"Oh, yes, I am," he says, shaking his head. " Yes. I. Am. Vampires can't help it. We like to kill humans. We love it. It takes a hell of a lot to keep us from being monsters. Didn't you read your mother's files?"
"Maybe some of you are, but you don't have to be. You’re not," I say, remembering him with Kate. "Michel's not. You both care. You look after Kate. A psychopath wouldn't do that."
"It serves our purposes to keep her alive. I already told you that she was a source of blood for Michel so he wouldn't have you. That's it, Eve. Mortals are a means to an end for us."
"I don't believe it."
"Whatever. It's true."
He leaves the bedroom and I can barely see him through the open door. He stops by my desk. Oh, hell. He’s reading my letter to Cecile.
He comes back and climbs on top of me and leans down, sniffing my neck. Presses his nose under my ear where I daubed perfume and he inhales deeply.
"That's why Michel didn't want to have sex with you. He wanted to keep his distance, so he could use you like a tool. A weapon. If he did, his feelings would soften him, make him less likely to use you properly. But he's always been such a softie. I can have sex with you and it won't matter. I'm tougher than he ever was."
"Why are you telling me this?"
He plays with my hair, twirling it in his fingers.
"So you don't get the wrong idea. I want you, sure. I'll enjoy you. I'll enjoy making you my pet. But I won't love you."
"I don't want you to," I say, trying to sound as if I don’t care, but my heart squeezes at that and sadness fills me.
"Good. I don't want to either." I say it but I know it's a lie. A blush rises to my cheeks.
"Oh, poor Eve. Did it hurt you to hear the truth?"
I can't say anything for tears bite at the corners of my eyes. He already knows.
"Don't worry," he mouths against my neck. "I told you I'm not a rapist. Sex has to be freely chosen. It has to be offered. In your case, it has to be begged for."
I try to pull away from him but he tightens his grip on me. "If you think I'll beg," I gasp. "You're crazy."
He presses against me even harder, his mouth poised over mine. "I'm not crazy. And you will beg, Eve. You will. I know you. And you know what?" he says and takes my bottom lip between his teeth for a moment before letting go. "When you do, I won't even have to remind you that I told you so. When you do beg me, you'll look in my eyes," he says, sniffing my neck, "and you'll remember this precise moment, word for word. And. It. Will. Be. So. Good." His lips just touch mine, his breath on my skin, and then he kisses me, his lips crushing mine, his tongue finding mine, his breathing harsh. Then, it’s like he switches off and he hops off the bed, leaving me lying there, aroused, and reaches into a bag and pulls out a roll of duct tape.
"I hate to do this, but I have to make this look real. If you try real hard, you might get loose by morning – you know, just in case I miscalculate and die in an unfortunate stake accident. I don't want you starving to death, the police breaking down your door to find your rotting bloated corpse. I’ll call in an anonymous tip that you’re here so you won’t be here too long."
He tapes my mouth shut and then sits beside me, a hand brushing my hair from my face.
"Don't miss me too much. Pretty soon, you'll be back at the warehouse and we'll start Act Two of this farce."
And then he's gone.
Chapter 13
“Love is all we have, the only way that each can help the other.”
Euripides
I lie on the bed and listen to the sounds of my quiet apartment now that Julien’s gone. I can’t do anything about the plastic ties that bind my wrists, but I can jiggle those attaching my feet to the bedpost. The bed frame’s constructed so that the ball-shaped top of the corner post is screwed on. I try to shimmy my way down towards the bedpost in the hopes I can find a way to unscrew it. I work my feet up so that my toes just touch the ball at the top of the post and try to turn it, but it’s screwed on too tight.
I pull at my restraints with all my might, but all that does is cause them to bite into my flesh, leaving raw welts around my ankles and wrists.
Hours pass – the slant of the light through my window tells me that. Finally, I hear footsteps in the hallway – is it Julien? I hear a knock at the door and then a crackled voice.
"Eve? Eve? Are you in there?"
Mrs. Barnes from down the hall – God bless her! I try to call out, but all I’m able to manage is a muffled groan that deaf old Mrs. Barnes is surely not able to hear.