Seducing the Vampire (25 page)

“Vampire hunters? The Order of the Stake?”

“Hunters of all sorts, possibly the Order of the Stake, though I had thought they only pursued vampires. We had noticed them, my men and I, in the city earlier that evening. I knew they had been stalking us, but had not
thought they had followed us out of the city. I saw they held a woman and knew it was Emeline.”

Rhys bowed his head, catching it in his palm. Viviane hugged him, holding him closely. He felt her heart pound against his chest, her pulse thud against his neck.

“I saw Constantine step back, lifting his arms as if in retreat. And the hunters took off with Emeline. I knew he had no investment in keeping her alive, yet I could not believe he would just let them take her.

“Enraged, I shifted. I took the heads off the two vampires and leaped to pin my brother on the ground. I howled and raised my paw to slash at him, but stopped before doing so. He was my brother. Even goaded by my vampire mind, my werewolf would not harm him. Isn't that incredible?”

“Not for you, Rhys. You are kind before cruel.”

“Not if I do not know you.” She slipped her fingers along his hairline, dashing back the strands from his face. “I raced into the forest and found the hunters over Emeline's body. One had drawn out the silver blade from her heart. I took off his head in one swipe. The other hunter I let run a ways before taking him apart with talons. I slaughtered them.

“By the time I returned to Emeline she was dead. Constantine was nowhere to be seen. I should have followed him to Paris and killed him.”

“No,” Viviane cooed. “You would not have.”

“He didn't kill her,” Rhys murmured, “but he didn't stop it from happening. And so I cannot kill him, but if ever the chance to stop his death were presented me, I would not stop it. And do you know…” He grimaced, fighting tears. “I had no idea she was pregnant, but it was apparent when looking over her body.”

“I am so sorry.”

“When I saw the talon on your vanity… Constantine must have returned to her body while I pursued the hunters and claimed the talon. What kind of monster is he?”

“Not a man who will ever find peace, surely.”

Rhys didn't say more; he did not need to.

“You did not continue with the tribe following that?”

“No. I became a recluse for years, then decided Emeline would have wanted me to live, and so I kept to the country and the packs that accepted me. It is also when Orlando came to me. He gave me hope. I wanted to forget the pain from my past and move forward. As now. You are my future, yes?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Then I'm going to secure the bravo we discussed a few days ago.”

Loose hair tumbled down her back as she sat. “He won't come inside, will he?”

“No, I'll have him posted outside. But, Viviane, one day. Twenty-four short hours. You can catch up on reading sonnets.”

“I hold a sonnet in my heart for you.”

She turned into his arms and laid her head upon his shoulder. Rhys traced her mouth and slid his fingers down her neck. “When I return let's leave the city.”

“Yes.”

“So simple as that?”

“Of course! During your absence I'll spend the day packing Henri's estate.”

“How many trunks will I need to provide?”

“Two. Or perhaps, three. I'll send them on to Venice. It is a magical city.”

“To magic,” he said. But she'd already filled him with more magic than he thought possible.

I
T WAS NIGHTFALL BEFORE
they dragged their sex-wearied bodies from the bed and Viviane tugged a chemise over her shoulders. Rhys dressed in breeches and his leather greatcoat and gathered his tricorn.

She trailed him about the house, her fingers laced within his, as he checked the doors and windows.

He repeated what he'd explained more than once already. “Be sure to have the bravo escort you when you go to Henri's to pack, Viviane.”

“I will be quite well, lover.”

He stopped at the front door, and drew Viviane's lithe body against his. The chemise was so thin her nipples darkened the fabric. He pressed a palm over one to enjoy the hard play of it against his flesh.

“I know you are capable, and not like the weak mortal women. But you understand my concerns?”

“I do, and I don't know what to say to keep you from worry.”

“Nothing will calm my worry until I return to hold you in my arms again. I love you, Viviane.”

She kissed him, a sweet, blissful lingering of their mouths that filled him with regret.

“I am yours,” she said into his mouth. And turned her head to nestle against his neck.

 

T
O THINK, HE HAD GOTTEN RID
of half his kin for her, Constantine fumed. Prove your alliance to me, she had
said. And so he had. Only to have her slap him across the jaw with a humiliating repudiation. “A half-breed.”

He wanted to shout, to yell, to tear things apart and beat upon them until they were bloody. Instead he would exact perfect revenge against the two of them.

Lord de Salignac prowled the brothel's close confines. He visited when all options to finding a stray blood source were unavailable. Incense and sex salted the air. Fabric smooth and silken brushed his hands and legs. Tonight he did not want a street beggar or a foul-smelling orphan who lurked beneath the bridges strapping the Seine. He needed a very specific beauty.

The madam Celeste Demorreau, a young thing who had inherited the position from her mother, hooked her arm along his, and walked him about the receiving room where dozens of potentials lounged and preened at one another. Some kissed lazily in hopes of attracting his eye with the subversive display.

Looking over the top of his round, violet-lensed spectacles, Constantine scanned the room. He favored an encounter with the twosome embracing at the wall.

