by Ann Lory
Kelly wiped the tears from her eyes, then stood, looking down at him. “I’ll get you to my hotel; we won’t reach your castle in time. I’m sorry; it’s the only place I can think of.”
Sensing that she felt as if she were failing him because she didn’t know what else to do, Jacques tried to comfort her and yet think of her safety. You must leave me and go back to San Francisco. Tell Dimitri immediately about Mussek; he will see to your protection.
She appeared shocked at his suggestion, then angry. “No! I’d think you would know me well enough to understand I’m not going to leave you.” She took a deep breath. “Jacques, this will be awful. I’m so sorry.”
His set his face and prepared himself as best he could before nodding slightly. I’m no stranger to pain. Do it!
Reaching down, she grabbed under his arms, braced her legs, and gave a mighty pull. His abused body spasmed, and he howled silently. Shaking wretchedly, he grappled with control, trying in vain to keep his mind separate from Kelly’s as the pain ebbed and flowed, finally overwhelming him as she heaved him toward his car.
Tearing open the door to Jacques’s vehicle, she said a small prayer of thanks that they hadn’t brought his motorcycle and that Jacques’s shield on the car’s presence on the Quai Branly had held until he’d passed out. Though she would never know where she got the strength, she wrapped her arms around his upper body and lifted him into the backseat, his limp body landing heavily over hers.
Gasping for air, she scrambled out from beneath him, carefully secured him before shutting him in, then climbed into the front seat. She drove furiously to her hotel, biting her tongue to keep from yelling at the pink sky showing in the distance and keeping a wary eye on any gendarmes who might stop her for speeding. Pulling in near the front of her hotel, she was grateful there were only a few people about, none of whom were really paying attention to her. Otherwise, there’d be no way to explain the dirt and blood that coated her clothes and hands, not to mention Jacques in the backseat.
The doormen seemed to be in the middle of changing shifts. She hurriedly flung open the back door. He looked dead. “Jacques!”
I only have enough strength to block our presence for a moment. The sun rises and...
She swallowed her tears and grabbed a nearby luggage cart. Oh, Jacques, please forgive me. Once more, Kelly gave a mighty tug, and his body slid onto the trolley with a hard thud. He gritted his teeth, but she could hear his scream in her mind. She struggled not to collapse completely as her knees gave out and fresh waves of pain washed over her.
She gripped herself around the waist, her head resting against the car as her body trembled in agony, suffering every searing pang along with him. Beads of sweat trickled down her brow, and she thought she might be sick. Fighting the nausea, she glanced anxiously at Jacques. His eyes were glazing over; she knew she had to get him to her room before it was too late.
Rising shakily to her feet, Kelly locked the car, then pushed the cart through the hotel entrance into the lobby. Kelly was doubly grateful that it was still early and that the clerk at the front desk had drifted off to sleep. She knew Jacques was shielding their presence, but as weak as he was, she also knew that they wouldn’t remain unnoticed much longer.
Inside the elevator, she punched the button for her floor, barely holding in her shrieks at the pain coursing through her body; Jacques was almost unconscious now. As the elevator chimed, the doors opened. She hurtled the cart down the thickly carpeted floor with a vengeance.
Jacques was in such agony that, paradoxically, he was almost beyond feeling. His mind had stepped away from his body, and he wished for the death that Mussek had wanted for him. Jacques thought he might have welcomed the sun, for at least the pain would be over and he could finally rest in peace. But the sound of Kelly’s harsh weeping as she trundled him into her room brought him crashing back to his excruciating reality.
She tossed the do-not-disturb sign over the door handle, kicked the door shut, and hauled him toward the bathroom. Halting abruptly, Kelly ripped the blankets and sheets from the bed and appeared to be making a comfortable spot on the spacious hard tile floor of the bathroom, where the sun wouldn’t reach him. She maneuvered his body from the cart onto the makeshift bed. He couldn’t help crying out with each movement she made, until finally he lay still.
She closed and locked the bathroom door, then dropped to her knees beside him. “Jacques, are you all right?”
