'You've got to hand it to Marcus. He sure does love a good view of the city. How weird to be in hiding so many years and yet still manage to see everything.'

The view from the lounge window was almost as good as the one from Marcus' practically palatial office, and it gave me the opportunity to stare outwards, rather than at Michael, who I knew was glaring at me and possibly about to combust. I could feel the heat of his rage from across the room, having been sure to put as much distance between us as I could when we'd been escorted to what was to be my private apartment, which essentially was an entire floor all to myself that included this room, a kitchen, bathroom and two bedrooms.

Only those with security keys could access this floor via the elevator, and from what I understood that was to include myself, Marcus, and my own personal bodyguard, a mountain of muscle called Jason, who weirdly enough did actually look a bit like Jason Statham if you squinted a bit.

'I'm really going to need you to run this fucking insane decision by me once again,' Michael said, his voice tight and tinged with enough anger to make me wince. I could still hear his colourful objections to the ultimatum I'd given Marcus, like someone was hammering them into my head with an ice pick.

I took a deep breath and turned to face him. It wasn't the fury that made me falter, but the look in his eyes, like I'd kicked an injured animal, waited until it got back up and then kicked it again high up into the air and off a cliff edge. I'd hurt him. My decision had hurt him, and that definitely wasn't something I'd been prepared for, or even expected.

The words – the ones I'd been practicing in my head all the way up here in the elevator – didn't just fade away. They threw themselves off the cliff edge too, plummeting towards certain death and plunging me into a well of silence that I didn't know how to climb out of.

'It was the only way,' I finally managed, my voice weak and unconvincing, even though I did believe it. I did.

'The only way for what? To give daddy what he wanted? Or to condemn yourself to a life with a man who abandoned you just because of some misplaced guilt about what happened to my friends? You really want to stay with the man who could have prevented you from ending up in Luther's torture cell?'

'Cheers,' I mumbled. 'I mean, if I didn't have abandonment issues before, I probably do now.'

Michael's face twisted sourly. 'This isn't a joke, Sarah.'

'You think I don't know that?' I said, firmer this time. 'You think I'm not totally aware of what I've just done? Do you think for one second that I want to give him what he wants?'

'Then, why?' he said, aghast. 'Go and tell him you made a mistake. Tell him that you're leaving with me.'

'No.'

'No?' he replied, his face dropping. 'Just straight up no?'

'Yes. No.' I grimaced and shook my head. 'You know what I mean.' I sighed, the exhaustion beating at every inch of me. I didn't want to fight with him. I was tired of fighting. At least for tonight.

Walking to the ridiculously huge corner couch, I sat on the edge, suddenly feeling very small, despite whatever this so-called prophecy had planned out for me.

'You need them,' I said, and Michael's gaze caught mine, his lips parting with surprise. 'They're your family. And whether I like it or not, Marcus is mine. If, by staying here with him, I can get your family back, then that's what I'll do.'

When Michael headed for me and dropped to his knees at my feet, I marked it up as the second Michael reaction that I hadn't expected. Grasping my hands in his, he pressed his forehead into my lap, and groaned the word 'fuck' a couple of times. My curse surged at his sudden intrusion, but I pushed it down as much as I could and just focused on keeping my breathing as steady as I could with a vampire's head resting against my lap.

Looking down, I realised I liked the way his hair was styled and cut into the back of his neck. There was a small brown freckle on top of his right ear. I could feel his warm breath radiating through the fabric of my jeans.

'We could have worked something out,' he said. 'I'd have got them back. You didn't need to do this.'

Swallowing, I pulled one of my hands from his and touched his hair. It was softer than I'd imagined it would be and I raked through a few of his tousled curls with tentative fingers.

He raised his head, eyes wide with disbelief and that same hurt that was still hitting me really hard to see.

'Marcus might be a lot of things, none of which would sound very complementary if he heard me say them out loud,' I said. 'But he's also powerful and he's smart, Michael. He knows about the prophecy. That's what he's been doing all this time, collecting information, researching. If anyone can give Sébastien what he wants, it's Marcus. Sébastien's a debt dealer. He agrees to do something for you, but the price he charges in return, is always heavily weighted in his favour. He wants a high return on all his deals. Marcus is a wanted man. Can you imagine how it would feel to Sébastien to have Marcus DiCenzo in his debt?'

'Which is dangerous,' he replied. 'If Sébastien betrays Marcus, you'll be in the firing line, and all this will be pointless.'

