Pretty When They Collide (Pretty When She Dies 0.5)(31)

“That’s right. And I found you, didn’t I? I knew what I wanted and I found you. I saved you from living on the streets. I didn’t take you home to that freaky religious compound you escaped from, but brought you to my beautiful house.” Slowly, his fingers raked through her sodden hair, pushing it back from her face. “I gave you everything a girl could want, didn’t I?”

Nodding, Aimee whimpered, “Yes.”

Frank’s kiss was tender, but that made it all the worse for her. “And I made love to you, gave you my blood, made you mine. I even fell in love with you.” He slowly inhaled the scent of her hair. “That nasty smell is all gone now.”

“Frank, I’m sorry.”

“I know, Aimee. I know.” Frank kissed her cheek, his hand tangled in her long hair. “I know you feel sorry when you force me to be this way with you. If you would just obey me, love me, submit to me of your own free will–”

The tone of his voice deepened with his rage and Aimee cried out in terror.

“--I wouldn’t have to do this!”

The sharp fangs of the vampire tore into her throat, Frank’s lips moving against her damp skin to draw in her blood in great gulps. The pain sliced into her, making her twist under him, trying to break free. Crying and screaming, she tried to push him off her. Though he had the ability to make his bite sensual and erotic, Frank obviously wanted her to feel every rent of her flesh and her blood gushing into his hungry mouth. The agony was so great, she felt as though she could not take it another second. Burying her fingers in his dark hair, she tried to pull him off, but he would not relent. He wanted her to suffer, and suffer she did.

At last Frank finished feeding and licked the wound he had inflicted upon her, compelling it to heal. As his tongue worked against the ragged edges of his bite, she whimpered. At last, he drew back, his face stained red from just under his cheekbones to his chin. Blood rivulets trailed down his neck as he grinned at her.

“Now, your turn. If you won’t love me by choice, you will love me by force.”

Slashing his wrist, Frank straddled her. Forcing her mouth open with one hand, he held his bleeding wound over her lips. The blood, cold and bitter, surged into her mouth, choking her.

“Swallow,” he commanded.

Aimee tried not to. She attempted to spit it out.

Angered, Frank shoved the gashed flesh against her mouth, pressing down until she gagged, her lips spread wide around the width of his wrist. His blood poured into her throat.

Weeping, she felt the dark power of the vampire blood slithering through her like the roots of a weed, choking her magic, her will, and her mind. Overwhelmed, frightened, and increasingly confused, Aimee fought to cling to her own soul and strength. The vampire bond tightened around her like a straitjacket, crippling her in its darkness.

Just when she felt she would drown in his power, she felt her fingers tingling. It wasn’t the cold, the water, or the loss of blood, but the traces of Cassandra’s power that still lingered after her dream. Focusing on the sensation, Aimee fought through the strangling power of the vampire to that one tiny bit of hope. In her mind’s eye, she remembered Cassandra’s mysterious, compelling smile, and the warmth of her hand. She was still clinging to it when Frank’s power smothered her and plunged her into darkness as his lips covered hers.





Part Three:

The Witch and the Dhamphir





Chapter 13 :

Arrival



West Texas was hot as hell.

Even with the rental car air conditioner cranked up all the way, the sun spilling through the windshield felt like it was baking Cassandra alive. She had flung a lightweight denim jacket over her arms to keep the sun from giving her an actual burn. Clad in jeans, cowboy boots, and cowboy hat, Cassandra looked like any other Texan girl, except for her t-shirt bearing the Superman logo. It was mid-afternoon, so she was going to have to bear the sun for a bit longer.

A quick check of the dashboard clock assured her that she was on time. Scott had booked her a motel in Marfa, Texas and she wanted to check-in before grabbing something--and someone--to eat.

The landscape was beige and gold along the road. Dirt swirled through dry brush in little whirlwinds. In the distance the craggy mountains were a dark purple backdrop beneath a pale blue sky empty of clouds. The drive from the Midland-Odessa airport had been uneventful and she was going to make it to Marfa in just under three hours. The heat shimmered over Highway 17 as the rental car Scott had arranged for her sped toward the very small town rising out of the desert. With every mile, her stomach twisted into an even tighter knot. Cassandra had never been so anxious in her life. All her previous jobs had been varying degrees of dangerous, but she had been responsible only for her own survival. Now Aimee’s fate rested in her hands.

At last the desert gave way to the small human enclave. Marfa was a quaint town that was an artist haven. As a Texan, Cass had always known about the town, but had never visited. She was impressed with the beauty of the old buildings and the grandeur of the 19th century pink stucco courthouse. A tall white tower adorned with Lady Justice loomed over the rest of the building that looked like something from Europe or the Addams Family with a dash of West Texas flavor.

The town was so small it didn’t take long for her to find the place where she would be temporarily staying. The Thunderbird Motel looked like something out of the fifties or sixties. Her destination was a two-story motel with outside door entry. The exterior was blue stucco and a fancy new sign was perched aloft the wall.