The Vampire Narcise

wall a moment ago. The three of them, as cowards often do, shouted encouragement to each other as they bolted toward her in a rage.

Narcise didn’t flinch, and in fact, was enjoying herself as she fought them off. Despite her restrictive clothing—a corset, slippers, and shoe-length skirts—and the loose braid that whipped around with her every movement, she was quick and efficient. It was a testament to their stupidity that it took three rounds before they realized she would neither go with them, nor suffer being touched. She didn’t even have to bare her fangs in order to stave them off—it was a matter of strength and speed, both of which she had as an advantage over the three men.

When they were at last in an unmoving heap on the ground, their noses bloodied—the scent not even the least bit tempting to her—and lips cut, perhaps an arm broken or an eye blackened, she stood over them. “Don’t ever accost a woman again. The next time, I’ll kill you.”

The largest one whimpered when she bared her fangs at last and swooped toward him, her eyes glowing bright and red as she yanked him up by his shirt. “Do you understand?” she demanded, breathing through her mouth so as not to inhale his putrid odor, now colored with the scent of terror.

“A-aye,” he managed to say, closing his eyes and turning away as if expecting her to take a hunk out of his skin.

“Good,” she breathed, and licked her lips enticingly. “Because I’ll be watching you…and the next time you even look at a woman, I’ll find you. And I’ll be hungry.” She showed him her fangs, long and wicked.

Then she smelled the pungent odor of fresh urine and shoved him toward the half wall along the sewer, satisfied that he’d been well and truly frightened. “Go off with you. All of you,” she ordered, standing there in the dark street, feeling as strong as she’d ever felt—as powerful, as sure of herself.

And as her would-be attackers scuttled off into the night like frightened beetles, she felt a bubble of laughter come up from inside her. Joyous and warm, delight swelled inside her as she realized who she was.

And what she could do. And—

“How startling. I don’t believe I’ve ever heard you laugh.”

Narcise’s stomach seemed to plummet to the ground. Choking off her laughter, she spun, her insides turning inside out and upside down, her thoughts scattering. “What are you doing here?” she managed to say as she swallowed her heart and felt her cheeks burn.

Giordan sauntered toward her with studied casualness. The moon was kind to him, filtering silvery light over the thick, dark curls on his head and the broad shoulders encased in a dark coat. It was open to reveal a silver- buttoned waistcoat and white shirt, brilliant and crisp, fairly glowing in the low light. His boots were soundless and his eyes dark and glittering, focusing on Narcise with unpleasant intensity. His comment had been laced with irony.

“I’ve been following you since you left Rubey’s,” he said. “At first I thought you had a destination in mind… but then I realized you were simply walking.” So she had scented him, and, Giordan being the cunning, manipulative man he was, had probably kept himself downwind from her as he followed her through the streets. Bastard.

Their eyes met and Narcise found that she couldn’t pull hers away. Her heart pounded high in her throat and she tried to dig down inside to pull out her anger and revulsion toward him…this man who’d destroyed her.

This man who was looking at her as if he’d never seen her before.

“I thought—” She stopped herself. She had nothing to say to him. Nothing at all.

“If I didn’t feel such sympathy for the way you flayed those poor bastards, I’d have found the entire scene more than a little amusing,” he said, gesturing in the direction where the cowardly beetles had gone. “Is that why you were laughing?” His tone had softened, perhaps, a bit.

She drew herself up, still searching for that deep betrayed feeling, and replied, “No.” Her fingers were shaking and her insides were doing unpleasant and pleasant things at the same time.

Handsome as sin he might be, familiar and beautifully scented…but she couldn’t feel anything for him. Nothing but that old hatred and revulsion. She stoked it so that it burned stronger inside her, giving her a barrier behind which to hide.

She told herself that she had nothing to say to him, that she had no desire to even be near him, yet her mouth moved and the words came out before she could stop them. “Why are you following me? Surely you don’t think I need protection.”

“Are you going to Paris?” he asked, stepping closer, pinning her with his eyes.

“Are you mad? Go back there? Never.”

He nodded briefly. “I didn’t think you’d be that foolish.”

Giordan was very close now, standing so that his scent filled her every breath, overwhelming even that of the nearby sewer, battling for her consciousness. Her insides fluttered wildly and Narcise felt a rush of heat and desire. She swallowed hard, willing herself to step back and away…but her feet wouldn’t move.

His eyes found hers, holding her gaze and her heart thumped madly as he came nearer. She took a step back and he smiled knowingly.

“What are you afraid of, Narcise?” he taunted, his gaze melting into something hot and warm.

All she need do was turn and walk away from him. There was nothing more she needed or wanted to say to him. She didn’t want to even breathe him in the air.

But her knees trembled and she felt a rise of heat billowing, filling her. “I’m not afraid of you,” she replied, even though her veins were pounding and surging, reacting to his nearness. Her eyes were drawn to his mouth, his lips slightly parted, full and beautifully shaped in the silvery moonlight. No.

“No?” he asked sardonically.

“Why were you following me? Because you thought I was going to Paris?” she asked, desperate to change the subject…and to ease away from him. His glittering gaze made her insides tickle and flutter.

“Either that or you were making an escape from your vampire hunter,” Giordan replied. “Is that why you were sneaking off from Rubey’s? Have you tired of Chas Wood-more now that he’s served his purpose?”

She knew that to respond was just to bait him, to continue to keep him there, looking at her with his cold eyes. But, though she ignored his obvious lure into a discussion about Chas, she had to know something else. “Why would you think I’d go back to Paris?”

The moonbeams played over his face, swathing half of his square chin and mobile lips in silvery light and leaving the other side in shadow. His gaze searched hers and her heart skipped a little. She willed it to stop jumping around.

“Woodmore went to Scotland to see his sister. Weren’t you with him?”

“I couldn’t go into the convent,” she replied. “Luce’s hold is too strong for me to enter. But I’d like to know how you were able to enter the old monastery—”

“So that’s why,” he murmured, half to himself. “He didn’t tell you what he learned about your brother.” A little ironic smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. “He doesn’t trust you. Imagine that.”

“What are you talking about?” Narcise demanded stridently enough that a trio of passersby paused and looked over at them. She turned her back to them.

“Perhaps you’d best ask your lover what he doesn’t want you to know,” Giordan replied.

“How can you know about what happened in Scotland?” she said from between clenched teeth. How could he know when Chas hadn’t even told her? He’d been vague when she asked, telling her that Sonia hadn’t had a clear vision and he hoped to get a message from her later with more information.

Which meant that Chas had either lied to her or…something.

“I know because he told Rubey, and Rubey tells me everything,” Giordan said. His accompanying smile was both condescending and meaningful. “She has nothing to hide from me.”

Rubey. A little shaft of pain zipped through her as she realized the layers of meaning there. Narcise struggled for something to say that would wound him right back. “Rubey?”

He merely held his smile in place and looked at her.

Narcise’s mouth tightened as a wave of memory and hatred rushed over her. She’d trusted him, opened herself up to caring about him…and he’d destroyed her. “I certainly hope she doesn’t have a brother,” she said stiffly. “I don’t think she’d take kindly to a betrayal when she’s served her purpose.”