After a moment his whole demeanor changed and he went still, silent as a lion before the kill as his lips hovered above my neck. And very soon the stillness became unnatural as he waited, distressingly immobile even as I felt his excitement thrum around me. Protective instincts kicked in and I stopped breathing, stepped outside myself, focusing on calm, calm, steadying my heart rate, lowering my blood pressure, simply existing. Zen. And then he unfroze with all the creepiness of a manikin coming to life, licking up the side of my neck and nipping at my ear.
"You're pretty good at that power-meditation stuff. You must have had some practice."
I knew he was playing with me, testing my reactions, learning his prey. He trailed his fingers down my arms, then began edging his hands under my shirt, rubbing small circles over my stomach, slowly moving upwards over my ribs. I wasn't wearing a bra, and his thumbs quickly found my nipples, tweaking them, toying with them until they were stiff and aching.
My nerve was breaking. I began to breathe in shallow gasps as I tried not to move. I had Victor to thank for my intense aversion to touch. Nausea rolled through me as he cupped my breasts, rolling them in his palms. He dipped his head and trailed kisses lightly across my collarbone. The worst thing was that I had no idea what he wanted from me. Did he expect me to respond readily to his seduction now that my freedom was on the table? I wished I was capable of it. I suddenly wanted desperately to make him happy, to hold his interest.
"You're shaking now," he murmured.
That was an understatement. I was trembling violently, and everything in me was screaming to jerk away from him. Dread filled me. If he wanted my enthusiastic participation, I would never be able to give it to him. He pulled back, examining me at arm's length, and I tried not to shudder with relief.
"Ahh, the stakes are awfully high at the moment, hmm?" he asked, his voice full of false sympathy. "Awww, look at you, you're absolutely terrified of displeasing me."
My freedom from his touch was short-lived. His oddly rough fingers traced the scars over my arms, and he raised my wrist to his mouth slowly, his gaze piercing. I tried to avoid looking at the centers of his eyes, which were glowing with an unearthly sort of light. The pain raced up my arm as his fangs punctured the vein, his venom working its diabolical magic on my blood. It crashed in waves over me, obliterating all my concerns, until nothing else existed but the sensation. He was holding back, compared to when he had fed from me earlier, because it was overwhelming but tolerable, and to my surprise I began to calm. My shaking ceased, and my head cleared. I felt like someone had just trickled cool water through the feverish mess of my consciousness.
He only took a few pulls of blood before releasing me and regarding me with an extremely pleased expression. He brushed a lock of hair out of my face and I flinched, unable to suppress it, but thankfully he ignored it as he tucked the strands behind my ear.
"Don't worry, peiyla," he drawled, his smile conspiratorial. "I'm completely confident in my ability to gain your undying devotion. It's just going to take some time."