his palm. “I offer you all that I am in return for what I demand from you. All my horror, all my death, and all the love in my blackened heart. My existence is in your hands. I lay myself at your feet, my angel of death. My angel of mercy.”
Tears stung her eyes. She leaned down and kissed him. She spoke to him of her love in silence, in her touch, in her embrace, and in her soul. If she had to destroy him to save the lives of others, she knew she would throw herself from a cliff shortly after. She did not wish to live without him.
Moisture touched her fingers. When she looked down at him, she expected that her own tears had broken loose. But crimson stained her thumbs. He was the one crying. He smiled up at her, a sad and somewhat embarrassed expression. He stood and swiped his sleeve across his face before she could stroke away the tears. “Forgive me. I can hear your thoughts, do not forget. They are quiet now, for that I have not drunk from you in some time. But that…that was hard to miss.”
“If I commit you to the grave, I—”
“No. Do not say it.” He stood and gathered her into his arms, pressing her close to him. “I wallow in grief enough. I do not wish to do it more than necessary.” He caught her face in his hands and held her. His crimson gaze was intense. It bored through her and pinned her to the spot. “Say that you love me.”
She would have laughed if not for his intensity. Instead she was only left to whisper. “Vlad Tepes Dracula—I love you.”
She squeaked in surprise as she was suddenly lifted off the ground—and to a considerable height, no less. Damn his height! He had picked her up off her feet, and for the second time that day she was twirled about in a circle. She squealed in laughter and clung desperately to him. “Put me down at once, you fiend!”
“Fiend?” He growled playfully. “A fiend, am I?” One of his hands caressed half of her rear before squeezing it tightly. “I will show you a fiend.” His gaze shadowed with dark promise and hunger. “Remember my words to you. Kill me or obey me. And as you have not decided to kill me yet, then you are forced to do the other.”
“Wait—”
23
His little empath had wanted it all. And Vlad had eagerly given it to her. He had twisted together their bodies. He had drunk her blood. And she had mingled their souls. She was so careful with him; he could feel it. Tender and delicate as if afraid to break him.
If she did, he would greet the void, and she would take a piece of himself into her. But if he died in such a way, he would go quite happily.
Vlad had never known such contentment. And if he had…he could not remember it. She lay in his arms, the poor, well-worn, well-loved creature. She was fast asleep in his coffin. There was no part of her that he had not reached. No part of her that he had not defiled. He had ridden her like a man possessed.
He had been possessed by her. She had been the demon in his mind driving him to continue, to show her everything he wanted to do to her. Sadly, she had only begun to imagine the depravity he enjoyed.
One thing at a time.
They would have plenty of evenings for him to teach her the darker side of love, should she choose to embrace him permanently. For now, he held her in her peaceful sleep. Her thoughts were quiet. She dreamed of pleasant things. Of love.
Tomorrow, he would force her to witness what would become of Van Helsing. Tomorrow, he would force her to decide whether to kill him or to accept his embrace. Tonight had been about love; tomorrow would be about death.
He was a cruel master.
Perhaps, she might even come to love that part of his soul. He smiled and held her close and dreamed of what might become of them if she accepted him. He would let Maxine stay mortal for a few years more. He would let her become fully inured to his ways before he turned her. He did not look forward to the day she became as cold as he. He did not relish the idea of her taking pleasure in the pain