Be Mine Tonight (17 page)

He finally turned to fully face her. His handsome face was a study of fatigue and resignation. She would not pity him. She would not. “What would you have me call it?”

“How about living?” She couldn’t keep the disbelief from her voice. “Or a gift. Had I an eternity
spread before me, I would be sure to make the most of it.”

His lips twisted. “As you have with the time you’ve already had? It’s not the time that matters, Pru. It is what we do with it.”

His words stung, but she ignored the implied rebuke. “What have you done with your time? Spent it mooning over a woman who didn’t want you and hiding behind a church that despises you?”

For a second—a mere blink—there flashed, in the golden depths of his eyes, a glimmer of something untamed that made her remember this was not an ordinary man before her.

“I have been chasing my salvation,
my
grail, if you will. I have been busy trying not to make attachments, as everyone I come to appreciate dies. Or will die. Eternity can all too easily be a curse.”

She hadn’t thought of that. It must be horrible to be so alone. But wasn’t that part of life? No one knew how long they had on this earth. If anyone knew that for certain, it was her.

He regarded her with such naked pain and vulnerability that it hurt to look upon him. “Resent my immortality if you want, but I would trade places with you in an instant so I wouldn’t have to know the darkness of a world without you in it.”

“You—” Her voice faltered. Her stomach fluttered inside. Even her lungs seemed to react to his words by refusing to work. “Liar.”

Arms loose and at his sides, he moved lazily
toward her, his gaze never leaving hers. “Are my words that difficult for you to believe?”

She swallowed. She wanted to step back but couldn’t. Why wouldn’t her legs move? “Yes. You would say anything to get what you want.”

“If you think so lowly of me, answer this: why would I bother with words when I could take almost anything I might want?”

Another gulp. “Perhaps you want something you cannot just take.”

“Such as your heart, perhaps?” He was so very close. “Your very soul?”

She nodded.

He smiled—sadly. “But then you would have to believe that you mean something to me, that I have genuine affection for you, and you don’t want to believe that, do you?”

Damn him.

He was close enough to touch her now, and he did, cupping her cheek in his warm, rough palm as that beautiful gaze searched her face. “Either way you have to realize that I do care about you, Pru, regardless of what you think of me.”

“You haven’t known me long enough to care about me.” Her voice was hoarse, her throat tight. What in God’s name was he looking for?

“I cared about you the first moment I saw you, trying to be so bold in that red gown when inside you were a cage of butterflies.”

His keen insight would not break her resolve or her heart. “You must have thought you’d been handed a full-course meal with the lot of us.”

He tilted his head, regarding her with a mix
ture of remorse and amusement. “The only one I thought about nibbling on was you.” The fingers slid around to the back of her neck, pulling her closer, but not forcing. She could pull away if she wanted.

She didn’t.

“I bit you that night, remember?”

Her eyes widened. She hadn’t imagined it! “My hand.”

He nodded. “I hadn’t meant for it to happen, but you were…overwhelming.”

Pru flushed. She wanted to be angry with him, but it was so difficult. She expected lies, beseechment, even intimidation, but she hadn’t expected him to play to her emotions. It could be an act, but he seemed so true. There was one way to find out if what he said about his…
condition
was true.

“Could you make me the same as you?”

He stiffened. “What do you mean?”

“If the loneliness of immortality is so awful, if I mean so much to you, couldn’t you take my blood like in
Dracula
? Could I become a vampire, could you change me?”

He looked stricken, as though she had wounded him somehow. “You could. I could, but I won’t.” His hand fell away from her neck.

Good Lord, he looked as though she had asked him to kill her. He meant it. Every word.

“Chapel…” She should apologize, but had no idea what to say.

“It’s because I care about you that I won’t change you, Pru.” Abruptly he left her, making for the
door so fast she knew it wasn’t humanly possible. “I would never forgive myself for making you the same as me. I don’t want you to become a monster, or worse.”

He was so wounded she could feel it. “Is that what happened to Marie?”

He nodded, remorse tightening his handsome features. Jealousy poked Pru between the ribs, sharp and unwelcome. Marie had been dead for centuries. She was no threat. But there would be other women. Long after she herself turned to dust, Chapel would still be roaming the earth and he would meet someone. Someone who would live long enough to mean more to him than she did.

