Unbitten (42 page)

“I really couldn’t say,” said Henri,
abruptly, no longer making eye contact.

Interesting, thought Roland.

“You could try Albert, the butler,” sad Henri.
“And now, if you don’t mind, I’m going
back to work. When you can find the time,” he added,
a bit drily, “perhaps you could send someone about
the break-in.”

And with that, he turned around and went inside the lab.
Roland heard the lock make its expensive-sounding click,
and took off to find Tristan.

He thought about the man he had just met. Henri was
magnificently built, Roland could tell, even under all
those clothes. Very strong. Huge shoulders. Certainly a man
who could easily overpower a young woman. Very
self-assured, although polite. And a man who clearly wants
things his own way. Though who of us doesn’t, Roland
thought with a sigh.

And what
were
those clothes, anyway? Paris
fashions could really go right off the edge sometimes, he
thought, they’ll have us in skirts next. He waved to
Tristan who was leaning against a van, waiting for him.

Pierre woke first, and relished that instant just after
waking when reality came into focus and he saw that his
reality now included the magnificent Roxanne, curled in his
arms like a kitten, her mouth open in deep sleep, her
spikes flopped to one side. He leaned down and gently
kissed the tip of her nose.

They had left the hayloft in the middle of the night, when
Pierre had been worried that Dominic and Maloney were on
their way. Pierre and Roxanne knew they would be looking
for her, and none too pleased, and Mourency being as small
as it was, sooner or later they would end up at
Pierre’s hayloft. Most likely, much sooner.

Drinking from Pierre had restored Roxanne’s strength
to such a degree that the miles-long walk to the
Château had been a snap. He had shown her around the
outside buildings, talking about his childhood there, and
his relationship with
Le Seigneur
, until Jo had
stumbled out onto the path and they had quickly gone for
cover.

Then Pierre had made them a place to hide temporarily, both
from Dominic and Maloney and the sun, until he could make
contact with Henri and figure out their next step.
Pierre’s first desire now was to keep Roxanne safe,
and out of the hands of that brutish American vampire and
his giant friend.

They were cuddled up on the edge of the forest right behind
the stables, in a cozy bed of leaves with pine branches
tightly woven into a roof overhead, burrowed in a fragrant
bower that was warm and allowed them a view of the
goings-on at the Château while they remained totally
hidden from view. Pierre was not only hoping that Henri
would get Dominic and Maloney off their backs, but
imagining that Henri would give them a little cottage of
their own, a safe place for him to live with Roxanne, a
place where they could make a home. Then Pierre could go
into business with Henri, working with him on inventions.
It was just getting dark again, time to go to the lab and
talk to Henri, but Pierre could not tear himself away from
Roxanne.

He kissed the tip of her upturned nose again, and then the
top of her head. She had poured her heart out to him last
night as they walked, telling him about how scary it was to
be thirsty and weakening and not know where your next drink
is coming from, how sickening it was to have to depend on a
male vampire you detest, and what products she had used to
get that amazing green streak in her hair. All through the
telling she had delighted him with her hilarious
swearing–she swore and cursed her way through all her
stories, making Pierre’s belly hurt from laughing.

She is an artist, he thought, and she doesn’t even
know it.

He couldn’t help himself. He leaned down to her,
tightening his arms around her, and kissed her gently on
the mouth.

Roxanne’s eyes flew open and she looked alarmed and
then–an unusual expression for her–she looked
content. Very happy to realize who was holding her and
kissing her. She kissed back, with delight, and increasing
urgency, and reached her arms around Pierre and pulled him
closer.

Pierre had not felt someone pull him closer in over a
hundred years. With tears in his eyes, spilling out as his
irises glowed fire around the outer rims, he kissed his
labri
deeply, pressing her to him, stretching his
legs out beside her and then sliding a leg over between
hers.

He reached down with one hand and began to unbuckle her big
metal belt buckle, then quickly whipped the belt out of its
loops and tossed it aside. He fumbled for a moment
unzipping zippers that were on the pockets, then found the
zipper to her pants and unzipped it so quickly the metal
heated up and melted on the edges so that it was never
going to work again.

“Pierre,” said Roxanne, “you fucking God
of bloodsuckers–get on top of me!”

He grinned, wrenching her pants off and doing as she asked.
He thrust his hips between her legs, his erection full and
almost having a mind of its own, wanting to bury itself in
Roxanne’s wet warmth.

“Kiss me again,” he murmured, and she did.

He regretted having gone so long without cutting his
fingernails. They made caressing her breasts difficult to
do gently.

Not that Roxanne seemed very interested in gentle.

“Suck my nipples,” she directed, pulling up her
shirt and showing him.

