A Vampire's Honor (4 page)

“O
h, dahlink!” Anasztaizia declared, taking one look at my teary-eyed expression and overall pathetic state. “This is going to take more than coffee, I am thinking.”

She pointed to a bar stool by one of the kitchen's prep areas and instructed me to sit. When I had called the lovely Magyar, she had simply told me to come to the restaurant she and her family owned. “I am taking inventory. No one is here, so we can talk in private.” Which I took to mean that her vampire boyfriend Aleksei was down for the day at her apartment and she already had a good idea why I needed to see her.

After slamming the penthouse door behind me, I'd half-expected Gabriel to wrench it off its hinges and drag me back inside, or to find him waiting for me in the garage when the elevator doors opened. But he didn't, and he wasn't. Stepping into the garage's concrete coolness, I let loose the breath I'd been holding. As an Original Vampire, Gabriel could tolerate the daylight in measured doses, and I wasn't completely certain that he might not decide to continue our discussion by coming after me. It appeared he'd seen reason and thought better of it. Good. If he was really smart, he'd go lie in his sarcophagus and look for the answer while in a state of unconsciousness.

It seemed my inner bitch had enjoyed this difference of opinion between Gabriel and myself a little too much.

Now I watched as Anasztaizia emerged from one of the restaurant's large walk-in coolers, a decadent-looking confection in her hands. It was some sort of cake, and the fondant glaze on the top had been decorated in a spider-web pattern.

“Esterházy torte,” Anasztaizia told me. “Guaranteed to cure everything but the stupidity of the male sex!”

She cut me a slice and set it before me, along with a fork, a napkin, and a large mug of the special-blend Russian coffee that I loved. As I ate my cake, giving my taste buds an orgasm, she told me about Prince Paul III Anton Esterházy de Galántha, whom the cake was named after. It wasn't until she was refilling my coffee mug that she asked me softly what Gabriel had done. So I told her.

Being able to talk to another female who was also involved with a vampire was a godsend. Anasztaizia had made herself available to me from the moment I'd accepted that vampires were very real and that I'd been sleeping with one. At first I'd been hesitant to burden her with my endless questions and anxieties, especially as vampires are, by necessity, secretive. I wasn't sure how Gabriel would react if he thought I was blabbing bedroom secrets to Aleksei's girlfriend.

“It's all right,” he'd assured me, making his dimple wink sexily. “I understand there are some things you would feel more comfortable discussing with another female, and I think it might be good for Anasztaizia also.”

His instinct had been correct.

“You have no idea, dahlink, how long I have wanted another woman to talk to,” Anasztaizia told me, making me realize that keeping her boyfriend's secret had been harder on her than I'd thought. “But I have no wish to come between you and your friend, Laycee.” Her smooth brow puckered with an uncharacteristic frown. “You have been friends for a long time, but I am thinking perhaps there are things you cannot say to her, yes?”

It was true. Even if Laycee had wanted to embrace wholeheartedly having vampires in her life, there were still things I wouldn't be able to share with her because she would always be on the periphery. And this particular episode with Gabriel? Laycee would have shrugged it off as nothing more than one of the perks of having a rich boyfriend. She certainly wouldn't have felt objectified or disrespected and might not have understood why I did. And why was that?

Because no matter how much you care for Laycee, you aren't cut from the same bolt of cloth,
my inner bitch whispered in a voice that seemed surprised I hadn't figured this out for myself. The truth could be very disheartening at times.

So no, Anasztaizia wasn't going to come between us.

“He replaced
everything?
” she said, the incredulity in her voice telling me I hadn't been overreacting. Anasztaizia understood completely why I was upset about Gabriel wanting to dress me up like an X-rated Barbie doll.

“Has Aleksei ever done anything like this?” I asked hesitantly.

She laughed. “Of course, dahlink—he's male.”

“Yeah, but has he ever done anything to make you feel . . .” I trailed off, unable to verbalize what I was feeling.

