes were wide and very green in her pale face, her lips slightly parted.

It was an invitation he couldn’t resist. Lowering his head, he claimed her mouth with his, his tongue sweeping across her lips, demanding entrance, boldly exploring.

Daisy gasped as his tongue dueled with hers. Heat, like lightning, exploded through her, sizzling through every nerve and fiber of her being. Her hands curled over his shoulders, holding on for dear life.

Breathless, she closed her eyes as the world swam out of focus. There was a roaring in her ears, a sense of loss as he took his mouth from hers.

Bereft, she looked up at him. A small cry of panic escaped her throat when she saw the faint red glow in his eyes.

Vampire!
The word screamed in her mind as he lowered his head to her throat.

Her whole body went still when she felt his fangs against her skin, but the pain she expected didn’t come. Instead, a sweet warmth crept into her limbs, stealing her strength, stilling the protest she knew she should be making.

What was he doing to her? If only he would stop. If only he would never stop. Her eyelids fluttered down as she gave herself into his keeping. She was dying. The thought hovered at the edge of her consciousness, but it no longer seemed important.

Aware that he had almost taken too much, Erik drew back. Daisy lay limp in his embrace, her eyes closed, a faint smile on her lips.

Cursing himself for his lack of restraint, he ran his tongue over the small wounds in her neck, sealing them with his saliva. Gazing down at her, he shook his head. What was he to do with her? He couldn’t keep her there indefinitely, he thought with no small degree of regret, and then he grunted softly. He was Erik, a vampire without equal. If he wanted to keep her in his house for a week or a year, who was going to stop him?

Whistling softly, he tucked her into bed, then left the house. She would need food and drink and a change of clothes when she woke.

Daisy snuggled under the covers, reluctant to wake. She had been having a most unusual dream, one in which she had been a princess being kept prisoner in a castle by a fierce dragon…

Bolting upright, she glanced around the room. She wasn’t home. She wasn’t in her own bed. She was being kept a prisoner, not in a castle, but a house. Not by a dragon, but by a monster just the same.

She lifted a hand to her neck. He had seduced her with kisses last night, and then taken her blood. And she had reveled in it. How disgusting was that? He must have hypnotized her or worked some sort of evil magic on her, to make her think she had enjoyed it. How could anyone enjoy being a vampire’s dinner? Oh, Lord, was that why he was keeping her here? To feed on?

Her fingertips lingered on her throat as vivid images painted themselves across her mind, images of Erik’s eyes as he bent over her, the erotic seduction of his unholy kisses, the feel of his arms around her, the husky timbre of his voice, the taste of his lips, his tongue…

Heat pooled in the pit of her belly. Monster he might be, but he knew how to arouse a woman. And she hated him for it.

Rising, she went into the bathroom to rinse her mouth, only then realizing that there were no dishes or glasses in the house.

And no food, she thought as her stomach growled, reminding her that all she’d had to eat since breakfast the day before was a few bites of salad.

She could call and order something, only Erik had her cell phone. Besides, there was no way to get past the wards on the house. She needed a bath, only she didn’t relish the idea of bathing and then putting on her dirty underwear, or, worse yet, having Erik enter the bathroom while she was in the tub.

Returning to the bedroom, she noticed several packages piled on the dresser. They hadn’t been there the night before.

Frowning, she poked into the largest one, a soft sigh of surprise rising in her throat when she pulled out a pair of sweatpants and a matching velour jacket, several pairs of socks, and a pair of fluffy pink slippers. The other bags yielded three pairs of jeans and six T-shirts in assorted colors, a pair of sandals, a comb and brush, a blow-dryer, hair spray, toothpaste, a pink toothbrush. And several sets of underwear in rainbow colors. How had he known her size? She shuddered to think!

After taking a quick shower, she pulled on the sweats and went downstairs, where another surprise awaited her. The kitchen, once barren, had been fully stocked with food. Boxes, cans, and dishes were neatly stacked in the cupboards. Milk, juice, eggs, cheese, and butter filled the refrigerator, along with a number of fresh fruits and vegetables. She spied a set of stainless steel cookware on the floor near the stove, along with a state-of-the-art coffeemaker.

