The Vampire Shrink(7)
Author: Lynda Hilburn

thumb and first finger, holding tightly enough that I knew there'd be bruises, and forced my face back level with his. "I'm Bryce. I believe you've heard of me."

"Stop it! Let go of me . . ."

He swallowed my words with his mouth, clamping his lips on mine with enough pressure to cause my teeth to break the skin on the inside of my lip. Then he sucked my lower lip into his mouth, holding it with his teeth until I made an involuntary yelp of pain. Only then did he pull back, giv­ing an evil grin, and gazed at me with his dark green eyes, which seemed suddenly magnetic. I tried to look away, but I couldn't. I literally couldn't. It was as if his eyes were pulling me. I managed to briefly squeeze my eyelids shut, and he dug his fingers into my chin again, jerking my head roughly. He roared, "Open your eyes."

My eyelids flew up and his eyes were directly in front of mine, the green darker than before, almost black. I fell into them and felt the edges of my vision blur—a strange haze settling over everything—as part of my mind drifted off on a cloud.

I felt as if my arms and legs were encased in armor, that even thinking about moving would require way too much ef­fort, and that it really wouldn't matter, because they were too heavy to lift anyway.

Bryce cocked his head to the side and watched me, smil­ing. "See? You're feeling much more relaxed now. Aren't you sorry you put up such a fuss?"

"What do you want?" I mumbled.

I made what I thought was another valiant effort to raise myself out of the chair. Since nothing happened, I could only assume the message hadn't made it from my brain to my body. My muscles were pudding and my mouth was dry as the Sahara. Maybe I'd had a stroke and was spending my last moments on Earth in the company of a psychopath.

He laughed. "I enjoy when you struggle. It excites me. I'm not sure you really want to know what I want. Let's just keep it a surprise, shall we?"

Bryce selected a piece of his long hair and brushed it against my cheek. "You really are quite lovely. All that long, dark hair and sexy eyes. I can see why Devereux is attracted to you. I'm here because I overheard him talking about you to my little servant, Midnight. I think he's quite smitten, if you want my opinion. Nothing would make me happier than to keep Devereux from having something he wants or, even better, to take it away from him after he has it."

"No one has me," I asserted, despite the fact that I didn't have any idea what he was talking about, and the part of my mind that had floated away was still missing-in-action. False bravado was one of my favorite defenses.

All this time the smaller man had been laughing and slapping his leg with one hand. I slanted a glance at him and he showed me his top row of teeth, exposing a very real-look­ing set of fangs. He definitely had the best pair of fakes I'd seen so far. I wasn't sure what kind of reaction he thought I'd have to his cosmetic dentistry, but I obviously didn't give him whatever he wanted because he lurched at me and growled, "I could rip your throat out with these."

Abnormally fast, Bryce reached over, grabbed the small man by the throat, and threw him onto the floor. He snarled, "Leave her alone, Raleigh. I told you. She's mine."

Raleigh glared at Bryce, making noises that sounded more animal than human. He got up off the floor, stumbled to the nearest couch and stretched out, lacing his fingers be­hind his head.

She's mine? What does that mean? Am I his to harm, or. . . ? I wish I could find the "on" switch for my brain.

I hadn't worked with any physically dangerous or psy­chotic clients since my residency at the psychiatric ward during graduate school, and I tried to remember the skills I'd learned for dealing with them. Since I'd seen Bryce throw the small man around like a cardboard cutout, I knew I had no chance of doing anything that required physical strength, and I thought my only hope would be to use my tools as a therapist. Maybe I could reason with him. Or maybe I should just keep my mouth shut. I definitely needed to keep a clear head and that had become a problem.

Bryce turned his attention back to me and searched for something in my expression. He leaned in, ran his tongue over my lips and then kissed me again. I twisted my face away and yelled, "No!" He angrily shoved my chair back from the desk, stood up and lifted me, holding me like a child in his arms.

I ineffectually pushed against his chest and kicked my legs, trying to get him to put me down, and for one sick mo­ment I was reminded of a scene from that old science fiction movie, The Day The Earth Stood Still, where the robot picked up the woman and she couldn't get away. Bryce felt that cold and alien to me.

