"There you go.” He bent his head closer and began to sway gently to the music. “You smell delicious,” he whispered.
She smiled at the blatant double entendre and found herself relaxing, truly relaxing, for the first time in months, maybe even years. She closed her eyes, letting her head rest against his deep chest, letting the flow of his even breathing lull her gently, the steady rhythm of his heart beating beneath her ear.
They moved easily through the densely packed dance floor, circling around until they were nearly hidden in the dark recesses of an empty alcove, the soft velvet of a black curtain against the back wall, drinking in and absorbing the dim light from the crowded lounge.
Sarah felt Raj's hand slide lower until it rested on the swell of her ass, felt his fingers press harder until there wasn't even the smallest space between them. She felt his breath against her skin as he bent his head to kiss her temple, the wet warmth of his tongue as it teased the curve of her ear. She shivered as he kissed the sensitive skin below her ear, tracing the line of her jugular until he stopped and sucked gently, not breaking the skin, just gliding his tongue in a circle as if marking the spot.
She could feel the smooth brush of his fangs against her neck, the hard length of his cock against her belly. She raised her arms, wrapping them under his shoulders and around his back, pressing herself closer, rubbing herself against his arousal. Raj chuckled softly. “So eager, little one."
Sarah heard herself moan softly, a sound so full of sensual hunger she couldn't believe it had come from her own throat. Raj responded, growling as he lifted her easily, spinning her around and pinning her against the wall. His hand slipped beneath the silk of her dress, pushing it up her thigh and over her hip. Her arms circling his neck once again, she hooked her bare leg around his hip and urged him closer, wanting to feel him between her legs. Raj lifted her leg higher across his back, sliding his hand under her thigh and into the wetness between her legs, pushing aside the soaked triangle of her silken thong.
Sarah cried out as his thick fingers slid easily into her slick folds, penetrating deep inside her, stretching her, preparing her for the full thickness of the cock she could feel growing ever harder, ever longer . . .
"Sarah?"
Sarah blinked . . . and froze, suddenly terrified. Wondering where—
"Sarah?” Raj repeated, his fingers lifting her chin gently.
She blushed hotly and stepped back, putting space between them, feeling the heat of her own arousal, the wetness between her legs. Anger flashed through her and she glared up at him.
"Are you all right?” he asked solicitously.
She drew a deep breath, certain he'd done something to her, but he seemed truly concerned, and she didn't want to embarrass herself by accusing him of . . . She swallowed hard, trying desperately to forget the feeling of his mouth, his . . . Oh God, they weren't in some hidden alcove. They were still on the dance floor. Had that all been her head? “It's probably jet lag,” she said weakly.
"Come on,” he persisted. “I think you need to sit down.” He took her hand in his strong fingers, and she felt a renewed flush of desire, remembering exactly what those fingers had felt like between . . . her legs were shaking when Raj lifted her onto the bar stool.
"Here you go,” he said, handing her the tall champagne flute. “Take a sip, you'll feel better."
Better? Was he mad? If she felt any better, she'd be a puddle of needy goo on the floor! “Thank you,” she said, took a small sip and closed her eyes, feeling the bubbles tickle all the way down her throat.
"Tell me where we were,” he murmured against her ear. “What we were doing."
Her eyes shot open and then narrowed suspiciously. “I don't know what you mean."
"Yes, you do.” He smiled teasingly. “You whispered my name."
"I did not!"
He laughed, a purely masculine sound, full of confident sexuality. “You've never been to a blood house before, have you?” he asked.
"What's a blood house?"
Raj lifted his chin, gesturing toward the dance floor. “This, sweetheart. Blood and sex for the taking . . . and the giving."
"Oooh,” she said and felt her face heating with renewed embarrassment. “I didn't know. I'm sorry, I—"
"Don't apologize,” he said cheerfully. “I quite enjoyed it."
She looked up at him quickly, wondering what—
"Nothing happened, Sarah. You just sort of drifted away while we were dancing. I'd be insulted—” He lowered his voice. “—but since you were dreaming about me . . ."
Sarah gave him a disgusted look.
"You know,” Raj continued, his amusement obvious, “I get to Buffalo every once in a while. Maybe we'll meet again."
"Maybe not."
"Ah, now. Stranger things have happened."
"Not to me,” she muttered. She flashed suddenly on her dreams of tormented women and shuddered, knowing that wasn't quite true.
