Bloodcraft (11 page)

“It’s too dangerous,” he said stubbornly.

Victoria rose and stood in front of him. She placed her hands on his shoulders. “That’s not your decision to make. I am not some lost little girl you have to protect. I came to Paris to be with you
and
to find people like me.”

“There’s no one like you,” he said softly, his eyes storm-wrought silver. “And your life will be at risk.”

“But it is
my
life. I won’t stay cooped up in this place for fear of what could happen.
Soporo
,” she added under her breath, but knew that the spell would probably not work—Christian, for some reason, was immune to any of her healing magic, much less a simple calming spell. But he seemed to relax after her words, more so from the ministrations of her fingers as she kneaded the tension from his neck and shoulders. Christian sighed, bringing his forehead down to rest lightly against hers as his hands dropped to encircle her waist. They stood there for an eternity in the silence before the ringing of the telephone jarred them apart.

He stirred, and Victoria tightened her arms about him. “No, don’t get it,” she said. “Just keep holding me and maybe everything ugly will disappear.”

“It’s Aliya,” he said.

She frowned. “How do you know?”

“Caller ID.”

She dropped her arms and raced toward the phone. She answered and listened intently. The strength drained from her limbs as she grasped the phone with bloodless fingers. Christian was at her side the moment she disconnected the call. She knew he would have overheard the conversation. “Did you hear?”

He nodded. “Some. I was trying not to, but she said something about an accident?”

“One of the high priestesses and her familiar have been attacked. The familiar is dead, but the witch is unconscious.”

“Attacked by whom?” Christian asked.

“They don’t know. She was insensible when they found her. Aliya said they’re hoping they can find something that can help identify the attacker.” Victoria stared at him, her eyes wide. He touched her wrist and she swallowed convulsively. “Christian, her body was drained of blood.”

His features were inscrutable as he returned her stare. “Were there any marks?” he said after a few minutes.

“None, but you said that your saliva has healing properties,” she replied without thinking. “Wait, I didn’t mean—”

But Christian cut her off with a weary hand. “I see they’ve already jumped to the same conclusion as you have,” he said in a flat tone.

“Isn’t that the same as you did earlier?” she retorted, responding to the blame in his voice.

Christian’s lips thinned into a flat line. “Victoria, they have no way of knowing that a vampire was responsible for anything, and unless their seers were indeed able to delve into the witch’s unconscious mind, there is no conclusive evidence that a vampire was guilty of the crime.”

His hand dropped away from her body and he turned to pick up the discarded glass of cognac he’d been drinking earlier. He refilled it and watched her over its rim, his irritation obvious. She didn’t have to read his mind to know what he was thinking—that she was naïve for believing Aliya without proof.

“You blamed the witches earlier.”

“Not exactly,” he said. “You’re twisting my words. We came to an
assumption
by a process of logical elimination.”

“And so did they,” she said, resenting the feeling of being backed into a corner by his attitude and his thunderous expression. “Her body was
drained
of blood. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

“Not necessarily by a vampire. Could have been anything.”

“Well, we’ll soon find out, won’t we?” she snapped through her teeth at the indifference in his tone.

They stood staring at each other in combustible silence, until Christian’s mouth twitched and he burst into low laughter. “Come on, you know you find this as ridiculous as I do,” he said. “Here we are dividing the field of battle, sighting off against each other. Witch camp versus vampire camp.”

“What, you find it amusing that someone was attacked?” she said. “Have you no respect?” Christian crossed the room in two long strides to stand directly in front of her. She held her ground, mutinous, and braced herself for a scathing response, but his voice was gentle.

“Tori, what’s the real reason you’re firing up at me? I know it’s not because you think a high priestess was attacked by a vampire,” Christian said. “Are you angry because I questioned Aliya’s opinion? Making this some kind of us versus them situation? What’s wrong? Tell me what happened.” She clenched her jaw and studied the floor, fighting the tears already welling behind her eyes. He always could see right through her. “Tell me everything Aliya said,” he repeated, forceful, tipping her chin up. “All of it this time.”

She looked away, but answered in a monotone whisper. “Aliya said they haven’t made a final decision about me based on the attack. They’re convinced it was a vampire because of the way her body was empty of blood and life and”—she broke off, meeting his eyes—“and they think that because I live with you, a vampire, it will be a threat to their security.” She glanced at his impassive face, trying to read anything from his blank expression. It was like staring at a brick wall. She licked dry lips and pushed ahead since there was more. “I can train with them if I agree to live with Aliya.”

“And if you stay here with me?”

She swallowed hard. “Their answer is no.”

“So it’s worse than I suspected. It’s already begun.”

“Christian—”

“So what have you decided to do?” he asked, his voice devoid of inflection. Her heart crumbled at the defeated look in his eyes.

She cleared her throat, fighting the growing lump there. “I was thinking that the school is so close to Paris anyway, and because Fontainebleau is so far that it would make sense to move closer, at least for a few weeks until things calm down,” she said miserably.

Victoria didn’t want to hurt Christian, but this was what she had come to Paris for—to find out who she was and learn about others like herself. But his wounded expression made her want to throw herself into his arms and swear that she’d never leave, that that would never be a choice she would make. But she
couldn’t
. She stepped towards him and touched the face that seemed to be chiseled in granite. His eyes betrayed nothing, but a muscle leapt in his jaw at her touch.

“They’re not giving me a choice,” she said.

“You always have a choice.”

“Can’t you see that I’m not leaving you—this is
not
an us and them thing. It’s what makes the most sense for right now,” she said, pressing a kiss to his lips. “You have to trust me.”

