Shadowlight

“You’ve seen it happen before, haven’t you?” When he nodded, she uttered a wretched sound. “You should have let me die, Lucan.”

He smiled. “You should never have given me a reason to live.” He shifted around her, curling an arm around her waist. “Come. There is a club in the hotel at the end of the block. It should offer some variety.”

“Stop talking about people like they’re entrées,” she said as she walked to the lift with him.

Lucan stopped on their way out to have a discreet word with Kendrick before escorting his sygkenis to the Bar with a View. Samantha remained mute as he led her to a table and ordered wine, and didn’t object when he left her to walk among the mortals to select a likely candidate. He found an attractive, healthy young thing, took a moment to compel and instruct her, and then returned to the table. Samantha looked rigid and miserable as she stared into her wineglass.

“Always choose someone young and of a healthy weight,” he said, startling her. “Take in their scent; it will tell you much about them. Inebriated or drugged humans give off an unpleasant, acrid odor. Those with diseases smell of strong chemicals or rot.”

“I am not going to sniff anyone.”

“You do not have to.” He looked up as the fetching young black female he had chosen for Samantha approached them. “They will bring their scent to you.”

“Hey, there.” The girl, barely out of her teens, flashed her pearly teeth at Lucan before turning to Samantha. “I saw you walk in, and I had to come over and say hi.” She sat down in the chair beside his sygkenis. “I’m Abby.”

“I’m leaving.” Samantha made it halfway to her feet before Lucan caught her. “No. She’s just a kid.”

“She is an adult,” he assured her. “Adolescents have a simpler scent. It does not attract us.”

“I’m twenty-four,” Abby said at the same time Samantha said, “I’m not attracted to her.”

“I am not suggesting you take her to bed, my love.” Lucan reached over and took Abby’s hand, bringing it close to his sygkenis’s face. “Breathe her in. That’s it. Can you feel her pulse in the air?”

Samantha closed her eyes, swallowed, and nodded.

He turned to the mortal female. “Abigail, would you be kind enough to show my lady to the powder room, please?”

“Sure. It’s right around the corner.” Abby took Samantha’s hand in hers. “Come on.”

Lucan watched them cross the crowded floor of the club before he followed. He stopped outside the women’s restroom, moving aside as several smiling females streamed out before he entered.

Inside he found Samantha holding off the young female, who was trying in vain to embrace her.

“You’re so beautiful,” Abby was saying, her expression dazed. “I’ll do anything you want.”

Samantha turned her head and saw him. “Get her off me.”

Lucan reached back and flipped the bolt on the door. “She is under your influence now. Command her.”

“Stand still,” Samantha told the girl, who immediately dropped her arms and stood quiescent. She began to reach for Abby but suddenly jerked her hands away. “I can’t do this. Lucan, please, get her out of here.”

“You must trust yourself.”

“I don’t.” She gave him a wild look. “For God’s sake, help me out here.”

“You know you will not harm her.” Lucan went to stand behind the girl and rested his hands on her shoulders, urging her closer to his sygkenis. “You will be gentle. You will take only what you need from her.”

“Please,” Abby whispered.

Samantha took hold of her wrist and brought it to her lips. She hesitated again, but this time the call of the girl’s blood proved to be too much for her, and she struck. As she drove her fangs into the mortal’s flesh, Abby shuddered and groaned her pleasure.

Lucan supported her as he watched Samantha feed, stroking the girl’s arms with soothing hands. He did not have to tell his lady when it was time to stop; Samantha wrenched her mouth away and pushed at the girl.

“That’s enough,” she panted.

“You must see to them when you are through,” he told her, taking a handkerchief from his jacket and pressing it over the puncture marks in the girl’s wrist. “Most will stop bleeding at once, but should it continue, you must tend to her. A small amount of your own blood will seal the wounds.” Fortunately the girl responded well and her blood clotted immediately. “When you know she is well, you must remove the memory of this.” He turned Abby toward him. “You will forget us and return to your home now. Go to bed and sleep the rest of the night.”

“Forget. Home. Sleep.” Abby nodded and left the restroom as soon as he unlocked the door.

Lucan turned back to find Samantha sitting on the floor, her flushed face buried in her hands. He crouched down beside her. “It was not so bad, was it?”

