Chapter Ten
Iconsider getting dressed and ready but quickly discard the thought.
The last thing I want is to look like I was waiting for Claude to arrive…
even though a part of me was, if only to get an explanation about why he didn’t offer.
So I walk down to the parlor in my pajamas and a messy bun, shooing away Lissa as she tries to follow to eavesdrop.
My heart is pounding as I enter the room. Lissa’s description was more than enough for me to know who to expect, but still, it’s a shock to see the reality of it.
Lord Claude sits at the table, his hands clasped on his lap.
Wet curls are plastered to his forehead, and his once-white shirt is now almost entirely see-through as it clings to his pale skin.
Every hard line of his lean body is laid out in a way that makes me have to look away before I start blushing.
Did he walk through the rain to get here?
Surely not. But I can picture him standing in it, staring at the door to Benjamin’s house, rain soaking him to the bone before he lifted one slender hand to knock.
When his pale eyes rise to find mine, I realize that I’m smiling. I tamp it down and drop into a perfectly polite curtsy, despite the fact I’m in sweatpants and slippers. “Lord Claude.”
“Nora,” he murmurs, and pushes wet hair out of his face, running his fingers through it as if suddenly realizing what a mess he is.
It makes me want to laugh, thinking that he’s self-conscious when I’m here in my bare face and pajamas.
Yet the way his eyes rake over me feels no less intense than it did when I was in a ballgown.
Benjamin looks between us, his expression world-weary and deeply unamused. “I don’t recall sending for you, Nora.”
I blink at him innocently. “I was just coming to ask if there was any update. What’s this about?”
Benjamin shakes his head. It’s obvious from his expression that he doesn’t believe me. “I’m not sure. Lord Claude was just about to explain why he showed up on my doorstep unannounced.” He waves a hand. “You might as well sit, I suppose.”
I cross the room slowly, feeling as though my knees may give out at any moment. My thoughts are a mess as I take a seat beside Benjamin, not daring to sit too close to Claude. “Well, let’s hear it, then.”
“Yes. Well.” Claude glances down at his hands, idly spinning one of the several rings he’s wearing. “I shall be up front. I’m here to make an offer of patronage.”
My heart skips a beat. I try not to let my face betray any of the emotions coursing through me.
There’s no reason I should be excited about this, I tell myself.
I was very clear with him, with Benjamin, with everyone about not wanting a vampire from the Vulpe Court.
And also about not wanting to sign with Claude, specifically. Yet…
“You’re aware there are proper channels for delivering such offers, which do not involve showing up at my house in the middle of the night,” Benjamin says.
“Well, yes, but—”
“And that a written contract is required to formally make an offer,” he continues, as if Claude hadn’t spoken. “Do you have one prepared?”
Claude hesitates. “That’s… No, but—”
“Because someone coming to me in such a way, unannounced and unprepared, might tempt me to think that said person was acting upon a whim rather than careful consideration for what an agreement might mean,” Benjamin says. “Or, worse, that said person has something to hide.”
Benjamin is, as ever, almost aggressively polite. His tone is measured and calm. Yet it’s impossible to miss the bite in his words.
Claude looks just as taken aback as I feel. After a moment of sputtering, he holds up his hands as if in surrender.
“I merely wanted a chance to explain in person.”
“So Lord Ambrose is aware you are making an offer?”
Claude opens his mouth, shuts it, meets Benjamin’s weighted gaze. “That… is beside the point.”
“I’m not certain I believe that, Lord Claude. You may think that being courtless makes me oblivious to the inner workings of court politics, but I am not a fool, and I refuse to allow a valentine under my protection to be dragged unwillingly into a dangerous conflict. So I must ask that you—”
Claude slaps one of his hands down on the table hard enough that it shakes. I jump in my seat. Benjamin goes still halfway through the act of lifting his teacup to his mouth.
Claude shuts his eyes for a moment, jaw working, and then opens them and levels his gaze on Benjamin. For a moment, the two vampires stare at each other down the length of the table. Then Claude says, softly, “Please allow me a chance to explain myself.”
Benjamin sets down his teacup without taking a sip. “Very well. Explain, Lord Claude.”
Claude retracts his hand into his lap again, takes a moment to compose himself before speaking.
“I believe that I gave the wrong impression at the Valentine’s Day Ball,” he says.
“Miss Nora expressed that she has no interest in an intimate relationship.” He glances at me, so briefly I barely have time to register it before he’s looking at Benjamin again.
“And it just so happens that our interests are aligned in that matter.”
I blink, studying his face for signs that he’s not being truthful, but his expression is frustratingly opaque.
“You seemed drawn to Nora at the ball,” Benjamin says.
“I was,” Claude says. “But it is not a romantic interest. What calls to me is her blood.”
I’m glad that he’s looking at Benjamin when he says it, because I’m sure that hurt is written all over my face. I stare down at my lap as I try to subdue it. There’s no reason for me to be offended by that. As he said, this is exactly what I want too. Isn’t it?
