Chapter Nine
"So, Angela, you're a newborn vampire."
Lounging inside one of the private jet's luxurious seats, his dark blue suit contrasting its pale leather pleasantly, Lucian was the picture of elegance. All of the injuries inflicted on him a few days ago were fully healed by now, and his skin positively glowed with health as he smirked at Angela from across the aisle.
"That wasn't a question, mon cher," he said, when she opened her mouth to argue. "More of an observation."
Stymied, Angela shrugged and turned her attention to the bright city lights visible far below them. It wasn't like her to back down from an argument, but with Eztli acting as the pilot, Lucian and she were alone in the back of the plane, and rightly or wrongly, it made her nervous.
"Don't be nervous, little fräulein," Lucian said, on cue. "I promise I won't bite you again, unless you ask me to."
The snort of derision escaped her before she could stop it, and his answering laughter so irked her, she lost her composure completely.
"Bite me, Lucian," she snapped. "I dare you. Bite me and see what happens."
A shudder went through the plane as she issued the challenge, its twin jet engines humming noisily. Distracted by what felt like turbulence, Angela and Lucian exchanged a worried glance. They didn't get to worry much, however, before the plane levelled off, its flight becoming smooth and predictable once more. A fraction of a second later, Eztli's tall form appeared at the entrance to the cockpit, dark and imposing like clouds before a storm.
"You. And you," he growled, glaring first at Angela, then at Lucian. "We've barely taken off, and already you are at each other's throats."
The rebuke had an immediate effect on Angela, causing her to cower down guiltily. Not so Lucian. Obviously feeling he'd been wronged, he made as if to stand up, protesting, "Ta mere! We were not..."
He never managed to finish. Faster than lightning, Eztli was upon him, forcing him back into his seat and leaning over him threateningly.
"That wasn't a question, mon cher," he said. Switching to French effortlessly, he went on, "Ne jurez pas devant las dame."
"Désolé," Lucian replied quickly. His eyes darted sideways to Angela while he went on in English, "I'm sorry. It won't happen again."
"See that it doesn't," Eztli said, continuing to glare at him. "I don't want her first words in French to be those."
Angela wanted to insert herself into the conversation, if only to stop them from talking about her as if she weren't there, but the sight of Eztli reaching down and grabbing Lucian by the throat stopped her. There was a threat of imminent violence there, and it caused her heart to do a backflip in her chest, the same way it did the night she first witnessed a fight between the two. The same as then, she found herself transfixed by the power exchange on display. Clearly, Eztli was the dominant, alpha male, and it wasn't just his toned physique that marked him as such. It was his whole demeanor, from his posture to the way he stared at his opponent, like he might make a meal of them at any moment. Yes, that was the thing, Angela thought, biting her lip in excitement. She was just wondering if Lucian felt the same way, when Eztli turned his pale gaze on her and said,
"Mein fräulein, try not to get too carried away by your thoughts. If you keep going the way you are, I won't be held responsible for my actions."
Angela's eyes widened, her thoughts turning carnal, quite against her will.
"You wouldn't," she gasped, looking pointedly at Lucian. "Not in front of him!"
To her consternation, Eztli threw back his head and laughed.
"Sure, I would. Hence the warning." The smoldering look he gave her made Angela's heart do another backflip, leaving her positively speechless. This left it up to Lucian to insert a plea, on both their behalf.
"Mon Dieu! Je t'en supplie," he cried, desperately. In response, Eztli tightened his grip and snarled in displeasure.
"Say it in English, so Angela can understand," he commanded.
"I... beg of you," Lucian translated, and swallowed hard. Eztli's hand around his throat was obviously making it difficult to speak, yet he barely paused before adding, "Don't, please don't take her right here, right now..."
"Why not?" came the merciless retort. "It's a great way to pass the time on a long overseas flight. Besides, she needs it. You've read her mind. You know it, as well as I do."
Lucian's face was a mask of misery as he admitted, grudgingly, "Oui, oui. She wants you bad. Any fool can see it. But..."
"No buts," Eztli cut in. "When you accepted my invitation, you knew this might happen. Now, you can either sit here and avert your eyes, or I can help you by draining you of most of your blood. The choice is yours."
"Merde," Lucian spat, squirming uncomfortably. "I'd almost prefer it if you drank from me till I passed out, but I can't let you ruin this gorgeous Armani suit."
Slowly, Eztli let go of Lucian's throat and grabbed a handful of his long hair, tugging on it so as to tilt his head back.
"It's just a suit," he said. His intent was clear, and Angela could see a vein in Lucian's neck pulsing as he remonstrated gently,
"No, Eztli... No. I don't want to be drained again, so soon after last time. I'll be fine sitting here, alright? Just go ahead and do what you need to do."
"Are you sure? A moment ago, you were saying something quite different." Eztli's incisors were at their maximum length, their sharp points glistening just millimeters from Lucian's neck.
"I'm sure. I'm very sure. Please." The fear in Lucian's voice was like music to Angela's ears. Staring at him through the thickening red haze, she thought about the way he had attacked her, and how good it would feel to return the favor.
"Easy, fräulein," Eztli said, conversationally. "You're about to lose control. And you know what will happen if you do."
"Sorry, Eztli," Angela replied, meekly. But though she tried to rein in her thoughts, they kept on coming. Whispering, pulling at her, urging her to obey her instincts.