“No. It was horrible. I wanted to …” She pressed her hand over her mouth for a moment. “I felt something when I was … I could feel everything she felt. I knew. I knew she would have done anything I told her to.”

“L’attrait is very powerful. Most humans cannot resist it.” He brushed the dark hair back from her face and lifted her to her feet. “The more you deny yourself blood, the more you will need. If you take too much, you will enrapture the mortal and become enthralled. You will drain all the blood from the body and fall unconscious for many days. The human will die beside you.”

“This happens every time you use humans for blood.” She spoke as if to herself rather than him. “You can see inside them. Feel what they’re feeling. The pleasure. The lust.”

Lucan couldn’t understand why she sounded so disgusted. “We are designed to be attractive to mortals. It is what brings them to us.”

“No, I saw what you did. You went and picked her out for me. You made her come to me.” She shook her head and laughed bitterly. “Like I couldn’t get my own.”

“You will not allow yourself to hunt,” he pointed out. “I had to do something.”

Furious eyes met his. “Why her?”

“She seemed adequate—” Her fist stopped him, and he staggered backward. Over the sinks, the mirrors began to crack. “What the devil is wrong with you?”

“Do you feed only on men?” she shouted.

He used his hand to wipe the blood from his mouth. “Not unless there are no healthy females for me to use, and what the bloody hell does it matter?”

She shoved him back. “Do you have sex with them? These women?”

“Why would I, when I have you for that?” He caught her by the wrists before she could punch him again. “You are not always as obliging as the bespelled, of course, but I am learning to be patient.” One of the sinks behind her split in half and crashed to the floor. “Is that it, my darling? Are you jealous?”

She leaned in close. “Why didn’t you bring me a man?”

“There is no difference in the blood.”

“Then go and get me a man,” she snarled. “A cute one with a nice body. I’ll do him right here on the fucking floor.”

The window in the opposite wall shattered. “I think you’ve had enough for one night.”

“You were going to do me that first night I met you in the club.” She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and stared at the light smear of red it left on her skin. “This is why you got so pissed when you couldn’t put me under. Because I resisted you. I wouldn’t spread my legs for you.”

Another sink exploded. “In the end, darling, it was your choice to come to my bed.”

“If I was like that girl, if I was that fucked-up, how the hell could I choose anything?” She didn’t wait for him to answer, but quickly strode out.

Chapter 8

Jessa hadn’t slept through the night in years, not since the moment she’d woken up in an intensive care unit, breathing through a tube and hearing the slow beeps of monitoring equipment. The fact that she knew she was unconscious, and not by choice, initially alarmed her, because she didn’t want to wake up in a hospital bed again. But on some level deeper than consciousness or awareness, she knew she wasn’t injured, sick, or even in danger. The frightening sensory overload from the shadowlight had knocked her out, and her mind needed time to absorb the impact and recover.

She didn’t dream, but she didn’t lose her sense of herself in oblivion, either. That, she was sure, was because of the man. She could feel him there, on the other side of the darkness, waiting for her. He had caused this, but he was also watching over her. There were moments when she could almost feel him all around her, on her face, against her body. For all she knew he could be doing anything to her, but she didn’t feel helpless or vulnerable, or even frightened.

She couldn’t understand it—not after the memories of being swept away and buried alive in the suffocating cold slowly emerged. If he did that to her—and she knew touching him had caused it—why did he feel so warm and safe?

Gradually the darkness thinned around her, and her senses began to work again. She felt a pleasant texture against her cheek and smelled lilacs close by. Something covered most of her body, something light and soft and luxurious. She heard the tick of a clock and the trickle of water. The only discomfort she felt was from the dryness of her mouth and a vague soreness in her right arm.

Her senses also told her that she was not home, or at the office, or anyplace she recognized. She waited, listening for the sound of voices or the movements of bodies, and when she felt sure she was alone she opened her eyes a fraction.

Someone had switched on two lamps with brown and amber stained-glass shades. She saw books, shelves, small tables, and many armchairs. To her right sat an old desk; her cheek pressed into a new pillow. She felt the edge of carved wood under her palm. None of it was familiar. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">