The Calling - Desire Calls Part 2

With a flick of her hand, he flew across the alleyway and into the wall. His head connected with a loud crack and stars swam before his eyes. He struggled for a hold on the wall, but soon found himself sliding down to sit on the cold stone floor of the alley. His vision wavered and he forced himself to focus on something as he tried to regain his senses. Her boots. Black. s.h.i.+ny. Pointy.

Coming toward him in a wicked quick beat. Giving him no time, he thought as she once again grabbed the front of his jacket and picked him up as if he didn't weigh a thing. With him in her grasp, she entered the bar.

His head was still whirling and something wet ran down the back of it. She walked with him without laboring, her immense elder power giving her strength beyond his. As he shook his head to try and clear his senses, a lot of other things came to him about what the elders could do, creating a cold knot of fear in his stomach.

You can't even begin to guess. Stacia's thoughts entered his head as she obviously knew what he was thinking.

I didn't want any problems for you. Things are different now, he offered in apology, but Stacia's only response was to motion with him to the door before them.

Even in his dazed state he recognized the entrance to one of the back rooms in the Blood Bank. Foley kept them for his special visitors who would pay a fee for the use of the specially equipped rooms. Not that Foley would dare ask a fee from Stacia or for that matter, stop her from doing what she would with him in that room.

"Stacia, please"

"Don't beg, beloved. It's so unbecoming," she said as she raised her hand and thrust open the door without even touching it. She strode in, shut the door with another flick of her hand and tossed him onto the metal cot along one wall.

He wouldn't beg again, Blake thought, even as Stacia exerted her elder's power to keep him immobile as she shackled him to the thick iron frame of the bed.

Blake watched as she walked to the far wall which was equipped with an a.s.sortment of toys and other devices. As Stacia stood there, considering what to choose, her mental hold on him relaxed and he pulled against the leather cuffs which had him spread- eagled on the bed. But couldn't free himself.

The cuffs and bed had clearly been chosen with a vampire in mind since they were thick and st.u.r.dy. He realized he could not get loose and bit back his concern as Stacia turned and displayed a rather large and nasty looking dagger.

She sauntered over, the blade held upright in her hands, plainly visible as if to inflict some mental torture. "Do you know what you did, Blake?"

He wouldn't show her he was worried. With what he hoped was a careless shrugwhich was kind of difficult when one was lashed to the bedpostshe calmly said, "I was only trying to help."

Stacia laughed harshly. "Help? You helping me? That's rich."

"It's the truth. Things are changing around here," he said again, but Stacia would hear none of it.

She brought the blade down to his cheek. The metal was cold against his skin. Leaning close, she said, "Since when do we care whether we drain a human?"

"Since maybe some of us know that it's wrong?" he shot back, remembering all too painfully what had happened with Meghan.

Stacia was too omnipotent not to pick up on what he was feeling. Bringing the knife to his wrist, she slipped it beneath the leather and said, "Intriguing. You actually feel...regret and love? You fancied yourself in love?"

He felt the p.r.i.c.k of the knife lightly against his skin and then the cool air of the night as she sliced open one sleeve of his jacket, then reached over and quickly did the same to the other sleeve.

He met her gaze as she paused, the knife poised above his midsection and directly above a most delicate area. As she slipped the blade beneath the hem of his T-s.h.i.+rt, he s.h.i.+vered from the cold and from the anxiety he couldn't contain. One little slice of the knife Not yet, beloved. I'll have my satisfaction first.

"Well, that's good, luv. I'd hate to pa.s.s without at least getting a look," he said, determined to not let her be totally in control.

"What? A look? You want a look before I geld you?" she asked with an uneasy chuckle and the knife wavered against his midsection.

"If that's the price to be paid for a slight misunderstanding, the least you can do is let me see if what's beneath all that sinful black leather is as beautiful as the rest of you," he said, and surprisingly, he meant it.

Stacia was a remarkably stunning woman with her exotic almond-shaped eyes, dark and filled with so much emotion. Right now, a slight furrow marred the s.p.a.ce above the dark slashes of her brows and that one golden earring. But then a glitter crept into her eyes and was followed by a wide smile across her full lips.

"You are b.a.l.l.sy."

He chuckled, shot a look down at his naked parts and said, "Definitely."