When he looked at her there, he had to blink several times to bring her into focus. He hated his weakness; he wasn’t strong enough to form answers except with his mind. Thank you, Kelly.
She shook her head and swept his hair from his face. “What else can I do that will help you?”
Nothing for n-now.
Kelly studied him. He could see himself through her eyes: mud and blood were caked over his throat, and dirt and more blood smudged his face and clothes. Underneath it all, he was pale, his skin sunken in, his eyes glowing.
Before he could guess her intention, she reached over and grabbed a razor from the hotel’s shower amenities.
Stop! But she lifted the blade to her wrist and cut deeply into her flesh. Dark red blood flowed from the wound.
Groaning, she held the dripping fluid to his lips, and he was forced to drink as she watched him take nourishment from her. She touched his head with her free hand, the gesture tender and loving.
His heart swelled. Twice now, in his hour of need, she had given generously of herself. Her blood would be the best he could have because she gave it with everything she was. As her sweet taste flowed over his tongue, it warmed his body by gradual increments. Already he could feel himself trying to heal, but it would be several days before he fully recovered.
At last, he turned his head away, but not before he adoringly caressed and laved her laceration closed so that she would not scar. He gazed at her eyes, those swirling pools of sapphire, and his emotions rioted in his chest as she lay beside him.
Her eyes remained locked with his as she spoke softly. “I love you, Jacques.”
He sucked in a breath, the action causing fresh waves of misery, but he remained focused on Kelly, his beloved Kelly, who had saved him and admitted she loved him.
Then he felt the first ray of the sun shine over the horizon and, injured as he still was, sleep claimed him before he could respond.
Chapter Eleven
It seemed to Kelly that she had just closed her eyes when there was a loud knock in the outer room. She hadn’t the strength to stand, so she gripped the door knob slowly, unlocking and swinging it open enough to let her body through, and then crawled out of the bathroom. She was momentarily blinded by the light that flooded her bedroom.
Painstakingly, she crossed to the door. The knock came again, along with a man’s urgent voice. “Kelly, it is Marian and Quintin.”
Reaching up, Kelly released the latch, too exhausted to question how the couple came to be there. Quintin’s tall frame immediately filled the entrance, followed by a flustered Marian. The groundsman was much taller than his wife, handsome and distinguished looking, with white hair, piercing blue eyes and who, despite his age, had a trim and fit figure.
Marian knelt beside Kelly as her husband took in the room with a glance, then raced across the space, closing the drapes and sealing off the sunlight. He went through the partially closed bathroom door, and Kelly watched him hunker down next to Jacques. Quintin mumbled something that sounded like an apology; then, taking the blankets and sheets Jacques rested on, he covered the vampire securely before raising Jacques into his arms and over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift.
Pain knifed through Kelly, and she bit her lip hard to keep from screaming. Her whole body shook with the effort, and she clutched desperately to Marian’s hand. She saw Quintin falter briefly.
The older woman ran her fingers through Kelly’s hair as she spoke to her husband. “We must hurry! I don’t know how much pain she can withstand.”
Qui
ntin carried Jacques the short distance down the hall to the fire exit as Kelly and his wife moved behind him. Once there, he pushed the door open and the alarm sounded. He hurried through the exit and down the stairs, Marian leading Kelly. Jacques’s agony echoed in her mind; Kelly didn’t know how he could stand it and not go insane.
Quintin stopped behind a small black vehicle outside the building. Kelly and Marian watched as the trunk opened with a click of a key ring button, and Quintin stowed Jacques gently into the compartment. He shut the trunk and returned for Kelly, whom his wife, eyes moist, was trying to comfort.
“Let’s get you in.” Quintin swept up Kelly’s trembling form and placed her in the backseat of the car, Marian settling in beside her. As Quintin raced the car through the city and into the countryside, the older woman held Kelly to her, rocking her back and forth and crooning to her as a mother would a small child. Tears fell unchecked from Kelly’s eyes at the pain that tore through her and the feelings evoked by being held in this kind woman’s arms. Memories of her mother, affectionate and loving, flooded her mind.
