Blood Shadows (21 page)

‘Tell me,’ she said.

He met her gaze, studied her eyes for a moment as he licked the traces of her blood from his lips.

‘What is it?’ she asked.

‘It’s called a soul ripper. Nasty shape-shifting bastard, or bitch, depending on the form it chooses. It’s a fourth species. Ethereal most of the time. It lives on the astral plain and only appears here when it wants to. It’s impossible to trace. The psychics were right. It rips the astral body out of its victims so it can keep the soul contained within in, preventing it from going into the afterlife. It imprisons the victims on the astral plain with it, feeding off the energy generated by their souls. It sucks them dry until the soul finally evaporates. It can take decades, centuries, before the soul dies out. No peace. No rest. Like I said, nasty. And unfortunately for you, they’re compulsive. Once they start on a family line, they have to finish it. Every two years, every five, every seven – each one differs. But they’ll come back, precisely on time.’

The very prospect of her parents being trapped in that agony incensed her, made her heart ache. ‘But you’ve seen one? Here? If they’re shape-shifters, how do you recognise them?’

‘They can only take on the form of the dead. And they’re like aswangs. You look in their eyes and your reflection appears upside down. If you’re human and you see that and it’s looking right back at you, you know you’re fucked.’

‘But they can be killed.’

‘Yes.’

‘What happens to the souls then?’

‘The astral body dissipates and their souls get freed into the afterlife.’

‘Have you ever killed one?’

‘Yes.’

‘How?’

‘It’s impossible for anyone with less strength than a master vampire.’

She frowned. ‘But you won’t help me.’

‘That would mean delaying my plans long enough for it to appear. Why would I do that?’

No reason. No reason whatsoever. Not if he truly believed he was capable of getting what he wanted.

‘Feel better now?’ he asked. ‘Now you know the truth?’

‘I’ll feel better when it’s dead.’

He almost smiled, then without hesitation he bit into the area he had prepared. This time he was slower, more intense.

Caitlin clenched her hands in his as he fed smoothly but hungrily. She closed her eyes, lost in the sensation, in her helplessness, as he consumed her with an ease that was inherent to him.

It was as intense as she’d imagined. More. Those times when she’d dared fantasise about it. When the things said by the females who had experienced him had played on her mind. She’d lingered on their recollections, sometimes putting herself in their position before guilt and shame had overruled.

Frustration consumed her as her physical need for him to stop took over, her light-headedness disorientating her. But she knew he hadn’t fed enough, not if she wanted to sate him into sleeping. Because instead of feeding as he should, as he was renowned for, he was being temperate with her, just like he had been in the bathroom. To her annoyance, he was clearly more than capable of containing his appetite both for blood and for sex. At least he was with her. Capable because she was a means to an end.

At that point his self-control didn’t reassure her; it angered her. It insulted her because she knew exactly the extent he was capable of when driven by desire and need. That was the Kane she needed to see. That was the mercilessness she wanted to experience to quell her own desire as it burned in her chest, as it built beneath her belly button. She wanted him to desire her that much. She needed him to forget himself.

She needed out of there.

But as he licked her again, she knew he was licking away the final traces. He was done. Nothing but a small taster for him despite how much she had given.

As he released her hands ready to move off her, she caught hold of his arm, felt the curve of hard bicep beneath her palm. She knew then she had no right persisting. That something inside her was about to overstep the mark. ‘That’s it?’

For a moment he didn’t react. But his hesitation told her he hadn’t expected that response, and that alone gave her a sense of triumph.

His eyes narrowed with intrigue. ‘I’ve taken enough.’

As he broke from her gaze to move away again, she tightened her grip. She knew it was more than just wanting him to feed himself to a stupor – her entire body reluctantly ached and throbbed for him not to pull away. ‘I’m not so sure you have,’ she said.

It was one step too far. She knew it was. And in that moment she didn’t care.

He rested his forearm beside her head, his eyes glinting with curiosity. ‘I meant for you.’

‘I’m offering you more,’ she said. She let go of his arm and tentatively lay her hands either side of her head. In the ultimate act of acquiescence, she broke from his gaze to turn her head to the side, exposing her neck to him.

If he turned her down now, it would crush her. Not just for the sake of her self-esteem, but the loss of the opportunity the perfect moment had created.

He caught hold of her jaw and forced her to look back at him. ‘What are you playing at?’ he asked, his eyes staring so deep into hers she wondered if he could see the answer for himself.

Her stomach flipped. Her breathing was dangerously shallow. ‘Do you want more or not?’

He licked his incisor, his eyes darkening with suspicion.

He took her hands in his again, pinned them above her head. With only a second’s delay, he bit into her neck again.

Caitlin jolted as his fangs entered her full force. She gasped despite not wanting to. This time the feed had an edge of punishment – she could feel it. His grip on her wrists had tightened, his groin pressing hard against hers.

She wondered if the more he took, the harder he took. If even in him, there was a certain instinctive loss of control that came with the feed.

She wondered what it would take for him to forget himself. Totally forget himself. What it would feel like. Whether he would still be capable of being as sensual and controlled as he was in the bathroom. Whether he’d have any sense of boundary.

Her stomach flipped, damp heat gathering between her legs.

She knew she needed him to stop. Despite the tension in her head, her body felt shockingly relaxed. Too relaxed. The thought hit her that the anaesthetic he’d used on her neck had filtered elsewhere into her system. Or that the feed had made her delirious somehow.

But if she asked him to stop, he’d have to. For fear of alienating her, he’d have no choice.

If it still was a choice for him.

Her defences were low, because she didn’t even flinch as he reached down to unfasten his jeans.

Sex. Sex with Kane Malloy. Right there, right then.

Why the hell wasn’t she scared?

