Her arousal fed his arousal, and his fed hers. The silken material of her white halter dress slipped under his calloused fingers, and when he forced himself to pull away from her wrist, he stared beyond the golden, elegant mask of a lioness into her wide, dilated green eyes and knew that his life would never be the same.

Now, the gift she gave him was necessary for life, and yet somehow crueler than any wound the ferals had inflicted on him. The Power in her blood slammed into him, and if he hadn’t been chained in place, he might have fallen.

His body and his soul were so parched. He never knew he could be so hungry for another person — physically, emotionally hungry — and it had nothing to do with him drinking her blood and everything to do with how he needed to climb on top of her, sink into her soft, welcoming body, and feel her legs clasp him around his hips in welcome just like she used to.

Physically, strength and vitality flowed into him. His wounds closed over and healed seamlessly. Like that first time at the Masque, he needed to put his arms around her, but couldn’t. Frustrated, he moved restlessly as much as his chains would allow.

She made another sound that was purely sexual, husky and needy, and the warmth of her body nestled against him. The soft curve of her breasts pressed against his bare chest, and her hips brushed against his painfully hardened cock.

Her heart rate picked up. He could taste her arousal on his tongue, scent it on the air.

The ravenous hunter in him took fierce note. All the signs were there. She could be his for the taking, all his again.

At least for a while, until their separate lifestyles pulled them apart.

Or until she chose to cheat again.

The thought made him recoil from her wrist. His chest moved, distracting him. Belatedly he realized he was breathing hard. Like all of his tangled emotions, it was an exercise in futility. Inwardly cursing, he made himself stop.

Melly lifted her head from his shoulder. Compulsively, he ran his gaze down her body. Her eyes were dazed, and her golden skin flushed with pleasure and arousal. He could just see a hint of the full curve of her breasts in the V-neck of her top, and his mouth watered as he thought of how he used to tongue her plump, erect nipples.

“Why did you stop? You didn’t take nearly enough.” She ran her tongue along her lower lip, moistening it¸ and he couldn’t help but track the movement.

Feeling more trapped than ever and wild to get away from her, he snapped, “I took enough to heal. Get off of me.”

Her eyes widened. Flushing darkly, she jerked away and put her back to him.

“I — I wasn’t aware of what I was doing,” she muttered. Raising her hand, she pushed her hair off her forehead.

Twin trickles of blood ran down her slender forearm, intersecting her scabbed-over wounds. He hadn’t taken the time with her that he should have to ensure she didn’t continue to bleed after his bite.

Remorse struck, and he didn’t welcome it. Reluctantly, he said, “I shouldn’t have pulled away like that. You’re still bleeding. Give me your wrist again, and I’ll make it stop.”

Now she was the one to recoil. “After your gracious attitude?” she snapped. “Not on your life.”

Increased noise penetrated his awareness. The Vampyres, down by the gate, were snarling.

“Don’t be stupid, Melly,” he growled. “Can’t you hear them? The ferals down by the gate can scent your fresh blood. It will make them even more focused on you as their prey.”

Shoulders slumping, she tilted her head back and looked up at the shadowed ceiling of his cell. Then she pivoted to fix him with a narrowed, glittering gaze.

“I swear to all the gods,” she said between her teeth. “If you say ‘don’t be stupid’ to me one more time, I’m going to start using you as a punching bag. Because I’ve had a really rotten couple of days, and if you think I’m going to feel bad that you’re chained up and can’t do anything to stop me, you’d better think again, soldier. So you’d better rein in your asshole tendencies, because I’m in the mood to say hello, opportunity. You’ve been a long time coming.”

Once he had liked it when she had called him “soldier.” Halfway through her speech, he realized he was still hard as a rock and aching to bury himself in her. It infuriated him beyond all reason.

“Let’s talk about stupid and those rotten days you’ve had,” he snapped. “What did Justine do, show up on your doorstep out of the blue, wearing a big, friendly smile? And what did you do, Melisande — greet her with open arms and invite her in for a little girl talk? Are you really that naive?”

She blinked rapidly several times, and he saw that he had hit a nerve. Raising her hand, palm up, she crooked a couple of her fingers at him in a beckoning gesture. “Or feel free to go ahead and keep those sarcastic comments coming. Because it makes so much sense to piss off the chick with the lock pick. And besides, look who’s talking about stupid — and look at where he’s standing right now.”

He had to focus on something besides her beautiful, angry face.

If it were possible for him to break free of his restraints, he would have done so already when the ferals had attacked him. Even so, because he couldn’t bear to stand still without trying to do something, he spread his legs as wide as he could and strained against the chains imprisoning his wrists overhead.

As he fought to break free, he said between his teeth, “If I hadn’t done what I did, she would have slit your throat and drained you dry while I watched.” Glaring at her, he snarled, “Not that I’ll get any thanks from you for doing it.”

Folding her arms across her chest, she glared back. “She was playing you like a master musician with a tiny violin. You don’t know that she would have slit my throat. She made it quite clear I’m a useful bargaining chip for more than one reason. Giving in to her demands wasn’t just stupid of you — it was downright suicidal.”

Instead of bothering to answer her, he heaved at the restraints again. While his joints popped audibly, the fastening in the ceiling never shifted. The restraints had been constructed with a Vampyre’s strength in mind.

After watching him for a moment, Melly strode toward him. “Stop that. Julian, stop. You’re tearing your wrists open for no good reason.”

He grunted, “It’s better than standing here and doing fuck all while you bitch at me.”

When he glanced at her, she set the flashlight on the floor, angling the beam of light toward his right ankle, and knelt at his feet. “Well, you’d better not bring the whole thing down on my head. For God’s sake, hold still, will you?”

The sight of her kneeling at his feet brought other erotic memories to mind, her sexy lips and tongue working on him as he pumped into her, fists buried in her hair. She had loved it when he fucked her mouth.

He had loved it too, had loved watching her enjoy what they had done more than his own pleasure. Orgasming was too simple a term for how he had felt at the time, but making love felt transcendent.

Had she been acting for any of it? How much of her pleasure had been real?

The brutal fact was, he would never know for sure. She could not only talk up a bitch when she wanted, but she could lie about virtually anything like it was the Gospel truth.

It was one of her strongest talents, and one of the reasons why she was such a popular actress. Not only did the camera love everything about her, but she could also convince audiences all over the world that she really had cared about the gigantic ape that had kidnapped her and climbed the Empire State Building, and she could sell zombies like they were the only true apocalypse.

Once they had laughed about that together.

Angling his jaw out, he averted his gaze. “What’s taking you so long?”