Marian hummed softly in her ear, and Kelly burrowed her face in the woman’s neck, stifling a cry as Quintin hit a bump in the road, jolting Jacques’s body in the trunk.
“We are almost there, child, and then you both can rest and recover.” Kelly watched through wet, bleary eyes as the towers of Jacques’s castle eventually loomed before them. And then she seemed to have lost track of time; between one deep breath and the next, they were turning onto the hill that led to their destination.
Pulling into the garage that must have been added some time in the 1900s, Quintin waited until the outer doors were completely closed before he removed Jacques from the closed-in space at the back of the car. Kelly and Marian followed him into the castle, where he walked down a long corridor away from the main hall. Stopping in front of a heavy oak door, he somehow got it open, then traveled down a set of stone steps that opened into a room below the earth; a few lamps scattered here and there on small tables cast their light off the walls, which were gray stone like the rest of the castle.
Was this Jacques’s chamber?
Marian left Kelly supported at the bottom of the stairs as Quintin laid Jacques tenderly on a bed of deep blue with matching comforter and sheets. A canopy of the same blue color arched above him. The room was filled with all dark cherry wood furniture: two nightstands on either side of the bed with lamps on the shiny wood tops, and an armoire directly across. The armoire was near an open door that led to a rather large-looking bathroom. The room would be charming if it weren’t for the misery that filled it at that moment.
Quintin came back for Kelly and she clung to him, pain seemingly absorbed into her bones. He settled Kelly beside Jacques, and Marian appeared moments later with a cup of tea laced with whiskey.
“Drink this, dear. It will help you as Jacques is too weak to send you to sleep.”
Taking the warm mug in her hands, Kelly drank the contents slowly, then handed the cup back. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“Rest now, child.” Just as Marian spoke, Quintin leaned over the floor at the foot of the bed and, with great strength, shifted the stone floor. The sound of stone grating against stone filled the room until an opening was obvious, revealing deep rich soil. Quintin once again moved to Jacques, cradled him like the vampire weighed nothing, and placed him in the ground.
Kelly watched in tired amazement as the soil closed over Jacques and the floor slid shut.
Marian repeated, “Rest, child. Go to sleep.”
Kelly lay down on the bed obediently as husband and wife made their way to the staircase. The chamber doors closed above, encasing her within. A single lamp remained lit so that she was not in complete darkness, and finally she closed her eyes and relaxed.
Marian hovered above her, holding a cup of broth to her lips. “Drink, child; you must drink.”
Sobs filled her chest as Kelly tried to push the cup away, but Quintin was there and held her flailing arms, pulling her securely against his chest, so that she had no option but to face Marian. Kelly slumped against the older man, head hanging wearily. Confusion and constant pain seemed to have thrust her into hell, and she couldn’t think straight as Marian continued to speak softly to her.
“Why are you doing this?” Her wail rang through the room. She was in such torment, so very tired. She just wanted to be left alone.
“Please drink, Kelly,” Marian insisted.
She felt a stirring in her mind and momentarily wondered if she was finally going crazy. Jacques’s presence suddenly consumed her and she felt a rush of warmth, and some of the pain began to subside.
Mon ange. If not for Marian and Quintin, then drink for me. I cannot bear your suffering. Please.
Kelly subsided, then nodded at the older couple. Yes, Jacques, for you, I will.
Marian smiled, lifting the mug to Kelly’s mouth. The warm broth rushed down her throat, filling her belly with warmth. Once the cup was empty, Quintin laid Kelly back on the bed, and Marian brought the covers up beneath Kelly’s chin. Then the older woman leaned over and lovingly kissed her forehead. Kelly sighed like an exhausted but happy kitten, closed her eyes, and once again drifted off to sleep.
That pattern continued over several days. Quintin and Marian came to the chambers a few times daily, making Kelly drink the broth. The older woman helped her make trips to the bathroom, then left her once again to her rest. Each day, the pain became less and less, but Kelly was still so very worn out and weak.