“Marie was very devout in her worship of God.” His fingers caressed the spine of a book that he obviously had no interest in. His eyes had the vaguely glazed look of a man lost in memory. “I thought she might be more devout in her passion for me, but I was wrong.”

“I don’t understand why she felt she had to make a choice.”

His head jerked up as though he had forgotten she was there. Jealousy stung once more. “She thought me an abomination. I was the antithesis of everything she believed.”

Yes, the woman was such a twit. “Why? Had you renounced God? Were you suddenly a disciple of Satan?”

He looked offended. “No, but my behavior was hardly that of a devout Catholic.”

“You were a mercenary. I don’t suppose sin was anything new to you.”

He laughed at that and Pru allowed herself a small smile of satisfaction. “No, it wasn’t. But as a mercenary I never preyed upon humans for sustenance.”

“Mr. Darwin might argue that you have simply evolved. One more step up the food chain, so to speak.”

“The church doesn’t recognize Mr. Darwin’s theories.”

“The church might not recognize itself if it took a good look at some of the atrocities it has committed in the name of God.”

He seemed to look at her in a whole new light—one that felt very flattering. “Are you a heretic now, Pru, or a philosopher?”

Was he making sport of her? “Just because you have lived longer than me doesn’t mean you can patronize me, Chapel. It is almost the twentieth century, you know. You might want to join the rest of us living in it.”

He stared at her, a smile curving his lips. “You’re not the least bit afraid of me, are you?”

She shrugged. No, she wasn’t. She probably should be, but she felt more herself with him than she did with her family. “The worst you could do is kill me.”

His smile faded, replaced by a look of such horror Pru instantly regretted her words. “I would not.”

“It wouldn’t matter.” She tried to give him a
smile, but failed. “My body is already seeing to that itself. So, no. I’m not afraid of you.”

“Death is not the worst thing man is capable of, Pru.”

There he went again, talking to her as though she were a child or an idiot. “You mean rape? You hardly strike me as the sort who would behave so badly.”

“I raped Marie—in a way.”

The way he said it—she knew then that he felt more guilt for that than anything else. He had betrayed someone he cared about, the worst sin, in his mind.

“You acted out of desperation and if Marie hadn’t been such a twit you wouldn’t have done what you did. Do you want to rape me, Chapel? Is that what you are insinuating?”

He looked pained. “God, no.”

“Then why are we discussing it?” It happened six centuries ago. “I think we both know I’d give in easily enough if you applied yourself.” Oh, sweet Lord, what had she just said?

Chapel was even more shocked than she was. “You don’t mean that.”

“Obviously reading minds is not one of your vampiric abilities.” What was it about him that made her feel so bold?

His jaw dropped. He looked as flustered as a schoolboy. She had nothing to lose but her pride by being so open with him, and the knowledge fueled her courage.

She inched closer to him, so that she could feel the heat from his body. Mr. Stoker had been wrong
about vampires being cold. If Chapel was any indication, they were very warm indeed. “If you came to me as you had Marie, I wouldn’t turn you away.”

Chapel’s face lost all color. “Don’t say that.”

She opened her mouth, but he cut her off. “Earlier, you asked me what my weaknesses were.”

“Poison and sunlight.” Her lower lip trembled a little. She’d been such a
cow
to him them. “Yet you risked them both to save me.” Lord, what could that poison have done to him? What did the sun do to him? All she saw was a bit of a sunburn on his nose and cheeks. Had it burned him badly? He’d said the sight of him would have given her nightmares.

“I would do anything to protect you, and that includes from myself, because
you
are my weakness, Pru. I will no doubt live to regret admitting that to you, but I cannot seem to help it.”

Her throat tightened. “It’s ironic, don’t you think? You have all the time in the world and mine is running out. It appears that God has a rather twisted sense of humor.”

His smile was sad. “I’m not sure He has anything to do with it.”

They stared at each other for some time. What passed between them, Pru couldn’t define. But it was something that calmed her, made her suddenly very glad for Chapel’s appearance in her life. It was something that made her want to take advantage of what time they had left.