Pierre moaned as he fell on them, licking one and then the
other, then sucking, swirling his tongue around one and
then the other, finally settling in to suck, while Roxanne
groaned and growled and arched her back, bringing her legs
up to wrap around his waist, squeezing him with her
extraordinary vampire strength.

The few times a human woman had actually wanted to sleep
with him, it had never, ever been like this. Pierre felt
like he could be exactly himself with Roxanne. He could
growl at her and show her his fangs. He could trail his
long fingernails along her ribs. He could bite her. At
least he thought she wouldn’t mind, if he chose the
right moment. And she might even like it, the way he had
loved feeling her suck his blood last night.

He was all the way on top of her now, kissing her on the
mouth, and thrusting his hard cock along her center,
feeling her wetness, rubbing faster and faster until she
was thrashing her head back and forth and calling out, on
the verge, her body quivering.

Pierre reached down and guided himself inside her. They
both yelped, an animal sound of surprise and pleasure mixed
together. It was as though they were puzzle pieces that had
finally found where they fit, and everything the other did
was just the right thing.

He, with his vampire strength, flipped into a squat, with
Roxanne still impaled on his boner, her legs squeezing him
so tight, and he lifted her and pushed her down on himself,
crushed her down on himself, as their tongues were
everywhere, her hands reaching down to grip his cock as he
lifted her, and they both were crying from happiness and
passion and coming together, their hips bucking, great,
rippling jolts piercing them both, until finally, they fell
back into the leaves, panting, maybe drooling the tiniest
bit, their sexual desire at long last sated, and needing
only a short rest before they went on to satisfy their
blood lust.

Henri called David the minute the lab door was closed.

“Callie Armstrong,” Henri said when David
answered.

“Yes,” said David. He sounded unlike himself.
Exhausted. Defeated.

“What happened?”

“It was an accident, Henri.”

“What happened?”

David sighed. He was feeling terrible enough about it and
he was not in the mood for listening to Henri and his
lectures.

“It’s over,” said David.
“There’s nothing to be done about it
now.”

“It is
not
over. The village
gendarmes
are here right now. Most likely American
detectives will follow. We do not need this kind of
scrutiny. Not that this is all about us–what’s
more important–is the girl.

“How could you do it, David?” Henri’s
voice, this time, had more sorrow in it than anger.

David was on the verge of tears for the first time in about
180 years. “I don’t know what happened,”
he said. “I’ve always been so careful. It was
going along just as it usually did, and then the next thing
I knew I was holding this…this…
body
.
White as a sheet and lifeless. It was certainly not my
intention, Henri, you know that much. I haven’t slept
in days and days.”

Henri felt sorry for his brother then. He had lost Jo, he
had killed a girl by accident, and now he was a drunkard.
As his life spiraled downward, Henri’s had been doing
the opposite.

The brothers stood still, holding their phones to their
ears, not talking. There were details to discuss, but first
they had to acknowledge the enormity of what David had
done, and the only way they could do that was in silence.

After hanging up from talking to David, Henri checked the
progress of several experiments, did some routine tests in
the lab, and sat down to ponder some of the issues left for
creating
labri
Hemo-yum. It was impossible to
concentrate. His mind kept going to Jo, the feel of her
body as they had lain together, the feel of her lips on
him…and then to David, and the girl he had murdered.

A guest at the Château, killed by his brother’s
negligence and irresponsibility.

It was late afternoon now, and darkness was falling fast.
Henri left his lab and walked the gravel path around the
grounds, making several circuits through the sleeping
gardens as he tried to sort through his reactions to what
Roland, and then David, had told him. He had slept, while
Jo was still with him in his chamber, but he had not had a
full day’s sleep in too many days. While he still
felt energetic, his reactions felt a little slow and his
thinking was sluggish, at least for Henri. Without planning
to, he started off in the direction of the stables, wanting
to see Jo without actually forming the thought in his head,
but before too many steps, he realized it was getting dark
and she was not going to be there.

He wished then for a simple way to reverse his status, if
only for a few moments, thinking how much he would love to
be able to walk into the barn as he had done as a child, to
play with the barn cats and talk to the horses. And how
thrilling it would be if he could meet Jo there, and talk
to her as an equal, human to human, and not ever have to
consider the risk of her finding out and being scared her
out of her wits. Or running away.

That was the worst of it, he thought. If she finds out
I’m a vampire, she’ll go away and I’ll
never be able to bring her back. Especially once she finds
out about Callie Armstrong, if she hasn’t already.

He was standing just around a curve in the path, so that a
bank of shrubs hid him from the Château. He could
hear someone walking quickly in his direction. Henri moved
to make himself more visible, expecting Thierry.