'Not if we can get them back,' I insisted.

'Sarah...' he began, but I silenced him with a light touch to his jawline. My fingertips prickled with a fine static that felt strangely pleasant when I settled into it without resisting.

'You can keep saying it wasn't my fault until the moon falls out of the sky, but the fact is that if I hadn't come crashing into your life, if I hadn't killed Celeste and wound up in debt to Sébastien, then they would be safe.'

Michael brushed his thumb over my wrist, sending light vibrations coursing over the thin, delicate skin. 'I came looking for you, remember? I was the one who set this whole thing in motion. If I'd ignored it and stayed away...'

I smiled. 'Hey, who are we to deny a prophecy?'

He laughed then, a soft throaty chuckle that seemed to lift the pain from his eyes, if only a little. 'How do you do it? How do you manage to stop the dream from turning into a total nightmare?'

'Hmm,' I said, daring to trace along his jawline. 'Interesting. I'm certain that there are plenty of vampires who'd say I amthe nightmare. What happened? Did they stick something else in that tranq dart? Some weird anti-arsehole serum to stop you turning into a complete and utter...'

'Watch it!' He grabbed my hand and pressed his mouth to my palm, and I stiffened as his lips brushed against the healing crescent marks on my skin. Sensing my discomfort, he glanced up, but didn't let go of my hand.

'I can't just leave you here,' he whispered. 'I can't. Not now.'

God, my mouth was so bloody dry.

Not now, he'd said. Not now. Now I knew about the dreams. Now I'd let him kiss me. Now I'd kissed him back. Now we'd crossed the line into something neither of us could understand.

'You must,' I croaked. 'Marcus will get them back and you can go look for William and find out the rest of the prophecy, and I'll just be waiting here, you know, for when you get back.' I glanced around the lounge. 'I mean, it's not bad as far as prisons go. Far better than my cottage in the woods. Has a room with a view. And it looks as if Marcus keeps the fridge stocked up. Talking of which...'

I shifted off the edge of the couch and stood up, shooting him a small smile as I headed across the lounge towards a doorway on the opposite side of the room.

'Where are you going?' he said, amused but puzzled.

'I'm hungry. A girl's gotta eat,' I said, looking back at him.

His brow crinkled and he gestured towards another doorway. 'The kitchen is that way.'

'I know, but I got tasered and manhandled by a bunch of ugly bastard soldiers. I need a bath, before I even consider stepping foot inside a kitchen that's more pristine than a luxury interiors showroom.'

I disappeared into the bedroom, stepping back only to poke my head around the doorframe.

Michael was still on his knees.

'Not being rude,' I called out. 'But you should probably consider a bath too.'

Standing, he cocked his head to one side, his eyes glinting with danger in a way that thrilled me far more than it should have.

'I don't think I like your tone, Sensor,' he said, starting to take slow, stealthy steps towards me, a predator sizing up its prey.

'No? Bite me.'

***

I watched Michael undress as I sat in the huge bathtub, my knees pulled into my chest, as the steam rose into the air and the water embraced me with its warmth. My gaze brazenly explored every inch of him as he removed his clothes. His broad shoulders. His toned arms. The small indentation at the base of his spine. When he was finally completely naked, our eyes met, my breath quickening and he waited – not I think, to allow more of a view, but because I sensed he knew how big of a deal this was, as did I.

If the trajectory of this prophecy rested on what Michael had dreamt, then we were about to go hurtling towards our destiny, maybe setting ourselves on a path from which there'd be no return. I wasn't sure how I felt about that.

All I knew is that I wanted him.

I wanted this.

'Not enough bubbles for you?' I said, scraping my teeth over my lip as I let my gaze wander down his body again.

Holy Hell, he was perfection.

He chuckled softly and shook his head as he approached. I didn't look back as he climbed in behind me, but my heart picked up a beat.

I'd chosen to take a bath for a reason. Even the smallest of touches ignited my curse and I had to admit, after the explosive kiss, I couldn't help but feel a little anxious as to how this might all play out – if my curse would even let it happen at all. Thinking the water might help dilute the sensation, bathing with him first seemed like the best way to start, but as soon as he sat down with his legs either side of mine and I felt his chest brush against my back, I knew the water wasn't going to help at all.

I sucked in a breath and gripped either side of the tub.

'Do you want me to get out?' he said. 'I should get out.'

