by Lisa Kessler
She nodded running her hand up his chest. “I thought so, but she smells…”
“I know she does.”
Marguerite watched his attention shift to the woman at his side. His chest swelled like a proud parent, matching his smug, overconfident smile. His arrogance was a weakness she could exploit. Moving forward, Marguerite shoved playfully at Antoine’s chest. “I most certainly do not smell.” Her fingers slid down the ruffles of his shirt and deftly plucked the dagger free of its sheath. “You used to adore my scent.”
She moved away before he could entrap her, the dagger tucked behind her back.
Antoine licked his lips, clutching his lady-friend closer.
“Have you noticed how quiet this street has become?” He glanced at the closed doors and dark windows and met Marguerite’s gaze again. “Do you know why?”
Before Marguerite answered, Suzette grinned. “Because they are all dead.”
Marguerite tightened her grip on the dagger.
The blonde blurted out, “I ate them.” She smiled, displaying her pointed incisors. With her free hand, Marguerite made the sign of the cross. Suzette winced. “Oh darling, make her stop.”
Antoine threw his head back and laughed. “Your faith cannot save you. I would have saved you from death, but you shunned my offer.” He glanced at the blond vampire at his side. “Suzette was wise to accept it. I had to travel far from Paris, but finding her made the journey worthwhile.”
He stared at the darkened windows and sniffed the air.
“Young ones are so thirsty. Ravenous.”
The look in his eyes, hatred, rage, and loathing, chilled her. “You have gone mad, Antoine.”
He shook his head. “Not at all. I accepted your refusal.”
Faster than she could see, he was at her side, his cool lips pressed against her ear. “And when she feeds from you, Suzette will know every part of you that pleased me.”
“Go to Hell!”
Marguerite slammed the dagger into his neck and ran.
Suzette grabbed for her, catching her wrist. Marguerite spun around, throwing the holy water at her face. The vampire released her, squealing and rubbing at her eyes.
“Antoine, help me. Everything is black.”
The vampire’s eyes were white like a blind woman, burned from the water.
Antoine plucked the dagger from his neck, twisting his head while the gaping wound healed. “This ends now.”
“I agree.” Kane approached and stood beside Marguerite, his hand at the small of her back. “I have always known vampires to be cowards, but this…” He gestured to Suzette, who now crawled on the ground searching for her master. “You hide from me, and then dispatch your infant blood drinker to protect you?”
Antoine helped Suzette up. “Your eyes will heal, silly girl.” He glared at Kane. “I drove a stake through your heart with my own hands. How is it possible that you survived?”
“Enough talking.” Kane knocked Antoine to the ground.
“He has a dagger!” Marguerite moved to help Kane, but Suzette pounced on her from behind. She jerked Marguerite around to face her. Blood tracked down her cheeks and one eye remained clouded. Marguerite’s stomach retched.
“I am so hungry.” Suzette licked her lips, opening her mouth to bite.
“Eat this!” Marguerite jammed the satchel of dirt from Notre Dame’s courtyard into the vampire’s jaws.
Suzette fell to the ground, dragging Marguerite with her.
Dirt lined the inside of her mouth, choking her. As she spit out the satchel, Suzette coughed and sputtered. Her free hand clawed at her neck, blood seeping through her fingers while the other still latched on to her prey. Marguerite screamed, trying to wriggle free of the vampire’s grip, turning away from the gore as Suzette scratched and tore open her own throat with her free hand.
Marguerite wrenched her arm out of the vampire’s grasp and stumbled away from the carnage. Suzette’s throat gurgled, but still she lived. Marguerite averted her eyes and saw Kane and Antoine rolling on the cobblestones, leaving a trail of blood behind them.
For a moment, indecisiveness gripped her. She wanted to help him, but if Antoine got her, he would use her to hurt Kane. Her clouded mind cleared, and determination settled in. Marguerite ran inside the inn.