She laughed out loud at that, strode away from him and back to the wall with all the a.s.sorted gadgets and accessories. She placed the dagger back into its holder, paused for a second before turning to look at him. She tapped her lips with one finger and said, "You've been naughty, Blake. Very, very naughty."

Blake sensed the change in her. The playfulness in her tone that said he had reached past her anger to something else. Something way more interesting, he thought, wondering about the complex creature that she was.

As she turned away from him and back toward the wall, he realized she was working at something with her hands. A second later, she shrugged off the vest she had been wearing, exposing the long, slender line of her back. The perfect expanse of creamy skin that he suddenly itched to touch, wondering whether it would feel like smooth alabaster beneath his fingers.

He had been so drawn to that sight, that he didn't realize she had grabbed a cat-o-nine tails from the wall until she stood before him, the weapon held in her hand.

But even then, his mind was not so much on the pain she might inflict with it as the truly rewarding sight of her naked. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were full. Her nipples hard with her pa.s.sion and the color of golden honey, a surprise given her dark coloring. He wondered how they might taste and didn't even realize he had asked the question until she said, "You wanted to see and now you want to taste?"

He salivated at the thought of it, but couldn't voice anything else as she brought the cat-o-nine tails to rest on his thigh, which immediately grabbed his attention.

"You are...engaging," she said as she slowly trailed the leather strips studded with small metal b.a.l.l.s up his thigh until they rested against his erection. The contrast of the smooth leather snaking around him together with the cold of the hard metal b.a.l.l.s was a shock.

"I could be much more engaging if you let me go," he said, because all he could think about was having her even if there would be pain afterward. h.e.l.l, with women there was always pain afterward.

Do you fear nothing? she asked silently as she continued to fondle him with the cat-o-nine tails, yanking a moan from him with the caresses.

Blake met her gaze and in there, he thought he caught a reflection of something familiar. Something they might share. "I fear living the rest of my life without love."

She stopped her caresses and a spark of anger came to life in her gaze. "What do you know about living without love? You've been undead but a second compared to my life."

"That's right. But at least I've had a taste of it. Can you say the same?"

Chapter 7.

Stacia wanted to lash out at Blake. Shred his flesh and cut his manhood to bits for reminding her of all that she did not have.

Only...

There was something about him she had never noticed before, besides his marvelous body. As she had walked toward him before, she had realized that not even Michelangelo could have done a better job of sculpting the chiseled lines of his body and face. He might be of average height and nothing like the men she normally preferred, but his body was definitely not average.

From those lean, defined muscles to his truly extraordinary erection, Blake was an exceptional specimen. Physically, that was.

And now it occurred to her that he was remarkable in other ways. That he had the kind of spirit she had found lacking in men for nearly two thousand years. Because of that, she wasn't about to pa.s.s up this opportunity.

Tossing aside the cat-o-nine tails, she replaced it with her hand and said, "Do you think you can show me love, Blake? Do you think you have what it takes?"

His amazing blue eyes, nearly the color of sapphire now from his pa.s.sion, trained on the actions of her hand as she stroked him.

"Do you think that's what it takes, Stacia?"

She stopped and yanked her hand away, as if punished, but then picked up her chin defiantly. "What do you want, Blake?"

"Let me loose, luv, and I'll show you."

Stacia wavered, torn between setting him free and her original plan to geld him. The latter would be much safer for her emotions, she realized, but not nearly as satisfying as the former.

But both options unsettled her, making her wonder if the other elders were right in saying that she should let go of that last vestige of humanity that created such disquiet within her.

She took a step back from him, torn between violence and desire. Between allowing herself respite in his arms or the satisfaction of vengeance.

"Don't run, Stacia," he said and yanked at the shackles holding his arms, as if sensing her sudden indecision.

But even as he repeated his entreaty, she was grabbing her vest and running out the door, chased by the sound of his voice as he called out, "You can't run forever, luv."

Stacia stalked back and forth across the parquet floor in Diego's living room, her heels striking a sharp staccato beat with each step.

"Amor, I'm going to have to refinish that floor if you keep that up," Diego said with amus.e.m.e.nt.

She whirled to face him. He sat at an angle in a large wing chair, one leg tossed over the arm of the chair, the other stretched out before him. A gla.s.s filled with a rioja from his native Spain dangled from one hand. He was the picture of an indolent royal, which, of course, he had been in another life.

Maybe that was why out of all the other wanna-be humans at the Blood Bank, the two of them understood each other the best. In past lives they had both been part of the cream of society. It was how they had met nearly three hundred years earlier. And of course, they had both become vampires due to a loved one's betrayal.