'No, no.' I grasped his hand before he could climb out. 'It's fine. I just need to...'

'...breathe?'

'Yeah,' I whispered, exhaling low and deep. Closing my eyes, I relaxed back into him a little, feeling his breath soft but hot against my neck. 'Tell me, in your dreams, was it like this? Or was it just easy?'

His fingertips brushed my damp shoulder, and he used the pad of his thumb to trace along my collarbone. 'I don't think easy is the word I'd choose. It was always...' He trailed off.

'What?' When he didn't reply, I turned slightly to look at him, seeing the hesitancy in his eyes. 'Please tell me you're not embarrassed to say it? We're naked in the bath together, Michael. Now's not the time for either of us to be coy.'

He narrowed his eyes in a playful scowl. 'I've never been coy in my life. Coy is for young Victorian women on their wedding night.'

I laughed. 'Well, I'm sure you know a lot about Victorian women considering when you were born...' I stopped. 'Actually, I don't want to think about that. Look, all I'm saying is that you can tell me. I want to know.'

Michael's mouth twitched. 'You want to know what it was like in my dreams when we had sex?'

His hand was on my back now, his fingers dancing down my spine. I shivered.

'Yeah, I do.'

'It was like, two opposing forces crashing together,' he said. 'Like feeling everything all at once. Desire. Passion. Need. Hatred.'

'Hatred?' I said, surprised.

He swallowed. 'Yeah. Which I know sounds strange, but it didn't feel it. It felt... right to feel like that. Like it was perfectly natural to hate each other but want each other so badly. I think it was meant to feel like that, because without the hatred, we couldn't have had the rest of it. I didn't even know who you were, but I knew we were enemies. Everything always felt so extreme, as if everything we felt, everything we did to each other, was powerful. I don't know how else to explain it.'

'Maybe you don't have to.' I moved my hand to his leg and slowly circled patterns on his knee, sliding it partway up his thigh under the water. 'Maybe we could just... see what happens.'

Michael pressed his lips behind my ear and nuzzled my neck gently. 'Hmm, this doesn't feel like it did in my dreams though.' His hand encircled my waist, moving upwards to cup my breast.

I groaned and leant into him, feeling his hardness pressed against me, his mouth moving over my throat. Small, delicious kisses that lit the touch paper, sending pulses of pleasure down my back.

'What does it feel like?' I managed to say, even though words were becoming lost to me, as his fingers brushed over my nipple, the flesh already taut and super sensitive. His other hand had found my hip, and he gripped it, holding me against him.

'Well, I don't hate you.' He nipped at my ear lobe, gently sucking it into his mouth.

'And the rest of it?'

I felt him smile against my neck. 'Desire and passion? What do you think?'

'And the need?'

'I've never needed anyone or anything like I need you, like I need this.'

His hand slipped to the skin of my inner thigh, his firmness of his touch encouraging me to open my legs, which I did, hooking one over his. When his fingers slid between my legs, the sensation was so instantly intense, that I whimpered and arched my back.

It was like electricity. A thrill so sharp and so strong that I felt it, not just where his hand moved in slow, lazy strokes under the water, but in concentrated pulses throughout my body that bordered on the delicious barrier between pleasure and pain.

'Fuck,' I said, my voice thick.

I'd never experienced anything like this. Before Michael, there had been men. Short-lived, brief moments of pleasure that I'd used to try and numb the loneliness and the grief. I'd wanted to feel normal, like everyone else, but being with those men had only proved to me that I wasn't like them. I wasn't normal. The night would draw in and I would feel that same anxiety, that same trickle of panic that would creep under my skin and no amount of sex could erase it. I was going through the motions. Trying to make myself feel something when all I felt was an endless nothing.

With Michael's hand between my thighs, his mouth upon my neck, I knew instantly that this is what I'd been searching for. This is what I'd needed. He was what I'd needed.

Reaching up, I gripped the back of his head and twisted slightly so my mouth could find his. I groaned against his lips, opening to kiss him deeply as he increased the pressure of his fingers, the friction building.

Everything was too much. I could barely keep still, squirming against him, hitching one foot up onto the side of the tub, my toes curling over the edge. He groaned into my mouth when I pushed backwards, his hardness grinding against me. His fingers began to move faster, work harder, and I was lost to it, unable to hold back as I came hard, my gasps echoing around the bathroom.

Gripping a handful of his hair, I squeezed my thighs around his hand, rocking against him and wondering when the waves would fade out and I would stop trembling in his arms.

