Drawn to the Vampire (Blood and Absinthe, Book 4) (17 page)

Luke felt a little sick when he saw the look in Kit’s eyes.

“Call me Kit,” she said shyly. She glanced down at her right hand, the one Luke had bruised. “You healed it, my lady,” she said, flexing her fingers.

Hecate smiled almost tenderly.

“A minor service. Don’t mention it. I’m sorry the king and queen couldn’t be here to welcome you. Although, frankly, it’s probably just as well…considering some of your actions the last time you were here, Luke…”

Trying to shake off the foreboding that gripped him, Luke fumbled in his pocket with unaccustomed clumsiness.

“I came here in part to rectify those actions, my lady. At the behest of Miss Bantry, I’ve come to return the Gem of Fanor to the queen. And we hoped that the queen might be willing to entertain a request of Miss Bantry’s.”

Luke spoke quickly, almost abruptly, and he felt rather than saw Kit frowning at him, wondering what was wrong.

 “Very generous of you, Luke. Of course you are capable of great generosity. Don’t you find that to be so, Kit?”

 “Yes, he—I mean—it’s very generous of him to help me—”

Hecate brushed that aside. “I’m talking about as a lover, my dear. Don’t you find him to be a generous partner in that arena?”

Luke felt a coldness settle in the pit of his stomach.
So this is it,
he thought.
This is the weapon she’s going to use.

And even with the intimation, he had no idea how to fight her.

“I wouldn’t know,” Kit said stiffly, glancing at Luke. “I take it that you…that you and he…”

“Have been lovers?” Hecate glanced from one to the other, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Yes, I have known that pleasure.” The smile grew wider as she focused her gaze on Luke, but her words were aimed at Kit.

“And ye gods, what a pleasure it was. Let me tell you, Kit, just as woman to woman: you’ve never experienced an orgasm until you’ve had a vampire driving into you while he pulls your blood from your veins.”

She let the cloak fall from her shoulders, and Kit gasped.

She was naked. And covering her pale skin was a network of paler scar tissue—the marks of a vampire, ravenous, insatiable, a slave to sexual desire and blood lust. The marks of his fangs stood out like brands on her soft flesh: her neck, her breasts, her thighs.

Luke forced himself to look at Kit, knowing what he would see in her eyes. The revulsion, the horror, even though he’d never lied to her about who he was, not really, not…

And then he knew why he had been afraid from the moment he saw Hecate. Why he had no defense against the weapon she was using.

Her weapon was simply the truth, the truth of who and what he was. The evidence was on her body and in her words, describing a night of brutal passion between two immortals, as far removed from Kit’s innocence and sweetness and humanity as it was possible to be.

He took a step backwards, away from Kit, as if to begin the process of separation. What had he been thinking? She didn’t belong with him. And no matter what lies he tried to tell himself, he knew the truth now…now when the hopelessness of it stared him in the face.

She didn’t belong with him, but he belonged to her, now and forever. She would go back to Boston after this was all over, and get a job working with computers, and marry some fool, and have children, and if he had a spark of decency or courage in him he would stay away from her and never, never let her see him in the shadows, looking after her however he could, protecting her in any way she might need.

And even though her Fae blood would give her long life, eventually she would grow old and die. When that happened, Luke would lay himself down on her grave until the sun came to destroy him. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, was as close as he would ever get to Kit Bantry.

Hecate was going on, as he’d known she would.

“I would have asked Persephone to
give
him the Gem of Fanor, in exchange for the ecstasy he gave
me
, but I suppose the silly darling can’t help but steal things. Part of his nature, you know. He chained me to my bed—I sleep in the room adjacent to the queen’s chamber, to guard her when she’s there and her treasures when she’s not—and then he drained my blood until I passed out. The queen was away, and it must have been easy enough to slip in there and take the Gem. He’s a sly one, our Luke, no question about that. Oh, he’ll lie and cheat and steal to get what he wants, but I’ll wager you that every woman he’s ever been with, mortal or immortal, would agree it was worth it.”

