Chapter 8 Maeve #2
Four other ancient vampires sat in the room, draped artfully on the sofas and chairs as though someone had arranged them there for a photoshoot.
Their hair was impossibly pale, their skin almost translucent, their eyes a ghostly shade of blue that I wasn’t sure even existed elsewhere.
In some lights, there was almost no color there at all; in others, I wasn’t sure if I’d imagined it because it was a sheen or a flash like in an opal.
Fear mounted inside me. Not a surge, but a gradual creep. The vampires in this room looked lazy and well-fed, like lions basking on a rock. Almost like they didn’t kidnap women at all. Almost like they were harmless.
The Ancient released my arm and thrust me away from him in one movement, and I lost my balance, falling against something hard and unyielding.
“Oof!” The air rushed out of my lungs, and an arm curved around my waist, holding me steady.
Shit. I hadn’t landed against any old hard and unyielding thing.
I was flat against the chest of Francois, who truly looked like a colorized version of all of these faded vampires.
Before I could catch my breath, we began to move, my feet barely touching the floor as Francois took me back through the doorway.
Damn, I was weak. My head lolled against him, so I couldn’t even fight this time.
But did I want to? This wasn’t dangerous. Adrenaline wasn’t running wild through me. My body told me I was safe and I didn’t need to worry.
And my mind wasn’t putting up much of a fight.
“What’s the matter. Francois?” One of the Ancient’s voices echoed through the cavernous entrance hallway after us. “Don’t you want to share your meal?”
I should have stiffened. Should have pushed him away. Should have run.
But I didn’t.
I wanted him to pick me up, cradle me against his chest. I wanted to be safe in his arms.
If I shook my arm to make him let me go, it was a token effort, but I couldn’t be sure I even made that.
We headed toward a staircase that curved to a wide first step against the scuffed wood floor. Once upon a time, these boards would have been polished and gleaming, but any glamor was missing completely now.
Just as I thought we were about to climb the stairs, Francois veered to the left through a doorway I hadn’t noticed.
“Oh.” The sound that left my mouth was long and drawn out as I lifted my head to look up at the tallest of the bookcases.
Each shelf was packed with books—the kind I’d thought of earlier, but each was in beautiful condition.
Nothing in this room was remotely out of place, even though some areas in the rest of the house looked as though they’d been the setting for a fight scene or police search, with ripped fabric or overturned furniture.
This room, however, remained untouched. Perhaps vampires didn’t read. Or maybe they revered books enough that they didn’t want to damage them.
Francois pressed me into a leather bucket chair. “Stay there.”
I glanced at the door. Could I make it? But that question brought me back around to the other awkward question in my head. Did I want to? Stepping back out of the library would only reintroduce the sense of danger I’d felt everywhere in this house except for when I was with Francois.
“Non.” His French accent was enough to melt me, but actual French language.
“Non, mon ange. C’est trop dangereux. It’s too dangerous.
” He emphasized the last word as he watched the doorway himself.
“Besides, I would catch you before you got three feet.” He chuckled and the sudden light in his eyes suggested he might quite like that game.
“Mais non, I need you to stay with me until I can get us out of this mess.”
I watched him, careful not to react. I needed a blank expression while I absorbed his words and tried to unravel their meaning. But my head was foggy. I was hungry. What did he mean—he was going to get us out of this mess? He was a vampire. One of them.
He was dead bang center in this mess. Why did he want to get out?
“But…” I shook my head. There were too many questions and maybe not enough time. “Why me?” Okay, so I hadn’t intended to start with that one.
He glanced up. “Hmm?”
I cleared my throat. “Why did you take me from that room? There are other women…” I waved my arm vaguely in the direction of upstairs. I couldn’t be sure there were other women anymore. I could be the last one left.
“Oh.” He returned to perusing the books in front of him, trailing his finger over the old spines as he narrowed his eyes and half-mouthed titles to himself.
I’d just settled into the silence when he spoke again.
“Because you’re my mate.”
I looked at him, but he was still facing the books.
“But do not tell them that. They believe you are simply…my sustenance.”
“Sustenance?” Again, there were too many questions running through my head, so repeating his last word seemed to be the easiest thing to do.
“My prize, mon ange. One granted in advance to help me find this damn book they think is hidden somewhere in this house.”
I glanced up at the shelves again. Looked like I could be here for a while if he was searching for one book. Talk about a needle in a haystack.
But things were really so much worse than that. Surely no one ever wanted to be called a prize by a vampire. And certainly not sustenance.
But the word that interested me most was mate. That word applied to Ciara…but not to me. I knew enough to understand what it meant, and regardless of how beautiful this man was…of how safe I felt with him…I was no vampire mate.
I swallowed my anxiety but it lodged in my throat. Perhaps I’d been safest in the dungeon room with Ciara after all.