"He's absolutely insane, Diego. Do you know that?" She snapped up the hand that held her gla.s.s of wine and took a long sip.

"You know those English fops. Forever lamenting lost love like in those awful poems"

"b.l.o.o.d.y awful," she confirmed and took up her pacing again, but at a much slower tempo, taking an occasional sip of wine every now and then.

"Matches his b.l.o.o.d.y awful hair and that wardrobe with all the black..." Diego paused as he took in her attireyet another ensemble of black leather, only this time decorated with finely wrought silver filigree.

"Sorry, mi amiga. I forgot your penchant for cowhide," Diego quipped and finished off his gla.s.s of wine.

"As disagreeable as it may be, he has that certain bad boy charm that humans are so susceptible to," she said with a disdainful sniff.

"But not you, amiga? So you don't care where he's been hiding himself the last few days?" Diego asked with an arch of a sandy- colored brow and a knowing gleam in his grey eyes.

"He's smart to make himself scarce because the two of us have something to finish. When I do find him"

"You'll make him suffer?"

His question hung unanswered and as she examined his face, she realized her lordly friend might actually like to see Blake tormented. "You have issues with him?"

The shrug Diego gave was an attempt at carefree, but the movement was a trifle stiff, plus she could sense the angry vibes mingling with his vampire power. "Thanks to his betrayal, Esperanza was kidnapped and killed."

"And yet you let him live?" she questioned and walked to the sofa beside Diego, sat down and trained her gaze on his face, unable to believe that her friend would not have sought vengeance for his lover's death.

"In the end, he nearly died to save my life and that of my charge, so I tolerate his presence."

"Your charge? As in Meghan? The child I've seen around here?" she asked, pondering why Blake would play the hero since in all the decades she had known him, Blake had only thought of himself.

Diego shook his head and tsked. "She's a child to you with all your years, but to everyone else..."

"And why would Blake..." She stopped as a look came to Diego's face that explained everything. "He fancied himself in love with her."

She tried to tamp down the jealousy she felt with that realization. After all, what she and Blake had shared...

But they hadn't shared it. She had run away, unwilling to risk exploring the feelings Blake roused in her.

"Do you think he can love? After so many years"

"Anyone can love, Stacia. They just have to be willing to open their heart to it."

Heart? she thought. Most would say she hadn't possessed a heart in a long time and yet...

"So where has Blake been hiding? At that new club?" "The Lair?" Diego asked, and shook his head. "He's probably holed up in his tiny room, waiting for you to calm down."

"I'm calm now," she told her friend, only he just chuckled.

"Si.I can tell how cool and composed you are. So are you going there?"

"Going where?" she asked, leaning forward to snag the bottle of rioja from the coffee table and pour herself another gla.s.s.

"To Blake's room. It's right next to Gramercy Park. Probably makes him feel like he's in proper old England," he scoffed and held out his gla.s.s so she would pour him some more wine, as well.

She eyed him, wondering what her friend was about. "Why are you telling me this?"

Diego smiled, but there was nothing friendly about it. "Because in the nearly three hundred years that we've been friends, you've never left any business unfinished. Especially a challenge to your power."

Chuckling, she brought the gla.s.s to her lips and took a sip. The rioja was spirited and refres.h.i.+ng, reminding her of Blake surprisingly. Not that Diego wanted to hear that. She suspected he was only too eager for her to finish her business with Blake because he thought it would include inflicting some punishment on the punk vampire.

But as she sipped her wine, it occurred to her that she had much better things to do with him. That maybe, just maybe, he might be the one to make a difference in her life for the first time in a long time.

Downing the rest of her wine in one big gulp, she rose from the sofa. "So are you going to give me directions? I'd so hate to disappoint you by not settling my score with Blake."

Chapter 8.

Blake had thought it best to avoid the Blood Bank and Stacia for a few days. Hopefully the time would give her the opportunity to cool down and give him a chance to figure out just what he was feeling for her.

It was insane really to be feeling anything but fear. She was an elder. She could end his life by exerting only the smallest amount of her power. Only she hadn't. Even with her extreme anger the other night, she had spared him.

She hadn't even truly harmed him, except of course for the humiliation of being found naked and bound by one of Foley's people and of course, the desire for her that had gone painfully unsatisfied.