The stench of death assaulted her the moment she opened the door. She gagged, tugging her skirt up to cover her nose and mouth, grateful for the lack of light. How long had these people been dead? She moved with her hand outstretched, until her fingertips brushed the back of a chair.
Gripping it, she tugged until something slid off and thudded against the floor.
She didn’t want to consider what it might have been.
With all of her strength, she swung the chair against the doorframe, splintering the wooden frame. One more hit and the chair fell apart. On her hands and knees, she patted the ground, searching for a piece. The moment she clutched a shard, Marguerite ran back outside.
Bathed in the moonlight, Suzette lay on her back in a pool of blood, panting. Marguerite approached, her stomach turning when she saw the vampire’s spinal column where her throat should have been. She raised the stake over her head and slammed it to the ground, burying it in the vampire’s chest.
Suzette let out an inhuman screech, her hands opening and closing until finally, her body went still.
Kane felt his strength ebb. How many times had the vampire stabbed him before he knocked the dagger away?
Too many.
Struggling to keep Rita in his sight, he was too distracted to finish his opponent. When she disappeared into the inn, he hoped she would stay hidden, but the moment she drove the stake through Antoine’s puppet, Kane’s focus returned.
With the last of his energy, he kicked his legs and twisted, rolling Antoine underneath him.
He sat up, his legs straddling the vampire, pinning him to the ground. “Enough.”
Kane plunged his hand through the vampire’s ribcage, his fist clutching the creature’s black heart. Antoine’s eyes widened as Kane yanked his arm back, plucking his heart free of his chest.
A Night Walker’s death.
While Antoine’s body withered, his flesh wrinkling, hair whitening, and limbs atrophying, Kane stumbled back, allowing the heart to slip from his fingers. Rita rushed to his side, her arm wrapping around his waist.
“You are weakened.”
He nodded, relief swamping him while he gazed down at her. Safe. “I need to feed.”
Rita’s wrist shot up in his face. “Drink.”
He winced, shaking his head while his body ached with temptation.
“You said you would not drink from me until I asked it of you.” She offered her wrist again. “Now I am asking.
Please take what you need.”
“What I need is to be certain you are safe and uninjured.”
Kane wiped Antoine’s blood on his pants and took her hand, inspecting the scraped palm. Kane raised it toward his lips, but she jerked away.
“I will not allow you to heal my scratches while you are weakened.”
“My wounds will heal.” He pulled her into his arms and held her for a moment, treasuring the closeness. “I asked you to stay on hallowed ground.”
She withdrew from his embrace. “You did no such asking. You ordered it.” She crossed her arms, her face alight with defiance. “This was my fight, not yours. I would not have your blood on my hands.”
“You solved this by bloodying your own hands.” His chest tightened. Although incapable of following his simple directions, this fragile, amazing woman fought not only for her life, but for his as well.
She lifted her dirty chin, looking regal in spite of the blood and bruises. “I solved it by killing a hungry vampire.”
How could he not love this woman?
His lips curved into a crooked smile, pride shining in his eyes. “Come, vampire killer, we have much work to do.”
He left Rita with the withering husks of the va
mpires while he entered the inn. Even without the benefit of candlelight, Kane saw perfectly in the darkness. There were at least twenty dead bodies in varying stages of decay. All of them bore the same wounds to their throats.
He moved behind the bar and located a decanter of lamp oil. They would need to burn the building with the bodies inside. There was no other way to mask the vampire’s destruction. Knocking all the bottles of alcohol from the shelves, he soaked the floor and snatched a few white phosphorous matches. With the decanter of lamp oil in one hand, he lit a match and dropped it to the ground.
The inn erupted in hot flames.
Kane ran outside, followed by the roar of the fire and explosions of glass. “Come, we must hurry.” He pulled Antoine and Suzette’s corpses together before dousing them with lamp oil.
“What are you doing?”
He glanced over at Rita. “We have to hide the bodies from the humans.” He struck the match and dropped it.
Flames exploded to life, feeding on the vampire remains.
