To be like the women she was in her fantasies.

His strength and size excited her on a level so deep and hidden she hardly recognized her own longing. She needed him to be strong for her, to take instead of ask, to hold on to her and take control by making her his. They had only this night, so she would let him do anything to her that he wished. She also suspected that if she tried to explain her feelings that the words might repel him.

She had to show him with her body.

Liling brushed her lips over his in a brief, sweet touch that made him inhale sharply. Then she slid her hands down to his shoulders, allowing the weight of her body to say what she could not, to surrender to him what he would not take.

This was what she had wanted, but even her secret desires had not prepared her for what followed: for blasting through the boundaries of polite sexual conduct, for how his penis stabbed into her softness, so deep and hard that there seemed no space left inside her body that he did not claim with his own. The intimacy of his penetration, of taking him so ferociously, was every bit as stunning as the power of how it felt.

"Wait, please." She bit her lip, trying to adjust both mind and body as her muscles clenched around him. The fantasy of surrendering herself to a powerful man had never included so many new sensations. The wanton slickness of her sex seemed to melt into the rigid spike of his shaft, but the neglected muscles inside her body quivered, still unsure of handling such a union.

"Forgive me." He rested his forehead against her shoulder for a moment, and then lifted his face before bringing his open mouth down on her flesh.

Liling felt twin points of fire pierce her skin and cried out, writhing against him, before the flowers closed around her and her hand came up of its own volition, stroking his hair and urging him closer.

Watercolors of pale blue, violet, and green shimmered around her, washing away the pain and the fear. She and Valentin lay together on a bed of white fur, on their sides, facing each other, bodies entwined. All around them stood tall, wide stained-glass panels, each containing gardens of glass.

Liling glanced down and saw that they were still joined, their body hair meshed in a tangle of gold and black. The light shining through the glass on them made other patterns of color on their skin. "Where are we, Valentin?"

"A better place for this." His hand cupped her breast, massaging the weight of it before plucking at the small brown nipple. "Tell me what you want me to do to you, Liling."

Real flowers began to grow up around the edges of the fur. Lavender-hearted morning glories opened at their feet; red poppies lifted their scarlet faces out of the lacy fern near their heads. And on the stained-glass panels, elegant, passionate white blossoms of camellia appeared and flowered in the glass, until the light bathing their bodies turned opal white.

Liling rolled onto her back, wanting him on top of her. Valentin came with her and braced himself on his good arm, moving against her just enough to keep their bodies joined. Only then did she realize how rigid he was, and she saw the set of his jaw, as if he were grinding his teeth together.

Over his shoulder she saw a gap between the stained-glass panels, showing another place beyond them, a place as shadowed as the panels were radiant. The dark place reflected their naked bodies like a brooding mirror, but in that place they were not on furs surrounded by flowers. They were back in the cabin of the plane. Liling saw herself on her knees in the dark, her hands clasped behind her, her head flung back. Valentin stood before her, his hands caressing her hair.

Part of her understood. His needs were like hers, hidden and denied. "Take me there."

He looked over at the dark mirror and then down at her, his eyes narrowed. "You can't want…"

Liling kissed him, and then looked into his eyes. "I've kissed you. I've taken you inside me. Now give me what you want. Valentin."

The panels of stained glass turned dark, until only streaks of lightning painted the world. Then they were in the plane, on the bed, Valentin pressing her thighs apart with his hips as he drove into her.

"You wanted me," he said, "then take me."

She took him as he forced his way into the narrow ellipse of her flesh, bracing herself as he recoiled to thrust again, faster and harder, until Liling's back bowed and she cried out, the pleasure drenching her, drowning her in the storm of his lust.

Valentin jerked her to the edge of the bed, holding her down with his hand as he stood and wrenched himself out of her body. He pulled her up, guiding her face to him.

"Take me in your mouth," he said, wrapping her hair around his fist.

Reality was not the same as the image in the dark mirror. None of Liling's lovers had asked her to do this for them. She had no experience, no knowledge.

Valentin tugged on her hair. "Open for me, Liling. I want it."

He wasn't asking. He wanted her submission, not her doubt. He demanded it. Dark delight rocketed through her as she parted her lips for him, surrendering, taking the full thrust of his cock into her mouth. She tasted herself on him before she began to suck. Valentin pushed against her tongue, forcing her to take more of him, until her mouth stretched wide and his body hair brushed the tip of her nose.

