Chapter 2 #2
“I fell, okay?” she snapped, jarring me out of my spiraling, considerably lascivious thoughts.
Then she winced and clutched her wrist to her chest. “Which, by the way, still hurts like hell. So if this is part of some immersive experience, it’s not funny.
You can drop the act and tell me how to get out of here. ”
She took a step forward, clearly not scared of me, even though there was no doubt she’d seen how I was practically drooling at her presence.
The light shifted, her flat lantern moving through the air in her hand.
It caught my eyes, that sharp beam of light.
I saw the exact moment she noticed she’d illuminated my face.
Her expression faltered, and her mouth dropped open.
There was no spike in her pulse, though; she was surprisingly calm for someone who’d been caught off guard.
“Okay,” she said slowly. “That’s… that’s a bit much.
” Her gaze dropped to my mouth. Now it was my turn to wince; I had not yet retracted them.
She stared at my fangs for a long, suspended moment, and then, to my profound astonishment, her shoulders sagged.
“Oh my God,” she muttered. “You’re a vampire. ”
I inclined my head slightly, unsure whether to take offense or not. She knew what I was, yet she was not scared? How could this be? Her ability to walk into my sanctuary had made me wonder if she was a sorceress, but she lacked any hint of magic, so I’d ruled it out.
“And you’re committed,” she added, almost impressed.
“Like, seriously, those prosthetics? That’s some Hollywood-level stuff.
” She waved her hand with the light in my face, and it flashed across my eyes.
I blinked, then threw up a hand against the glare.
She had the good grace to immediately lower her hand again, pink staining her soft, oddly appealingly shaped cheeks.
“Prosthetics?” I ground out through my fangs.
What was she talking about? A wooden leg?
I’d seen some very good hand replacements made of porcelain…
Those were prosthetics, but I was pretty sure I was all in one piece.
My vampiric ability to heal meant I would never need to resort to such cosmetics.
“Yeah, the teeth,” she said, gesturing vaguely.
“The glowing eyes thing, too. That’s a very nice touch.
Look, I get it, okay? You’re supposed to be, like, the surprise scare or whatever?
But I’m really not in the mood. Can you just..
.” She waved her hand weakly. “…break character and take me back? Please?”
I stared at her, blinking again and roughly pulling on my control in the hopes their glow would dim. “Break… character.” What on Earth was she talking about now? This was even more confusing than “cosplayer” or “reenactor.” Come to think of it, I was beginning to sense a theme here.
“Yeah,” she said, and she waved in a sort of fluttery manner through the air, this time with the hand she’d kept pinned to her chest. Pain blanched her features, and it made something glimmer in her eyes—tears, perhaps. She rushed to press her wrist back against her bosom, drawing my eyes there.
The silence stretched between us while I fought to yank my eyes from her far too appealing curves.
It was the long sleep and the thirst that made me feel this curl of attraction despite her plain face and confusing vocabulary.
When her eyebrow went up, a silent question, a hint of frustration seeping through, I still didn’t answer.
When she began shifting uneasily on her feet, it felt like the temperature dropped.
Then, very deliberately, I said, “Mademoiselle, the public tour of these catacombs extends only to the ossuary. No guide would bring you here.” No guide would know of this place if Louis had done his job right, and I had no reason to think he hadn’t.
She rolled her eyes, and my mouth dropped open in surprise, shocked by her audacity. Had she really just rolled her eyes at me? Me? It was the act of a small, unmannered child, not a grown woman. My shoulders went up, my fangs tingled, and I wasn’t sure if I’d ever get control of them now.
“Yeah, obviously,” she said. “That’s the point. Hidden chamber, spooky vampire guy. It’s very on-theme with the whole thing.” Her hand, with the strange light, flapped, and the shadows danced. “But vampires aren’t real, so you can stop with the lecture and cut the crap.”
“I was not…” I spluttered, my shock only growing. Forget misbehaving children, I could not recall the last time someone had dared to speak to me this way!