Standing there, she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. On the one hand, she was touched that he had been thoughtful enough to provide for her needs. On the other hand, she was filled with apprehension, since it was obvious he had no intention of letting her go anytime soon. Of course, since he intended to feed and clothe her, she supposed that meant he didn’t intend to drink her dry, at least not right away.

On that happy note, she decided to have breakfast and worry about her future after she’d had her morning coffee.

Consciousness returned with the setting of the sun. Sitting up, Erik opened his senses, nearly gagging as the scent of cooked meat stung his nostrils. He had no one to blame but himself. He had gone grocery shopping for the woman the night before. Not knowing what she liked and not being particularly familiar with the food of the day, he had bought a little of everything.

Erik shook his head. The odors coming from the kitchen were almost enough to convince him to let her go, but the memory of holding her in his arms, of sampling her sweet lips and her sweeter blood, quickly dispelled that notion. His mouth watered at the thought of holding her again, tasting her again.

Rising, he pulled on a pair of well-worn jeans and a long-sleeved gray T-shirt. Late last night, he had brought some of his clothing down to his lair, partly for convenience’s sake now that he had a houseguest, and partly to keep her from slicing his entire wardrobe to ribbons should Hurricane Daisy go on the rampage again.

Enthused at the thought of spending the evening with her, Erik unlocked the door to his lair and padded silently up the stairs.

Daisy was eating dinner in the living room when she felt a peculiar tingling along her nape. Startled, she glanced around the room. One minute she was alone, the next Erik was standing in the doorway.

“You!” She pressed a hand to her heart, startled by the realization that his presence had caused that odd tingling sensation. Frowning, she lifted a hand to her neck. She had tasted his blood; he had taken hers. Was that why she was suddenly so in tune to his presence?

He jerked his chin toward the plate in her lap. “Your dinner is getting cold.”

“What? Oh.” Trapped by his gaze, she had completely forgotten her meal.

She couldn’t stop watching him as he moved into the room. Though he was dressed in ordinary jeans and a dark gray T-shirt, there was nothing ordinary about Erik Delacourt. Not the way he looked, not the way he moved. She was aware of him in ways she never had been before. She frowned. Was that another side effect of his drinking from her? Or her drinking from him? She didn’t understand why she hadn’t been repulsed by the taste of his blood. But one thing she knew for sure, it was never going to happen again.

She glanced at her dinner, but seemed to have lost her appetite.

Taking a seat at the other end of the sofa, he regarded her through narrowed eyes. “Something wrong?”

“How long are you going to keep me here?”

His gaze slid over her from head to heel. “As long as it pleases me.”

“Well, it doesn’t please me,” she retorted. “I want to go home. Now!”

He nodded, then blew out a sigh. “Very well.”

“Just like that?” she asked, suddenly suspicious.

“More or less.”

“What does
that
mean?”

“It means you can stay here, or I can wipe my memory and this place from your mind and let you go.”

She liked the idea of going home. Surprisingly, she didn’t like the idea of forgetting him. “Are you afraid of me?”

Soft laughter filled the room. “Of you? No.”

“Then why do you want to wipe your memory from my mind?”

“Because you’re the Blood Thief. Because you probably know other hunters who take more than blood. Because I haven’t lived this long by trusting mortals. Because…”

Daisy held up her hand. “Enough. I get your drift.”

“So, what will it be?”

“Isn’t there a third choice?”

He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. She saw the answer in the depths of his unblinking black eyes.

“You’d kill me? Just because I know where you live?”

Again, he didn’t answer. He simply looked at her, waiting for her decision.

“But I…you…” She blew out a sigh of exasperation. How did one argue with a vampire, anyway?

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Go on.”

Refusing to let him know she was afraid, determined not to back down, Daisy squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “I don’t like any of those options.”

“No?”

She glared at him, annoyed by the amusement evident in his tone. “No.”

Erik stifled the urge to laugh. He knew she was scared. He could hear the rapid beat of her heart, smell the fear on her skin. It teased his hunger even as it raised his admiration for her courage. “What do you suggest?”

“That I promise not to tell anyone where you live, and you let me go home, and we get to know each other better before there’s any bloodshed on either side.”

“And you expect me to take your word that you won’t come hunting me again, or worse, send someone to take my head?”

“Are you suggesting that I can’t be trusted?” she exclaimed.