Rita stood, frozen, staring at the morbid scene. Kane took her hand. “Sunrise is coming. We must finish this.”
He sensed her exhaustion pushing her toward catatonic shock. Her defiance had cooled, but she needed to stay alert.
Placing the matches in her hand, he guided her to the inn across the street.
“I will go inside and pour the oil. Wait for me here to light it.”
She nodded, but didn’t reply. Kane kissed her forehead.
“This is almost done.”
They burned three businesses. Antoine and Suzette had fed on nearly one hundred humans. One hundred lives he might have saved if he had found the vampire sooner.
Bitterness soured his stomach. Rita shivered, pulling him back to the present. Kane glanced up at the stars, gauging the hours before sunrise. He still needed to feed, but there would be time. He removed his frock coat and helped her slip inside before bending to pick her up. Rita stopped him.
“No. I would prefer to walk with you.”
Flames and smoke billowed into the air around them, but it was the fire in her gaze that warmed him. “We will draw attention with our torn, bloodstained attire.”
The corner of her mouth curved up. “Let them stare. We walked into the jaws of Hell and made it to the other side.”
Kane laughed, lacing his fingers with hers as they walked side by side, two warriors, survivors. “That we did.”
Chapter Thirteen
The following night, Kane made his way up the catacomb underneath his home. His wounds healed, his strength returned, he lifted the large stone from his bedroom floor.
After finding Rita standing toe-to-toe with two vampires the previous evening, he found himself more than ready to give her the immortality she requested.
Anything to keep her safe.
Replacing the stone cover, he turned to find a vellum paper folded on his bed. Kane picked it up, his brow creasing with concern.
Meet me at the lake.
All my heart,
Marguerite
He would not take comfort in holding her or kissing her.
Rita was not even under his roof. His chest tightened. Why would she leave?
Kane slipped her note onto his bureau and dressed in riding breeches and a linen shirt. He glared at the cravats and frock coats hanging in the closet. He had no time for French fashions. He fussed with the shirt buttons on his way to the stable, managing to fasten most of the buttons at the bottom before giving up on them and saddling Kukulkan.
Once mounted, he galloped his Friesian stallion off toward the lake, toward Rita. His stomach knotted. He couldn’t remember another time in his long life when he’d experienced anything like this. Hope mixed with nervousness and trepidation.
Perhaps this was what it felt like to truly live.
He urged his horse faster. The gas lamps faded in the distance behind him. When the lake came into view, Kane noticed Candide tied to a tree at the edge of the clearing.
The mare turned and neighed at her stable mate. Kane pulled back on the reins until Kukulkan slowed to a walk.
He turned in his saddle, and smiled in spite of his worries.
Marguerite sat on a blanket near the water.
His boots hit the dirt and he tied Kukulkan to a tree beside Candide. He treated each horse to a carrot and made his way to Marguerite, not sure what to expect and shocked at his uncertainty. After the previous night’s horror, had she decided she wanted no part of life in the shadows?
She sat staring at the water with a soft wrap around her shoulders and gloves on her hands. He sat beside her and broke the silence. “Rita?”
“Bonsoir.”
The moment her eyes met his, she grinned, and his heart pounded in response. No sunrise could possibly be as beautiful as her smile in the moonlight. He cupped her cheek, unable to resist touching her.
She nuzzled into his palm. “I am glad you found my note.”
“It sounded urgent.”
“I have something to show you.” Rita pulled her gloves off and offered her left hand to him.
He took her hand and noticed a fine band of color wrapped around her ring finger. After a closer examination, Kane raised a brow. “You have tattooed a rose around your finger.”
“Not only a rose.” She kissed him, awakening his body instantly. “It is an answer.”
“An answer?” Would he ever understand this woman?
He wanted to try.
Marguerite nodded. “I decided if I am going to gain the ability to transform into an animal, I might lose a ring, but this way, I will always wear it.”