“There are things left I want to do. Will you help me?”

“Of course.”

“You said you’d teach me to drive.”

He smiled. “So I did. Are you ready to learn?”

Feeling lighter than she had in months, Pru returned the grin. “The question is, are you ready to teach me?”

“S
o, what can you do?”

Certain that her question was just a ruse to make him take his attention off her incredibly fast driving, Chapel didn’t look at her when he responded, but kept his eye on the dimly illuminated road ahead.

“What do you mean?” Was she intentionally driving this fast, or did she not know any better?

Pru glanced at him, not the least bit reluctant to take her attention off of the road. “I mean, what kind of abilities do you have as a vampire?”

“Eyes on the road, please.” He might be nearly invincible, but she wasn’t, and neither was any other living creature in the vicinity. “You might want to slow down, there’s a rabbit up ahead.”

“I don’t see one.” She slowed down anyway,
which answered his earlier question. She definitely had been driving fast on purpose.

“I suppose that’s one of my abilities, then.” He allowed himself a smile. How exotic. “The ability to see a bunny on the road in the dark.”

She laughed at that. Then they drove past the rabbit and he heard her gasp. Had she not believed him?

Suddenly she was very interested. “What else?”

He told her about his sense of smell, his intuition, his hearing, his speed. In all his centuries he had never revealed to anyone the full exent of what he was capable of, but he did to Pru. He wanted to share everything with her, but they hadn’t time for six hundred years of experience. Of course, being able to snap a man’s neck like a twig was explained as “unnatural” strength.

“And I can fly.”

The car lurched, sending his stomach flip-flopping. “What? Really?”

Why that should be so wonderful after everything else he’d told her, he didn’t know. Perhaps it was the one thing she couldn’t imagine.

“Yes. And please don’t do that again.”

She was more cautious and attentive now, her attention fixed on the road rather than on him. “Driving must seem terribly dull to you, then.”

“I usually like to drive.”

She laughed and risked a glance. “Usually?”

“Let’s just say that it’s a good thing I don’t worry about dying.” Damn. That was a heartless thing to say to a woman who didn’t have long to live.

But Pru didn’t take offense—not that he could
see, at least. She did pull the Daimler over onto the side of the road, however. He knew he was in trouble when the motor rolled to a stop. It was quiet out here. So very quiet and dark and isolated.

She turned on the seat to face him, and even though his eyesight was much keener than hers in the dark, the directness of her gaze unnerved him.

“What
do
you worry about?”

Did biting her count? Would she laugh if she knew just how nervous he was with her? “I worry about this curse I’m under spreading. I worry that my soul may never be permitted entrance to heaven.”

“You cannot protect everyone from this”—she waved her hand—“curse, as you call it.”

I can protect you.
Wisely he didn’t say it outloud. “I can protect whom I can.”

She pondered that for a moment, her unflinching hazel gaze studying him. Not since he was a lad had he wanted to squirm under such scrutiny, but he wanted to now.

“Has it ever occurred to you that you were given a gift?”

He snorted. “You sound like Molyneux.”

That was supposed to be a slight, no doubt, but she couldn’t bring herself to take offense. “Father Molyneux is a smart man.”

He smiled a bit at her brevity. “He is an eternal optimist.”

“While you are a pessimist.”

“Yes.”

She gestured wide with her arms, as if trying to emcompass the world. “All this life you’ve been given, and you consider it a curse.”

What was it about humans that made them long to cheat death? “What else is it?”

“Christ was granted immortality.”

His jaw dropped at the blasphemous comparison. “Christ never drank anyone’s blood.”

“No, but he offered his own to his disciples.”

“Figuratively. It is hardly the same thing.”

“Why, because you say so?”

She simply refused to see reason. “No, because giving my blood will make other people into vampires.”

“And that is horrible because…?”

She still wasn’t convinced? “Because we feed off humans.”

“So you are all bloodsucking fiends? Heartless killers?”

Why was she twisting his words? “Of course not.”

“Hmm.”