“Like he had absolutely no idea who I was?” Anasztaizia asked gently. I nodded, and she sighed. “Oh yes, he's guilty of that, but I think it is something every male on the planet has done, and it makes no difference if they're human or vampire.” She reached out and patted me on the back of the hand. “Only Aleksei would never buy me lingerie.”

“What—not ever?”

Anasztaizia shook her head. “He would be far too embarrassed to actually walk into a store and buy something so intimate.”

“He should ask Gabriel to go with him. I'm sure he could give him some tips.”

“Could you imagine the two of them together in a lingerie store?”

A sudden image of the big Russian vampire filled my head. I pictured him dressed in his beloved army greatcoat, military garb, and combat boots, checking out a thong on a hanger. It was too ridiculous for words, and I snorted in a very unladylike way.

Anasztaizia shook her head. “Well, thankfully he doesn't have to, dahlink. I know what he likes.”

“Yeah, I thought I did too, but I guess I was wrong. Apparently Gabriel wants to see me wear something called La Perla.”

Her brows rose in admiration. “He bought you La Perla?”

“Yeah and Flora England and some Agent or the other.”

“Fleur of England and Agent Provocateur.” The names rolled off her tongue with ease. “Well, you certainly can't accuse him of having bad taste. Were they pretty?”

“Exquisite,” I sighed, recalling the lovely satin bra with ribbons and pearls. An unexpected wave of shame swept through me at the way I'd manhandled them. “I guess they were pretty expensive, huh?”

“The cost makes no difference, dahlink. Gabriel was wrong to do what he did, and if you don't want it happening again, then it is up to you to let him know, although . . .”

I stared at her as her voice trailed off. “Although what?”

“Well, you did let him buy you an apartment and a new car,” she pointed out.

“But at least I had some say in both of those things.”

The apartment was one thing, but the car was a different matter altogether. I'd been upset when Gabriel had insisted I give up the POS. Iffy brakes, which had been on my needing-to-get-checked-out list, made the vehicle, according to him, unsafe to drive. I might have been able to swing the odds in my favor if new brakes were all that were required, but the POS had other problems. The kind that required a mechanic who would relish the challenge of working without the help of computer-aided diagnostics.

“So it's the scrap yard then?” I'd asked, feeling an unexpected prick behind my eyes.

“Absolutely not,” Gabriel assured me. “This car is a link to your father, and you can keep her for as long as you want. I'd just feel better if you didn't drive her.” He'd held me close, surprising me that he understood how strong a pull a couple of tons of steel had on me. “Let's see if we can get her fixed up, and maybe restore the original paint job?”

“What's wrong with the color she is now?” After all these years I'd grown quite fond of the unique Pimping-It-Purple shade a previous owner had chosen.

“Absolutely nothing,” Gabriel said, his attempt at nonchalance not quite disguising his shudder. “In the meantime you can take your pick of anything here.”

I was far too intimidated to drive anything in his garage, and as most of his vehicles had stick shifts, it was the perfect excuse to decline his generous offer. Which left me with no choice but to allow him to buy me a new car. And that, I suspected, was his intention all along. The Dodge Charger met with his approval, the Plum Crazy color not so much. Still, he was smart enough not to make any disparaging comments, and for that I thanked him.

So how could a man who was so wonderfully sensitive about my beat-up car, and who recognized my need for a place of my own, be so brainless as to replace all my underwear? “This is different,” I continued, “it's more personal. I can't believe it never crossed his mind to talk to me about this first. What if La Perla reminded me of an old boyfriend or something?”

“Does it?” she asked curiously.

“No, of course not.” I shook my head. “But he doesn't know that.”

“Ah dahlink, sometimes I forget how it was in the beginning with Aleksei.”

