Chapter 16 Maeve
Maeve
We headed downstairs, Francois’s hand clamped around my upper arm, vise tight, like if we got separated and all he kept hold of was my actual arm while my body got swept away in the rest of the crowd, that would be enough.
No one seemed to get out of our way. In fact, people crowded ever closer as if to look at the newcomers wandering through Nightfall. And although Francois lowered his head and we stuck to the shadows, it would be unlikely that no one at all recognized him.
Someone jostled against me. “I’d like to fuck the clunge on that. Fuck. I wonder if the carpet matches the curtains?”
My ears were attuned to picking up differences in speech after all of the recordings I’d listened to for my blog, and I swung my attention toward the British accent that had spoken, but whoever it was had fallen quiet.
I shuddered. Some men were disgusting, the way they talked about women.
Francois stiffened and his face started to change. A growl started to work its way through him, vibrating his chest, and he seemed about to snap to defend my honor—if it had even been me they were talking about.
I tightened my hold on him, just wanting him to keep it together while we got somewhere safe, although him defending me warmed my insides.
Not like this, though. He seemed to come from a more…refined time, and I wanted to hang onto that image after what we’d all just been through.
Despite his madness, there was definitely more of the Regency gentleman about him than drunk asshole at the local rundown bar.
I pressed my hand over his as though to secure his grip. I liked to have him so close—regardless of what Ciara had said. Forget said. She’d warned me. Tried to warn me off.
But what could I say? I’d always believed in the supernatural, despite every naysayer or person who wanted to tell me what a fucking crazy bastard I was. I’d believed in my gut then, and something in me believed in Francois now.
I couldn’t explain it, but I liked him, only it felt deeper than that, I trusted him. Like I would do anything for him.
And that thought was scary because I didn’t know why I felt that way. There was nothing rational behind it. It was as though my heart had gotten loose from my brain and was making its own decisions, but when had my heart become involved?
I shook my head. I was tired, I was dirty, I was hungry. And I was clearly overdramatizing my life. Surely I had enough going on with my very sudden submersion into the supernatural, without imaging myself into a sweeping love saga?
Just as I was talking sense into myself, Francois guided me behind a curtain that had looked like a wall from a distance away, and then pushed through a door and down some stairs.
I stopped, the movement abrupt, and he looked at me, curiosity in his gaze. But I shook my head and heaved in a deep breath, then another, until I couldn’t count the breaths anymore and my chest rose and fell rapidly as my focus failed. I wobbled, and Francois wrapped his arm around my waist.
“Maeve?”
I didn’t answer.
“Mon ange?” Concern underscored his questioning tone.
“I…” But there wasn’t enough air. Only the twin scents of damp earth and an air tainted with copper like in the cell where Ciara and I had been held.
I drew away from him and rested my forehead against the wall for a moment, focusing on the cool paint against my skin as I talked myself down. This wasn’t the same as being in that cell. I was safe here.
I was with Francois. I was safe with him.
When I turned to face him again, I smiled, my lips stretching, even though my eyes threatened to water for no reason. “I’m okay,” I said—more so I heard the words myself than to reassure Francois.
I’d been telling myself I was okay, despite what anyone else thought of me, for years.
He didn’t say a word in reply. Instead, he simply held out his hand. I twined our fingers together and it was like coming home. Everything felt right the moment my palm rested against his.
My breathing slowed to normal and my chest loosened.
“Sorry.” I couldn’t explain but I could apologize.
Francois squeezed my hand in reply, the gesture reassuring.
And again, I had no reason as to why I found his presence reassuring.
I just did. And after the time I’d just had since I arrived in New Orleans, I was going to grab this random feeling of peace and hold onto it with both hands, even if it was a vampire bringing me that peace.
I relaxed. I’d just roll with it.
He led me down the staircase and we walked through a doorway into a large common area. Then it was Francois’s turn to stop abruptly.
“Hello.” His tone was clipped, and his hand tightened like he was suddenly unsure of himself.
The vampires on the sofa were snuggled close to each other as they watched their movie, but I didn’t look closely at what it was because as soon as Francois indicated our presence, the vampires both stood, the male advancing with a growl low in his throat.
The female vampire with him grinned as she swatted him lightly on the arm. “Give it up, Kyle.” Amusement danced in her eyes. Then she extended her arm. “Hi. I’m Sam, and this grumpy guy is Kyle.”
