scratching at her skin surrounded her. Vlad had exploded into a swarm of bats, filling the restaurant and surrounding her.
The feeling of movement, and she was swept away once more.
Maxine screamed. Rather, she tried. No sound came out. She realized she was not being carried by the bats—no, she was as they were. A thousand pieces of herself. He had changed her form even as he had changed his own. She was helpless but to feel tumbled about as though she were falling and flying in the same breath.
When the world rebuilt itself around her, she would have collapsed to the ground, save that she was already lying on something that felt like cold stone. Her head spun and reeled. She felt nauseated. Slowly, piece by piece, bit by bit, the world stopped its wheeling about.
She sat up slowly and looked around to try to discern where he had brought her. She groaned. Vlad had promised to bring her somewhere that suited her better. He had a wicked sense of humor.
She was in a graveyard. It was a snide statement on her fate, perhaps. Or his state of being. The graveyard was one of the older colonial ones in the center of the city. It was surrounded by the buildings on three sides, and trees lined the yard between her and the street. She knew no one would see her.
Or him.
A hand twisted in her hair and pulled her back down to the stone. Forceful, but not violent. She gasped as she looked up at the Vampire King. He towered over her, standing at her head, crimson eyes glinting in the dim light from the moon and the gas lamps at the street. He was barely discernable from the tree above him in the darkness. He leaned closer, emerging from the shadows like a nightmare.
“A shame you will have missed dessert.” He grinned devilishly. “But I shan’t.”
She screamed and struggled, swatting at his hand, and tried to roll off the stone. She was lying on one of the stone tabletop tombs in the cemetery that marked the entrance to a larger underground vault. The grit of the weathered granite dug into her as she fought, but she could not care less.
And as quickly as her fight began, it ended. He released her hair, but suddenly—appearing there all at once—he was atop her. Supporting his weight with an elbow next to her head, his hand was on her cheek.
Her eyes met his, and she felt him slip into her mind like venom from a snake. He shushed her, soothed her, and silently promised her there was nothing to fear. His thumb traced a pattern slowly over her cheek before drifting to rest against the hollow of her chin beneath her parted lips.
The feeling of his soul against hers worked stronger than any hypnotism he could have ever used. He needn’t use it to calm her any longer. Something else now held her in his thrall. Something far more poignant and longer lasting than his illusion now kept her in his clawed grasp.
His desire.
“Do not be afraid. You will enjoy this, I promise you.” He lowered his head, ghosting his lips over hers. “Make no mistake, Maxine Parker. You may struggle against me. You may fight me. But you…are mine.”
And with that, he kissed her. He took her with the same passion, the same need, the same driving hunger she had felt the night before. But now, he seemed to know he would have what he wished for in the end. He took his time.
Her mind was free of his control. But she could not push him away. Part of her knew she couldn’t budge him, and the other part didn’t want him to stop.
His tongue flicked at her lips, and she willingly granted him entry. Her eyes slid shut as she felt him wash over her like an ocean wave. As he claimed her mouth, he slid deeper into her mind. The lines between them became blurred. All at once her lips were against his, and his were against hers.
She felt her fear. She felt her desire. She felt her fascination with him, how her back arched and pressed her up against his chest. She heard herself moan through his ears. Wanton and furtive, afraid and angry, unsure and bold.
“I want her, and I will have her. She will love me.”
The thoughts were not hers. But they might as well have been.
Vlad?
He broke off the kiss, growling in his throat like