Raj frowned and moved closer, putting one of his huge hands on her arm. “Are you cold, sweetheart?"
She felt inexplicable tears pressing against the back of her eyes and lowered her head so he wouldn't see, focusing on the glass of champagne she was still holding. “I'm fine,” she lied. “Just tired. I'm not usually up this late. I live a very boring life in Buffalo."
"We'll have to change that then, won't we?"
Sarah took another sip of her now warm champagne and wondered what it was she really wanted. Back in Buffalo, all she'd wanted was for things to return to the way they were, the way they'd been before the dreams came back. But now . . . She heard Cyn and Raphael returning from the dance floor, heard them laughing with each other as they settled back onto the banquette. And she felt the solid presence of Raj standing next to her, the comfort of having a protector, even for a short time, someone who stood between her and the rest of the cold world.
And suddenly she wasn't sure what she wanted at all.
The next night, Sarah opened the door of the big SUV and jumped out, walking around the back where one of Raphael's vamps was waiting with her small rolling suitcase and the hanging bag with the new red dress in it. She took the bag and draped it over her arm, running a hand down the nylon cover as if stroking the dress beneath it. She glanced at Cyn who was waiting to say good-bye. “I'll probably never wear this again,” she said wistfully.
"There's always the faculty Christmas party."
"My colleagues would have apoplexy, and their wives would be convinced I'm trying to steal their pale, chubby husbands away from them."
Cyn laughed. “Sounds like a lovely bunch. I'll have to visit sometime."
Sarah added her own laughter. “You'd die of boredom before you ever got out of the airport.” She looked up and met her friend's green eyes. “Thanks, Cyn. I had a great time."
Cyn studied her for a minute. “You call me, Sarah. If you need anything, you call me, okay? Even if it's just a friendly voice."
"I will.” She hugged Cyn, then grabbed the handle of her overnight case. “I gotta get going or I'll miss my flight."
"Take care.” Cyn kissed her cheek before walking back around and sliding into the SUV. Sarah stopped to wave awkwardly around her baggage and saw Raphael's arm circle Cyn's shoulder and pull her close, as if even that few minutes apart had been too much.
She stood and watched until they were gone, then trudged into the terminal as the automatic doors whisked open in front of her. She had a life waiting for her back in Buffalo. Maybe not the one she would have chosen, maybe not even the one she'd planned when she took the job there. But at least they didn't lock her up at night. Not yet, anyway.
Chapter Six
"So what'd he say?"
Raj rested his elbows on the rooftop railing, ignoring the question to gaze moodily at the busy Manhattan street thirty-five stories below. He leaned forward and stared intently, thinking he'd seen a woman in a red dress. He laughed at himself. Sarah Stratton was long gone, back to her books and her classrooms. She'd been right about one thing. He'd probably never see her again. Which would be a shame, he decided and immediately wondered why he'd thought that.
"Raj?"
He turned a cool look on his persistent club manager. “How's the new club doing, Santos?"
"Great. We're picking up all the overflow from Chopin's, plus even more with the new location. But we gotta talk about this other thing, Raj."
"You want to talk to someone, get a therapist."
"Damnit, I thought—” Santos's next words were cut off as Raj grabbed him by the throat and lifted him off his feet.
"Do we have a problem, Santos?"
Santos tried to answer but could only gurgle wordlessly. Raj opened his hand and let him fall to the ground, where he remained, crouched on all fours and coughing furiously.
"Forgive me, Master,” Santos finally choked out.
Raj gave him a dismissive glance. “Get the fuck out of my sight."
Santos started to stand, but one look at Raj had him crawling the several feet to the stairway door before dragging himself up to stumble down the stairs.
Raj scowled, listening to the metallic racket of the vamp's footsteps fade away. He returned to his perusal of the street below with a disgusted curse. “I hate that fucking vampire shit,” he said.
"But you do it so well.” The woman's voice was laced with amusement. She strolled out of the shadows to lean over the rail, joining him in his contemplation of the faraway traffic. “He was only asking the question we all want answered, you know. It's been two nights since Raphael left and you still haven't said a word. We're curious."
"You too, Em?"
Raj's lieutenant shrugged. “Me especially."
Raj sighed. “You're all so eager, maybe one of you should take on Krystof instead."