I nodded and accepted her hand. “I’m Maeve. I think Sebastian said we could come down here to refresh and maybe eat…?” I made it into a question, although I wasn’t sure why.
Sam exchanged a glance with Kyle and then they both looked between Francois and me.
“How the hell…?” Kyle’s voice was gruff. “Where’s Ciara?”
“Oh…” I waved my hand. “She’s upstairs.”
“And now you’re just back?” There was an element of mistrust in Kyle’s voice as he looked at Francois, and I pushed away from the two strange vampires, seeking comfort from Francois’s presence instead.
“Yes.” Francois answered. “Three of us. Ciara, Maeve, and me. All back. And Maeve is hungry.”
“I think I can probably find you something in the kitchen,” Sam said. “Is Chef still trailing around between Baton Rouge and New Orleans?”
Kyle nodded but didn’t say anything as he ran his fingers over a raised scar on his head.
“Excellent.” Sam capped her hands. “There might even be beignets as part of dinner. But first come with me. I can show you to a spare room where you can get washed up and change your clothes.”
I sighed with relief then gasped as I ran through what she’d said a second time. “Change my clothes? I only have these. Can I do laundry?”
Sam laughed softly. “I’m sure we can hook you up with an outfit. We have a few women here. We’ve been looking for you. Kayla has been trying to unpick the wards and spells…” Her gaze softened. “As soon as I get you situated, I need to see Ciara. Is she okay?”
I nodded. “I think so.”
“She’s home,” Francois said, and Sam nodded.
“Okay. Come with me. I’ll get you some clothes and Kyle can see to the food.”
I glanced at Francois, almost like I was seeking his permission to go with this vampire I’d just met, but he seemed more at ease than I’d ever known him to be.
Apparently, grumpy, mistrustful vampire aside, we were with friends. He smiled and nodded and released my hand. I’d barely even noticed that we’d been standing there like a conjoined Tweedledee and Tweedledum.
“This way.” Sam glanced over her shoulder before she walked down a corridor. “The private bedrooms are down here.”
“This place is pretty big.” I couldn’t keep my curiosity inside.
“Yeah. It’s magic—literally.” Sam looked around. “I couldn’t understand it at first, really. I didn’t have the best introduction to supernatural life, but things are good now. I have Kyle.” She finished talking with a smile on her lips, and I didn’t probe further. It wasn’t any of my business.
It was good to know she hadn’t had the easiest start either, though. Mine certainly didn’t feel all that great. Being abducted by the oldest known vampires was possibly quite the claim to fame, though.
“I’ve always believed.” I came to a stop behind her as she opened a door and entered an impossibly airy bedroom.
“Really?” She lifted an eyebrow. “They’re quite protective of their privacy.”
I nodded. “My Granny had the sight or something. She used to tell me bits and pieces of lore about various supernatural creatures. I’ve been looking for actual proof all my life.”
“Well, you’ve found it now.” Sam laughed then pointed to a door in the corner of the room. “The bathroom’s through there. I’ll send some clothes down and come back for food when you’re done.”
I thanked her and she left the room, closing the door behind her.
I’d never seen a shower like it. Double width, rainhead shower above and various other jets from the walls.
Starting the water and figuring out how to work everything individually was a bit like piloting the next space shuttle, but eventually the beat of warm water soothed muscles I hadn’t even realized were tense, and the delicate scent of orange blossom soap filled the air around me.
When I was done, I wrung my hair out before twisting it into a towel and balancing the resulting turban on my head. I wrapped a second towel around my body, and tucked the corner between my breasts to secure it.
Sam had mentioned clothes, but I didn’t know where I was supposed to find them. I cracked the bathroom door open and peered into the bedroom then stepped onto the luxurious carpet just as the bedroom door opened and Francois crept in, his expression nervous, his hands full of clothes.
“I brought these.” His announcement was unnecessary as he placed the pile on the bed.
I walked closer to look at what he’d brought.
“All of the women have sent something so you can see what fits,” he explained.
I nodded as I reached toward the clothes and touched the top item. “It’s so soft.”
“Mm.” Francois nodded, but his attention wasn’t on the clothes anymore. He was looking directly at me, and my cheeks heated. Without warning, he reached out and cupped my cheek. “So soft,” he agreed.