Leigh blinked at the whiny sound to his voice, even as the pleasure invading her faltered and the man before her muttered something against her throat.
"What?" Donny asked. He moved into view as he tapped the man's shoulder. "What did you say?"
The man muttered again, something that came out sounding like, "Huh-uh!" Then he lifted his head with an impatient tsk and glared over his shoulder at Donny.
"Shut up!" he snapped, and some part of Leigh's mind thought, Ohhh, that's what he'd said.
"I am the master vampire," he went on. "I am the one who sires new children of the night."
Leigh's eyes widened at his words. Vampires?
She supposed it was hard not to accept that when the guy's fangs were flashing with every word and there was blood on his tips. Hers, she presumed. She could feel warm liquid running down her throat and dampening the front of her white blouse. It was coming from the spot where he'd nipped her, and she suspected it was blood, so... a vampire? Okay. But "children of the night"? That sounded a bit corny and too late-night-movie to her.
That's when she realized that she might have lost it. Having such thoughts in the midst of this situation didn't seem all that healthy. Unfortunately, she realized it wasn't just her body she couldn't control. Her mind felt woozy, as if she'd been given a tranquilizer. Her thoughts were her own, but she couldn't seem to work up much concern over what was happening. While her mind was urging her to scream her head off, she couldn't seem to work up any fear, or the energy to even yell.
"That is because you are under my control," the man holding her announced, as if he'd read her thoughts, and Leigh supposed he had. Weren't vampires supposed to be able to control their victim's minds? Of course, they were also supposed to be irresistibly attractive and suave. Unfortunately, Donny was just your average red-haired, freckle-faced guy, and Mr. I-Am-the-Master-Vampire wasn't particularly handsome... or charismatic either, for that matter. Really, it was all rather disappointing when she thought about it.
A low growl drew her attention to Mr. Master Vampire, and she noted with some concern that he looked kind of pissed off.
"You will change your mind," he growled, staring into her eyes. "You will want me uncontrollably, desire me beyond all others, obey me without question."
It was the obey thing where he lost her. Leigh wasn't big on the word. It had been her ex-husband's favorite order... usually just before he tried to use his fists to convince her. It was the main reason he became an ex.
"Hey, Morgan," Donny protested, his voice again whiny. "What are you doing? We're supposed to be turning her for me."
"Shut up, Donald," Morgan snapped. His eyes were narrowed on Leigh, and she suspected he was beginning to realize she wasn't completely under his spell. She knew for sure she was right when he asked, "How can you be thinking? You shouldn't be thinking, but I can hear your thoughts."
Leigh had no idea why, either. If she'd been able to, she would have shrugged in response. Unfortunately, while her mind was somewhat her own, her body was not.
A growl distracted Morgan and he glanced down to the side. Leigh still couldn't move her head, but her eyes did angle down and she caught a fuzzy glimpse of a dog. She recognized it at once as the German shepherd she'd seen come out of the house up the street. For a moment she thought the animal might yet save her, but then Morgan flashed his fangs in a sort of half hiss, half growl, and the dog backed off, head low, teeth bared, but his own growl losing some of its strength.
"Morgan," Donny began nervously, eyeing the German shepherd, who was still close enough to be worrisome.
"Oh, do shut up, Donald," the Master Vampire said with exasperation. Then, to her surprise, he scooped her into his arms and started back across the street.
Donny followed. He was muttering under his breath with resentment, Leigh noted, glancing over the shoulder of the man carrying her. Then her view was obstructed as Morgan carried her around the back of a black van. She'd crossed the road just two car lengths before the van earlier, and now suspected it was where Morgan had appeared from. She was sure it had only been one set of footsteps following her up the street. Donny's. Morgan, she supposed, had been waiting in the van, and if she hadn't crossed the street, the side door of the van probably would have opened as she passed and she'd have been dragged inside.
Leigh suspected she'd forced them to change plans when she'd crossed the street.
"You're a clever girl," Morgan said as he set her in the back of the van. "That's exactly what happened."
He'd obviously read her mind again, Leigh realized as he climbed in after her. Donny closed the doors behind them, and a moment later she heard the driver's door open. The van shifted a bit on its wheels as he got in the driver's seat.
"I don't know why you still have control of some of your faculties, but it intrigues me," Morgan announced, lifting her into his lap so that she leaned back against his right arm as the van's engine roared to life.
Woo-hoo, she thought dryly. She'd impressed a blood-sucking vampire.
Morgan seemed amused by her thoughts. At least, a smile curved his lips, but his voice was deadly serious as he announced, "And you shall be a blood-sucking vampire, too. Will you like me better then, I wonder? Once I am your sire?"
Leigh was trying to decide if he meant from the bite he'd given her or if he'd have to bite her two more times, like in the books and movies, when he abruptly raised his left wrist to his mouth and sliced open a vein with one of his fangs.
Oh, that is so totally gross, she thought.
"Yes," Morgan agreed as if she'd spoken aloud. "And it hurts like a bugger, believe me. However, it is necessary, I'm afraid."
Leigh was still trying to sort out why it would be necessary when her mouth suddenly opened of its own accord and he pressed his bleeding wrist to her lips. The tinny liquid poured over her teeth and across her tongue. She was forced to swallow or choke on it. She swallowed.
Dry grass and dead branches crunched under Lucian Argeneau's boots as he approached the van parked in the trees at the edge of the property. Two men stood by the open back doors, choosing and checking weapons in the gray predawn light. Like himself, they were dressed all in black and were over six feet tall. Both were also muscular and had short hair, but one was a brunette and the other a blond.