* * * * *
The room glowed softly from the dim lamps filling the room. Jacques stared down at his bed and the woman who was in it. Her golden hair was a wild mess, and her hands were tucked beneath one pale cheek. Even in this state of disarray, she was beautiful; his heart ached at how much she had endured for love of him.
Earlier, he had left his home and fed ravenously before he came to her, not wanting to risk harming her when his beast had been so close to the surface. Brushing his fingers through her hair, he savored the sensation of the silken strands gliding across his hand like cool satin.
Her eyes fluttered open and glowing sapphire eyes looked groggily at Jacques. It was clear that she was disoriented as she rose up on the bed, weak as a babe. Then her eyes widened with concern. Her hands flashed out and grabbed one of his.
“Jacques! Are you okay?”
He smiled, his free hand lovingly cupping a velvet-soft cheek. “I am fine, mon ange. How are you feeling?”
“Just tired... and hungry.” She grinned and fell back against the pillows on the bed, stretching as she did so, obviously unaware that as she arched her back, her full breasts pushed forward for his hungry gaze.
How could she not have any idea how beautiful and extremely sexy she was? His breathing seemed to constrict, and his whole body went tense at the sudden wave of desire that washed through him.
When she looked at him, she blushed at the longing he knew was etched upon his face for her to see. He hoped her body cried out for the touch of his and was pleased when her hands grasped his, pulling his body down over hers, squeezing his buttocks. He was doubly rewarded when her mouth claimed his in a wild frenzy. She met every urgent demand of the sweep of his tongue and every caress of his lips.
Kelly felt on fire and very much alive, the weight of his body above hers, his hard length melding perfectly with her soft one. She felt her shirt open. As the scorching heat of his hand touched her, she knew she was teetering precariously on the edges of ecstasy. He gently fondled one breast, and then the other. She was going up in flames and thrust herself into his eagerly searching fingers. Her nipples hardened into tiny buds under his ministrations, and his lips left hers. Kelly’s sound of disappointment was quickly stifled, becoming soft moans of pleasure as he took first one soft pink bead into his mouth, then lavished the same care on the other.
His tongue swirled and licked voraciously. Kelly whimpered, her fingers twisting into the dark locks of his hai
r as he tortured her with both mouth and tongue, stroking and suckling her aching breasts.
This was the love and rapture she had dreamed of, yet had been always afraid to find. He was here in her arms, loving her the way a man was supposed to love his woman. His. Yes, she was his, and she was going to remain so for all time.
As the thought glided through her mind, she blurted out the words that she had meant to say at another time. “Jacques, I love you. Please make me yours in every way. Make me like you.” Passion rippled through her body on the waves of his burning desire, at the way his fingers slid across her thighs, but suddenly his hands halted their movements.
“What did you say?”
Kelly came up on her elbows, touching her lips in feather light kisses around his mouth. “I said I love you. I want to be yours always. Make me a vampire.”
Jacques pulled quickly away, and she immediately felt the coldness of his retreat. Sitting up, she stared at him as he paced back and forth before the bed. What was wrong? She had thought he’d be happy that she wanted to share her life with him.
“Jacques, I want to do it. Please.”
He turned on her abruptly, and she was shocked by the chilly look in his onyx eyes. He stood with his feet apart, arms crossed over his chest, appearing very intimidating as he towered over her.
“No.”
Chapter Twelve
Kelly watched as Jacques storm out of the room. She held the covers to her breast, confused and hurt by his rejection. Was he trying to push her away again? She thought he loved her, too. Had she been wrong?
Rising from the bed, Kelly stumbled. She gathered her strength before quickly finding her neatly folded clothes that Marian must have washed and ironed for her. She tossed aside the shirt she was wearing and slipped into the blouse and jeans, then slowly walked up the steps to the main floor in search of Jacques. Whether he wanted to or not, he was going to explain why he’d refused her. Luckily, there was a small recessed panel by the door, probably for Quintin and Marian, or she would never have figured out how to leave the chamber.