I still had little control of my limbs and I was forced to acknowledge that this situation wasn't likely to end up any way I'd choose.

"Let me go! What are you doing?" I screamed, as he walked me over to a couch back against the far wall. The motions I was making with my arms and legs were pitifully useless. I hate feeling helpless. I thought about all the op­portunities I'd had to take self-defense classes and how I'd always come up with some excuse to avoid them. I didn't know if learning to take down a guy wearing a big, foam helmet would have helped me fight off these two vampire wannabes, but it would have been better than nothing.

"Let's have a therapy session." He sat down on the couch, holding me tight in his lap. I kept pushing against him, getting more and more pissed about whatever he'd done to cause this bizarre paralysis, but his arms were steel bands. The sweet, coppery smell that rode his breath seemed stronger now.

"What do you want? Why did you come here?" I de­manded, trying to sound more confident than I felt.

"Maybe I need someone to talk to," he said in a fake whining voice. He opened the top button of my blouse, and ran his finger across the section of exposed skin. "Maybe

I'm just a lonely vampire searching for my soul mate. What do you think?" He threw back his head and laughed, en­joying some private joke, and then he recovered himself.

"I hear you don't believe in vampires. I thought I'd change your mind. Watch."

He lifted his top lip so I could see the upper row of teeth and, as I watched, his canines got longer and longer until they protruded a good quarter- to a half-inch below his other teeth. Then they contracted back up into their normal place and ex­tended again, as if he could will them to move in and out of his gums. He grinned at me. "How do you explain that?"

I didn't say anything. I stared at his mouth, trying to fig­ure out how the trick fangs worked.

He smiled, his eyes sparkling. "Go ahead. Touch them."

Touch them? I wasn't going to stick my fingers in some psychopath's mouth. He'd probably bite me. I didn't want to think about where those teeth had been.

"No."

"Oh, but I insist." He grabbed my hand and forced it up toward his mouth, laying the tip of my index finger on one of his fangs. It contracted while I touched it, and I was able to snatch my hand away. Maybe my instincts could over-ride whatever he'd done to me.

He laughed. "I'm old enough to have total control of my fangs, but if you get me aroused or angry enough they seem to have a mind of their own. And, right now I'm feeling very aroused."

He grabbed my hand again and shoved it down into his lap, which was filled with a large erection. "Let me show you what else has a mind of its own."

In one quick motion he had me lying flat on the couch with him on top of me, roughly pressing his lips against mine. I pushed at him again, my muscles finally deciding to re­join the party, but he grabbed my wrists, holding them over my head in a vice-like grip as he forced his tongue into my mouth. After a few seconds I felt him kissing his way down to my neck and there was a flash of pain when he bit me.

I screamed and kicked and pushed against him in a futile effort to dislodge an immovable object. I tried to raise my knee to administer the only effective self-defense strategy I knew, but he weighed on me like a slab of cement and I thought that maybe I wouldn't have to worry about him rap­ing me, because he'd probably crush or smother me first.

He was making loud sucking sounds at the wound on my neck and I started to feel lightheaded. Suddenly, the pain stopped and I opened my eyes—which I hadn't real­ized I'd closed—and he wasn't on top of me anymore. I could hear male voices yelling and the sound of furniture being pushed around.

I sat up, feeling like the morning after, and saw Devereux and Bryce struggling with each other, dancers in a strange ballet. Raleigh was nowhere in sight.

Watching the two of them was surprisingly entrancing, and I couldn't shift my eyes away. It was as if they were in slow motion. I was fascinated by Devereux's light blond hair contrasted by Bryce's dark, silky veil. I hallucinated that their hair was flowing out around their heads as if they were submerged under water and, while some part of me knew that couldn't really be happening, I was lost in the spectacle.

I was jarred out of my trance by the harsh sound of De­vereux's angry words.

"If you touch her again, I will kill you," he bellowed in an unnaturally amplified voice. "She is under my protec­tion now. Ignore that at your peril." He released Bryce, who laughed and then vanished.

