couldn't face giving up my sanctuary. It was what kept me connected to me.
He nodded. “But, it needs to be worth your while, ma douce .”
I couldn't argue there, I just didn't have it in me to fight him, when all he was going to do was bite me. I shook my head at that thought. Two months ago that would have been enough, more than enough, to make me want to stake him, now I craved it. Shit. I was an addict after all.
He smiled knowingly, he'd either heard my thoughts, felt my emotions, or just knew me pretty damn well.
“The car,” he finally offered.
“What about it?”
“I land my fangs and you accept my gift, completely. You land the stake and I get rid of it, no more car in the garage waiting.”
Huh. He had me there. I so did not want to accept that car. Sure it was sexy and divine and would no doubt be unreal to drive, but it was a gift of unparalleled proportions. It would signal to everyone that I was a kept woman and I mean, come on! Bank tellers just don't drive around in BMW Series 1 Convertibles, even if they are dating the Master of the City. And, even if the car wasn't part of this deal, he'd leave it there, in the garage, bringing it up every now and then, finding another way to manipulate me into driving it. At least this way I had a chance, albeit a minute one, of winning this battle of wills.
I nodded. He laughed. Somehow, I think he had this planned all along.
We circled for a moment, just watching the other, me not really wanting to take that first step, him devouring every line of my body. I really didn't think his full attention was on the fight, part of him was already undressing me, but still, this was Michel and his concentration wasn't necessary to win.
He took the decision to strike out of my hands and lunged. If I had thought I wouldn't fully commit to the battle, then I hadn't taken into consideration my Nosferatin instincts. They kicked in big time and I danced out of his grasp, spinning to face him again, stake out and ready to go.
“That's better,” he said softly and then struck out again.
This time he came in low, so I took a flying leap towards him, intending to flip over the top of him and land the stake on his back as I flew past. It has worked before, but it's probably one of my more signature moves and Michel had seen this one and was prepared. Almost in slow motion, but no doubt just a blur, I watched him twist in the air, so he now faced me as I sailed over. I saw his hands come up in my peripheral vision, ready to pull me down on top of him. I struggled to think of an out, to think of a move that would work, a way to put my stake between me and him, but he was too fast. His fingers gripped my sides and I felt myself falling down towards him, but he hadn't grabbed my arms, they were still free.
I let him pull me down, he'd stopped my motion forward and almost slowed his, so we were heading for the floor, rather than skimming it now, but when his back hit the mat, I was ready. I used the rebound that impact created, along with my hands on either side of his body, to force myself up and over his head, in a somersault. Twisting as I made the move, making his grip loosen and my body fly away from his grasp. I landed in a crouch behind him, but he was up and in a crouch facing me in an instant. A low appreciative growl escaping his lips. His eyes were flashing all shades of blue and amethyst and magenta, swirling and sparkling around the room. Michel's eyes are one of the most extraordinary things about him, usually when magenta enters the mix, it means he's about to explode in an uncontrolled rage of some sort, but at times like this, it can also mean he is extremely turned on.
I was betting it was the turned on this time. I was hoping, even praying, that I was right on that one.
We looked at each other for a moment and I couldn't help it, it just slipped out.
“You're not even trying.” My voice was breathy, but the response it created was perfect.
His mouth
He nodded. “But, it needs to be worth your while, ma douce .”
I couldn't argue there, I just didn't have it in me to fight him, when all he was going to do was bite me. I shook my head at that thought. Two months ago that would have been enough, more than enough, to make me want to stake him, now I craved it. Shit. I was an addict after all.
He smiled knowingly, he'd either heard my thoughts, felt my emotions, or just knew me pretty damn well.
“The car,” he finally offered.
“What about it?”
“I land my fangs and you accept my gift, completely. You land the stake and I get rid of it, no more car in the garage waiting.”
Huh. He had me there. I so did not want to accept that car. Sure it was sexy and divine and would no doubt be unreal to drive, but it was a gift of unparalleled proportions. It would signal to everyone that I was a kept woman and I mean, come on! Bank tellers just don't drive around in BMW Series 1 Convertibles, even if they are dating the Master of the City. And, even if the car wasn't part of this deal, he'd leave it there, in the garage, bringing it up every now and then, finding another way to manipulate me into driving it. At least this way I had a chance, albeit a minute one, of winning this battle of wills.
I nodded. He laughed. Somehow, I think he had this planned all along.
We circled for a moment, just watching the other, me not really wanting to take that first step, him devouring every line of my body. I really didn't think his full attention was on the fight, part of him was already undressing me, but still, this was Michel and his concentration wasn't necessary to win.
He took the decision to strike out of my hands and lunged. If I had thought I wouldn't fully commit to the battle, then I hadn't taken into consideration my Nosferatin instincts. They kicked in big time and I danced out of his grasp, spinning to face him again, stake out and ready to go.
“That's better,” he said softly and then struck out again.
This time he came in low, so I took a flying leap towards him, intending to flip over the top of him and land the stake on his back as I flew past. It has worked before, but it's probably one of my more signature moves and Michel had seen this one and was prepared. Almost in slow motion, but no doubt just a blur, I watched him twist in the air, so he now faced me as I sailed over. I saw his hands come up in my peripheral vision, ready to pull me down on top of him. I struggled to think of an out, to think of a move that would work, a way to put my stake between me and him, but he was too fast. His fingers gripped my sides and I felt myself falling down towards him, but he hadn't grabbed my arms, they were still free.
I let him pull me down, he'd stopped my motion forward and almost slowed his, so we were heading for the floor, rather than skimming it now, but when his back hit the mat, I was ready. I used the rebound that impact created, along with my hands on either side of his body, to force myself up and over his head, in a somersault. Twisting as I made the move, making his grip loosen and my body fly away from his grasp. I landed in a crouch behind him, but he was up and in a crouch facing me in an instant. A low appreciative growl escaping his lips. His eyes were flashing all shades of blue and amethyst and magenta, swirling and sparkling around the room. Michel's eyes are one of the most extraordinary things about him, usually when magenta enters the mix, it means he's about to explode in an uncontrolled rage of some sort, but at times like this, it can also mean he is extremely turned on.
I was betting it was the turned on this time. I was hoping, even praying, that I was right on that one.
We looked at each other for a moment and I couldn't help it, it just slipped out.
“You're not even trying.” My voice was breathy, but the response it created was perfect.
His mouth
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