She tried not to be aware of Joshua’s heartbeat, of the ebb and flow of the blood running in his veins. She pretended she didn’t notice the way Marie’s pulse fascinated her when the housekeeper called Joshua to dinner. She ignored the remembered taste in her mouth, the feel of Aidan beneath her lips, the way her body writhed against his, craved his. She groaned and tried to turn away from yet another picture she had drawn of him. His mouth was set in that sensual, inviting line that seemed to mock her, lure her. Pure temptation.
She touched a fingertip to that mouth she had drawn so perfectly. “I won’t let you do this to me,” she whispered softly. She wanted him so badly. She needed him to comfort her, to make this world of madness and insanity make sense. She needed him to take away the gnawing, frightening hunger that kept her from fully enjoying Joshua’s company. Most of all she needed him to merge his body with hers, to feel his mouth and his hands taking away the terrible burning, the emptiness. She needed his heart beating the same rhythm as hers, his mind invading hers, the ultimate intimacy, locking them together, sharing every wild fantasy as his body took possession of hers.
She went through all the normal motions that evening, helping Joshua with his homework, pretending to enjoy a show on television. They argued about the value of a wide-screen TV. Stefan took Joshua’s side, saying it was a necessity for old eyes. Marie sided with Alexandria that it was the ultimate in conspicuous consumption. But the blood rushing through all their veins was like a symphony, drowning out the sounds of the program and making Alexandria afraid for them. She tried to enjoy getting Joshua ready for bed, reading to him, having a short pillow fight, tucking him in. She had always loved their time together at night. Joshua was always so clean and sweet. But the loud beating of his heart interfered with her enjoyment now, and she felt trapped in the middle of a nightmare.
Alexandria dressed with care for her date with Thomas Ivan that night. But as the dress slid over her skin, she felt the brush of hot velvet. Her hands shook as she put up her hair. She had not seen Aidan once since she had fled him earlier. She felt him, always there, close, but he had taken care to stay out of her sight. Instead of being grateful, though, she was depressed. Maybe it didn’t matter that she was going out with another man. Maybe he didn’t care. And why should it? She didn’t want him to care. She wanted to find a human man, one she was attracted to. One she wanted to make love with. Not something obsessive and wild, but something gentle and loving. A human, normal man.
She inspected her nails. Formerly frustratingly stubby, they were now long and beautiful, well manicured, almost as if she’d had them professionally done. Even her hair seemed thicker, more luxurious, her eyelashes long and thick. Her skin, however, was pale, nearly translucent.
She sighed at her image in the mirror. She looked the same but different. More… She didn’t exactly know what. Just more. The dress clung like a second skin, emphasizing her full breasts and tiny waist. It could have been designed just for her. She ran a hand down the soft material covering her thigh. Her heart slammed against her throat when she looked up to find Aidan’s golden eyes watching her in the mirror. He stood behind her, his tall, powerfully built frame, his blond good looks complementing her own. She could taste him in her mouth. They made an erotic picture in the mirror, Aidan tall and heavily muscled, with his brilliant, hungry eyes, Alexandria slender and petite and pale.
“You look beautiful, Alexandria,” he said softly.
His voice was compelling, whispering over her skin with the same heat as the velvet dress. She couldn’t read his expression, only feel the molten gold of his gaze.
“I—I won’t be out late,” she stammered like a wayward teenager. And then she would have given anything to take the words back. Aidan didn’t smile, didn’t change expression.