Kira fisted the comforter, wanting to shred it out of frustration, but with its thick smoothness, it was probably a thousand-thread count and thus stronger than rope. All she'd do if she tore at it was break several fingernails.
All at once, Kira began to smile. Improvisation is a necessary part of the job, Frank had told her when training her to work as a P.I. He'd been right about that.
Kira went into the bathroom, dragging the comforter behind her.
Mencheres closed his eyes as he swallowed. Warm flesh pressed to his mouth, a sweet pulse vibrating underneath his lips. A haze of pleasurable thoughts blanketed his mind as he lightly dug his fangs in again, but they weren't his thoughts. They belonged to Selene, the human he fed from.
Yes, bite me again. Deeper. Ah, so good, don't stop . . .
Selene shuddered with an ecstasy Mencheres hadn't felt in centuries. He drew back after his next swallow, closing the punctures from his fangs with a drop of his blood while the bliss he'd so briefly felt turned to ashes.
Selene's passion was only due to the skil full way he'd bitten her, combined with the mild euphoria-inducing venom all vampires had in their fangs. He'd be able to give her mind-shattering orgasms with his bite, if he wished to, but any vampire could rouse the same sensations in her. If there was one thing Mencheres's long years had taught him, it was that being an instrument of pleasure wasn't the same as being truly desired.
Once he would have scoffed at that. When he was a human ruler in Egypt, it was considered an honor to share his bed, and Mencheres had welcomed many there. When he became a vampire, men and women flocked to him in the hopes that he'd transform them into vampires. Later, his power drew those looking for protection. Over time, being his lover was a status symbol among vampires. Even if Mencheres lived among humans, hiding what he was, his wealth seduced people to his side. After living that way for twenty-five hundred years, even the most sensual enjoyments began to feel hollow.
Mencheres wanted more.
He thought he'd found it in Patra, the young Egyptian queen he married two thousand years ago, but that had ended in disaster. Back then, he'd been na?ve enough to believe he could sate Patra's need for power by changing her into a vampire, sharing his vast wealth, and teaching her the deepest, most forbidden secrets of his race, but it hadn't been enough. Nothing he'd done had been enough, and a long-ago sin resulted in Patra nearly destroying everyone Mencheres cared about until she'd finally been killed last year. As depressing as the thought was, everyone in his life had been drawn to him for an ulterior motive, even those he trusted. Even those he loved.
Oddly enough, the only exception was the human locked upstairs in the bedroom. Kira had tried to save him, acting without the influence of his heritage, status, power, wealth, or charisma. She'd risked her life without expecting a single thing in return. No one had done such a thing for him. Ever.
As a result of Kira's baffling, selfless act, combined with his inability to control her mind or hear her thoughts, he hadn't been able to stop thinking about her. Even as the day slipped into evening and he sent another vampire to deliver food and refreshment to her room, Mencheres couldn't banish her from his thoughts.
Kira. In Greek, her name meant "lady". In Celtic, it meant "dark". Which fit her better?
Her appearance fit both meanings of her name - her face was delicate and beautiful, except for that strong jaw that warned of stubbornness. Kira's eyes were pale green, but her brows were dark, matching the deep hue of her hair before it lightened to gold at the tips. Her hair was short for Mencheres's tastes, falling to just above her shoulders, but it was so lush, thick, and curly, it practically invited him to twine it around his fingers.
Kira's body was another contrast of femininity and strength. She was slender to the point of delicacy, but she held herself with a fighter's stance, and her wide shoulders only served to better highlight her full br**sts. She'd squared those lovely broad shoulders and that stubborn jaw when she'd snarled at him to stay away from her sister. Even though Kira knew he wasn't human, she hadn't hesitated to challenge him over the perceived threat to her family. Dark lady, indeed.
"Yes, please!"
The cry yanked Mencheres out of his musings. Gods, he'd been caressing Selene and unconsciously sending out strands of his power to stroke and stimulate her nerve endings. How could he have gotten so lost in his thoughts of Kira that he'd forgotten he still held Selene in his arms?
Mencheres pulled back his power and set Selene away from him.
"I've taken all I need," he told her.
Her eyes opened as she pressed against him. "Let me give you more than blood," she offered in a husky voice.
"No," Mencheres replied automatically.
As soon as he uttered the words, he reminded himself again that he didn't need to refuse. His wife was dead, so there was no more death sentence on any woman he took to his bed. If he wanted Selene, he could have her.
But it was ironic; after burning with unspent lust for longer than many civilizations existed, now, when he had a chance to indulge, he had no desire to. Selene was beautiful, willing, yet he didn't want her.
Kira's face flickered in his mind, but Mencheres wiped her image away before he allowed himself to dwel on it.
"No," he repeated to Selene in a tone that brooked no argument.
She left after one last lingering look that he pretended not to notice. Selene, like all the others, didn't only want him. She also wanted the power, security, and supernatural pleasure he could give, but somehow during Mencheres's extended, forced celibacy, that was no longer an acceptable trade.
Selene had only been gone a few minutes before Gorgon, the only vampire Mencheres brought with him to this house, came into the library.
"Sire," Gorgon said. "We have a situation with the human you brought home this morning."
Mencheres rose, already striding up the stairs to Kira's room, when Gorgon's voice stopped him.
"Ah, sire? You might want to go outside instead."
Chapter 3
Kira dangled out the window on her makeshift rope, reminding herself with gritted teeth not to look down. It had taken hours to tie the bedspread, sheets, drapes, and shower curtain together until it was long enough to reach to the bottom of the house. Then she secured it around two corners of the bed, waiting tensely until after dark so she'd have less chance of being seen. It took another half hour of mental pep talking before she'd worked up the courage to heave herself over the window ledge, and she'd had a moment of sheer panic when the rope first stretched under her weight.
But the rope, the bed anchor, and her biceps had held. Slowly, Kira edged down, tangling the rope between her legs to slow her descent. You're doing fine, Kira told herself as she carefully began to climb down the side of the house. With luck, she'd be safely on the bottom in just a few minutes. If she had even more luck, it wouldn't take her long to find help. She doubted she was still in Chicago, judging from the lack of almost any houses or buildings within eyesight, but she had seen what looked like another home past the line of trees to the north. That's where she'd try first - assuming the rope or the bed didn't all of a sudden break.