by Lora Edwards
Welcome to Paris,
Armand
She held the card in her hand and sank down on the bed, glad she had closed the doors before walking over. What did he want? Was this just a gentlemanly gesture? Why the flowers? She was confused. She knew he felt bad for the abuse she had suffered at the hands of the countess, and he had just told her she deserved to be pampered; maybe that was all it was, a gesture to make her feel wanted, to make her feel like she had friends in this world. She decided to not overthink it and just enjoy the result.
Wandering back out of the room, she saw Armand was alone.
“Where is Victor?”
“He went out on an assignment. Now we have a dress to buy.” He winked at her and held out his hand for hers.
She walked over, looking into his eyes, and all she saw was a friendly smile. She took his hand and whispered, “Thank you for the flowers.”
“My pleasure. You have had so little affection in your life, and you spent so many hard years with the countess. I just wanted you to have a little something pretty.”
Victoria smiled even as she felt her heart sink. It was a gesture to make up for what she had been through, a friend helping another friend. It was not romantic in nature. She should have been glad of that. Her life was in limbo, and she had no idea where she would go or what she would do when the mission was done. He was being kind, and she’d had little kindness in her life while with the countess.
“Yes, I am excited to see the gowns.” He winked at her as he led her out of the suite. She was excited. She loved to dress up, loved the way it made her feel so feminine to be outfitted in silks and jewels.
Chapter 17
Victoria sat down on the bench and glared at the rack of dresses lined up in front of her. She had been at this for hours and couldn’t find one she really liked. She didn’t want something that bared her entire body, no matter how Armand’s eyes had lit up at those gowns. She wanted something that made her feel sexy and confident, but that still made sense to her Victorian sensibilities. She was starting to believe it was hopeless. She had tried on dozens of dresses from top designers but couldn’t find one she was comfortable with. She knew the saleswoman was getting more and more irritated. Armand just sat there calmly and told her to take all the time she needed. He said the dress needed to be right for her, and she needed to feel comfortable in it.
She was wishing she had just asked to be whisked back to the institute and into the hands of Mrs. Bloom, who had a great understanding of fashion and Victorian style.
She sighed once again and prepared herself to try another one of the dresses from the rack.
Before she could start to disrobe, there was a soft knock at the dressing room door. She opened it and Armand stood there with a garment bag over one arm.
“I called in a favor from a favorite designer of mine.” He lowered his voice so only she could hear. “He is of our kind, and I believe will understand your needs a bit better than a modern human.”
He handed her the bag and she smiled at him gratefully.
“I waited because I wanted you to feel free to choose and not as if I was pushing you in one direction. I imagine you have had enough of being told what to wear.” He pulled the door shut, not waiting for an answer. Victoria looked down at the bag in her hand and hoped she had finally found the dress for her.
She hung the bag up and unzipped it, gasping at what was inside. It was perfect. With her back to the mirror, she slipped it on, afraid to turn around, afraid if she did she would find some flaw in the gown.
Slowly she turned and looked at herself in the full-length mirror. A grin lit her face. It was the one. He had found it, had understood her needs, and it made her take one more shaky step toward falling for him.
Opening the door and lifting the dress, she strode out into the salon where Armand chatted with a handsome man dressed in a pair of well-fitting jeans topped with a white dress shirt, a striped grey cashmere scarf, and a stylish black leather blazer.
The men turned in unison as she strode out. Without stopping, she went straight into the arms of the surprised man. “Thank you, this is exactly right.” She stepped back and gave Armand a blinding smile that went right to his heart. “What do you think?”
“It is exactly right,” he affirmed.
The other man smiled and gestured to the raised dais in the middle of the room. “Stand there, chérie, and let me make sure we don’t need to make any alterations.”
The saleswoman stood gawking at the man. She stuttered, “D-Do you want me to call someone from alterations?”
The man waved her away. “No, I will do it on my own. You can leave us, and we will make sure you receive the commission from the sale.” He turned, dismissing the woman, who hurried out of the salon and shut the door softly behind her.
Victoria looked into the mirror as the man fussed around the dress, and she took a deep breath. This dress made her feel sexy and confident but still provided for the modesty that had been drilled into her. It was one thing to show a bit of ankle and leg, quite another to go out in public half dressed. She knew modern women did this and thought nothing of it, but she could not.
The dress was ankle length, flowing down her body like a stream. The bodice was fitted to the waist, the skirt of flowing satin that gleamed in the light. She reached up and touched the intricate pattern covering the bodice; it looked like the lace of a winter’s frost, the gems winking in the light. The high neck of the gown suited her, and the deep sapphire color brought out her pale skin and the blue of her eyes.
“I know it doesn’t have sleeves, darling, but I brought you these,” the man said, handing her a pair of sapphire satin gloves that reached to her elbows.
She nodded gratefully and took them. She was completely covered except for a small bit of skin from her shoulder to her elbows. She felt modest enough but also sexy and beautiful.