“...mansplaining, yeah, you were,” she cut in, her stance widening like she was a warrior preparing to go into battle. “Trust me, I’ve had enough of that for one lifetime. My ex practically had a PhD in it.”
My eyes narrowed in fury. “Your tone is remarkably insolent for someone in your position.” Ex?
Ex what? It was not a term I was familiar with, yet another of those mysterious phrases, like cosplayer.
Only this word was clearly Latin, and I could deduce she meant former—probably former something—but whatever that something was remained unclear.
“My position,” she echoed, incredulous. She exhaled roughly, and her scent wafted through the air toward me, tingling across my senses. “My position is that I’m lost underground, injured, and dealing with a guy who thinks he’s Dracula. So forgive me if I’m not super polite right now.”
Dracula. I had no clue what that was supposed to mean. It was another absurdity to catalog later. For now, she was the mystery I had to unravel. I narrowed my eyes on her and noticed how her pulse fluttered visibly at her throat. Her blood still scented the air—sweet, tempting, so very human.
“Hungry…” The word slid through me, cold and sharp. My gaze dropped again, unbidden, to her knees. To the smeared blood glinting red in the dark, the torn skin.
She noticed how my attention had shifted, away from the confusing conversation and onto much more primal things. Of course she noticed; she was infuriating, brash, unmannered, but she was no idiot. She took a small step back. Then another.
The bravado from before dimmed and was replaced, very reluctantly and stubbornly, with something closer to fear.
She was starting to get it, finally. I wasn’t some normal, average man she was dealing with.
“Okay,” she said, quieter now. “You’re… um…
getting a little too into this. You realize that, right? ”
I exhaled slowly, forcing my fangs to recede at last. This was tedious, but the truth was, I didn’t want to frighten her either.
“You have awakened me,” I said. “Whatever absurdities have led you here are no longer my concern. I will go to the surface. You may do as you wish.” And with that, I moved past her.
I did not offer her any assistance. She had managed to intrude; she could manage to leave.
The corridor beyond my sanctuary breathed differently than I remembered. I paused in the doorway, my boots pressing against the heavy stone threshold, still rough as if it had been hewn just yesterday. Proof that no steady stream of footsteps had worn it smooth.
The air, God, the air. It was wrong; I’d never smelled anything like it.
Layered with scents that did not belong to any era I knew: acrid smoke, oil, something chemical and sharp beneath it all.
The city above had transformed into something unrecognizable, its presence pressing down even here, filtering through stone and time.
Paris had changed. Profoundly. That scent proved that time had passed—lots of it—and the city had evolved with it. It was no longer the place I’d known and grown bored with. It was no longer my home. I should have felt irritation, but instead I felt… curiosity.
“Come along,” I said over my shoulder, an impulse that struck as my spirits lifted.
“If you wish to leave.” There was no answer, just silence.
My feet carried me across the threshold and into the dark, damp tunnel beyond, certain she’d follow anyway.
I continued a few steps, but there was still nothing.
A faint crease formed between my brows. This was annoying.
I was plagued with a sudden attack of consciousness, guilt.
Just because she had not learned any manners of the 19th century meant I could forget mine.
She was a lady, lost, injured, and in distress; I turned back. “Mademoiselle, I will not...”
I stopped in my tracks, inhaled deeply in surprise, and then narrowed my eyes as I zeroed in on her location.
She had not moved far, but had sunk down against the wall just beyond the chamber, her strange light abandoned beside her, its glow casting her in stark relief.
Her breathing had gone shallow, rapid, too rapid.
Her hands trembled violently, one clutched to her chest, probably the injured wrist, the other pressed flat against the cold wall as though to anchor herself.
Her eyes were unfocused. I knew that look: panic. It was very real, unfeigned. I hesitated, surprised to see it. An unfamiliar sensation flickered through me, sharp, unwelcome. Concern. How surprising; I had not felt emotion that strong, except hunger, in so long. It swept me away.