Love is Darkness (A Valerie Dearborn Novel) (25 page)

She cried out at the painful cold.

Lucas said something unintelligible and quiet then dropped his head down, his lips close to her throat.

The need to fight and scream urged her onwards. Raising her arms, she tried to push away from him before he bit her. But he was too strong, too wide and tall. His whole body covered hers easily, kept her locked in place and unable to move like he was a large cage.

Lucas lifted his head from her neck, a look of purpose on his face as he maintained the effort to warm her.

“It's not enough.” His voice was gravelly and she didn't know what he was talking about. Val breathed in slowly, her breasts touching his chest with each inhalation and tried to remember the conversation.

Oh, the name wasn't enough for their protection if they came for him.

“It is enough. You are making up all the rules. You can accept that if you choose to!”

“Then I choose not to. It's not enough. I can find out who the traitor is.”

“But not with subtlety, not without giving away that you know someone has turned against you.”

“If you don't give me the name, I will be forced to allow the attack upon my person. Then they will all die. All your Hunters....As a display of what I can do.” The last was a whisper.

“Mass murder is not going to get you into my panties.” She wondered why these stupid things came out of her mouth. She tried to change the subject, talking of her panties could only cause her trouble.
“What if one of them gets lucky?
Six Hunters attack you at once? At least one of them has to get a good shot at you, right? Is that enough to tip the scales? Vampires and Hunters come at you at once, are you sure you can you survive that?”

Inexplicably, she felt a tear roll down her cheek. It was for Jack and her father only, she told herself. It was fear for good men and the danger they were all in,
herself
included, none of it was for Lucas.

He saw the tear slide down her cheek and frowned. He tensed and for a second she thought he might lick the tear from her cheek. Instead he pushed away from her, leaving her cold again, her back to the wall and her breathing ragged.

Lucas walked to the window, looking down at the street,
then
turned back to her “Are you so skillful at deceit? I can see your sorrow on your face and feel it in my body.” She wondered if that was true. Could he sense it, feel her emotions? He said it like it made him feel dirty.

She took a deep breath, then another, refusing to look at him.

“They will be safe. Tell me the name.” His rich voice cut through her, caressed her, the weight of his promise almost tangible on her skin.

“You won't hurt Jack and Nate even if they attack you?”

A terse nod of agreement.

Gulping, Val said the name before she lost her nerve, “Rachel.”

Smiling, he put down the glass again. His hands went to his pockets and he casually walked back to her.
Playing human again
.

“Tomorrow night there is a party. I will come for you at six. I am sending a
modiste
at ten. Choose what you like.”

She went to the couch and sat down, looking at him from across the room. He stayed standing, walking to the window to stare at the traffic below and the lights of the city.

“Is Rachel likely to kill you?”

Lucas shook his head slowly. “Rachel is nothing. She is barely old enough to kill a human bare handed. She would not dream of attacking me outright. She works for another. But I am surprised that either of them
are
willing to try.”

“Why? You can't be that indestructible, can you?”

“My ability to recover from injuries is unparalleled. It is my strength, speed and age that have kept me unchallenged for centuries. I can go into the sunlight, dematerialize repeatedly and feed infrequently. For one as old as I am, the dangers are different.”

Val waited for him to continue and watched his broad back, her gaze dipping down to his ass, imagined sinking her nails into it as he—
 

What the fuck is wrong with me?
 
Stupid, nonsensical reactions.

 
She looked at her nails instead. They were painted shiny red, the nails short. She wore a silver ring she'd bought in Covent Garden that had two semi-precious stones set in the middle.

He sighed. “Boredom and ennui are the true dangers for a vampire over 500 years old. What is left to live for when everyone we have loved is long dead? Relationships become repetitive and trite. We become exhausted. At my age, suicide is the most common form of demise.”

O
h.
“Do you want to kill yourself?”

“Not just at the moment,” He said dryly. “I have goals, things to accomplish before I consider anything so permanent. I want change for my people. That is a goal worth living for.”

“Why wouldn't they just wait for you to kill yourself instead of challenging your directly?” Val asked, trying not to think of the ramifications of his dying, but keep the questions matter of fact.

“Either impatience or because those who would rule do not have the power to do so unless they steal it from me.”

“Vampires can steal power?”

