Chapter Ten
New Year’s Resolution Number Ten: Try falling in love. After all, it’s not the fall that hurts. It’s the landing.
“Will the ceremony go on as planned tonight?” Salvatore asked as he marched into Devereaux’s study.
Devereaux gazed into the fireplace, watching the flames flicker and dance. Lark had been worried about him. She didn’t want him burning. He figured that had to be a good sign.
“Uh, Devereaux? Yo!”
He turned toward his friend.
Salvatore’s brows were up, and his hands were on his hips, fisted. “The ceremony. Is it happening?”
The bonding. The vamp equivalent of a marriage. The event that would seal the deal and bind him to Lark. Hell, yes, he wanted it to happen. But… “Not yet. She needs more time.”
“Are. You. Shitting. Me?”
Devereaux flipped the guy off. “She’s not ready. And I won’t rush her.”
Salvatore stalked toward him. “Screw ready. You want the kingdom? You want the power? Then you do—”
“I want her.”
“Yeah, right, that’s why you complete the bonding ceremony, and you get her forever. You get—”
“I want her…to love me.”
Salvatore’s eyes squeezed shut. “You did not just say that crap to me.”
Devereaux growled. “Do you forget who is the prince here?”
Salvatore’s eyes flew open. “I remember very well. I remember the vampire who found me on a battle field, bleeding out because I’d been betrayed by my own men.
I remember that you tried to keep me alive as a human first—that you tried to save me, but when there was nothing that could be done, and as the fucking snow fell around us, making me even colder, you gave me another chance. ”
Devereaux rolled back his shoulders.
“I’ve been at your side since then. I’ve always had your back, but I have never bullshitted you, and I won’t start now.
This isn’t about love. It’s about power.
You think her old man is just going to play nicely now that her safe years are up?
Hell, no. He will come for her. He will try to take her from you.
He isn’t the same man he was all those years ago.
He was desperate when he came knocking on your door—”
“And I am desperate now!” Devereaux fired back. “If I push her, I lose her!”
“Holy hell.” Salvatore rocked back on his heels. “You’re this whipped already? Shit, when did it happen?”
“Salvatore…”
“I knew when you used to sneak out and watch her, that crap was dangerous. Stalker-like, too, but hey, who was I to judge? You wanted to see her too much.”
He had. As a child, she’d had such an innocence. He’d wanted to protect her.
As a teen, she’d known too much pain. Again, he’d been consumed by the desire to protect her. But he’d been helpless. Forced to stay away. Forced to watch from a distance as she buried her mother and stood at the gravesite, with heavy drops of rain falling onto her downcast head.
Then, when she’d become a woman…when he’d watched her on her twenty-first birthday as she’d celebrated in a college bar with her human friends…
hell, did she even know that he’d been the one to supply her mysterious scholarship so that she could attend the school she wanted?
He hoped not. Some secrets should be kept.
But he’d had to see her. He’d wanted to make sure she was happy.
Yet as he’d watched her on the dance floor in that rundown bar, as he’d seen her spin around and her dark hair had trailed over her shoulders, as her warm laughter had filled the air, he hadn’t just wanted to protect any longer.
A new need had risen within him.
Now that he’d had her once, Devereaux knew all bets were off. There could never be another for him. If he lost her tomorrow, he would spend the rest of his many days longing just for Lark. His Lark.
“When did you fall in love with her?” Salvatore asked quietly.
The guy had always been blunt. “None of your damn business.”
“I’m your best friend. If it’s not my business, then it’s no one’s business.” Salvatore huffed out a breath. “And if the others out there find out that you’re this wrapped up in her, without a bond in place, they could use her against you. She could be a weakness.”
Like he didn’t know that already. “That’s why she’s here. In the safety of my home. With my guards around her. No one will get past the guards at the perimeter of this place. As long as she stays here, I have time…” Devereaux’s voice trailed away.
Salvatore just looked expectantly at him.
Feeling his cheeks burn, Devereaux muttered, “Time to woo her.”
He expected the booming laughter that came from his friend. Just because he expected it, though, didn’t mean that Devereaux liked the sound. “Don’t make me knock your ass out.”
With an effort, Salvatore managed to control his laughter. “Man, you must have been out of the dating game for like, ever, if you still use the word ‘woo’ when talking about romancing someone.”
It had been a while. He’d fucked plenty of women, but to court one? He couldn’t even remember how long it had been. “Don’t you have a fucking perimeter to go and guard?”