She smiled again, first at Luke and then at Kit, as if they were having a pleasant conversation over tea.

“He…chained you to the bed?”

Kit’s voice was quiet, and Luke knew she was remembering how he’d handcuffed her to the bedpost in Paris.
Only to protect you
, he wanted to shout at her, but what was the use? Whatever she thought of him now was no more than the truth. What good would it do to tell her he’d let the skin be flayed from his bones before he would hurt her?

“Oh, yes. But of course that was at my request. If you’re lucky enough to have a vampire in your bed, you’d be a fool to pass up the chance for a little bondage fun. They’re so very, very good at being dominant and it’s so very, very fun to be submissive…to a vampire, anyway. But of course you know all this, don’t you, my dear? The next time I manifest in your space/time we should get together over espresso to have a real heart to heart. Compare notes, you know. I must admit I’m very curious to know how he is with a human woman…how he holds himself back. Because of course if he let himself go completely he’d probably kill you. Are you ever anxious about that?”

She paused expectantly, actually waiting for an answer, and as Luke watched Kit struggle to cope with the situation, he knew that the most precious thing that had come to him in his four hundred years of existence was destroyed forever.

Chapter Ten

When Kit was a freshman in college, her roommate had come in late one night after she and her boyfriend had had sex for the first time.

“What was it like?” Kit had asked, burning with curiosity.

“You wouldn’t understand,” the other girl had said, worldly after her one sexual experience. “You’re still a virgin.”

Kit felt like that college freshman again.

Like a child in the world of grownups: ignorant, naïve, foolish.

And lonely.

Before now, though, she’d had her own world to retreat to: the place where
she
belonged. Her own circle of friends. The world of computers.

This time there was no retreat, no avenue of escape. The usual cure for loneliness is a place you belong, and people you belong to.

This time there could be no cure, because the only person she wanted was Luke. The only place she wanted to be was by his side.

And it could never be. The distance between them was too vast. Four hundred years and a thousand experiences she could never share or understand—and never want to.

Now, when it was too late, she understood what had happened to her. She wasn’t just attracted to Luke; she was falling in love with him. She was falling in love with a vampire, a creature with desires she couldn’t comprehend and could never hope to satisfy. The distance between them could not be crossed. She might as well be in love with someone who didn’t exist—a character in a book, or someone long dead.

Another memory flashed into her mind: the Welsh shepherd girl, and the aching loneliness that had been in her eyes.

Finally she understood…now that it was too late.

Too late, too late. Too late to go back to a normal life ever again, even if she got Peter out of here somehow. For the first time in her twenty-one years Kit felt sick of herself and sick of her life.

But even if life held nothing for her anymore, she could still help her brother.

“Not that I haven’t been enjoying our conversation, but I did enter the underworld with a purpose. If you speak for Hades and Persephone, will you hear my request?”

The dark lady—God, how beautiful she was—pulled her cloak around herself again, hiding the savage landscape of scars. Then she stepped back onto the dais and sank gracefully onto the throne.

“Speak, my dear.” The goddess seemed relaxed, amused, tracing something on her neck with a lazy forefinger.

One of Luke’s scars. It was blinding white against her pale throat; a brand of passion, possession, brutality and lust. And as Kit tried not to look at it, the worst realization of all came washing over her.

Even that,
she thought. That mark of animal hunger, of everything she’d rejected since childhood. If it came from Luke, she wanted it.

When Kit spoke her voice was dull and heavy.

“My brother Peter was cast here by a demon. I’ve come to beg you to return him to me—to the human world. My lady, this is not Peter’s place. He doesn’t belong here.”

Not like me,
Kit thought grimly. She didn’t belong in the world above anymore, but Peter did. He was still whole.

Hecate was looking at her thoughtfully, her black eyes glittering like jewels. Kit took a step towards her and sank down on her knees.

“I beg you, my lady. We brought the Gem of Fanor to be restored to your queen, but if it’s not enough, tell me your price.”

Hecate rose again from her throne, coming down to Kit’s level and laying a hand on the top of her head.

“Such a pretty child,” she murmured.