I hesitated a moment before asking, “How did you and Aleksei meet?” She gave me an odd look, one that said she'd been waiting for me to ask, and blew out a sigh. I couldn't tell if this was because she really didn't want to answer, or because she was concerned what my reaction would be. I apologized, “If it's too personal—”

“No, it's not that. I was a different person back then.” A slight frown crinkled her brow, and she gave me a hesitant smile. “My mother and father, the ones who run this restaurant with me”—she waved a hand in the air—“are not my real parents. They are good, kind people who took me in and saved me from what could have been a very different kind of life.”

“They adopted you?”

She shook her head. “Not formally, but as far as I am concerned, they are my parents. I never knew my real father; he died when I was very young, and so my mother remarried. I was thirteen the first time my stepfather got into my bed. When I was fifteen, I told my mother what he'd been doing. She called me a liar. Somehow it was easier for her to believe I had seduced him. So she threw me out.”

“Oh my God—how could she do such a thing?” Although I knew it happened, I still found it hard to believe a parent would turn against a child in this way. “What did you do?” I asked.

“Took money from her purse and ran away. Like a lot of girls, I went to Budapest. I thought I would become a model.” She snorted in disgust at her own naïveté. I thought she was being too hard on herself. “Anyway,” she continued, “I met a girl who had a boyfriend, and pretty soon I was doing drugs and selling myself for the next high.” She leaned back and folded her arms across her chest. “You understand what I am telling you, Rowan, about what I was doing?”

I nodded. Yeah, I understood, but it was in the past, and I wasn't going to condemn her for it. Realizing that, Anasztaizia relaxed her arms. “Is that how you met Aleksei?” I asked. “When you were on the streets?”

She nodded. “It was in an alley behind a nightclub. The man I was with decided he wanted his money back. Of course I refused, so he hit me a couple of times, and then suddenly Aleksei was there. I remember the man started to cry and pissed his pants, he was so scared. Aleksei took me to a café, got me something to eat, and asked if I wanted to be a prostitute all my life. I was only sixteen, but I'd already seen too much. Not many girls made it to nineteen. I didn't want to be one of them. So Aleksei took care of me. When I was clean, he sent me to live with my new parents, made me promise to go back to school . . . and became my boyfriend.”

“He was your boyfriend? At sixteen?”

“It's not like you're thinking.” She smiled at me. “It was all very proper. Aleksei is very old-fashioned. He wouldn't even kiss me until I was twenty-one.”

Seeing how lovely Anasztaizia was now, it wasn't hard to imagine how she must have looked at sixteen. I had to admire the big guy's restraint. “Is that when you found out he was a vampire?”

“That was when he told me, but I think I always knew what he was. You must remember, Rowan, I grew up hearing stories about vampires.”

“And it didn't scare you?”

She smiled and toyed with the diamond ring on her finger. “A little, but by then it was too late. I was already in love with him.”

“And the heart wants what the heart wants,” I said softly. Her eyes shone brightly as she looked at me. Oh yeah, I could absolutely understand what it was like to fall, and fall hard. “So what do I do about Gabriel?”

“Easy!” Her smile was dazzling, and filled with relief at knowing her past made absolutely no difference to me. “You set boundaries, Rowan. You tell Gabriel what is acceptable and what is not. And wanting to dress you like a high-priced hooker is definitely not acceptable—unless, of course, it's something you want to do. But that decision has to be yours, not his.”

Her reference to the hooker was because I'd told her about the Lady Gaga outfit. “The only thing missing was the spike heels,” I muttered glumly.

“Oh, I'm pretty sure they were there, you just didn't find them. He's a vampire,” Anasztaizia reminded me softly, “one of the most possessive creatures ever created.”

“I know, I know,” I muttered, trying my best not to sound irritated, “but if you're saying that to make me feel better, then I gotta tell you it isn't working.”

“I don't know about making you feel better, dahlink, but perhaps when I say possessive you are thinking one thing when I am meaning another, hmmm?”

She tilted her head and, resting her elbow on the prep surface, cupped her chin in her hand. The huge diamond Aleksei had given her twinkled in the overhead light. Perhaps she was right; maybe my definition of everything was completely different when applied to a vampire, although how many different definitions of possessiveness could there be?