Six hundred years and he still didn’t know how a woman could say so much with that little sound. “Obviously, Pru, you have another theory.”

“Maybe,” she told him with a smug expression, “you were granted immortality to help people.”

Good Lord, she was determined. Was this annoyance pumping through his veins or anticipation? “
Maybe
I was cursed as punishment for the life I led.”

Her arms flew out as she exhaled a gusty sigh.
“Fine, you’re cursed. God forbid I intrude on your self-pity. Spend the next six hundred years wallowing in it, then.”

The temptation to laugh was great, but he didn’t want to rile her up any more than she already was. “You are one impertinent woman.”

“And you are one pigheaded man.” So much for not riling her. If he wasn’t mistaken, her jaw was clenched.

“I’m not stubborn.” He should have kept quiet, but something drove him on. “I simply know more about this than you do.”

“Oh, so you know that you won’t be allowed into heaven?”

“Why do you suppose I will?”

“You’re not an evil person.”

Her conviction sent a pang through his chest. “You don’t know what I am.”

The delicate point of her chin came up defiantly. “I know God would let you into His kingdom.”

“Not yet. I haven’t repented enough.”

“Oh, my dear Lord, deliver me!” She flounced back against the leather seat with enough force to rock the car. Who would have thought her delicate frame possessed such power? “You haven’t repented enough? Most of us only get a normal measure of life to do that. You’ve had at least seven.”

Oh, she was impertinent! The urge to laugh was stifled only by his desire to continue their debate. “Perhaps my soul is just that corrupted.”

“Perhaps you are an idiot.” She fixed him with a gaze that could have melted an iceberg. “Who told you that you need to repent? The church?”

She made it sound so silly. “Yes, but I know it’s true.”

“How?”

“The archbishop told me, centuries ago.” He remembered it as though it were yesterday. The cross branded on his shoulder itched with the memory. “Once I have paid for my sins, my soul will be released.”

“The archibishop told you. How did he know?”

“He was the archbishop.”

“Ah, so it must be true.”

He didn’t care much for her sarcasm. “Look, Pru, I know you find this all hard to believe—”

“No.” She cut him off with a slice of her hand and a tight expression that silenced him. “What I find hard to believe is that you believe it. I don’t believe any of it, any more than I believe woman is to blame for all of man’s sins.”

He blinked, suddenly feeling stupid. “You have some very modern ideas.”

“And you have some very archaic ones.”

She was angry, very much so. “It wasn’t an insult, Pru. Merely an observation.” Indeed. She almost had him believing that she could accept him—not as a monster, but as a man.

No one else would be able to see the flush that darkened her cheeks, but Chapel could. “Forgive me. In my experience most men are very quick to disregard the opinions of a woman merely be
cause of her sex, and some foolish notion that we are somehow lesser beings than men.”

“I don’t think I have to remind you that I am not like most men. Neither, would it appear, are your father or Marcus.” Although they were nothing like him either.

“No. But neither Marcus nor Papa have squandered their lives.”

“Pardon?” He couldn’t have heard her correctly.

She didn’t hesitate. “I still cannot believe that you have lived all these centuries and have so little to show for it.”

“Little?” How had she reached that conclusion? He had much to show for his life. On the other hand, the things he had seen and experienced…well, any well-traveled mortal might give him significant competition.

“Molyneux told me you live in a church basement.”

“It is safe for me and I can protect the church.” God, it sounded lame even to his own ears.

“It’s the rock you hide under so you do not have to face the world.”

His own temper sparked. He did not need some cloistered little girl telling him that he hid from the world. “I don’t know where you’ve gotten this idea that I have wasted my immortality—”

“Marcus told me about your history. If you haven’t spent hundreds of years hiding, you tell me what you have been doing. What wondrous things have you experienced?”

He thought about it. He had traveled most of Europe, but that seemed trivial now when he could have seen much more of the world. Most of what he knew came from books and research, not from firsthand knowledge.

“Being with you has been wondrous.”

She actually rolled her eyes! “You’re just saying that because you want to shut me up.”

“That’s not true.”

She pinned him with an unflinching gaze.

“It’s not true,” he insisted. “Maybe I have wasted my life according to your standards, but meeting you has been a significant experience.”

