The Vampire Dimitri

“You aren’t truly going,” Narcise said, eyeing Chas from across the room. She stood near the table, trying to appear nonchalant by plucking the petals from a bouquet of daisies he’d brought for her.

He looked at her, his powerful, swarthy hands filled with stakes and a clean shirt. Normally the sight of a wooden pike in his capable grip sent a shiver of excitement mingled with fear rushing through her. But she was too upset right now to feel anything but anger and apprehension.

“Of course I’m going,” he replied sharply, shoving the items into a leather satchel. “She’s my sister, Narcise. Do you think I would leave her safety up to chance? Especially with Voss?”

She shrugged, trying to make the movement nonchalant, while at the same time, her insides turned unsettled and her body numb. “Voss is smart enough, and Cezar likes him because he always has information he wants. He won’t be suspicious of him, so Voss will have no problem getting in. And with those smoke-bomb packets you gave him, he’ll have an easy way to escape.”

Chas stopped and fixed her with a steady look. “I don’t want him anywhere near my sister. Not only do I not trust him, not only have I heard legend upon legend of him ruining women, but he is also a Dracule.”

Narcise was surprised at the pang of hurt his words produced. She’d thought she was well beyond such sensitivities. Damn it…after all she’d been through, she should be stronger than that. “And so you can commingle with we Dracule, we damned and damaged demons…but not your sister.”

“Blast it, no, Narcise.” He jammed a hand into his shiny dark hair. His muscles shifted beneath the rolled-up sleeves of his untied shirt and she noted the sleek movement with a warm shiver of appreciation. “It’s different for her than for me. I understand what I—I understand what it’s like.”

“Well, Chas, I suggest you begin to help her understand. Because from the way she was acting that night in Dimitri’s study, I wouldn’t be surprised if Angelica was in love with Voss. And she doesn’t know what to do about it. She probably doesn’t even realize it.”

“Never,” he snapped. “And even if she fancies herself in love with him, I won’t permit it. I’ll kill him first.” Chas had shoved his weapons and shirt, along with a pouch of coins and bills, into the satchel, and now he slung it over his shoulder. He was leaving her here. Alone.

A moment of panic chilled her and she dropped the daisy she’d been torturing. Cezar could find her. Or worse, Giordan. “I’ll come with you, Chas.”

“Don’t be a fool,” he said, his tone softening. “You can’t allow yourself anywhere near Cezar. Paris might be a big city, but you know as well as I do that he has spies and makes everywhere. I won’t risk you, Narcise.”

“It was almost impossible for us to leave Paris safely last time. He still has makes and mortal soldiers watching for you everywhere…you know it. You’ll never get out of the city again, with or without Angelica. Let alone into Cezar’s place.”

“You know better than that. Last time you were with me and he was searching for you—”

“But he didn’t know I was with you—at least at first.

Chas…” Her voice trailed off. She knew she was being awful and selfish—wasn’t that part of her Dracule nature?—but if she lost Chas, she didn’t know what she’d do. He was the only one she trusted to keep her safe.

The only one, she told herself firmly when her resolve wavered.

“Oh, Cezar would see me. You know that for certain.

He’d be delighted to welcome me back into his lair.”

Dark fear seized her. He was right. Chas would have no problem getting in to see her brother. It was the getting out that would be impossible. “Chas, please.” She hated that she begged; she’d given that up long ago.

“Don’t insult me by implying your brother is more than a match for me,” he said, his voice a little flat. “You know what I’m capable of. And if we knew what his Asthenia was, I’d have brought it to him long ago.”

Narcise tried to believe Chas. She wanted to believe him; and much of what he said rang true. After all, it had been her fault Cezar captured Chas before they made their escape.

But as was the case for anyone who had been at the mercy of or tortured by another, it was hard to dismiss the sense of omnipotence that the captor inflicted upon the victim. And Cezar had done a good job of it over the course of decades.

“You’ll be safe here, Narcise,” Chas said, gesturing to the stone walls. “He won’t find you, and then when I get back we’ll go to Wales.”

They were in the cellar beneath the ruins of a former monastery in London, accessible through an old wall in a cemetery. All of the religious articles except around the building’s perimeter had been taken away, and those that remained were partly covered by moss and lichen. That made it uncomfortable and more than a little painful for her to come into the space, and Chas had to nearly carry her in, but that was only until she crossed the threshold and closed the lead-filled door behind her. Then the pain was gone and she could be comfortable.

In fact, the chamber was rather luxurious, with a large bed, trunks, a table and chairs, and even a row of small venting windows to allow fresh air and filtered light into the space. Boxwood grew up and around the windows, which were at ground level, keeping the dangerous sun from streaming through directly. A thick rug covered the concrete floor, and a tapestry hung on one wall.

Chas had discovered the place as a haven for a group of made vampires when he was hunting some years ago, and chased them all away. Those who escaped the point of his stake didn’t dare return, for he was fast and fierce. Aside of the physical attributes, he somehow had the innate ability to sense the presence of a Dracule. Even those of the Draculia couldn’t recognize the mere presence of another, and they certainly couldn’t identify the arrival of a vampire hunter like Chas. In combination with his speed and strength, which was nearly a match for any vampire, this ability made Chas Woodmore both feared and respected among the Dracule.

“Very well,” she said, knowing she sounded a bit petulant. It was just that she’d hoped and planned and attempted to escape from her brother for more than a hundred years, and now that she’d finally done so, with Chas’s assistance, she was terrified that her freedom would be taken away from her.

That Cezar would somehow find them. Or her. Or Chas.

Damned or no, she would never allow herself back with Cezar. She’d wrap herself in those painful brown sparrow feathers and jump from a tower into the sunshine before allowing him to touch her again.

Or his friends.

Freedom was glorious.

Chas looked at her from across the chamber, hesitated, as if trying to make up his mind, and then strode over to her. The next thing Narcise knew, she was flattened up against the cool stone wall, his hands on her face, his mouth crashing onto hers.

She closed her eyes and kissed him back, their mouths molding and smashing together, tongues fighting and sliding. Her hands curled around his skull, fingers digging up into his thick, black hair as he pressed her into the wall as if to leave the imprint of his body on hers.

“Be safe,” she managed to say as he pulled away to catch a breath. “Come back to me.”

“I’m in love with you, Narcise,” he said, looking down at her with glittering green-brown eyes. He bent to brush a softer, farewell kiss against her throbbing mouth. “Make no mistake…I’ll return. But,” he said, stepping away, his face settling into something firm and serious. “While I’m gone, you have other things to attend to.”

Narcise blinked, trying to pull herself out of the gentle, warm haze he’d caused to rise in her, to focus on him.

“Do what you must do,” he said steadily, “to get beyond the past. Otherwise…” He shook his head, his mouth hard. “I love you, but I won’t wait for you to come to love me.”

But I do love you. The words didn’t come, though she wanted them to. She knew they would be a lie. Dracule didn’t—couldn’t—love anyone but themselves. She’d made that mistake once before. “I can’t lose you, Chas.”

But he’d turned and swept from the room.

“Mr. Alexander Bradington has sent a message for you.”

Maia froze, her hand holding the teacup halfway to her mouth. Her insides dropped, her face warmed, and she felt a rush of nausea replace the confusion that had been churning through her since returning early this