“That dress suits you very well,” Armand whispered in her ear, causing her to shiver.
“Yes, chérie, it is as if I made it just for you.” The man stood and looked at Victoria. “No alterations needed. It fits you perfectly.”
“Thank you…?” Victoria made it a question as she had yet to learn the man’s name.
“Maurice—Maurice Bernas.” He winked at her. “You look amazing. When you are asked at the ball who you are wearing, remember to tell them. It will be an amazing advertisement for my new line. You will be the bell of the ball—or opera, as it is.” He gave her a cheeky grin and a wave as he left.
“Just let me change and we can leave. I have taken up far too much of your day hunting for the right gown, and for that I apologize.” She lifted the skirt, preparing to go into the dressing room to change, but Armand grasped her arm, stopping her.
“You do not have to apologize for knowing your own mind, Victoria. It is a quality I respect.” He let her go but not before giving her a slight caress.
She turned and quickly entered the dressing room, stopping to brace herself against the door and get her breathing under control.
She quickly changed into her street clothes and placed the beautiful dress back in its bag.
“Okay, now for accessories,” Armand said when she emerged from the room. “Leave the dress they will have it delivered to the hotel.”
Victoria nodded and walked out behind him. They found the perfect shoes, and Armand discretely found something to occupy himself as she chose the proper underthings for the dress. The process went quickly, but by the time they left the salon, the sun was going down.
Chapter 18
“I am starving.” She looked at Armand, who nodded in agreement.
“Are you feeling like staying in or going out?”
Victoria thought about this for a moment. She had been subsisting off of bagged blood for quite a while, and it had been ages since she had drunk from a source. Even in her time, in a city as large as Paris, there would be willing donors.
“Out,” she said definitively, and Arman
d nodded. He pulled a sleek phone out of his pocket and tapped out a message to Victor.
“Victor will meet us there. It is an odd sort of place and we will stick out like sore thumbs, but it is the best source of willing donors in Paris.”
Victoria just nodded. It felt odd discussing her feeding schedule with another. When she had been with the countess, the donors had been brought to her and were normally far from willing. She’d had no choice if she wanted to survive, so she would use her power to soothe them and only took exactly what she needed, healing the wound when she was finished. After, when she’d come to the institute, she had been angry and had fed on the blood of those in Whitechapel who were out to hurt others, draining them dry and leaving their corpses in the streets. Now that she was there in the modern world, she could use a willing donor, and it would be nice to have a fresh meal for a change. She may have been sweet and still mostly human in her emotions, but there was the predator side of her that longed for fresh blood.
When they arrived, she could feel the pulse of the music through the walls of the old converted warehouse, the primal beat of the music thudding in her blood. She could feel her mouth water at the sound of a hundred heartbeats drumming in time with the music. It was some kind of club, one she assumed catered to those who liked their music loud and their entertainment dangerous.
Armand climbed out of the cab, tipping the man behind the wheel then motioning to Victoria to follow. As they approached the entrance, Victor appeared out of the shadows.
“An interesting choice.” He looked at Armand.
“Not our usual venue, but there are a lot of willing donors here. Maurice Bernas put me onto it.”
Victor rolled his eyes. “That makes sense—it looks like his kind of place.”
Armand chuckled and pulled open the heavy metal door.
The music blasted Victoria’s sensitive ears and she winced. Victor glared at Armand, and he grinned back.
Armand led them into the club, and Victoria laughed as she took in the people. They certainly were not going to blend in with this crowd. Angry rock music pounded out of giant speakers as the men on stage sang about love scorned. The people milled around in black leather, their faces pierced and their skin covered in tattoos.
Victoria looked down at her black crepe trousers and long-sleeved layered teal silk tunic paired with a silver waterfall necklace, small silver hoops, and teal Jimmy Choo pumps. She looked like someone’s mother come to take them home and scold them for listening to such foul music.
Armand threaded through the crowd with Victoria following and Victor behind her. People laughed, and some stared as they made their way to the back of the space. Armand knocked three times on a metal door that was painted black, and a large man opened it.
Armand handed over the folded bills in his hand and flashed his fangs. The man nodded and stepped aside, closing the door behind them. The silence was immediate, and Victoria sighed in relief. The room was the opposite of the industrial-looking club they had just left, and the sound of smooth jazz flowed in from hidden speakers, an interesting counterpoint to the pounding rock on the other side of the door.
The room was decorated like an upscale salon with overstuffed chairs, an antique Persian rug, and gilt and gleam wherever she looked. The large man handed them each a silver key marked with a number and gestured down the hallway. They proceeded down it and each stopped outside the corresponding numbered door.
“See you on the other side.” Victor smirked before going through his and shutting it, and Armand did the same, closing the door softly. Victoria stood in front of hers for a moment longer. This was a strange way to feed, an oddly artificial feel to it. Her stomach rumbled again and she inserted the key into the door, entering the room and shutting it behind her.
