merciless hunter after all.”
He looked at her suddenly over his shoulder. “Perhaps I am. Perhaps I am only now planning how to slam a stake into you, pinning you to the bed.” His eyes were dark and glittering. And that was when she realized how very drunk he was. “Or perhaps there are other thoughts weighing on my mind.”
Narcise’s breath clogged and a sharp spear of desire shot through her belly. Her first reaction wasn’t revulsion, however. And that frightened her nearly as much as the thought of being taken back to Cezar.
She was saved from replying by a knock at the door, and as Chas was speaking sharply to whoever had come, she went over and opened the shutters again. Drinking in the cooling air, scenting the chill breeze wafting from the Seine, mixing with smoke and trash and stewing meat, she looked out over the street below.
What if Cezar was out there, right now, looking for her? What if he looked up and saw her peeping down at him? Or across the way—there were windows across the narrow street so close she could jump to them.
Narcise ducked back inside the chamber and realized she and Chas were alone again. “Your sisters? It’s said it is they who have the Sight,” she said, hoping to keep the conversation light…at least until one of them decided to go to sleep.
“The two younger ones do,” Chas replied. “After a fashion.” He still stood at the door, now positioned there with his arms folded over his chest. “But Maia, the oldest, who is still younger than I am by nearly ten years, does not. However, she makes up for it by commanding every aspect of everyone’s lives in the entire household.”
His lips relaxed and nearly eased into a smile—the first one she’d seen on him, it seemed. The effect was very nearly devastating, giving him a soft, sensual look in a highly shadowed face. A dark angel, she thought again —and not in the same way of Lucifer.
“I can hardly imagine how she and Corvindale will get on,” Chas continued, the smile going even wider. “For in my extended absence, I’ve arranged for the earl to attend to them.”
“You speak of her with such affection,” Narcise said. “My brother cared for me so much that he sent Lucifer to me.” She made no effort to hide her hatred and bitterness.
“And so that is how it happened? You blame your brother?” Chas’s voice was whip-sharp and filled with judgment.
But Narcise had come to terms with her fallibility long ago. “I blame my brother only for begging Lucifer to turn me Dracule, for sending him to me, but it was of my own will that I agreed to it.”
“He came to you in a dream?”
“He came, as I believe he must always do, at a most crucial moment, and yes, in a dream. Where one is the weakest, the most vulnerable to his suggestion. I know of no one who was given the opportunity and who declined the Devil’s bargain. If I ever met such a person, I would like to know how he did it.”
She closed her eyes for a moment, curling her lips into themselves. “Someone once said to me that I was the strongest person he’d ever met. But by the time I became strong, it was much too late.” Her insides heaved at the memory of Giordan—and she locked it back away. “I’d already given my soul.”
Someone knocked at the door again, and Chas, who she realized had been waiting for the arrival, opened it. A servant brought in a large jug of ale and two cups, placed them on the table, and left without a word or glance at either of them.
Glad for the interruption and the distraction, Narcise watched as her companion sat back down at the table and poured himself a cup of ale.
“Do you want some?” he asked, then commenced to pouring one for her without waiting for a reply, then set the cup near the opposite edge of the table. He settled back in his seat and took a drink.
She walked over hesitantly and picked up her serving, sipping the strong, bitter drink. It was heavy and warm, and she didn’t particularly care for it…but she found that having something for her hands to do, and her mouth and thoughts to focus on, was a good thing.
“What was the crucial moment?” he asked, pouring another slug into his cup.
“Why do you want to know? So you can find a way to my weakness and slay me?” she shot back, affronted by his curiosity when he seemed so reticent and judgmental.
“Perhaps I only wish to understand you better,” he replied. His words were gently slurred. “I haven’t had the occasion to converse with a
“Because you’re usually trying to kill them.”
“Yes. I should have killed you when I had the chance,” he said. His eyes were dark and unsettling. “But it would be a sin to destroy one with such beauty.”
“I’m certain it wouldn’t be your first,” she answered, sipping again from her cup as she leaned against the wall, keeping herself distant from him. “Sin, of course.”
“No, indeed not. I’m nearly as evil as you are, Narcise,” he said. “What was the crucial moment? Or will you not assuage my curiosity.”
“As you can imagine, vanity was my great weakness. I am fully aware of how my appearance affects those around me. Men have only lust in their eyes and hearts when they look at me, women hate me or envy me. I had a lover when I was sixteen. Rivrik. My first, and…only…in all the ways that matter.” She nearly choked on the lie, but in her mind it was true.
What she’d had with Giordan could not be classified as love. At least, not anymore.
“Poor Rivrik,” murmured Chas. “I can only imagine his terrible fate.” He refilled his cup again, and she could tell that the jug had become much lighter.
She wasn’t alarmed by his obvious intent to drink himself into oblivion, but rather curious about it. And, she suspected, in the morning he’d remember very little of what she told him tonight. “I had an injury—a burn, from an oil lamp. It was on my face, and I was terrified that it wouldn’t heal, that I’d have scars forever. And that Rivrik would no longer love me.”
“Because, of course, there was nothing about you to love other than your face and body,” he said.
Narcise ignored him. “When Luce came to me and promised that I’d live forever, that I’d never age and that I’d heal completely…I didn’t have the strength to decline. And that’s how it happened.”
“And Rivrik? I’m certain he was delighted to have you intact—except for your damaged soul, of course. But why would he care when he had the rest of you?”
Since these were thoughts Narcise had already considered and raged over, torturing herself with them decades ago, his words didn’t sting. Too much. “He died not long after. I’m fairly certain Cezar had something to do with it.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t offer to turn him Dracule so he could stay with you and your beautiful, youthful self forever.”
Now she was annoyed and pushed herself away from the wall. “Almost immediately after I accepted Lucifer’s covenant, I realized what a mistake I’d made. I never even considered visiting such a fate on Rivrik.”
“Ah, then. A Dracule with a conscience. With regret. They are so very far and few between.” He upended the jug and the last bit of ale sloshed into his cup.
Then he lounged back into the chair, his legs spread haphazardly, his head tilting back so much that she thought he’d fallen asleep. But then he moved, loosening the knot at the top of his shirt, and yanking it from the waist of his breeches. He’d already toed off his boots some time earlier, and now she noticed his dark, long feet, bare on the wooden floor.
“And so, then, Narcise,” he said suddenly, sitting up. His face had turned dark and fierce, and he set the cup on the table without looking. His eyes, lit to glowing by the gas lamp, pinned her gaze. “Here we are.”
She opened her mouth to reply, but he’d heaved himself from his chair, and now he made his way to the other side of the table. His fingers brushed the top of it as if to give him balance, and he walked smoothly but with the slightest bit of stagger that indicated just how far into his cups he was.
Narcise’s heart began to thump very hard, and her mouth dried. Even drunk and sloppy, he was dark and exotic looking. Intimidating with his superior height and broad shoulders.
Yet, she made no move to recoil or otherwise back away, even when he came right up to her. But when he grabbed the front of her chemise and slammed her up against the wall, she was so shocked she didn’t have time to react before he put his face right up close to hers.
Eyes furious and dark, his lips pulled back from his teeth in a ferocious grimace, he said, “If you ever attempt to enthrall me, I’ll kill you.”