He lowered his head to her chest, licked over the upward mound of her breast to her earlobe. As he pushed aside the crotch of her knickers, the tip of his erection quickly and accurately finding her sex, she caught her breath. He pushed in just an inch, and Caitlin tensed and froze.

It was insane.

She was on the brink of giving herself to him unless she pulled back now – unless she pulled back from the bad, dangerous and compulsively sexy vampire who pushed into her a little more.

It hurt despite her arousal, the entrance to her body stretching to accommodate him. But he was shockingly controlled, shockingly steady. He was showing her things. He was showing her just how in control he was. A further taunt. Proof of power.

She closed her eyes, her body already screaming out for him. The pressure at her sex begged for release, his hard body holding such promise.

But even just his pushing only an inch or so inside her already felt too much. Like a mist lifting, she knew it wasn’t just stupid to consent – it was dangerous.

She was giving herself to him. More than just physically.

‘Enough,’ she gasped, as the room’s darkness intensified around her.

She looked back into his navy eyes, could feel her lower lip trembling uncontrollably.

But instead of glowering down at her, the last thing she saw was his eyes glinting in amusement before he bit into her again.

Kane eased off her, yanked up his shorts and jeans and sat on the edge of the coffee table. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, before licking any final traces of her off his lips.

She’d been trying to play him, but, hell, she’d been convincing. Lying there, offering herself to him. He knew exactly what she’d been trying to achieve. The fact she thought he’d fall for it was just a little too insulting. He’d had no choice but to knock her out with another feed before he ended up doing her some serious damage and because of it she’d left him aching painfully with frustration.

She lay unconscious amongst the cushions. He could tell by the rhythm of her breathing, her lack of swallowing, that she wasn’t faking. He reached forward and pushed her hair back to assess his bite marks. Marks that should, by rights, make her his. But Caitlin wasn’t for keeping. Caitlin was just a means to an end.

And he’d almost had her. Instead she’d pulled back at the crucial moment, closing down, just like she had in the bathroom. She was too guarded – her emotional barriers too far up to relax enough to accept him yet, even in the subdued state the feed would have got her into. But it was only a yet. She had wavered. It may have only been for a moment, but the temptation had been there.

He should have felt triumph. He’d got her close enough to the brink to make her question herself. For a girl like her, that would mean something. Caitlin was used to ruling with her head, especially when it came to sex. But so was he. Only this time pulling away had been harder than it had been on the bed. This time it had taken a hell of a lot more self-control on his part. And that unsettled him.

She’d tasted so good and felt so good, her every response dangerously evocative. There was a rawness to those responses. An innocence. An inherent sensuality that was hard to find. He thought of her eyes fixed on his, watchful and wary, her pupils fiercely dilated. Those beautiful soft lips, parted slightly and swollen with arousal. The flush to her delicate, pale skin. The beautiful, soft skin of her shoulders and collarbone still exposed. The tempting upward mounds of her breasts contained behind the lacy cream fabric. Her dress bunched around those lithe, warm thighs.

It would have been so easy to spread those thighs and thrust into her as he fed, built her to her climax, to his, and had the sweet, sweet taste of a dual feed. He could have enthralled her. Exhausted her. Taken everything.

And it had taken every reserve of willpower not to. As he’d heard her snatch back a breath, felt the tension in her body as he pushed just a little way inside her, he’d had to calm himself.

Even at the thought of it his erection twitched.

He headed over to the kitchen to grab himself another drink.

He shouldn’t have allowed himself to get that worked up. He was going to have to be the master of restraint. But right then, with every part of him aching to consume and dominate her, he wasn’t quite as confident he could do it. He had tasted the potential and he wanted more. Much more. More than his plan accounted for. That had been about more than vengeance, more than the response of the vampire in him – it had been about the male in him. He wanted to break her, overcome that tenacity and that resilience. It was a dangerously compelling pull and one he couldn’t afford to feel.

He slammed the fridge door and flicked the lid off his beer. He leaned back against the counter as he took a mouthful.

He needed to get a grip. Forget his primal instincts. He only had two and a half days left and there was clearly still a lot of work to do as far as Caitlin was concerned. Her resistance ran deeper than just being a shadow reader. But even if her mind was in control, her body clearly wasn’t. And that was the weakness he needed to focus on. Caitlin wanted him sexually, of that he now had no doubt. And her responses told him she liked his self-assurance, she was aroused by his insistence and she enjoyed him taking the lead. She might not have known it yet or, more likely, wasn’t willing to accept it, but she liked him in charge of the one area where she wasn’t confident enough to take that control. Her turn-on was his – a perfect match.

Maybe upping the ante was what they both needed. Maybe he was playing too gentle.

He knocked back another mouthful and strolled across to his coat. He took out his keys, unlocked the door and headed over to his car. He took her case folders out of the trunk and the book and packets from the glove compartment. He locked the door behind him, placing the keys back in his coat, and stood at the kitchen counter. He unfolded the cloth. One little book to hold a soul as beautiful and powerful as a shadow reader’s. He folded the cloth back up, carried the book and the packets over to the wardrobe and tucked them in behind some sweaters on the top shelf. He picked up the folders from the counter and stepped back over to the sofas.

Caitlin hadn’t stirred.

He should have revelled in her defencelessness. But he didn’t. He should have at least been pleased with the progress, but as she lay there asleep, he wasn’t sure he was. Beneath the defiance and the belligerence, beneath the sanctimony and dogmatism, she was just a girl. A lonely, isolated and frightened girl who was even more vulnerable than she realised. But she was also brave and refused to be intimidated. She wanted redemption for her parents and she wasn’t going to be taken down without a fight. Because Caitlin was a fighter and he liked that more than anything else about her.