I stared at the empty place where Bryce had been and tried to get the neurons in my brain to fire in some helpful way. I quickly blinked my eyes a few times to clear the fog. Perfect. I'd finally lost my mind.

Devereux straightened his clothing, smoothed his hair back away from his face and walked over to me. He sat down, opened his arms and I sagged against him, forgetting for a moment that I had my suspicions about his mental state, and allowed myself to be held. I could hear his heart beating and felt his warm breath on the side of my face.

We just sat like that, with him holding me, collapsed and shaking against him, for several minutes. "I am very sorry that I did not get here sooner. I never thought Bryce would risk my anger by coming here. I will pay much closer atten­tion in the future."

"Thank you," I mumbled, but I didn't know what I was thanking him for. Had he appointed himself my bodyguard? Was he saying that he was the reason I'd been attacked?

He stroked my hair and I surrendered into the calming rhythm of his hand. I didn't know how to make sense out of anything that had happened. I prided myself on my logi­cal mind, and none of the puzzle pieces fit. My body was in shock, and the wound on my neck throbbed. I couldn't really have seen someone disappear before my eyes. That was im­possible. It was probably a delusion triggered by the attack. But it had seemed so real.

I was grateful to find that all my clothes were still but­toned, snapped, and zipped. Thankfully, Bryce hadn't been able to follow through on his intention to penetrate more than my neck.

I'd listened to many rape and assault victims talk about their horrible experiences, but I'd never truly understood how it felt to be at the mercy of someone who meant you harm. I sat there drowning in an unfamiliar mish-mash of feelings, second-guessing myself about what I could have done to talk him out of hurting me. Or, at the very least, what I could have done to shake myself loose from the effects of whatever drug he must have slipped me.

Maybe it was some new version of the date-rape drug that could be passed along by body fluids. That would ex­plain why he focused on my mouth so much. He wanted to make sure I got the whole dose. Yeah, that must have been it. Right. Even I didn't believe that.

I knew better than to blame myself for any part of what had happened. I was well aware how damaging it was to blame the victim for her own victimization. But I couldn't sort out the avalanche of emotions.

I should have been able to do something. What was all my training for if I couldn't handle one maniac?

But, damn it to hell. I couldn't move my arms and legs! What the hell kind of weirdness was that? Are all vampire wannabes closet hypnotists?

How dare those a**holes waltz in here and make me feel unsafe in my own office? Unsafe in my own life?

I'd never thought of myself as someone who'd ever need to be rescued. I didn't like the feeling.

Devereux gently turned my head and inspected the bite on my neck.

Something about what he found made him frown. "You have lost some blood. You will probably feel dizzy for a while. May I?"

He moved in closer for what I thought was a better view, and I felt his tongue brushing against the bleeding holes in my neck. Outraged, I pulled away and yelled, "What the hell are you doing?" I immediately felt woozy from the sudden movement. But I'd be damned if anybody else was going to snack on me tonight.

"I am stopping the bleeding. One thing about the vam­pire legends that is true is that we have a coagulant in our saliva which helps wounds heal faster. And, of course, blood is a wonderful delicacy and I would never pass up the oppor­tunity to partake. It is my nature."

Something about the words, "It is my nature," roused me from my stupor. Suddenly, it all came back to me. I was in my office and Devereux was one of the lost souls pretending to be vampires. And I'd been attacked by a lunatic.

"I am not pretending to be anything. I apologize for in­vading your mind, but I do not think we have the luxury of continuing this interesting dance we have been doing. Bryce is indeed a lunatic, and you need to fortify yourself with facts. I do believe that facts are important to you, are they not?"

I struggled up from the couch, my face hot with anger, and I was just about to vent some of it on Devereux when he stood and picked me up in his arms, all in one invisible movement.

Now, I'm not a small person. In my 2-inch heels I eas­ily reach 5'10", and no one has ever complained about how I filled out my swimsuit. But for the second time in one night, I'd been scooped up like a sack of potatoes and made to feel like a helpless infant. I can't even remember the last time any­one had the nerve to touch me without my permission and it seemed it was the name of the game with these people.