I make a fist behind her back. I’d forgotten. “My apologies,” I say, and mean it. She
peeps at me from behind the shimmering fall of her hair. “I meant I will return you to your kind,
if you wish it.”
She’s biting her lip again, looking past my French double doors, worry knotted on her
forehead.
“Relax, pet. I only meant to give you a gift.”
“A gift,” she echoes.
“A kindness. After our time together, I will not keep you caged. Wild animals are meant
to run free.” I brush the hair back from her tense face. “What are you thinking, pet?”
“I don’t know what to think. I never thought you’d set me free.”
I set my fingers around her neck, collaring her. “Not yet, pet. First, you earn it.”
She licks her lips, visibly reigning in her focus. “What do you want me to do?”
“Come,” I rise with her in my arms. “I’ll show you.”
I head to the door with Selene stiff in my arms. She always seems uncertain of what to do when I carry her, and I enjoy putting her off balance.
The guards see me coming and pull open the doors. “Mr. Frangelico,” they greet me and usher me to the limo. I set Selene on the floor of the limo and take my seat. She looks a little dazed, so I snap my fingers and point to a place in front of my seat. She scoots closer and settles into a submissive’s pose gracefully. I sift my fingers through her hair and pull her head to my knee.
“Relax, pet,” I order. She blows out a breath hard enough to stir her hair, but the tension in her shoulders eases.
The limo rolls down the street, heading for my business holdings. I had Tucson on my radar for years before I moved in. My stay in Hollywood left me tired and jaded, even for a two thousand-year-old vampire. The production company I founded still pours money into my coffers, but when the time came to fake my death and move on, I was more than happy to find a new town to haunt. LA, for all it’s glamour, feels old. A shrine where virgins sacrifice themselves for fame.
We pass a movie theater plastered with posters of the latest blockbuster. The starring actress came to stardom through my agency. She was one of my finds. She offered to fuck me for a role, but by I was tired of it all. Tired of the fake tans, the airbrushed photos. The wheeling and dealing and greed that surpasses everything, even desire for human contact. When sex is a tool, a weapon to win a final role, life becomes more hollow than even a jaded vampire can bear. I came to Tucson–retreated is more like it–to find something real. Two bodies, colliding in the night. Untempered, uncalculated passion.
It’s no use. People look at me and they see my role. Vampire King. Ancient ruler. Even my sired eventually turn on me, try to take my power. Mine is the first face they see when they rise as vampires, and mine is the last. They attack and I kill them. One by one, the stars go out and I am left alone, in the dark.
“Sir?” A soft voice at my knee. “Are you all right?”
I’m sighing like a Victorian fop. The men of that era were useless, though a few wrote half decent poetry.
“I’m fine, pet. Just a little… stressed.”
Selene blinks up at me, dark lashes framing ocean grey eyes. She isn’t afraid of me, not really. Her wolf seems to accept me. It surged to the fore during the day, when I couldn’t protect her.
Her hair washes over my leg and I finger the silky strands. “Selene,” I say out loud, and lift a lock of hair to my lips. She flushes like I’ve kissed a very personal part of her–which I intend to do. Soon. “Goddess of the moon. Fitting name for a werewolf.”
She sniffs. “That’s a myth. We don’t have to shift with the moon.”
“There are many false myths about us. Both our kinds. For one thing, I enjoy garlic.”
She smiles at that. “The garlic stuffed olives tipped me off. You’re Italian, right?”
I raise my brow at her direct question.
“Sorry,” she looks away.
“No, you’re not,” I chide, tugging her hair. She’s not sorry at all.
“Is it rude to ask questions about a vampire’s past?”
“Not rude. Impertinent. You’re lucky I enjoy it. But be careful, pet. Push too far, and I’ll gag that sweet mouth.” Her eyelashes flutter and I sit back. “I spent some centuries in Italy, yes. Turf wars between the city states. Whoring and dining with the Medicis. It grew tiresome, and the church’s increased focus on finding and burning out any evil or witches became uncomfortable. I escaped to the New World, with plenty of wilderness and cover for monsters who hunt at night.”
“You think you’re a monster?” she whispers to the carpet.
“I know I am. A creature of hunger and darkness. The older I get, the more my perversions.”
Her throat convulses. “You hurt people.”
“I do,” I drawl, deepening my voice. “I enjoy it.” I tug her head back, exposing her neck. “So do you.”
Her head jerks and I tighten my grip.
“You deny it?”
“I don’t like pain.”
“Not just pain.” I run a finger from the jaw to the soft column of her throat, enjoying her struggle to keep from lashing out. “Pain, pleasure depends on the way the body registers it. Two sides of the same coin. When I whip a sub,” a tremor goes through her at the word whip, “I balance them on a knife’s edge. Suspended over two chasms. One way–immense pain. The other–boundless pleasure.” I hold out my hand and rock it back and forth as she stares. “They never know which way they’ll fall.”
“So that’s it. You like being in control.”
“I don’t like it, pet.” I wind her hair around my fist until she’s caught, throat taut, lips quivering, on a white golden leash. “I live for it.”
The limo coasts to a halt. I hold her in place one, two, three long moments before releasing her. “Shall we?”