His hand stroked her throat, tracing the line of her jugular. “I need answers. Submit yourself. Let me discover why you know me so well.”
Fear blossomed in her stomach, but she nodded.
He bent to replace his caress with a kiss; only a slight pain and it dissolved quickly. Heat began to flow through her veins, fire moved from her extremities to pool at the point where his mouth touched her flesh. He had bitten her. He was drinking her blood!
Arany had asked her to submit. Why not comply? If he chose, let him kill her.
No one would care. She was alone.
Selena let the desire to fight drift away, and along went her strength. Her eyes could barely open. Colors faded like an old-time photograph. So, this was how it ended. Death wasn’t glorious. It was monochrome.
Arany pushed her from his lap. “Useless. You know nothing.”
Somehow, she managed to stand. “Have my paintings packed and sent to me. Forget the showing. I’m going home.”
Silence weighted the air as she held her breath, waiting for his reply.
He smiled at her. Danger shone in that smile. “You dare give me orders? No, my dear, I give the orders.”
He held her in his gaze. “I covet these pieces of my past; call it nostalgia, if you will. I intend to buy the paintings and the stained glass. And I shall have that showing. I’m interested to see who will attend.”
He stood. “See yourself back to the csarda. The gallery will cover your expenses. I’ll contact you.”
See herself back to the inn? In her weakened condition, Selena thought it doubtful she’d make it out the door. Why did she feel so weak? The last few minutes were lost to her . . .
“Wait!” Surely, he would summon a taxi, or whatever they were called in Hungary. But he’d gone, leaving her with a jumble of emotions – and an offer to follow her dreams. The opportunity to find an identity of her own.
At what cost?
