The grimness in his voice made her shiver. Just what would he do if she ever did betray him?
He sighed, a slightly bitter sound that pierced her heart. “When will you realize I would never hurt you?"
"I'm sorry.” She bit her lip, regretting her thoughts the minute his arm left her shoulders. His touch fought the demons in her mind, easing the chill forming a tight knot of fear in the pit of her stomach. He rose and retrieved the tray, placing it over her knees. “Finish the whole bowl. You need to get some nourishment back into your system. Give me a call if you want anything else."
"Why? Where are you going?” She hated the slight edge of panic in her voice, yet the thought of being alone filled her with fear.
"I'll be resting on the couch in the other room. It's been a long three days, I'm afraid." Had he eaten ... ?
"I haven't.” His answer was grim. “Do you think it was easy for me, knowing who had you? Imagining what he was doing?"
"I'm sorry.” She hesitated, not sure what to say, not sure how to take the touch of pain in his eyes. “I just thought vampires had no choice but to sleep during the day."
"Everyone must sleep, Nikki, even those of us not quite human. Vampires do so during the day because, for the most part, the sun is deadly to us."
She remembered the sun touching Jasper's back, and the red welts it left there. “And feeding?” she asked softly, not really sure if she wanted to know the answer.
"I do not dine on human blood, Nikki. Nor do I need to feed every day, as Jasper and Monica must.”
He hesitated, then added in a voice heavy with bitterness. “After three hundred years of existence, you learn to do without many things."
She blinked. Had she heard him right? He was three hundred years old?
"Yes.” He sighed, and ran a hand through his unkempt hair. “Now eat, and rest. I'll be near if you need me."
He left the room quickly. Frowning, she picked up the spoon, eating the soup without really tasting it. When she'd finished, she shoved the tray back on the bedside table and settled back down to get some sleep.
Her dreams were filled with fear and madness, haunted by an evil that teased and mocked. She woke to darkness hours later, the silk shirt twisted about her body and damp with sweat. Blinking the sleep from her eyes, she stared at the night-held room.
Something about the stillness told her she was alone, and her heart skipped several beats. But that wasn't what she feared. No, there was something else...
Like a siren's song, the call whispered through her mind, urging her into action. Frightened, yet unable to resist the pull of the call, she threw aside the blankets and rose. Walking unsteadily across the room, she pushed the curtains to one side and stared out. Darkness held the city in its grip. The clock tower down the street chimed four times, and the street below was silent, empty.
Then the shadows moved.
Jasper. Smiling confidently at her, sure of her response.
Come to me.
Something deep within responded, wanting to do as he asked. She closed her eyes, fighting it, fighting him.
It's too late to fight. You are mine.
Never. I'll kill myself first.
His laughter sang through her soul, filling her with its corruption. Trembling, she crossed her arms and turned from the window. It didn't stop the treacherous whisper begging her to do whatever he wanted. She took a deep breath, trying to gather her scattered wits. Michael, where are you? I need you. And if he couldn't hear her silent plea for help? Well, she wasn't helpless, no matter what the demons in her mind might say.
Do not ignore me, pretty one.
She shivered, and battled for calm and the strength to resist as she turned back to the window. Where's Monica?
Hunting us up some breakfast.
Images filled her—visions hot with lust and violence. Her pulse quickened, as if stirred, and she blanched, feeling sick. Lord, why was this happening? What had he done to her?
You will beg me, pretty one. As Monica begged me.
He wanted her to hunt the night with him, become a slave to darkness and death and uncontrollable blood lust. Revulsion turned her stomach. I will never walk with you. Yet she could hear the uncertainty in her own assertion. Jasper was Tommy, only a hundred times stronger. If he gained control of her mind, she would never know her wish from his. Never is a long time in my world. And I grow tired of Monica. His laughter echoed through her mind. She clenched her fists, battling the urge to run as far as she could from the madman below. He was only toying with her, testing her nerve, her strength. And it took all the strength she had to remain still, to ignore his taunting whispers, and stare at him in silence.