Chapter Five
MINA
To call what I’d done all night “sleeping” would be a gross overstatement. By morning, I was tired, flustered, and seriously sex-deprived. Just a few weeks with Marius and I already craved him like a drug.
Was he awakening somewhere now, aching for me the way I ached for him? Or was he simply rising and going casually on his way?
Another thought hit me, and I felt sick. What if he was waking up with someone else?
I buried my face in my pillow, then groaned and rolled out of bed. It had been a shitty night, I was in a shitty mood, and it was going to be a shitty day. But the sooner I started it, the sooner it would be over, right?
I was just finishing that cheery thought when I reached the bathroom and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. The same old me, but tired, bitter, and getting older every day.
Maybe Bene was right. I could have a fling with him, a studly lion shifter. How bad could that be? I could eventually move on to a long-term relationship with Clem or some other man. I was single. I was capable. I was free. The world was my oyster!
But I didn’t want oysters, dammit. I wanted Marius. Did he want me, though?
I ordered myself to take a cold shower, pull myself together, and forge some kind of plan.
First, I made instant oatmeal, avoiding the main kitchen and the others. Then I took out my laptop, tempted to hunt down Marius and reach some kind of closure. But where exactly would I start? Brussels?
Maybe Paris would be better. Because as many questions as Marius had raised, Gordon opened a hundred more.
My nerves jittered just thinking about it, though.
Then it hit me. I didn’t have to race off on a wild-goose chase. I could start much closer to home. In my own home, actually.
Henrik owed me a favor, and it was time to call it in.
I pulled on a dark sweatshirt for a tough, ballsy look, checked my hair, and slammed the door to my apartment on my way out.
Down the hall I went, down the stairs, and into the dining room.
Then up to the drawing room, the card room, the music room, and into the west wing.
Dammit. Where was Henrik? And why the hell had I ever decided to live in a forty-room chateau?
Outside the library, I screeched to a stop, spotting a tall, pale figure standing by the windows with a book.
I stomped in, gnashing my teeth.
“The library is off-limits,” I snipped.
“Is it?”
Yes, it was, as Henrik knew perfectly well. I glared.
“What a pity,” he said in his usual half yawn, half sigh.
He closed the book slowly, and I felt a corner of my mind prickle. The bastard was trying to thrall me into changing the rules for him, wasn’t he?
I gritted my teeth and threw a thousand expletives over the wall in my mind.
He grimaced and stuck the book back on the shelf.
“Not very ladylike.”
No, I supposed saying Fuck off, Henrik wasn’t. At least, not in the era he’d been born in, centuries ago. But this was the twenty-first century, dammit, and this was my chateau.
“Don’t break the rules, and you’re more likely to see the proper lady in me,” I snipped.
He shot me a sour, I doubt it look, which was probably justified.
Then his eyes wandered to my neck and sparkled, making me shiver — and not in a good way. I made a mental note to ask Madame Picard to double the amount of red meat she served with meals. Anything to help a vampire stave off his craving for blood.
Henrik yanked his eyes away and turned to the door, grumbling, “I’ll be going, then.”
The top row of windows in the library was stained-glass, and he looked paler than ever stepping through the red and yellow shafts of light.
“Don’t,” I said a little too sharply. Then I cleared my throat. “I mean, please stay. I have a question for you.”
He smirked. “Ah, but I may not have an answer.”
Vampires. Always such jerks.
“Remember that favor you promised me in Mallorca? I’m calling it in.”
He frowned, and his fingers curled. Not a happy vampire, but hell. I wasn’t all that cheerful today either.
He shrugged. “Go ahead.”
“I need you to answer a few questions.”
He shook his head. “One favor, one question.”
“Five questions,” I estimated. “Small ones.”
He snorted. “Three at most.”
I held my ground. “Five.”
“Four.”
“Five,” I hissed. “I nearly died getting that stupid box for you.”
That was back in Mallorca, in a black-market art gallery, where I’d joined the men in extracting — okay, stealing — a long-lost Van Gogh.
We’d nearly been foiled, but I’d succeeded with Henrik’s help, in exchange for a small box that had caught his eye.
I had no clue what it contained, only that it meant a lot to him. Securing it had put him in my debt.
So many things about that caper made me blanch — even without the colluding with vampires part. How had my life come to this?
But I was hip-deep in the slime of a different world now. I might as well forge ahead.
Henrik gave his watch a pointed look. “Fine. Five small questions. Begin.”
“What happened in Brussels?” I blurted, then caught myself. “Wait. It really was Brussels, right?”
“Gordon briefed us in Paris, but yes. The mission was in Brussels.”