No man had ever treated her like this. Not even her fantasies were this hard, this rough, this real. Liling thought she might climax from the sheer excitement of it.

His fist snarled in her hair as he urged her closer, stabbing deeper, filling her mouth as completely as he had her body. "That's it. Deeper. Take me deeper. Yes. Like that."

Liling moaned around him, her thighs tightening as the notch between them pounded, empty and hungry, unbearably aroused.

He came without warning, in silence, in long, thick jets as cool as cream. She drank from him, greedy for the taste of his semen.

Valentin gave her no respite, but pulled out of her mouth and put his fingers between her legs, cupping her and working the heel of his hand against her swollen mound even as he lifted her.

"Now you," he demanded, pushing her back onto the bed and fucking her with two fingers, pushing and stroking and stabbing until she twisted, unable to escape the rasp of his palm as it dragged over her clit. "Give me what I want. Give it to me. Liling."

The storm outside the plane was nothing to the one he raised inside her. Terrifying pleasure seized her and flung her into the dark, where nothing mattered but the heat and the bursting light and the harsh voice of her lover demanding everything she had, taking everything she was.

Liling collapsed, pleasure-blind, and rolled bonelessly against the damp vault of his chest. She couldn't speak, and nothing wanted to move. She might have to stay forever right there where she was. Only after a time did she feel the motion of his hand, gentle and steady, stroking up and down her back.

She opened her eyes to see him watching her face. It was impossible to read his expression, to know if she had pleased him. "Is that what you wanted?"

He nodded, brushing the hair back from her eyes.

"Good." She closed her eyes, satisfied beyond belief, and happy that she was able to make their one time together perfect. "So did I."

* * *

Chapter 7

John sat in the stone courtyard in front of the hotel, waiting for the sun to set and his watch to tell him it was time to meet Alexandra and her lover up in the hills.

He had not checked into the hotel, but had parked his rental car down by the pier in an all-night lot and slept in the backseat. He knew he was being paranoid, but he felt safer not using the credit card and phony ID Cyprien had given him. He might have to use the vampire's resources, but he didn't want to give him the means to track his movements.

A small collection of exclusive shops had been built on the west side of the hotel courtyard to cater to the whims of the guests. John watched stressed-out parents herd their children into the ice-cream shop, while pretty girls with bored boyfriends in tow idly browsed the clothing boutique.

The scents of sunshine, expensive perfume, and engine exhaust dwindled as John smelled something less civilized.

A young, grungy-looking man dressed in dirty clothes and a knit cap and carrying a sagging backpack passed by John as he went to a garbage can outside the small designer sandwich shop. The drifter took the protective green hooded lid off and bent down, rummaging through the trash before he straightened and with eager hands unwrapped a crumple of paper. He grinned and bit into the half-eaten sandwich inside.

John remembered doing the same thing when he was a kid on the streets. Sometimes he had staked out certain garbage cans in particular so that he could get the food thrown in them just after it was discarded. He had never stolen or begged for food for himself, only for his little sister.

Alexandra had hardly ever complained, even when he couldn't get the milk she always craved. She'd been just a baby, but somehow she'd known.

A man in a white apron with his sleeves rolled up stepped out of the sandwich shop. He smelled of Calvin Klein and cheap mayonnaise. "Hey," he shouted at the drifter. "Get out of there."

Rather than taking off, the drifter stuffed the discarded sandwich into his mouth, making his cheeks bulge, and bent over the garbage can again, reaching for something inside.

"Hey." The aproned man came over and shove him away from it. "You deaf or something, you bum?"

John got up and strode over, stepping in front of the drifter. "Knock it off."

"He's eating out of the tricking trash can," the man complained. "It's making my customers sick."

John looked at the avid faces watching them from inside the shop. Two girls were openly laughing. "They don't look so green from here."

"Now look," the aproned man said, glowering at John from under his brows. "This is private property. We got city ordinances against vagrants."

"You fucking hypocrite," John said, the rage coming over him so fast he didn't even think to resist. "You probably waste enough food in one day to feed fifty people."

"Yeah, well, this ain't no soup kitchen." To the drifter, he said. "You got two minutes to clear out of here before I call the cops." He stabbed a finger at John. "Same goes for you, asshole." Muttering to himself about bleeding-heart liberals, the aproned man stalked back into the shop.