“My lord?” the madam prompted.

Constantine focused. “She must have dark hair,” he said in a low voice that kept their conversation private from the women. “Slender, and…an ample bosom.”

“There is a new girl. She's rather shy, but I think she will fit your requirements. This way.”

Leading him through the halls draped in alternating white and black velvet fabric, the madam stopped before a threadbare tapestry and cast it aside to reveal a woman seated before a vanity. Her reflection pursed small red lips. A narrow face with wide, bold eyes, a curious sadness
gave her a solemn grace. She looked similar to Viviane. Not as beautiful, but she would do.

“Have her sent to my home.”

“But that is not usual—”

“Your mother has not told you of our arrangements?”

She nodded. “Forgive me, my lord. Yes, I am aware. Tomorrow evening?”

“Excellent.”

 

R
HYS HAD SENT WORD
to the Council that the werewolf who had murdered the vampires was dead. He hesitated mentioning Salignac's involvement; if it should later be learned, Rhys's integrity would be questioned.

Which was why he thanked the Council for their consideration, but explained he could not accept a position at this time. They need not know he was in love and wanted to spend every moment by his lover's side. Nor need they know he could not betray the brother he hated.

It had not been a difficult decision. Perhaps later he would develop renewed interest to serve, but for now, love ruled.

The German landau coach was exactly what Rhys needed. Actually, it was what Viviane needed. He stroked a palm along the highly varnished black exterior. Inside the seats adjusted on hinges to fold down for sleeping. And the windows had sturdy wood shades that blocked all light from entering.

They could travel during the day, allowing Viviane to sleep completely protected from the sun. And it was well sprung, necessary for the journey to Venice, which Rhys guessed would be well over a fortnight.

After indicating he'd purchase the coach, he was thankful he kept most of his money in gold with a
notaire
in Paris. It hadn't been destroyed by the fire at his home.

What he needed was a place where he could keep his valuables for centuries. An institution he knew would always exist, no matter where Rhys's travels took him, and a
notaire
who would keep his secret.

“Some sort of bank for the Dark Ones,” he muttered. “I like the idea.”

Today had been successful, for he'd secured this smart coach for his lover, and now his future looked bright. He had the full moon to meet tonight, and then he could step into the future, with Viviane at his side.

 

“M
ADEMOISELLE
.”

The bravo who Rhys had hired spoke so little, the hairs at the back of Viviane's neck stiffened at the sound of his warning voice.

She'd pushed the key into the lock on William's front door, and turned to find the bravo gesturing she move inside, quickly.

“What is it?” she asked.

“I heard a commotion around back. Go inside and lock the door. I'll come around to the back and knock once for entrance. Yes?”

She nodded agreement, and slipped inside. The key tumbled down her green satin skirt and clinked onto the stone floor. Too nervous, she left it where it lay. Pacing twice before the door, she suddenly remembered to turn the bolt.

Stepping back, she peered out the window into the street. No shadows moved. Here, where the buildings towered four stories, and hugged one another so closely, very little moonlight was permitted through.

She forced herself away from the window. Her fingers brushed the writing desk where the wooden hummingbird sat upon the volume of sonnets. Rhys's melodic recitation
comforted her as she remembered the afternoon spent entwined on the chaise lounge.

She clutched the bird, fitting her fingers about its smooth body. To have selected this specific gift, he knew her heart.

“Rhys,” she whispered. “Hurry home to my heart.”

A crash at the back of the house sounded like wood breaking and something heavy hitting the ground. Viviane clung to the stair rail. Her senses honed on a disturbing scent. Blood.

And another presence she could not sort out.

Before she could think to flee out the front door, Constantine de Salignac marched into the room. Adorned in silver and black, his mirthless smile stabbed at her. Blood spilled from his mouth, which he wiped away with a handkerchief. “Viviane,
chérie.
” Salignac spread his arms wide in invitation.

She backed away. The sonnet book dug into the arch of her slippered foot.

Another man stepped alongside the sneering vampire lord.

“You've met Ian Grim before, I'm sure?”

The witch was an ally to vampires. Dressed in emerald velvet, his blond hair a frazzled mess, the man looked insane. But the true insanity was in the wrist he displayed to her. It bled.

Witch's blood was poison to a vampire. One drop of it upon her skin would sizzle through to her insides and eat away at her organs and heart and finally reduce her to ash. A slow but sure death.

“What do you want?” she firmly asked, glad for her lacking fear. “You dare to intrude in Monsieur Hawkes's home?”

“I see the mongrel nowhere in sight. Does he not give a care for his lover's safety?”

“I should be safe in my own home.”

“Ah? You two are sharing the place now? I know for a fact Hawkes squats in this home. It belonged to William Montfalcon.”

Grim stepped forward, brandishing his wrist as a weapon Viviane could not put herself far enough away from. Her hips swiped the writing desk, setting her off balance.

