Love Me to Death (Underveil, #1)(13)

She slumped back onto her heels. “Like what?”

He pulled a dagger out of his boot, and she scooted as far away as the cord would allow. He pricked his thumb with the tip, and her eyes grew large, and then her pupils dilated to the point where they filled her irises completely. She never took her eyes off of the drop of blood balanced on the pad of his thumb as he rose and approached her. He wiped it on her lower lip and stepped back. She resisted at first, but eventually, darted her tongue across it. He pulled her to her feet to look at her herself in the mirror. “Like that.”

Elena gasped at her reflection. Her eyes were red. Only for a moment, but still red—just like the guy who’d shot her in the convenience store. Shit. The bathroom walls closed in a bit. Surely this wasn’t happening.

Wait. Nikolai said her dad had been a vampire. His eyes were never red. Maybe it was the freakish death angel blood that did it. Maybe it would make any human’s eyes red.

“It’s a trick,” she said. “It’s your wacked-out blood that did that, not my physical composition.”

“No.” He almost looked sad. “No trick. Biology and genetics. Your father was a vampire. So are you.”

“Dad’s eyes were brown.”

“He wore lenses in your world. They were blood red at court.”

“At court?”

“Your dad was a powerful man. He was the ambassador and ruler of the vampire nation until its collapse. He lived dual lives because he had a human to protect.”

“My mom.”

“Yes. A foolish move on his part. And in the end, he couldn’t protect her anyway. Like you, she was frail and weak. Her humanity was his undoing.”

Nothing about her mother had been her father’s undoing. They adored each other. “He loved her. Some things are worth dying for.”

“Many things are worth dying for. Love is not among them. Love is a fabrication of humans to glamorize and rationalize desire.”

“You’re wrong.”

“I’m not. Lust and desire alone drive us, regardless of species. The lust for power…” He ran his hands down her arms, and she trembled. A smile pulled his lips as he placed them next to her ear. “The lust for pleasure…” His breath tickled as his wicked hands moved to her waist and slowly traveled up her sides, around the swell of her breasts, and rested on her shoulders, leaving her a trembling mess. “Pure lust and desire. Nothing else. Love does not exist.”

Elena struggled to control her ragged breaths and slow her misfiring heart. His simple touch made her lose control. She was on fire, and it made no sense. None at all. She opened her eyes and met his in the mirror.

He leaned down to her ear again. “Is what you are feeling right now love?”

“Of course not.” She was relieved her voice came out solid and not breathy.

“Most humans would confuse what you are feeling with that tender, fictitious emotion.” He bit her earlobe, and she swayed a bit. His grip on her shoulders tightened. “What exactly are you feeling, Elena Arcos?”

It was bad enough he was going to kill her. Torturing her was beyond sporting. She straightened and lifted her chin, meeting his eyes directly in the mirror. “Lust. Pure, unadulterated lust.”

He grinned.

“But not lust for you. Lust for a shower, you *. Take your hands off of me.”

His grip on her shoulders tightened.

A spike of fear shot through her. Perhaps being a bitch wasn’t the way to go. “Get your hands off of me, please.”

He chuckled and lifted his hands. He knew. He knew what he did to her, and it was infuriating.

They stared at each other in the mirror a long time. The top of her head barely reached his shoulder. The top of her blood-encrusted head. Yuck. She shuddered and shot a longing look at the shower. He pulled the curtain aside and gestured for her to enter.

“By all means. Slake your lust, vampire.”

To her surprise, he didn’t try to get in with her. He stayed outside the curtain like a gentleman. Ha! A gentleman executioner. She shampooed for a second time, reveling in the steam and scent of the hotel soaps. It felt so good she wanted to moan, but knew that would be a mistake. She’d seen that look before. He may hate her, but he wanted her. Her boss got that look every freaking day. She dropped the empty shampoo bottle with a bang and reached for the conditioner. The cord checked her an inch or so short of it.

“I need some slack, please,” she said. His hand appeared around the curtain, and she stilled. It was so large. She shook her head and picked up the conditioner. “Thanks. I got it.” The hand disappeared. She slicked conditioner through her hair, rinsed, and turned the water off. Before she could ask, a towel appeared from around the curtain. “Um, thanks.”

What now? It was going to be awkward getting dressed while tied to him. Before she even stepped out, though, he climbed in fully naked except for his vest, which he couldn’t take off because of the cord. Naked and wow—glad to be there. Oh God. She spun around, squeezing her eyes shut, trying to block out his deep chuckle.

“I’m lusting for a shower as well,” he said. “Please hold this.”

To her relief, he nudged his vest into her hand. He’d slid if off, but it was restricted by the cord, so he’d shoved it across to her. She shrugged it on, inside out, and then scurried out of the tub before he asked her to hold something else.