The space was ordinary. It contained a comfortable-looking bed, a chaise lounge, and an overstuffed chair. Sitting in the chair was a young woman, and she was clearly terrified. Her heart beat hard in her chest, and her eyes widened at the sight of Victoria. The sound of the woman’s rapid heart rate excited the predatory part of her brain; the prey was afraid, and that would make her taste so much better.
Victoria closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She would not feed from the unwilling, and if this club was forcing people to be food, she would tear it to the ground with her bare hands.
“Hello, my name is Victoria.” She sat across from the woman and tried to make herself as non-threatening as she could. It was hard as the human hindbrain knew she was a predator, and it activated the flight-or-fight response in most humans. Many felt uneasy around her kind, even if they were not aware of what they were.
“I am not going to harm you. Are you here against your will?”
The woman shook her head, her hands trembling, and she refused to meet Victoria’s eyes. She sighed, not unwilling, just new.
“Is this your first time as a donor,” she asked the girl.
The girl nodded, still staring at the floor.
“You have nothing to fear, my dear. There won’t be any pain. I will be gentle.” Victoria walked toward her, ignoring the slight flinch and the fear in her eyes. She could feel her own blood start to pound in her veins, could feel her eyes light with the unholy light of the predator as her fangs descended.
The girl’s heart raced, and her fear whet Victoria’s appetite. Victoria shook herself and took a deep breath; she was hungry, having let herself go too long between live feeds, and she could feel the silky voice of the predator, the voice of the vampire within calling to her to drink the girl dry and leave her husk on the floor, to give in to her predator instincts.
“Are you sure? If it is the money you get from donating, I will gladly give it to you and let you leave. Donating is not for everyone, and I don’t want you to do something you don’t want to do because you are in need of funds.” Victoria forced the words past her lips, past the fangs, trying to let the human side of her reign.
The girl looked up into Victoria’s face, a look of determination on her face. “I need the money, yes, but I am also very curious. I want to know what it is like.”
Victoria nodded, her conscience satisfied. She swiped the girl’s long brown hair aside and sank her teeth into the satiny skin at her neck.
Chapter 19
Victoria smiled at the girl once more, making sure she was fine and again addressing the proper care of the wound at her neck, which would heal quickly. She would be a bit fatigued, but she would not suffer any ill effects from their encounter. Victoria had warned the girl that not all of the nosferatu would be as kind and gentle as she had been. She had a sense this would be the girl’s one and only donation; it paid handsomely, and her curiosity had been satisfied.
Victoria walked out of the room and into the hall. She leaned against the wall and sighed. The taste of hot blood, the sound of a beating heart was something she had not indulged in for quite some time. Bagged blood was something she could subsist on, but it didn’t completely satisfy the nagging hunger that was always under the surface. She was completely satiated for the first time in a long time and let a smile cross her lips. She felt invigorated by the fresh blood and more optimistic about their hunt. They would find the countess, she would be vanquished, and Victoria would be allowed to have a life of freedom.
Chapter 20
“Miss, your dress for the opera and several packages have been delivered.” Victoria looked up from the book she was reading and smiled at the woman standing tentatively at the door that led out to the rest of the suite. She looked like a mouse who had just encountered a cat. Celia and a few of the other staff had come up to Paris to help them get ready for the opera.
“Thank you so very much, Celia. Please just place them over there on the bed.” Victoria placed the book in her lap and tried to look non threatening as the girl hurried over and deposited the items. She nodded at Victoria before hurrying out, closing the door behind her.
Victoria rolled her eyes as she stood to hang up the d
ress. There was a mix of responses to the three of them in Armand’s household. Everyone knew what they were. Some were oblivious, treating them like they would any other employer or guest, and some—like Celia—acted as if they would all of a sudden go stark raving mad and start eating them.
Victoria had tried to win the girl over, talking softly to her and trying to reassure her, but any time Victoria got close, the girl’s eyes widened and her heart started to race, the fear evident in her expression and body language.
So, Victoria had stopped trying. She had asked Armand to not make the girl serve her, but he had frowned and told her Celia had to learn to interact with vampires. He said there were times when he had to entertain others from other parts of the world who were not so scrupulous in their manners, and he couldn’t hide Celia every time they visited. He was concerned if she acted this way around them, she would become a victim, which would cause an incident he would have to fix.
Armand was right; the girl was going to have to learn how to be around the undead, and other supernaturals. She wondered what Armand did with the people of that family who couldn’t or wouldn’t handle what they were and the world they inhabited.
A knock at the door pulled her out of her thoughts, and she crossed the room to see Armand standing there. Her heart gave a quick jolt in her chest at the sight of him. He was so handsome. His lips quirked in a smile as she heard an answering jerk from his chest. There was an attraction between them, but there were so many other pressing things that had to be dealt with first. Victoria pushed the feelings away and cocked one eyebrow at him.
“I see Celia delivered your things—how did it go?”
“As well as could be expected. She still jumps like a scared rabbit when she comes in contact with me.”