But it was Constantine who approached and spread his fingers over her hair and down her cheek. The touch chilled her blood. He had watched, waited for his moment when Rhys was not around to protect her.

She struck out, slicing him on the cheek with a fingernail. “What did you do to the bravo?”

“The oaf bowed before me and begged me to bite him.” Constantine wiped the blood from his skin then licked his finger. “The big ones always do fall the quickest. You did not place false hope in the lackwit actually protecting you?”

She had. She had underestimated Constantine.

“What do you want?”

“Revenge. It is a family game, to put it appropriately. Rhys has had his win, now I shall take mine.”

Viviane tightened her grip about the hummingbird. All she had right now to bolster her courage. A glance confirmed Grim's blood dripped on the floor, not a step from her skirts. She drew back her toe.

“Rhys changed his mind,” she said. “He no longer wishes revenge against you.”

“My brother is backing down? Doubtful. That mongrel is vicious with his cuts.”

“He has never killed someone close to you.”

“Does he have you believe I killed Emeline?”

“No.” Viviane looked aside. “He told me what really happened. But you did not protect her.”

“He blames me for not protecting his own? Isn't that a fine excuse.”

“Leave us to live peacefully, I beg of you.”

“You beg to me now?” Constantine splayed beringed fingers across his chest. “That is rich. After all I have sacrificed for your pleasure, and you have mocked me for those sacrifices,
now
you would beg my mercy?”

“You have sacrificed nothing.”

“I have killed half a dozen of my kin for you!”

“I did not ask you to kill them, merely to be rid of them.”

“Does that not imply death?”

“You are heartless.”

“You are a bitch, Viviane LaMourette. You think you can survive with the half-breed as your patron?”

“Honestly? No. But I prefer dying in Rhys's arms to living in yours.”

Constantine moved swiftly. He wrangled her arm around behind her back and twisted so she could not struggle free. And with her head forced forward, she could smell the filth in the witch's clothing.

“Begin the spell, Grim,” the vampire lord commanded.

“What are you doing?” She struggled, but he held her with ease, pressing his clawed hand about her neck and wrenching her arm higher across her back.

Grim chanted in Latin, a language Viviane recognized from the intonations only. A spell? The devil take Constantine and all his bloody kin!

“If you wish your revenge on Rhys then kill me,” she cried.

No, please
. She did not want to die.

Pulled upright by a yank of her hair, Viviane felt Grim's words enter her mind. The bellicose tones shimmered and ignited. The rhythm of his incantation seduced.

Viviane blinked. Her shoulders relaxed.

“You think my revenge is against my brother?” Constantine's teeth dragged down her neck, not cutting, but warning. “You betrayed me by taking my love, twisting it, and tossing it at me. Wicked bitch. You will spend the rest of your days unable to move, yet your mind will be alive and vital. Think of me, Viviane. Think of me when the rats scurry over your body and you try to remember what your lover's touch felt like. And know because you betrayed me, you will have unending horror.”

The witch's chanting grew to a shout.

Viviane's body stiffened. Her hands cringed into claws. The hummingbird's beak dug into her palm. She tried to fight the movement, but it was as though her muscles were being commanded by Grim's voice. Constantine's hold slipped away, yet she sensed him at her back, supporting, holding her.

Viviane opened her mouth to scream.

Did she scream? Had she opened her mouth? She couldn't feel her lips.

And as she stretched her jaw and pleaded with the witch to cease, she knew she was not moving at all. Her body was frozen. Held motionless by a spell that enchanted her to a drowsy, mirthless smile.

“It is complete.”

In her peripheral view, Constantine's hand spread open to receive. “The choker,” the vampire said.

He spoke of the iron-maiden choker. Had he been to Henri's home? She'd left the thing behind for the sellers to include with the house.

Why could she not move? And how long would this miserable spell last? To keep her immobile yet conscious?

“Bind that wound on your wrist,” Constantine directed the witch. Then he clutched the roses on the side of Viviane's head and tugged them off. “I will need this.”

Grim must have brought along bindings, for but moments passed before he confirmed the task complete. “Shall I hold her for you?”

Shuffled into the witch's hold, Viviane could feel his hands grip about her shoulders. His stench reviled.

Constantine's pitiful smile stabbed. “Frightened?”

“Yes,” she screamed silently. “Make this stop. Rhys!”

“You should be.”

He lifted the choker before her. She saw the small black stones and the sharp points. If he intended to put it on her, it was backwards.

“You should not have accepted my gift if you intended to deny my love. I have only ever been kind to you, Viviane,” he said. “You would have been safer with me, your own breed. But you are tainted now. You've the half-breed's blood in your veins.”

Thank the gods she had taken Rhys's blood. Viviane could feel it within her now. Hot, strong. Life sustaining?

“I can smell him on you. It is more filthy and wretched than Grim's odor, I assure you.”

Something warm spattered her cheek. Tears.

The cold choker clutched her throat. Constantine tied the ribbon behind her neck. The points pierced her flesh, burning. Agony slid a delirious scream through her mind. Yet she could but experience and not react.