A Mermaid's Ransom (7 page)

"If circumstances were different," she ventured cautiously, "
that
would have made me laugh."
Very different
. Laughing was the last thing she wanted to do right now.

His brow furrowed, the droplets sliding down his cheek. His crimson gaze moved from her wings to her throat and face. Leaning forward, he kissed her.

Six

NO.
A part of her immediately rebelled, but as if anticipating her, he put his hand on the back of her head, holding her in place.

Live in the moment, Alexis.

Now that she knew she wasn't in a dream, his voice in her head stunned her, such that she remained frozen. He should have been rank with blood, and she did smell it on his breath, but perhaps because he was a vampire, it was integrated into whatever he was and didn't repel her as she expected it to do. But her own body's response confused her even more.

Her betraying lips softened under his, parting as he slid his tongue between them, played with her mouth in a way that reinforced again how quickly he adapted to direction. Gentle but passionate at once, and it muddled her head in a way it shouldn't have. No, it should. Because she was getting myriad signals from him. The simple ignorance of a cruel child, a man's passionate, overwhelming desire for her and something deeper, the thing that perhaps was most confusing and compelling of all. She couldn't say what it was, but somewhere beneath the layers, it drew her. It was related to need, his need for her specifically. Her certainty that this need wasn't related to her role as a bargaining chip was what kept her from drawing away. This was something indefinable, maybe something even he didn't recognize.

"Why did you do that?" she asked when he raised his head.

"You relaxed when you kissed me, before, so I thought it would help you be less frightened. And I wanted to kiss you." His eyes heated. "I want to be inside you again."

It was possible to do that, of course, even in her merform, but she wasn't going to tell him that. However, when his gaze flickered, she stilled in shock. "You can hear my thoughts."

"Yes. The second mark is one of the ways I was able to pull you through to my world. That, and many sacrifices."

"Sacrifices? As in living beings?" Lex's gaze went back to the circle.
Of course, living beings, you idiot. Did that kiss scramble your mind? The blood didn't come from him.
Despite her attempt not to go there in her mind, she remembered the blood streaked on his body, along with the barely leashed savagery she'd welcomed as a titillating part of her dream. But as an impassioned lover, not as a creature who'd come to her by ripping away the life of another. What was the matter with her?

"That's hideous. Stop touching me." She drew as far away from him in the tub as possible, the trapped feeling of her weakened and transformed state returning. "Oh, Goddess, you don't get it, do you? Please tell me you don't, because I don't want you to be this hideous. I don't want to know that I enjoy kissing a complete monster."

Dante frowned. "It needed to be done. It was the only way to become free of this place. The seawitch said--"

"That's not what Mina meant," she shot back. "She meant you had to prove yourself
worthy
to leave this place. A good person. Good works."

He gave her that look as if she were speaking a foreign language again. "I've fought to be the leader of all that are left here. I hold complete control, if I am ever vigilant. I have mastered what magical energies exist in this world and myself to bring you here. What else can I do?"

He stared at her, a hopelessly beautiful man in ragged piecemeal trousers, his broad chest still stained with blood, black hair lying on his shoulders like a silken prince's mantle. Crimson eyes intelligent, piercing, but so uncomprehending. Despairing, so close to giving in to her own hysteria, Lex glanced toward the window, and saw the barren landscape again. Chilling images of fire and ice, those horrible, soulless creatures circling like flies searching out carrion, though flies had a nobler purpose, a part of Nature.

She recalled again the Dark Ones who'd been allowed into the chamber, the overwhelming flood of desolation and death from them. She'd felt no compulsion to ease their suffering, because there was nothing to them but death and evil. It was the first time in her life she'd felt that way. So if they were the only species in this world, all he'd ever known, what could he have done to prove he was capable of living in that other world?

"Why didn't you just ask for help?" she asked.

