Chapter 10 Maeve
Maeve
Francois was watching me. I could sense that much. Even with my back turned, my skin prickled with awareness of him. Every movement he made, every squeak of his skin over the books. It was like being in a crazy hyper state, and I was kind of sick of it.
A mate? What now? Ciara had told me she had a mate. I knew what one was. But I wasn’t the same. I was human.
And it sounded very serious. Worse than marriage because it was literally forever. These were immortal beings. The chances of until death us do part dropped phenomenally when I considered pretty much eternal life, right?
And… yeah. There was the fact I hadn’t actually slept with a man yet.
I’d been quite looking forward to the whole try before you buy part of life.
I just hadn’t reached it yet, too focused on my work and trying to get people to take me seriously.
No one seemed to really understand my blog or get the importance of it. But the joke was on them now, right?
I nodded in agreement with myself as I looked around a library in a house full of vampires. Yep. The joke was sure on everyone who hadn’t believed me.
Still, why, if I couldn’t choose my own guy, would I give myself to this fruit loop? Even as I thought the unkind words, I regretted them. And it was like some kind of instinct forced me to want to unthink them. Like this vampire mattered to me on a level I couldn’t understand.
They probably called that Stockholm syndrome, right? Because here I was, kidnapped and trapped in his house.
Only he was trying to rescue me, or so he said.
I reread the last few book spines again. If I kept getting lost in my thoughts, this would take days. But I was conflicted. There was so much I wanted to know. Especially as Francois seemed like he’d be receptive to me.
Plus, the danger didn’t feel as imminent now that I was out of the dungeon room and I had a protector. I could afford to find out a little more.
“What’s it like?” I asked.
“Hm?”
I repeated my question. “What’s it like?”
“What’s what like, mon ange?” He sounded distracted, and he kept calling me my angel. That should have been weird, but it warmed my insides in a way I didn’t want to explore too much.
“Being a vampire.”
“Oh.” He chuckled. “I don’t know. I was born this way. It’s normal.” As I turned to watch him, he gave a huge shrug. “I don’t know another way.”
I nodded. That sounded almost normal. How could he answer my question if he had nothing to compare it to? I’d spent my whole life researching, though, and never had an opportunity like this. “But do you like it?”
His laugh this time was short and sharp. “Ah, an entirely different question, non?”
I smiled in reply. It was a different question. Designed to find out much the same, though. I just had to get him talking. I watched him, taking in the shape of his mouth, the vivid blue of his eyes, as he appeared to consider his answer.
Finally, he exhaled softly. I already knew he didn’t really need to breathe.
He’d probably acquired the skill by mimicking humans for so many years.
That piece of information had come from one of Granny’s many stories, and so many other snippets of things I knew seemed like they were nipping at my mind, though.
But how many of them would Francois confirm?
An actual born vampire, too, when all of our legends seemed to focus on creatures of the night who ran around sinking their fangs into humans. A shiver ran through me at that thought, and I touched the side of my neck.
Francois’s eyes widened and he turned his attention to the next shelf. “Uhh…” He touched one of the books. “Some days it’s fine. But it’s hard to actively like something every day when the years begin to mount into the hundreds. There have been tough times—”
“Wars?” I suggested.
He grinned. “Those too. But vampires aren’t immune to personal problems, either. It might not be quite as different as you suspect.”
“But you eat people.” I sounded a little more accusatory than I’d expected.
“Maybe only if they ask nicely.”
My cheeks warmed at both his words and the suggestive smile that accompanied them, and I looked away.
If I could just access a computer or, hell, even paper and an envelope, I could get this story out there. Finally. My big scoop. An actual interview with an actual vampire.
I’d be able to tell the world about the threat in this house, living among us. The FBI or SWAT could come and rescue me. I’d be free or die trying.
My blaze of glory.
I sighed. Who was I kidding, right? No one would believe me still.
I was just one more kook with a blog and a batshit crazy family.
I’d tried so hard my whole life—detailed reports, footnoted essays, lighthearted clickbait articles, social media videos of varying lengths, ghost hunting tours…
But nothing had worked. No one believed that they couldn’t see.
Except me.
And that was because Gran didn’t lie. When she said there was a spirit peering over my shoulder at the book I was reading, I’d read slower, turned the pages more carefully, because I wasn’t the only one enjoying the story.
Only now, I didn’t need Gran’s word. According to this vampire, I was destined to be his supernatural wife for the rest of eternity.
“Can you die?” It was the next natural question. Exactly how long was eternity?
He raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like the answer to that should be a trade secret.”
I laughed. “Legends are vague, right? Garlic, mirrors, daylight…” I waved an arm. We weren’t exactly standing around talking in a darkened room. “Some things clearly aren’t true.”
“Mon coeur, mon ange. My heart. Take my heart and you take my life.” He patted his chest softly. “Mais bien s?r, you already have my heart.”
Before I could blink, he was right in front of me, his chest pressed to my breasts, his head tilted as though in question. My gaze dropped to his lips. I wanted… I leaned a little closer. Just one touch. I yearned for that. I’d never wanted anything more.
He gasped, the sharpest of inhales and for just one moment I thought he moved. I thought he might…
But then he was gone again and we both returned to our search, my breathing uneven and noisier than usual.
Francois cleared his throat and busied himself at a bookcase, his back to me.
What had I just wanted? And what had he meant?
The idea that, of course, I already had his heart sat somewhat uneasily in my thoughts.
Was it really so easy for a vampire to love?
Gran would have known. Somehow, she’d have known the answers to all of my questions. If she could see me now… I laughed, suddenly glad she couldn’t see me now. I’d be disowned. She’d always told me my curiosity would get me into trouble one day—one more thing she was right about.