She opened her mouth to argue and that’s when he struck. He was so very aware of her by now that he couldn’t help it. He had to taste her—one way or another.

Pru gasped against his lips as he slid his tongue inside her mouth. He pinned her body against the Daimler’s bench with his own, sighing as her softness enveloped him.

He kissed her, savored her, until the tension eased from her body and she yielded against him, her arms twining around his neck. Chapel groaned. If he didn’t stop soon, there would be nothing to stop him from trying to take this encounter to the next level. Pru might want him as badly as he wanted her—and he knew that she did—but he wasn’t going to make love to her in her father’s car.

Pulling back, he smiled at her in the indigo light. She was breathless, her eyelids as heavy as her gaze was soft.

“That,”
he informed her lightly, “was to shut you up.”

Her laughter rang through the night before she pulled him to her once more.

The sun was well into its descent when Chapel woke. The days were shortening now and soon the seasons would turn to his favor with long nights.

Not that he needed more time to “squander,” as Pru put it.

The thought of her brought a smile to his lips. They certainly hadn’t squandered the remainder of their time together the night before. They’d spent an hour simply kissing and talking before the dawn threatened.

There was a lightness in his chest that hadn’t been there before. A lightness for which the blame rested entirely on Pru. There was hope in his heart. He thought he had lost all ability to feel such lightness.

No, he hadn’t lost his hope. His faith, perhaps, but not his hope. He had let the church poke and prod him, study and demean him. He even let them burn their brand into his flesh—a cross on his right shoulder. The hot silver had seared him like nothing before, and the holy symbol still burned and itched, the scar tissue pink and bright. It was the only mark he had kept since becoming a vampire. Had it done anything to save his soul? Doubtful.

Being with Pru had done more for his sense of salvation than any of the trials the church had put
him through. With her he was totally open. He felt he could share anything. He’d never felt that way before, not that he could remember.

Footsteps outside in the corridor alerted him to the approach of a guest. Molyneux, if he wasn’t mistaken. He crossed the carpet and opened the door to greet his friend.

The aging priest favored him with a dry smile. “You never tire of that, do you,
mon ami
?”

He didn’t, no. “You are wearing your determined face. What is it?”

“The time to leave has arrived.”

Chapel nodded, even as his heart froze. He knew the priest’s words to be true, but the thought of leaving Pru…it hurt.

“When?” his voice was hoarse and unfamiliar to his own ears.

“Tomorrow.”

So soon? Hardly enough time to say good-bye to Pru, but perhaps that was for the best. The sooner he left, the easier it would be for both of them. He was already much more attached to her than he had any business being. And she was attached to him as well.

“Marcus will be accompanying me to France.”

Chapel shook his head. “Pardon?”

A kind smile curved his friend’s lips. “I believe you should stay here.”

“Why?” As welcome as this news was, he couldn’t help but be offended to be so readily dismissed. And he was angry at himself for wanting to be dismissed.
He
should be the one out combing the continent for Temple. It was his duty, not Marcus’s.

“Marcus is interested in helping remedy this situation. He will come with me to France and together we will use the church’s connections to find Bishop. Perhaps he has crossed paths with the order before.”

“If he hasn’t,” Chapel replied absently, “Saint has.” Bishop was a hunter, seeking out demons and evildoers and dispensing his own brand of judgment. Saint, on the other hand, did everything possible to make a mockery of his name. He reveled in what he was, and woe to anyone who got in his way.

Obviously his disbelief at the situation was not concealed from the other man. “I know this must be a bit of a shock, but I think this is the best course of action.”

“How? What protection will Grey be against the order, or Saint, for that matter?”

Was that pity in the old man’s eyes? “He will be fine. We have nothing to fear from Saint, not that I plan to get close enough to test that theory. You would serve us much better if you remained behind.”

“You said yourself the order is no doubt long gone from these parts.” And Chapel hadn’t forgotten that his friend hadn’t given him an explanation as to why he was asking him to stay.

Molyneux’s expression was somewhat sad—and sage. “Are you certain enough that you would leave Miss Ryland and her family here unguarded?”