“I am interested in her as a valentine for one reason, and one reason only,” Claude says, digging the knife deeper into my chest with each word.
“The taste of her blood makes me want to paint again. If I came off as desperate, it was only for that feeling. As I’m sure you’ve heard, I’ve been chasing it for a very long time now. ”
There’s an odd sinking feeling in my gut. I dislike the idea of being any artist’s muse. Artists are so flighty; it’s always seemed a precarious position at best…
“Forgive me, I’m not sure I believe that,” Benjamin says.
Claude’s smile is so thin it almost looks pained, but he doesn’t appear surprised. “We’ll add it to our contract.”
Benjamin’s eyebrows leap nearly to his hairline. I’ve never seen him so taken aback. “What? You can’t honestly mean that.”
“I do,” Claude says. “We’ll have a clause stating that any intimate contact between us will violate the contract.”
I look between them, feeling like I’m missing something. “I mean, that sounds perfect to me…”
Benjamin leans back in his chair, his brow furrowed. “It would be… unusual. To say the least.”
“I don’t care about doing things the usual way,” Claude says. He folds his arms over his chest and looks at me. “I must still be allowed to bite you, of course. That will be excluded from acts of intimacy.”
“Fine with me,” I say after a beat.
“What about your sire?” Benjamin asks. “There was tension between the two of you at the ball.”
“He feared that Nora would be a distraction from my purpose, but I have reassured him that it is quite the opposite,” Claude says without batting an eye at the question. “If anyone is more disappointed in my lack of inspiration than I am, it would be Ambrose. He had such high hopes for me.”
“So you have spoken to him on the matter,” Benjamin says. “I thought you didn’t require your sire’s permission?”
“I don’t,” Claude says, “but I do respect his opinion, and I am pleased to have his blessing in the matter.”
“And the Vulpe Court?”
Claude’s hands still briefly, and then he resumes spinning his ring. “I am confident they will follow my sire’s lead.”
After a moment’s thought, Benjamin excuses us to consider the offer. We step into the hallway, leaving Claude alone in the parlor, staring down at his untouched cup of tea.
“Well, what do you think?” Benjamin asks.
I hesitate. What do I think? My thoughts are such a muddle, I can barely decipher them.
As little as I want to admit it, part of me is drawn to Claude, but I’m not sure I can trust that part.
I shut my eyes, try to tune out the confusing tangle of my emotions and focus on the practicalities.
It’s easier to work things through without Claude’s damnably distracting face in front of me, but still far from easy.
“On paper, his offer sounds like exactly what I’ve been looking for,” I say. “But…”
“He’s exactly the kind of person you’ve been saying you don’t want this entire time,” Benjamin finishes for me.
“Yet he offered to include an intimacy clause in the contract,” I say, nibbling my thumbnail. Benjamin’s face shifts at that, and I home in on him. “Would the others be willing to do the same?”
He clears his throat. “I… highly doubt it. It really would be unusual, Nora. I find it strange that he suggested it. I’m hesitant to even broach the subject with other vampires, because it would be offensive. And their courts would never approve. Valentine contracts are a serious matter.”
“But Claude is willing to do it,” I say. “So… he’s being honest about his intentions? He just wants me as a source of blood, and muse, which is…” I shrug, hoping my attempt at nonchalance looks convincing. “I can do that.”
“There’s also the situation with his sire to consider,” Benjamin says. “I know he told us it won’t be an issue, but I misliked what I gleaned of their relationship at the ball. I’m afraid of you being pulled into the middle of whatever is happening between them.”
I heave a sigh. “Is it possible to have some time to think about it?”
“Of course,” Benjamin says. “That will give me time to ask around, as well. I’ll see what I can find out about Claude’s reputation, and that of his sire, along with confirming about intimacy with the other vampires who offered.”
We return to the room to break the news, and I say my goodbyes to Claude. If he’s disappointed in not receiving an immediate answer, he doesn’t show it. He just bends to brush a kiss over the back of my knuckles, bids me farewell, and leaves me with my head spinning.
* * *
The next night, when Benjamin and I sit down to discuss it all, he breaks the news: both of the other offers have been withdrawn, with the patrons citing a refusal to sign any sort of intimacy clause like Claude did.
“I’m not surprised,” he says. “I’m rather astounded that Lord Claude did agree, in fact.”
“And what did you find out about Lord Ambrose?” I ask.
Benjamin shrugs. “The Vulpe Court sings his praises,” he says.
“They admitted there is tension between Ambrose and Claude, said to be due to Claude’s unwillingness to paint since he was turned.
Everyone seems to hope you’re the solution to that, so they’ll support the unusual nature of your contract. ”
I sigh, rubbing the bridge of my nose. “I don’t love the idea of being his supposed muse, but…” I shrug. “On paper, it’s everything I want.”
I can’t help but be reminded of my words at the ball: anyone but him. Yet now, here I am, signing my name on Lord Claude de Vulpe’s contract.