When she turned her attention back to him, she could tell she'd surprised him. He was still squatting on his heels by his makeshift pond, his fingers curled on the lip, unaffected by the sharp metal edge. Swallowing her fears and following instinct, she made herself move back across the tub and laid her hand over his. Focusing hard on their hands and not the blood staining his body, she pressed her fingers into the spaces between his, moving his attention there so she wasn't pinned under the weight of that unsettling gaze. "When you were in my dreams, why didn't you just ask for my help?" she repeated. "I'm her goddaughter, after all."

"Why would you help me? You have no reason to do that, nothing to gain." He raised a shoulder. "Once she'd known I was in your dreams, she would have sealed that avenue to me. It has taken me a very long time to build it. Ever since she came here."

Over twenty years. Alexis couldn't wrap her mind around the idea of dedicating twenty years to anything, but then, what else was there to do here? Starbucks obviously hadn't set up a franchise in this place. Mentally she thanked Clara for helping her develop an involuntary sense of humor, to carry her through times completely devoid of it. Until now, she'd never realized how useful it might be in a crisis situation.

Dante had risen, moving to a rack constructed of more black wood. It held assorted cloths of dubious cleanliness and textures, everything from wool to denim. He brought one back as a makeshift towel. "I am going to take you over there." He nodded to a bundle of rags in a wood frame, something between a nest and a bed. "Unless you'd prefer to stay where your tail stays wet."

"No, that's fine. I just have to wash it down every so often. It doesn't have to be immersed." The somewhat slimy liquid was far from the fresh rush of water of her ocean, so with the blood removed, she was more than ready to get out. But then she thought of what he might want if he laid her in the bed. The traitorous tightening of her body alarmed her even more than his intentions. "Why are you taking me over there?"

"You said you did not want to be in the circle, and you do not want to stay in the pond. Unless you wish me to lay you on stone, it is the best place."

She glanced at the large wooden chair. While it was imposing and somewhat sinister, she saw the same skill in the interweaving of the thicket of black shiny wood as she saw in the construction of his "pond." "There's that. I can sit up."

"Only I sit in that chair." Lifting her, he took her toward the bed. Curving her hand around his neck, beneath the strands of his hair, was the most obvious place to hold on. His hair truly was like silk, the cords of muscle beneath his smooth skin tempting touch.
Goddess help me. His sorcery isn't just for magic spells.

"I might sit in it later, and hold you on my lap, if you wish." He seemed to roll that around in his mind. "I think I would like that."

Lex swallowed. "What . . . how long will you wait for Mina's answer?"

"
Ssshh
. There is only now."

Though the child of extraordinary parents, Alexis realized she wasn't immune to the coping mechanisms of any kidnap victim. Trying to identify with her kidnapper in psychologically hazardous ways, feeling an empathy for him she shouldn't. But unlike other kidnap victims, empathy was her extraordinary ability. She didn't know if that would make her more vulnerable to the pitfalls of those coping mechanisms, or if it gave her strengths and defenses that would prove useful. Of course, as Dante had said, she only had this moment, and since she had nothing better to do . . .

Since he could hear her thoughts, there was no dissembling, no hiding of her strategy. But she also couldn't hide her confusing array of reactions to him, and so far he didn't seem concerned with her thoughts, at least not enough to retaliate to them. He was dispassionate about many horrible things, but when it came to her, he was far from dispassionate. That had to be useful also, right?

When he knelt to lay her down, she noted he had no more trouble with that than if he'd been carrying a small doll. Vampires had great strength, or so the lore went. From the little she knew, they were considered dangerous and unpredictable and, like all creatures that humans considered supernatural, didn't go out of their way to be noticed.

"If you were born here, how old were you when your mother . . . died?"

"When I killed her, I was about one half of the size I am now."

So he'd been an adolescent, perhaps about twelve or thirteen. She gathered her courage. "Why did you kill her, Dante?"

Settling her on the blanket, he considerately adjusted her hips so her tail was straightened. As he eased her back, there was time for her to fold her wings beneath her. The ragged blankets were musty, with lingering traces of blood, but she suspected they were as clean as any place she'd be offered here. The wooden support wasn't uncomfortable. Just her surroundings.