Michael had been right. Whatever this was, it was powerful. I could feel it. This connection that transcended sex. Transcended emotion. How could that be? I'd hated vampires from the moment I knew they were real. I'd feared them and despised them, the curse in my veins driving the force and depth of my feeling until I could barely feel anything else. How could I feel like that and yet want him in the way that I did? How could I have wanted to wipe vampires from this Earth, while not wanting to know what it would feel like for him to never touch me again?

I wanted him. I wanted more.

It was overwhelming me now, this sense that I couldn't get enough, that it would never be enough.

I turned to face him, kneeling between his legs and kissed him hard, pushing him back so he had to lean against the tub. The taste of his tongue on mine. The roughness of his hand as he pulled on my hair. Reaching between us, relishing his moan as I lightly scratched at his chest with my nails on the way down, I teased and rubbed him with the flat of my palm, pulling my mouth from his so I could look into his eyes. A small, rasping growl came from the back of his throat, as he gripped the tub to ease his hips upwards to meet the rhythm of my hand, as I sometimes paused to tease him with my thumb, sometimes stroking him faster, firmer.

His breath was shallower, harsher and when his lips parted, I saw the tips of his elongated incisors, surprised at how much I'd wanted to see them, how much I'd ached to see them. I stared at him, almost in awe, never relenting the motion of my hand, as he watched me from under heavy lids. He smiled, revealing more. Bastard. He knew what I was thinking. He knew how much it turned me on to see them, and I think then I felt a sudden stab of hot hatred, mixed with an arousal that I couldn't contain.

I wasn't sure how this could be two things at once – natural and yet unnatural – but there was something dark and disturbing in my chest that told me it was the unnatural that I yearned for now. It was the unnatural that was spurring me on and making me want more. He was a vampire and yet I just couldn't stop this.

Straddling him, I eased myself onto his body, looking down at him as he thrust upwards with his hips, the air rasping through his open mouth as he went deep. I whimpered again, gripping the edge of the tub behind his shoulders so I could control the rhythm and the sensation as my curse reigned fury down upon me, attacking every nerve ending to the point where I was already gasping.

I was on fire, but instead of allowing it to consume me, I was molding it around me, relishing the burn as it licked over my skin. Moving his strong hands to my hips, his thumbs dug into my thighs as he gripped me, allowing me to maintain the cadence I needed, almost as if he understood I had to dictate the tempo until it was safe to let go.

I kissed him again, unable to stop myself from flicking my tongue over the sharp point of one of his incisors. The throaty chuckle he gave in response was full of heat and held a note of triumph that sparked something explosive inside my stomach that bordered on anger. I pushed hard to meet the upward thrust of his hips and he hissed out a shallow breath, a darkness glinting in his heavy gaze.

Was this what I'd wanted? Was this the reaction I'd been hoping to ignite in him?

I shouldn't have loved that dark side of him, but I did. I shouldn't have wanted to see it in him now, to feel it, but I really fucking did.

I began moving a little faster, the water sloshing more violently in the tub, splashing over the sides as I rocked against him. My body was frantically buzzing now, the vibrations like nothing I'd ever experienced before. I'd never once imagined my curse could feel like this. Never once thought I could use it, control it, let it become something I needed, as opposed to something I wished I could just be rid of. Sensing I needed more, Michael thrusted deeper, harder, a small, wicked smile on his lips as he fucked me.

I lost myself completely to it then, relinquishing some of the control to him as he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me closer. There was a roughness to his touch now, a sense that he was losing it as much as I was, unable to prevent the tension that was building between us. His hands grabbed at my behind, his mouth hungry against mine as we moved together, this perfect storm, this delicious power-play.

When he came hard and violent, he jolted against me, the sound he made raw and aching as he buried his face into my neck. His breath was hot and heavy on my skin, his arms tight around my back, the sensation of his orgasm long and drawn out as continued to thrust into me as I pressed my thighs around him.

And yet it was none of those things that wrenched the second orgasm out of me.

I felt his teeth scrape against my throat, the tips of his incisors scratching at my skin, and I silently begged him to do it.

I could picture it clearly then.

Him, piercing my damp, hot flesh.

My blood in his mouth.

Smeared over his lips.

That's what did it. That's what tipped me over the edge into a wave of sensation that felt like it would never end.

I wanted Michael to bite me and the thought of that had set me aflame me more than my curse ever could.