And, yikes. The casual way he spilled top secret information unsettled me. I made a mental note to never, ever trust a vampire with my secrets.
Then I stuck up a hand. “Wait. That doesn’t count as one of the five questions.”
“Of course it does.”
“No, it doesn’t!”
“Yes, it does.”
“Dammit, Henrik!”
He gave me an insufferable look. “Continue.”
“What happened while you were away?”
He considered, weighing up what to include and what to omit.
“Gordon briefed us in Paris,” he finally said. “And he issued a warning.”
I held my breath, waiting.
“He warned us that you were not to learn anything of our activities, and that none of us should even think about getting involved with his dear, virginal goddaughter.” He chuckled dryly. “A warning that came a little too late.”
Virginal, my ass, I nearly muttered.
“Then, when we’d completed our mission, Marius left,” Henrik went on.
“Why?”
“I don’t know, but he seemed upset about something. Of course, he is a dragon.” Henrik sniffed, like blood-sucking vampires were so much more reliable.
“Upset at what?”
“I don’t know.”
“He’s not working a job for Gordon, is he?”
The way his eyes flickered told me I was right. “Is that a question or a statement?”
“A statement,” I said quickly, then forced myself to utter the question that might prompt an answer I couldn’t stomach. “Does his absence have anything to do with Celeste?”
Henrik snickered, like I was so pathetic, which I absolutely was.
“No.” Then he tapped his fingers, counting, and announced, “Last question.”
I went through the long list crowding my mind, topped by one that had weighed on me for weeks. Did I dare ask that one?
I gulped, then went for it. “Do you love Delphine?”
I’d met his lover/blood donor/favorite prostitute in Mallorca and liked her immediately, despite her taste in men.
A storm brewed in Henrik’s eyes.
“Don’t go there. I warn you.”
A warning I should have heeded, as it turned out, but I was too frustrated.
“Do you know she loves you?” I blurted. “Do you realize how she hangs on every word you utter and every move you make? Even if you don’t love her, you owe it to her to at least—”
His eyes flashed, and his teeth extended as he hissed, “I don’t owe her anything. I owe no one, especially not you.”
His fingernails lengthened, and his eyes turned to red points. I backed away, too shocked to speak. The bored, arrogant man of noble birth was gone, and a predator stood in his place.
I stepped toward the door, but he slammed a hand against it, blocking my escape.
“Afraid?” His eyes glittered with a hint of madness.
“Of you? No.” I stuck up my chin.
Bad idea, because his eyes went to my neck.
He’d moved into a clear beam of light, and yikes. It hadn’t been the stained glass making him appear pale. He really was extra pale — and gaunt.
My heart hammered as I moved toward the far door of the library.
Wham! The next thing I knew, Henrik had me shoved hard against the bookcase. The smell of leather and dry ink hit me as he wrapped a hand around my throat and squeezed.
I batted at him, but he pinned my arms against my chest with his free hand.
His lips curled into a spooky grin. “Give me your blood, and I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”
“Stop! Let me go!” I choked out, struggling.
“Just a little,” he murmured, leaning closer to sniff. So close, the tip of his nose brushed my neck.
And, shit. His eyes glazed over, and his voice took on a dreamy quality.
“Ah, so promising. So unique…”
I blanched, because that was probably true. My mixed supernatural ancestry would make me the exotic taste of the day to a vampire.
His eyes narrowed to pinpricks as he fell deeper into hunting mode.
I kicked and flailed, fighting for breath. “Henrik!”
“It would be so easy, you know,” he murmured, more to himself than me.
I twisted and jerked. “I will despise you forever if you do this.”
He chuckled. “Forever might not be too long.”
His skin was so pale, his veins showed, but no pulse beat.
I tried another tack, choking out, “You’ll despise yourself forever.”
He huffed. “I already do.”
I wouldn’t have thought I had it in me to feel for him at a time like that, but somehow, I did. So, yay me. I could go to my death knowing my morals hadn’t sunk as low as I’d feared.
But I didn’t want to die. I wanted to find Marius and live happily ever after with him, as I discovered in that moment of terrifying clarity. And if he rejected me, then someone else, maybe. (My moral fiber wasn’t all that upright, as it turned out.)
He cocked his head and leaned closer, focused on my neck.
“No!” I screamed.
Well, I tried, but all that came out was a squeak.
The far door crashed open, and someone snarled, “Henrik!”
I couldn’t turn my head, so I swiveled my eyes left.
Bene! I nearly cheered.
The lion shifter advanced slowly, holding up one hand. “Let her go, Henrik. Now.”