As he looked down, it was hard not to look away. The pros and cons of empathy she understood, but this was incomprehensible. When he did that, his face so close, she couldn't help but think of his kiss.

You want me to kiss you again.

Ignoring his thought, she tried to understand it in herself. Was it shock, her mind's way of blocking her from the true horror of what he'd done to her and to others? Did it make any sense to even dwell on that right now, when survival was paramount? She could have moral dilemmas later. Of course, wasn't that pretty much what he'd said to her earlier, about living in the moment? Did she have to
become
him to survive this?

He touched her chin so her gaze lifted from where it had fallen to his bare chest, coming back to his perfect, soulless face. No, he had a soul. That was the problem. That was where an empath connected. Only if she let what she felt there make her oblivious to everything else would she be guilty of the destructive coping syndromes so many captives used. If she used it as the tool it was, as finely tuned as an artist's brush, then that would be all right.

The logical grounding point steadied her. Unfortunately, that touch didn't. And it was only the knuckle of his crooked forefinger, slowly following the line of her jaw. Up, up toward her ear, the other fingers alighting on her throat, the leaping pulse. When his index finger stroked along the sensitive gill slit just beneath her ear, her fingers dug into the bundle of rags.

"Dante," she managed, "you didn't answer my question."

"What question?" Leaning down, he settled his lips on the path his fingers had traced. She drew her breath in through her clenched teeth as his arm around her back tightened, bringing her upper body against his bare chest. Her breasts rubbed against the hard muscle. Lex scrambled for focus.

"You know what. You're just trying to distract me."

"I have no need to do that. Whatever your question is, I will answer it when I wish. Until then, just feel, Alexis."

It was the first time he'd said her name aloud, outside of dreams, and she desperately thought it possessed all the power that magic claimed came from giving someone your true name. Alexis was the name she gave others, but she had a birth name as well. It was only known by her parents and Mina and David, as her godparents. It had been used to spin protective magics around her at birth, only they hadn't been enough, had they? Of course, if it was her own actions that had brought her here, perhaps she herself was to blame for overriding those protections.

"You liked me in your dreams. You looked forward to coming to me. So why do you not want to be here now?"

"I didn't know you were hurting others. I didn't think you'd hurt me."

Despite the fact her body was sizzling at his touch, her own words brought her up short. She didn't
think
that someone would hurt her. She knew it. She even knew the distinction between malevolent intent, and someone who, because of the dark madness of his mind, might do harm without intention. At this point, Dante could fall into either category.

She'd had a lifetime of training, and she had to believe in it. He was right. Not only had she wanted to be with him, she'd been sure that was where she was meant to be. She still felt it. Why would her intuition draw her to a being of darkness, unless he was more than that, possessing a hidden light only she could find?

Bringing her attention back to him, she saw his eyes following every expression of her face. "You won't hurt me."

"Yes, I will. I will do what I must to leave here."

"Would you be sorry?" At his look of incomprehension, she almost despaired, then she seized on another thought. "Would you regret, Dante? Do you regret killing your mother? Did it make you feel sad?"

He drew back from her, and the loss of his touch was staggering, particularly in these desolate surroundings. While the change in his expression made him more feral looking, he also looked younger, suggesting he was looking back into that earlier version of himself.

"No. I didn't regret it. But it did make me sad. Because I was alone then. They always had her chained, because she was strong. I didn't realize that I had her strength, not for a long time. They often denied me blood, kept me weak to hide my strengths, make me always afraid." He lifted a brow, his crimson eyes glowing. "I do not fear anything anymore."

He lifted a shoulder. "They knew just enough about a vampire to keep her alive, year after year. Before she died, my mother gave me her memories, through her blood. She also spoke of your world, when I was old enough to understand her words. She told me that was my home, not this place." A hint of fang, a vicious anger like volcanic lava roughened his voice, then was gone. "A place of green grass, blue skies."

He settled then, one knee bent, the other folded beneath him. Since the ragged trousers were thin, and touching her had aroused him, his organ was clearly outlined. Remembering its punishing invasion, a part of her flinched, but another part contracted, moistened, as if she sought him again.