“Do you know how to woo her?”
“I have a plan.”
Now Salvatore crossed his arms over his chest and looked expectant. “Let’s hear it.”
“I bought her a closet full of the most expensive clothes I could find. There are four jewelry boxes in her room—all filled with diamonds and emeralds.” The emeralds would match her gorgeous eyes, and didn’t humans say that diamonds were supposed to be the best friend that a girl had?
Salvatore kept looking expectant.
“I have servants who will cater to her every demand. I can give her anything she wants with the snap of my fingers.”
Salvatore rolled his eyes. “Sorry, but a monster hunter’s daughter doesn’t strike me as someone who’d really care about fancy clothes or sparkly jewels. And are you sure she wants someone else doing everything for her? The woman seemed pretty self-sufficient to me.”
Devereaux faltered. “I just…wanted to give her presents.” He wanted to shower her with gifts. He’d wanted to give them to her when she was younger, wanted to give her anything to make her life easier, but her mother would never have allowed that. Her mother hadn’t allowed him anywhere near Lark.
“Yeah, look, it’s nice that you want to give her things. But does she care about things?”
And Lark’s words replayed through Devereaux’s mind… Things don’t matter, you know? “Fuck.”
“Exactly. So maybe instead of things, why don’t you let her get to know you better? If you want the woman to fall for you, then you need to use charm.”
“Get to know me?” Now he stalked back to the fire. Glared at the flames. “Maybe I should tell her about my bloody past?”
The floor squeaked behind him.
“Maybe I should tell her about all the demons and shifters I killed during my earlier days when I was so desperate for power? Should I tell her how I was known as Devereaux the Dark? How I turned the countryside red with the blood of my enemies…”
“Uh, Devereaux…”
“Do you think that will truly charm her? Because...” He whirled. “I…don’t.”
Oh, shit.
Lark stood next to Salvatore. Her eyes were huge. Her lips parted.
“I didn’t hear you come in.” The floor had squeaked, but he’d thought that was just Salvatore shifting around. He hadn’t caught her sweet scent, hadn’t heard the whisper of her breath…
Now he did.
Lavender. The scent reached out to him, and her breathing was coming too fast. Her heart was racing—probably because I just scared the ever-loving hell out of her.
“You were distracted,” Salvatore muttered. “You’ve got to watch that crap.” He backed away. When he was behind Lark, he pointed to her and mouthed, Charm her.
The dick. How was Devereaux supposed to be charming now?
Salvatore shut the door behind him.
Devereaux didn’t move.
Neither did Lark. Since she wasn’t turning and running away in terror, wasn’t that a good sign? He thought it was. Perhaps.
“I can explain,” Devereaux began as he crept toward her.
“Explain the countryside going red?”
“It was the Middle Ages. There was a whole lot of fighting.” Was he speaking too quickly?
“Kill or be killed. A savage time where only might ruled. If I hadn’t fought, my people would have died.
They were already being persecuted. It wasn’t exactly the best time for the paranormals.
” Anyone different had been slaughtered.
“The humans I killed—they were trying to destroy my family. My people. I spared those I could. I didn’t just want death. ” He’d never wanted only that.
She was still in the room. Her head cocked as she stared up at him.
“I will always be a vampire.” Truth. Just as she would now, because of him. “But it doesn’t mean I have to be a monster.”
Though his enemies would certainly say otherwise. He didn’t want her to say otherwise, though. He wanted Lark to think of him as something different.
He stood so close to her now. Devereaux wanted to reach out and touch her, but he was afraid she’d flinch away from him. He didn’t want that. When she didn’t speak, he cleared his throat.
Charm her. I can do this shit. “How is your room? Is everything to your liking?”
“Yeah, about that…” Her gaze hardened. “I don’t exactly like being put in the flavor of the week’s room.”
The flavor of the what now?
“Don’t give me the castoffs that you use on your former lovers.
I don’t want their clothes.” Her voice had turned sharp and brittle.
“I don’t want their jewelry. I don’t want the bed that they all slept in.
I’m not some replacement that you just pop into place.
” Another glare, and she turned on her heel to storm away.
His hand flew out and locked around her arm. “No other woman has worn those clothes.”
She stiffened. “Right. You just magically had them all in that over-sized closet.”
“I had them because they were bought for you. Lots of blues because I knew that was your favorite color.”
“How the hell would you know that?”