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the special creature that you are. I want to do that for you, but you keep fighting me. In a way, it is erotic.” Another sucking kiss, hard enough to leave a hickey, was placed on the underside of my jaw. “I never expected you to give in easily, but then I never thought that the task would be so hard. I could break you completely, but what would that leave me? It would not be you, Sex. I want to sleep with you in my arms, and not have to worry about getting knifed again.” These words were all whispered into my ear through my curtain of hair.
    I wanted to laugh, but the sensation he was wringing out of my body was getting too intense. I was horrified as my traitorous body began thrusting back on his finger, then pumping forward into his stroking palm.
    Maybe he was right about my body accepting him. At least it was acclimatized to his size now, because of the daily attacks since the day he kidnapped me; back then I had been left bloody and torn, and in nothing but searing pain. The living room, which was now practically empty, had been tastefully decorated—canvases, crystal vases, stemware, and all sorts of breakable paraphernalia. Marcus had been overly excited that night—or was it day?—and after the third penetration in the space of an hour, I had grabbed the nearest thing within my reach, a letter opener, and I’d rammed it deep into his chest.
    That was the start of a day of firsts for me. That was the first time that I’d ever seen those red eyes of his. To say he was pissed at what I’d done was the understatement of the century. I discovered a lot of things that day.
    I found out how strong he was when he threw me across the room with only one arm. I learned how much pain my body could endure before passing out. My forearm was broken in two places, but I was still perfectly able to experience my first red-eyed rape. I’ve since discovered that when he is extremely turned on or agitated, his brown eyes turn that reddish cast and glow with a fire within. Creepy shit.
    That also was the first time I was introduced to being a portable blood bag for a vampire, and more importantly, I learned to be still when Marcus was drinking from me, because it hurt way too much to struggle, and honestly, what was the use? His fangs were already in my life fountain by the time I became aware that he was drinking. Did I mention that he could move faster than a speeding bullet?
    When he’d pulled the letter opener out of his chest, I wanted him to stab me with it, to simply end this horror show that was masquerading as my life. Instead, Marcus dropped the knife, ran his index finger through his own blood, and pinned me up against the wall, which was good because I couldn’t have stood even if I had had the strength to do so. He ran his bloodied finger down my forehead, down my nose, and across my lips.
    “ You have the honor of first blood.”
    I remember watching stupidly, weak from blood loss and the pain of broken bones, as the red glare faded from his eyes and returned them to plain chocolate brown. That was the first time that I felt him in my mind. Considering the heated violence he had just put me through, this was the polar opposite. His mental touch was like a soft, cool, summer night’s breeze playing around in my head.
    “ I am going to have to watch myself with you, Sex. You are a minefield. I explode every time I touch you.” He let go of me, and I slid down the wall, landing hard on my abused backside.
    I could only stare up at him. I thought I had just been drugged and picked up by some sort of maniac with a vampire fetish. That letter opener should have been my ticket out, either with him dead or me dead, but this? A real vampire? Not some weird geek with red contacts and fangs, but a real vampire? I couldn’t get my head around that. I knew my parents believed in this crap, but I thought I knew better. Vampires were only legends. They weren’t real. They couldn’t be real. Right?
    I’d felt my neck