Chapter Thirty-Four
It is a wondrous thing, to walk out of the Vulpe Court knowing that Claude and I are free to do what we please.
It feels like I’m floating; I can still hardly believe it, even when he grabs me by the hand in front of everyone and leads me to the car.
His fingers are tight as they twine with mine, like he’s afraid I’ll slip away if he relaxes.
His grip would be uncomfortable if I wasn’t grateful for the anchor right now. I clutch him just as tightly.
Once, I would’ve imagined we’d be all over each other the second we had the chance. But as we climb into the car, I’m exhausted, and Claude must be even more so. We cuddle together in a single seat, my fingers stroking his hair, my legs across his lap.
“Here,” I say, offering my wrist. “You should heal.”
He drinks from me in slow sips, and I watch the wounds on his neck and chest heal. It’s satisfying to know I can help in at least this small way, after everything he’s done for me.
“That must have been difficult,” I murmur. Ambrose was a monster, but he was also his sire.
Claude closes the bite wound and leans into my touch, shutting his eyes. “It was,” he says, and he sounds wearier than I’ve ever heard before. “Like cutting off a piece of myself.” He lifts one hand to his chest, fingers pressing hard into his sternum. “It hurts.”
“I’m sorry it came to that.”
“Don’t be sorry. He’s the one who forced me to it.” He opens his eyes and gazes at me. “I would cut off my own hand before I let it harm you.”
“I know,” I say with a sad smile. “But… I can’t help but feel guilty. I know you’re better off without him, but… you could’ve lived an eternity with Ambrose. I feel like I can’t possibly offer enough to make up for losing him.”
“I would spend an eternity with you, if you want it,” he says.
My heart beats faster. I’m not sure what to say. We’ve never discussed this before; I’ve never even give serious thought to whether or not the change is something I’d want.
Claude’s fingers brush my cheekbone. “You don’t have to answer now,” he says. “And if you say no, I would gladly take a human lifespan with you over eternity with him.”
“Claude…” I start, and stop. If I say more, I’m going to burst into tears.
He smiles. “I know, mon coeur.” He kisses my cheek. “We can discuss it all later, after I love you so thoroughly, you won’t be able to walk straight. But…” He yawns. “First, I need a nap.”
* * *
A nap, it turns out, was an understatement.
Claude is soon out cold with his head against my shoulder.
When we reach the house, it takes me three attempts to stir him enough for him to stumble inside.
It’s nearly dawn, and he can barely keep his eyes open, but I pull him by the hand into the bathroom.
I unbutton his bloodstained shirt, toss it aside, and do the same with his trousers.
“I don’t think I’m in a state to properly ravish you, mon chou,” he mumbles, barely able to keep his eyes open.
I laugh, pulling him into the shower. “I’m just getting you cleaned up, Claude. You can ravish me after we get some sleep.”
He mumbles half-coherent confessions of undying love while I scrub the dried blood off him.
When I finish toweling him off, he pulls me in and kisses me.
Slow and sweet, his thumb caressing my jaw as his tongue coaxes my lips apart.
My legs turn to jelly beneath me, so that only his grip on my waist keeps me upright.
“I mean it,” he whispers, his mouth still mere centimeters from mine.
“Mean what?”
“All of it.” He kisses the corner of my mouth, the soft spot under my jaw, the side of my neck. “I love you.”
I touch his chin to guide his face back up to mine.
“I love you too.” I kiss him again, quick and chaste, and pull away before it can deepen into something hungry and mind-melting.
He sways on his feet as he tries to chase my lips, smiling like a drunk man.
“Let’s get some sleep before you collapse on me,” I say, and lead him to bed.
He collapses onto it completely naked while I discard my wet clothes and put on my silk robe.
We curl together beneath the sheets, barely clothed but far too tired to do anything about it, although Claude mutters a couple of things under his breath that sound like half-formed promises of what he’s going to do to me tomorrow.
He’s asleep before I can answer. I watch him for a while, gently brushing damp curls off his forehead and studying his face before I, too, doze off.