He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her finger. “And I will always cherish you.” He brought her hand to his chest, covering his heart, his gaze meeting hers as he whispered, “Hun ool, hun yaah.” He wet his lips. “It means One Heart, One Love in the language of my people.”
With her other hand, she brought his to rest over her heart. “Hun ool, hun yaah.”
Feeling her heart beating with his, her lips speaking his true Mayan language, binding them, stirred the jaguar inside of him. His heart, mind, spirit, and body were now hers, and she was his.
Kane pulled her into his arms. “In tial.”
“What does it mean?” She stared up at him, looking more stunning than any woman he’d ever seen.
“It means you are mine, Rita.”
He kissed her and laid her back against the blanket, smiling when she whispered, “In tial. And you are mine.”
Kane stroked her hair, losing himself in the blue of her eyes. “I want to give you a grand wedding. We can walk down the aisle in Notre Dame. Anything you wish.”
Rita shook her head. “No priest, or dress, or jewels could make me more yours than I am right now in your arms.”
“Yaakuntik, Rita.”
Before he could explain the meaning, she whispered, “I love you, too.”
Marguerite ran her hands up his chest and along his strong shoulders, pushing his shirt back. As a girl, she’d always imagined her wedding in a cathedral, a wedding Mass, and perhaps a dowry, but committing to each other away from the city, away from others, just Kane in the moonlight confessing his love and offering his heart, meant much more to her than any childhood fantasy.
He rose up, while she freed the buttons at the bottom of his shirt. No fabric or fashion on earth could do justice to the body it covered. His lips brushed hers, parting them. She moaned when his tongue caressed hers. Kane’s hand ran up her thigh to her waist, fingers splayed, as he moved over her abdomen and cupped her breast.
She ached for his touch. The previous night she’d seen so much death and decay, she wanted to feel loved and alive.
Feeling his fingers unlacing the front of her dress made her pulse race with anticipation, and the moment he opened the fabric and the cool night air teased her skin, she gasped with desire. Kane broke the kiss, his gaze sliding over her body, following the path of his hands.
Lifting h
er hips, he pulled her dress free. She caught his smile when he found no undergarments to impede his exploration. He slid his hands up her legs, parting them until his fingertips brushed her curls at their juncture.
Marguerite dropped her head back, moaning his name to the heavens above her. Her body writhed, already aching for release. His touch awakened passion like she’d never known. Suddenly, his fingers withdrew.
She opened her eyes and watched him remove his pants, tossing them aside. He laid over her, kissing her lips slowly.
“I gave you my word I would never drink from you until you asked me.”
Her body tensed instinctively. “I offered last night and you refused me. You hunted instead.”
He broke the kiss, resting his forearms on either side of her head. “Your spirit is carried in your blood. It is too precious to be used to feed and heal wounds. When I finally taste you, Rita, I want you to enjoy the closeness. I want you to yearn for it. Trust me with all that you are, with your heart and your soul.”
Trailing her fingertips along the curve of his buttocks and slowly up his spine, she stared up into his eyes. Kane’s body pressed against hers, he could take her body and her life any time he chose.
Instead, he loved her. He offered her more honesty than any person she’d ever known. “I trust you.”
He rewarded her with a crooked grin that warmed her heart, and a kiss that made her entire body go up in flames.
Kane lost himself in loving her, worshiping her, until he could wait no longer. He pressed his hips forward, burying himself inside her. She gasped his name, her inner muscles tightened, hungry and ready for him. He thrust into her over and over, feeling the thirst build, heightening his senses. Her heartbeat beckoned him, inviting him to taste, to claim her and bind them together for all time.
Her nails dug into his shoulders, and he growled into the kiss. Sliding an arm around her, he rocked back onto his knees, bringing her with him. Rita wrapped her legs around his waist, and he sat back, grinding into her while he held her tight in his arms.
He trailed hot, hungry kisses down her neck, and she tipped her head, rocking her hips into his. He licked her skin at the base of her neck, lightly brushing his teeth over her, but she didn’t tense.
