“You’ve also told me that I’m not a monster.”
He brushes his fingers along my hair, a soft but protective gesture. “We need to get some sleep. It’s going to be a long drive.”
Threading his fingers through mine, he leads me into the bedroom. The couch in front of the fireplace has been shoved back and pillows have been scattered about. Ignoring the bed, Victor guides me over, sits on one of the pillows with his back against the couch, and pulls me down so I’m resting on another pillow, my back to his chest.
“Thought you were tired,” I say, my voice low, my heart doing little flips as he skims his finger along my neck and brushes my hair off to the side until it drapes over one shoulder.
“I am.” He presses a kiss to my nape. “But we’ve had so little time together. I miss the way we were able to be together in the dreams we shared.”
“If we go to sleep now—”
“Dream-sharing, according to Faith, only happens when the couple is separated by a great distance. But it’s okay, because I no longer need to dream of protecting you; I can actually do it.”
“For someone who doesn’t believe in this stuff, she sure knows a lot about it.”
“My sister is complicated. But then, all girls are.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re the most complicated of all.”
“Like you’re not complicated,” I tease. His arms close around my waist. I fold mine over his and grow somber. “What about us, Victor?”
He presses his head to my shoulder. “
“Do you still crave my blood?”
I hear him inhale. “It still smells sweet, but I can resist it.”
I swallow, trying to understand the consequences, trying to understand more about what I am and how it might affect my relationship with Victor. “Sin turned Brady—a dhampir—into a vampire.”
“Yes.” He places his warm lips on the curve of my neck, right where it meets my shoulder. Pleasure pools through me. “So you’re still not completely safe from me. I could turn you.”
“But you won’t,” I say with conviction.
His arms tighten around me. “I won’t.”
I shift around so I can look at him. “You said I was your weakness, that your enemies would use me to get to you.”
He gives me a wry grin. “Where Sin is concerned, it appears I may have been a bit narcissistic. He wants you for you. He has plans for you that won’t go away even if I’m dead.”
“Then where does that leave us?”
He traces his fingers over the curves and hollows of my face as though he treasures each feature. He leaves my lips for last, outlining them before stroking them, as though he’s a painter filling in between the lines. “I don’t know, Dawn,” he says so quietly that I almost don’t hear him. “I don’t know where it leaves us.”
He kisses me, gently, softly, as though I’m fragile. Or maybe he fears our relationship is.
“We need to sleep,” he says. “Obviously dhampirs don’t feel the weight of day in the same way that vampires do.”
He struggles to his feet, pulling me up with him. We both climb onto the bed and position ourselves similar to the way we were sitting by the fire, my back to his chest, his arms wrapped around me.
As sleep drags me down, my mind wanders to the Council and the thirteen hungry glowing eyes staring at me through the darkness. Then I feel Victor pulling me nearer, holding me more tightly, and all my worries subside, leaving only the possibilities of something better for us . . . once we’ve dealt with Sin.
I wake up to a steady knocking on the door. With a moan, I work my way out of Victor’s embrace and sit up. The fire in the fireplace has died. I feel incredibly rested. Somehow I can sense that it’s night.
Victor rolls out of bed, crosses the room, and opens the door. He chuckles. “No.”
“Yes.” Faith pushes her way in. She’s wearing an elaborate red ball gown, something that was worn two hundred years ago. It’s satin and lace. Bares her shoulders. It rustles with her movements. She’s carrying something that looks similar, only it’s deep purple. She tosses it on the bed. “Dinner tonight is to be formal.”
My eyes widen. “You want me to wear that?”
“Xavier does. Leave, Victor, so I can help her get ready.”
“Faith—”
“We promised him an hour,” Faith says, cutting him off. “It won’t kill us to be dressed for the occasion. Your clothing is in Richard’s room.”
“I’m not wearing any of it; what I have on is fine.”
“Oh, Victor, relax, have a little fun.”
“Fun? Faith, you may enjoy changing outfits every hour, but putting on clothes once a night is enough for me.”
“I don’t change clothes every hour.” She sniffs. “Every half hour maybe. Now, go on, get out of here. We have work to do.”
“But we are leaving as planned.”
“Of course.”
Victor gives me a smile filled with apology before walking out of the room and closing the door.
I crawl over the bed and touch the soft material, rubbing it between my fingers. I had to wear Victorian clothing when I met with Murdoch Valentine, but it was more suited to funerals than parties.
“I realize you’d be more comfortable if it came with a hood,” Faith says.
I glance up at her. “It’s beautiful. It’s just that it’s not me.”
“When I’m finished with you, for the next hour, it will be.”
Faith does more than help me get into the gown. She fixes my hair and applies makeup. When I look in the mirror, I can hardly believe what I’m seeing. Faith curled my hair so it’s full and flowing down my back. The gown is cut low, a little too low. I tug—
“Leave it,” she orders.
“But I feel like I could pop out of it.”
She chuckles softly. “You won’t.”
The deep purple material makes the blue of my eyes brighter. They also appear more almond-shaped, exotic. Faith did that, with liner and shadow. My lips are a glistening vibrant red as though they are waiting to be kissed.
“I don’t know, Faith.”
“Trust me. Victor won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”
Faith is right. When we enter the dining room, Victor looks as though he’s never seen me before. He strides over and gives me an appreciative smile. “You look—”
“Like Old Family,” Faith says quietly.
We both jerk our head toward her.
Faith shrugs. “She wasn’t nearly as difficult to clean up as I expected.”
My face heats with embarrassment.
“Dawn is always beautiful,” Victor tells her, then winks at me. “Even when she’s wearing a hoodie.”
Faith growls low, but with his words, the warmth turns to pleasure. I’ve never had to pretend with him.
Like Xavier and Richard, he’s wearing a black dinner jacket that’s long in the back. Swallow-tailed, I think it was called. His white shirt is pristine and he has a red cravat—an old-fashioned tie—around his neck.
“Faith, you look magnificent,” Xavier gushes.
She bats her lashes at him. “You’re so sweet.”
“Come, a quick meal and then we shall dance.”
“Xavier, we don’t have time,” Victor tells him.
“An hour, no more, I promise. You must indulge me. I’m so lonely here in this dank, dreary manor.”
“We promised, Victor,” Faith reminds him, and then lets Xavier lead her to the table.
“
“I guess this is the way vampires usually entertain,” I say as we walk over to a ridiculously long table.