Like Francois, I touched the leather as I picked out the titles of the books. My French wasn’t perfect—far from it, and some of the old typefaces were hard to read. Either too decorative or worn from years of being handled.
“Wait.” I passed the pad of my thumb back over the burnished gold words. Formules Magiques. Maybe calling the spell book Magic Spells was a little on the nose, but it was worth checking.
I drew it carefully from the shelf. It was surprisingly heavy for one of the smaller books here. Certainly not as impressive as the old grimoires I’d seen and read about.
I opened the cover and an electric shock tingled through my fingers and shot up my arm. My knees buckled, and I cried out.
Francois was immediately in front of me, again. “Maeve, are you okay?” The way he spoke my name was like a caress.
“I…” I paused while I did a quick mental assessment of myself. “I…I don’t know.” My hand still tingled, prickling with something new and uncomfortable. Like I’d brushed against a plant that had stung me in warning for getting too close.
“Let me see?” He held out his hand, and when I started to pass him the book, he tutted his impatience. “Non. I don’t care about the paper. Only you. Where are you hurt?”
I juggled the book under my other arm and held my hand out for his inspection. He took hold of it carefully, before turning it so he could see my palm.
I gasped. “What’s that?” A perfect star shape sat in the center of my palm, like it had always been there, but I’d certainly never seen it before.
He ran the tip of his forefinger over it, and I shivered at his touch. My body almost hummed at the sensation, and I wanted to feel his touch elsewhere. All sorts of elsewhere.
It made no sense, but something drew me to him anyway. I stood perfectly still while he looked at my hand, and I almost willed him to look up. To kiss me.
I shook my head as the heavy book still under my arm pulled me back to reality, and I withdrew my hand from his grasp.
“I’m fine.” But I was already mourning the loss of his touch.
I couldn’t tell him that, though. I didn’t understand what I was feeling, and I didn’t want him to know or get the wrong idea.
Instead, I handed him the book. “Could this be the one?” I pushed my hair behind my ears as I tried to regain my composure, and I waited for his response. He opened the cover without seeming to feel so much as a spark, never mind a shock like I’d received, and he read a couple of the first pages.
Then he looked up, and the grin that captured his mouth was slow and…sexy. “I think you’ve found it. And so soon!” He laughed then stopped the noise suddenly and glanced toward the door. “We must copy as many of these spells as we can before we hand the book over.”
“Why?” Our job was done now, surely. We could get on with the business of making our escape. Wasn’t that the deal? “Aren’t we leaving now?”
“Soon, mon ange. But I can’t just hand over this book without knowing some of the spells.”
“What will you do with them?” A different thought occurred to me. “Do you have magic, too?”
He shook his head. “No, not me, but I might have a witch who can help us…if she gets here in time.”
“Wait.” I shook my head. This was all getting confusing. “I thought the plan was two steps. One, find the book of spells.” I gestured to it. “Ta-da! Two, escape.” I pointed at him. “That’s your part.”
“There are maybe a few more steps in between those.” He moved his forefinger and thumb apart about an inch. “But really, not a lot.” He had the grace to look sheepish, though.
I tapped my foot, suddenly tired again. It had been okay when I’d thought I had a goal. Find the book, get to go home. That much had been simple. Only now Francois said it wasn’t so simple.
“Okay. So what needs to happen?” Damn, I’d kill for a Coke or a sandwich or a beignet.
“We need to copy as many spells as possible so I can examine them more closely—or Kayla can—when she gets here.”
“And who’s Kayla?” Jealousy was a deceptively soft dart inside me.
“Oh.” He looked up and rubbed his forehead. “Oh, she’s Sebastian’s mate.”
“And Sebastian?” Were all of these people also in the house with us? “Is he here?”
“Malheureusement, non.”
“And why is that?” I agreed with him that it was unfortunate that the people he seemed to be relying on for our escape weren’t with us, though. I racked my brains. Had Ciara mentioned Sebastian or Kayla? Were they familiar names?
I had no idea. I was almost too hungry to focus.
“Nicolas’s brother, but we’re getting ahead of ourselves.” His eyes widened and he took on a more frantic look as he hurried to a big, old desk in the corner of the room. He set the spell book on the leather inset into the top. “I think they plan to resurrect my father. It’s very dark magic.”
“Your father is dead?” That conclusively answered my earlier question about whether vampires could die, then.
He nodded, the movement abrupt. “Oui. For some months now. Time is…” He waved distractedly.
“Immaterial. If they resurrect him, he won’t be pretty, and maybe when they get what they want, they’ll even put him back.
They certainly don’t trust him. Not after he left…
” His voice trailed off as he opened a drawer and started clattering through the things he found in there.
“What are you looking for?” I started to approach him before I stopped. My stomach grumbled.
Francois stopped what he was doing and looked to his left for a moment, tilting his head like he was listening before he nodded. “I will find you something to eat as soon as we finish here. We must hurry. I need to find paper and pens.” He continued to rummage through the drawer.
“No, we don’t.” I shook my head and walked to the desk.
He looked up, one eyebrow arched.
“Just show me the pages you want me to remember. Read me the words. I have a photographic memory—I can remember everything we need.” I leaned against the closest bookcase and watched him.
He smiled just a little. “So we can do this together? You’re in this with me?”
Shit. The hope on his face physically hurt me. But I couldn’t lie to him.
I shook my head slowly. “I need to get out of here. I need to get Ciara out too. I’ll do anything for that. But I can’t promise to stay with you if I might miss an opportunity to go.”
He sighed and looked down at the book on the desk. When he raised his gaze, sadness lurked in its depths. But he tightened his mouth and nodded. “Bien.” He waved me closer. “We’ll begin.”