“I understand,” he said, but his words were empty, mechanical. Victoria kissed him harder, pressing herself against his uncompromising length and silently pleading with him to understand her reasoning.

“Kiss me back, Christian,” she whispered against his mouth. He was fighting her, but she needed to show him that she wasn’t leaving him for
them
. Stung by his passivity, Victoria tried to make him feel something, anything. She kissed him with all the passion she could muster, with a combination of inexperience and sensuality that normally made him crazy. This time, it didn’t.

Please, Christian.

It was her achingly raw plea that fractured the barrier between them. His lips softened and he groaned against her mouth. Crushing her body to his, Christian seized her lips in a hard, possessive kiss that went on and on until she was clinging to him, breathless and shattered. How could she possibly be away from him for so long? They broke apart and she met his eyes. They searched deep, as if trying to see into the most secret parts of her. She flushed from the intensity of it.

“Do you need to go out?” she whispered, hesitant.

“No.”

Surprised, she watched him. Normally after such a passionate exchange, he’d already be shifting, but strangely enough, apart from his rapid breathing, he seemed perfectly composed. It was strange.

“How come?” she said.

“I don’t know,” he said in an equally surprised voice. “I felt myself compartmentalizing what you said earlier about leaving, and when you kissed me, all I could think about was resisting you—something I’ve never done.” His words held a note of bewilderment. “The hunger was there. I could feel it twisting in my gut, but somehow it stayed under control.”

“What does that mean?” She frowned. “I thought you couldn’t control the change?”

“I don’t know,” he repeated. “A vampire
can’t
control the hunger once it takes over. It owns us until we satisfy it, and it’s near impossible to suppress once we’re past a certain point. This felt different, as if I wasn’t even hungry in the first place.”

“Well, I’m glad,” she said softly. “I hate to see you in any kind of pain because of me. And I’m sorry about this, Christian. I really am. But you know how much this means to me, and the only way I can start training is if I live temporarily with Aliya.”

Christian brushed a tendril of hair out of her face. “So I guess it’ll be like when we were dating in Maine, sort of.” His light tone took her by surprise, but she grasped at it like a lifeline.

“We’ll see and talk to each other every day. This is what I came here for,” she reiterated. For some reason, she needed him to agree, to support her decision, to let her know despite being apart, that they were going to be okay. She needed to hear it from him.

“I know,” he said, kissing her forehead. “What am I going to do without you?”

“The same as I am—think about you every single minute we’re apart.” Christian smiled at her response and wound his arms about her.

“So when do you leave?”

“Tomorrow,” she said, her heart sinking at the thought of being away from him so soon. As such, she was completely unprepared for Christian’s wicked answering smile.

“Perfect. Let’s go upstairs and see what else I can compartmentalize.”

SEVEN

Truths Unveiled

Christian entered the boardroom on the top floor of the Tour Areva in La Défense, Vampire Council headquarters, and nodded to David, who was waiting with four other men, whom Christian recognized as the shell corporation’s attorneys. Two of them were vampires, the other two human, although they could well be vampires for the ruthless way they operated. They greeted him and he sat down. As always whenever he met with Council members, Christian looked the part he was expected to play—that of vampire royalty. Dressed in an expensive, tailored navy suit, he wore no jewelry, save for a heavy onyx ring emblazoned with his ducal crest in gold, which he twisted on his finger as he waited for them to begin.

“Your Grace, as you are aware, Lord Enhard Markham has left his entire estate to you, which comprises a number of commercial and residential properties across the world, including several here in France. It also includes a substantial cash settlement. The value of the estate, including all assets, is approximately forty billion Euros.” The attorney paused and Christian nodded for him to continue. “As is customary, the Council will receive thirty percent of the liquid assets and thirty percent of the property, at your discretion. The total of the liquid assets due to you is ten billion Euros.”

Christian didn’t bat an eyelash at the staggering sum. One of Enhard’s fondest passions had been playing the stock markets across the world, and the value of his portfolio and cash liquidity came as no shock to Christian. He was, however, completely stunned that Enhard had left his entire estate to him. As a Council Elder, Christian had assumed that Enhard would have bequeathed his entire estate to the Council itself. It wasn’t as if Christian needed it. He had more money than he could ever want or need for several lifetimes over.

Still, Enhard’s parental gesture left him in a state of curious emotion. The closest thing he’d had to a father, Enhard had taken him under his wing, teaching him most of what he knew, and had saved him from himself countless times. There’d been instances when Christian had the distinct impression that Enhard was hiding a secret, something related to
him
, but it was always fleeting and the moment had always passed before Christian could ask him about it.

The thought of never again seeing his face or talking to him when the need arose was a sobering one. Enhard had been one of the only Council members he could trust with his life. He clenched his fingers as a spasm of pain rolled across his insides, but kept his face composed—displaying any emotion in his position was tantamount to weakness. His thoughts were interrupted by the attorney’s voice.

“Lord Markham left you a sealed envelope, to be opened upon his death,” the man said, pushing a manila envelope across the table. Christian noticed that David was staring at him with a strange expression on his face, but it disappeared before he could process it. The rest of the meeting passed quickly as they finalized the rest of the estate transition. For the most part, Christian’s own asset management team would handle the bulk of the transfer into his portfolio.

As the attorneys filed out, Christian held the manila envelope between his fingers, lost in thought, not realizing that David hadn’t left the room with the others until he sat heavily in the chair to his right. Christian regarded him in silence. Like most vampires, David was youthful, his boyish looks preserved for eternity, but his eyes were ancient. Those eyes had seen a lot. Christian waited for the old vampire to speak.