“Get your hands off her,” Luke growled, and Kit forced herself to look at him again.

“Leave me alone, Luke,” she said coldly. “This isn’t your business.”

“You can order him to be quiet,” Hecate said quickly, crouching down so she could speak in Kit’s ear. “He’s your guide here, he has no status of his own on your mission. And he made himself your avowed protector, didn’t he? That gives you power over him. I’ll wager he never told you that. By the rules of the underworld, if you order him to be silent, he must obey the order.”

“Whatever she’s saying, don’t listen to her!” Luke said sharply. “She’s treacherous. She’ll betray you into—”

“Well?” Hecate whispered.

Kit didn’t hesitate.

“Be quiet, Luke. I order you to be quiet.”

She turned quickly from the pain that flashed into his eyes.

Hecate was kneeling beside her now, her face only inches away, her black eyes intent as they bored into hers. Kit found it difficult to think clearly, but she forced herself to speak.

“Will you—will you give me back my brother?”

“Would you like to see him?” the goddess asked softly.

Kit’s heart leapt in her chest, and all she could do was nod.

“Very well.” Hecate sat back on her heels and there in the air between them, as clear as a hologram, was the image of her brother.

He was sleeping on a pallet of straw. He looked just like he had the last time she saw him, except that his hair was shaggy and he hadn’t shaved in a while. No razors in the underworld, she supposed. His beard was golden like his hair.

“Peter,” Kit whispered, even though she knew he couldn’t hear her.

“He’s dear to you, isn’t he?” Hecate murmured. “And of use in the world?”

Kit couldn’t stop staring at the sleeping form of her brother, his brow furrowed as he dreamed. The look of concern on his face represented to her, in that moment, all the caring and selflessness that was a warrior’s trade.

“He is of use in the world,” Kit said with a catch in her voice. “Please, my lady—please give him back to us.”

“You understand a price must be paid. The Gem is not enough.”

Kit tore her eyes from the image of her brother to meet Hecate’s gaze. “Tell me the price.”

She would only think of Peter. She wouldn’t think about herself—or Luke. None of that mattered. That was just her own private hell.

“A life for a life,” Hecate said. “If you will consent to stay here, to give up your life to the underworld, then Peter can go free.”

Free,
Kit thought wildly, her heart racing.

Peter wouldn’t be the only one who was free. She’d be free, too. Free from the unbearable pain of love. Free from the knowledge of her weaknesses, her secret longings. She could wash it all clean with one act. Everyone had to die sometime, right? And if that were true, what could be better than dying to save someone else?

Death,
she thought.

Death…

For the first time, the word held a kind of glamour.

She rose to her feet, and Hecate rose with her. There was a look of triumph on the goddess’ face, but Kit didn’t notice it. She opened her mouth to speak, to die, to give her life for her brother. All that was needed was one word, the word of consent.

* * *

The order Kit had given Luke carried the force of a magic spell. For several minutes he struggled against it, fighting to speak.

It was no good. To have even a hope of succeeding he would have to bring all his powers of concentration to bear, and that was impossible when all he could think about was the fact that he’d lost Kit’s trust, and with it the ability to protect her.

All he could do was watch.

The two women spoke softly, almost in whispers, but he heard enough to know that Hecate was manipulating Kit—to what end he didn’t know.

When he finally understood the danger, it was almost too late for him to save her.

Kit was going to agree. She was going to give up her life. It was her own choice, Luke knew that—the rules of the underworld were strict when it came to the free choice of its victims. The soul could only be theirs if it was freely given.

But because he couldn’t speak, he couldn’t tell her what Hecate was conveniently leaving out: that self-destruction was not the only answer. There was always another way, another price the rulers of the dead were obliged to accept.

He had to stop Kit from throwing her life away.

He covered the distance between them in three swift strides, and with Kit’s profile to him he backhanded her across the temple, catching her as she crumpled to the ground.

He laid her down gently and then rose to face Hecate. His hatred of the woman before him burned through his veins, but if he raised a hand against her she’d annihilate him before the blow fell.