Free Divine Madness by Melanie Jackson Page B

her own desire, multiplied to infinity as the longing bounced from her gaze to his gaze and back again down the dark tunnel of long-denied need. Meeting him at night was a mistake. That was when certain dark powers held greater sway and when she was weakest.
    And she could read what was in his mind now. He had looked inside, sensed her want and he had a message justfor her: Come close. I know what you need and do not judge. Just ask—pleasure, pain, amnesia, even death. I can give it all. Just say my name. Ciuateto. Say it, and I will give you everything.
    She forced her eyes not to answer, grateful for the plastic film of the contacts that helped veil what was there. No longer innocent, she felt fear and longing in equal measure.
    Was this his standard seduction? Or did he realize his particular appeal to her? She’d come from an age of sexual and moral repression, so his offer of freedom and acceptance, lust without limits or moral judgments, was the ultimate seduction. And the thought of punishment—well, that was seductive in its own way. The desire to accept his offer was stronger in her than it would be in any modern counterpart who had never known what it was to be forbidden sexual expression on pain of death.
    Ninon tried to think, tried to pull back, but it was useless. The stronger part of her wanted to see this contest through. She was stronger than he! She had to be.
    But looking at him, she knew he would transgress even her firmest sensual boundaries, that he would take her deep into the world of lust—as deep as she wished to go.
    And perhaps even deeper. Was she ready to be sacrificed, even tortured? The voice in her head asked, did she really think that pain would bring absolution?
    No, but she needed to know—how strong was he? Could she resist if she needed to? If seduction was her only recourse, the only means of persuasion, could she encounter him and survive? More importantly, was he stronger than Saint Germain?
    Who is in control here?
    I am, but I think I will let him assume that he has power for a while longer . Ninon hoped this wasn’t a lie.
    You play with fire, cherie.
    For the last four hundred years. It’s what keeps me alive .
    Resolved, she exhaled and then turned her face upward, letting her eyelids fall, inviting a kiss. She leaned closer. In legend, vampires had to be invited into someone’s home; maybe Miguel—whatever he was—had to be invited before he could make a move.
    His eyes widened slightly at her invitation. This was apparently not what he had expected given her earlier resistance. Perhaps he was thinking of Venus flytraps. Slightly wary now, he nevertheless moved a step closer. Slowly, though without hesitation, he lowered his head, holding her half-veiled gaze as he set his mouth to hers.
    Take what you will, his eyes seemed to say. And I shall too.
    Mouth pressed to mouth. She had no warning, and obviously no previous conception of what desire truly could be, which might have given her armor against him. It was joy. It was terror. It was a mad tingling in every nerve as electricity ran over her skin and made her muscles spasm.
    She gasped and stumbled away, landing on one knee, barely holding herself upright with the aid of the railing. Horrified, she could see the golden lace of scars on her arms glowing in the darkness, burning as they did when true lightning ran through her body.
    He did it! He had called them out! Nothing but lightning could do that.
    So now you know. He isn’t human.
    And he knows that I’m not either.
    Her only consolation was that Miguel looked equally startled, and seemed to be staring at his own arms rather than at hers. She couldn’t blame him for this, because he glowed, lit from within by a luminescence that rivaled the moon, and it showed that he also had some strange scars. In anyone else, she would have called them the marks of the stigmata.
    “What are you?” he whispered, finally lifting his gaze to hers. There was no seduction