He turned from the window, came back towards her and sat down in the chair opposite her. His hand covered his eyes for a moment as though he was tired. “Blood is power. My strength is contained in my being. I can will power into my blood and transfer it to those below me, if I choose. It means I can both feed and reward my people. It can also be a punishment. I can drain power from those below me if I feed from them.”

“Do you get extra powers, like turning into a bat, by being older?”

“Speed, strength all increase. Dematerializing is something that only comes with age. But most things are myth.
 
Even capturing someone with a gaze is atypical. It is a neat trick, but very rare.

“But you can do it.” She’d experienced it. The memory came to her of when she’d met him in the woods, looking almost the same as he did now, and how he’d offered to take her fear from her so she could kill the vampire who was attacking her. She’d gone willingly, let down every shield she had, giving herself to him.

“Yes, I can do it.”

He stood and walked away from her, going towards her bedroom and disappearing as he reached the short hallway.

 
          
She hadn't told him anything about the wolves.
Although a revolution probably trumped that anyway.

A
modiste
, huh?
She didn't know anyone said the word
modiste
outside of a regency romance novel. Maybe they didn't and he was two centuries behind.

That fit.

Chapter 10

London, England

At ten a.m. sharp she heard a sharp knock on the front door. A French woman bustled in with two harried looking assistants pushing a rack behind them. The assistants wouldn’t make eye contact which made Val think that the woman either ran a very tight ship or had a lot of vampire customers.

Closing the door, she walked back into her living room watching as the assistants unzipped garment bags and shook dresses free from their plastic covers. Dresses were draped haphazardly around her living room and a large mirror with three panels was set up, so she could
really
know which dress made her ass look fat.

The woman knew fashion but as to why Val needed the gown, she either wouldn't say or didn’t know. The
modiste
called the event a ball and all the gowns seemed to support that statement. Huge princess dresses that required corsets were brought out.

Honestly, if
Spanx
wasn't enough, she wasn't sure she should go. She wouldn't eat anything else for the rest of the day. The dresses were suited for the Academy Awards or the Golden Globes, not for someone like her.

There it was again— the unreality of her situation. She was a normal girl and he was…well, dead.

The
modiste
studied Val critically and decided against several dresses instantly. The woman said the color clashed with her hair and skin tone but Val wondered if the dresses clashed with her personality instead. They were soft dresses that required a dainty woman to wear them. Val didn't do dainty. She did hysterical, angry, lusty,
afraid
and irritated to perfection.

Eventually, all the clothes and accessories were decided upon. The gowns were
rezipped
and packed away, the
modiste
bustled back out again, taking her assistants with her and Valerie was alone. Waiting for Lucas and wearing a deep blue gown the color of the ocean.

Her breasts were high and mounded, her waist nipped in thanks to the corset. She really didn’t need to look this desirable.

An extra accessory had been given to Valerie
which
made her realize this was not going to be a normal party. It was a little purse that dangled from her wrist. It was black velvet and had a gold L embossed on the front with a fleur de
lis
pattern woven through the material. The
modiste
said it was so everyone would know who she belonged to.

With almost no time to spare Val put on her lipstick and was ready to go. Her hair was pinned up into a mass on top of her head that exposed her neck. Something she thought might be fantastically stupid, but that the
modiste’s
assistant insisted was a requirement.

Val thought taking her hair down, but she wasn't sure if she needed to be that petty. She suspected there would be bigger compromises asked for before the night was through, so she left her hair alone and waited.

When the clock struck six she was looking out the window and watching people walk by, hurrying through the eternal rain to go home, probably to a family and hot dinner. A small rush of power wafted over her like pinpricks against her skin. She turned and saw Lucas come out of her bedroom, one big hand fixing the cuff of his crisp white shirt. Good Lord, he could be in a magazine modeling anything from $50,000 watches to expensive cologne.

He wore a black tuxedo minus the bow tie. Again the collar was open and she could see the hollow of his throat, her eyes drawn there despite herself. His deep blue eyes lifted and took in her appearance, starting from her voluminous skirts, to her corseted waist, passing quickly to her face. The gown matched his eyes, she realized, wondering if it was on purpose. He looked at her lips and she had the urge to lick
thm
but frantically tried to hold still.

A velvet cloak rested over one arm, which he opened and held for her to put on. Smiling slightly, he watched her come towards him and Valerie blushed, looking away. He fastened the collar around her neck, red rubies glinting on the clasp.