Christian (Vampires in America: The Vampire Wars Book 10)

by D. B. Reynolds

  Marc reappeared at that moment, phone in hand. It was a regular, cordless phone, the kind that could have multiple, wireless handsets. Marc held it out to Christian, giving him a significant look. “It’s Mexico,” he said.

  Christian’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he set down his cup, took the phone, and left the kitchen. Natalie heard his soft footsteps fade down the hall, and then nothing.

  CHRISTIAN WAITED until he was safely in the basement, with the door closed behind him. He didn’t care about Marc overhearing this conversation; he’d tell him everything anyway. But he wasn’t completely confident about Natalie. He’d let her believe last night that the lack of trust went one way. That he trusted her, even though she didn’t trust him. But that wasn’t quite true. He trusted her enough to want her in his bed, but he didn’t trust her with his life, or Marc’s. A single wrong word to Anthony or one of his vampires, and they could both be dead. Even bringing her to this house had been a risk, but the need to get her into his own territory had been too strong to ignore.

  Settling into one of the big chairs in front of the house’s security console, he tapped the button to open the phone line, and said, “Christian Duvall here.”

  “One moment,” an unidentified male voice said.

  It was less than a minute before he heard the soft scrape of the phone being transferred, and then a deep, heavily accented voice said, “This is Vincent.”

  “Lord Vincent,” Christian acknowledged. “An honor.”

  Vincent snorted a dismissive laugh. “Let’s dispense with the bullshit, Christian. I talked to Raphael; he says you know about what’s going on in my territory.”

  “I gave Raphael and his people everything I know, my lord. But I’m happy to answer any questions you have, or to brief you personally.”

  “Look, I’m not going to bullshit you. I only trust you because Raphael says you’re okay.”

  “I am gratified by his trust.” Christian realized he was being his typical stick-up-the-ass formal self, but it seemed warranted this time. Vincent was a territorial lord, and one whom Christian didn’t know at all. Vincent said he trusted Christian, but Christian had no reason to trust in return.

  “So, who’s set up camp in my territory, and what is he planning?” Vincent asked.

  “As far as I know, the who is Hubert. As for the what . . . his specialty is creating large numbers of throwaway vampires. They’re barely sentient when he finishes with them. He turns them at need, and burns through them almost as fast. They’re completely disposable to him. His usual mode is to overwhelm his opponent with sheer numbers, and then move in for the kill.”

  “And where is he?”

  Christian was taken aback by the question, revealing, as it did, Vincent’s ignorance about his own territory. The Mexican lord must truly trust Raphael’s judgment to reveal something so damning. He understood the conundrum, though. Vincent was newly installed as Lord of Mexico, while Hubert and his hidden army had been there for months and months, working with Enrique. Vincent would have to travel every square mile of his entire territory—something that would take months more—in order to figure out who belonged there and who didn’t. It was possible that the only vampire Vincent knew he could rely on, outside his immediate circle, was Raphael.

  “My last meeting with Hubert was four months ago,” he told Vincent. “I had declined Mathilde’s offer to join her in the plot against Raphael in Hawaii, and flew instead into San Antonio. Hubert and I met in a camp he had set up on the border. He was alone, except for his lieutenant Quentin. We discussed strategy briefly, but once he realized I wasn’t there to support his efforts, he became considerably less forthcoming. It was obvious to me, however, that his camp near San Antonio was not his main base of operations.

  “If I had to guess,” Christian continued, “knowing what I do about how Hubert works, and the type of victim he prefers, I’d look for his main contingent to be somewhere far away from where we met. Not so far that he couldn’t travel easily, but far enough away that he’d assume we couldn’t find it without really looking. Somewhere that would supply him with a large number of uneducated, superstitious peasants to work with.”

  “You just described half of Mexico.”

  “It has to be somewhere remote, where no one would remark on a sudden surge in the vampire population.”

  “But the families would notice, no matter how remote. I’d expect refugees, some sign of the violence.”

  “Precisely. And that is why Hubert takes the whole family when he makes his vampires, sometimes even children. Though he’s just as likely to kill the children as turn them. Or use them for blood.”

  “Jesus, why hasn’t someone eliminated this monster before now?”

  Christian laughed without humor. “In Europe, mon ami, one such as Hubert would be applauded for his brutality.”

  “Fuck. You still have any contact with those people?”

  Christian understood that “those people” were his former European brethren, and he was gratified not to be included in their number. “I’ve heard nothing from Europe since Mathilde died, but I’m not surprised by that. Mathilde’s failure would have rattled Hubert, and once he learned that I wasn’t going to ally myself with him, he probably withdrew to wherever his stronghold is, and is now making vampires as fast as he can.”

  “This is not good news.”

  “Regrettably, no.”

  “Fuck me. All right. Is your agreement with Raphael still in play?”

  “If by that, you mean are we still allies, then the answer is yes.”

  “Will you let me know if you learn anything more?”

  “Mais oui, and I assume you will do the same?”

  “I thought Anthony was regularly briefing the challengers,” Vincent commented curiously.

  “More or less. But I find his intel difficult to trust. He seems to have a favorite to be the next lord, and I am not that person.”

  “He can favor anyone he wants, but that’s not the way this works. Whoever wins it, rules it.”

  “So I keep telling everyone,” Christian said dryly. He heard voices on Vincent’s end of the line, and then the Mexican lord telling someone he’d be right there.

  “I’ve got to deal with this,” Vincent said. “I’ll keep looking, and let you know what I find.”

  He hung up without bothering to say good-bye. Christian shrugged, more than satisfied with the conversation. Vincent was nearly the same age as he was, old enough to have honed his strength, but young enough to have retained the flexibility of the modern age. He would be a good neighbor and ally once Christian became Lord of the South.

  Assuming Vincent could be trusted to mean what he’d said. Unfortunately there was only one way to be sure of that, and by then, it might be too late.

  “I NEED TO GO home and change clothes,” Natalie said, as the two vampires prepared to leave for the night, and take her with them. “Anthony pays attention to appearances. He’ll notice if I show up in the same clothes I wore yesterday. Plus, you know . . . ick. You should just drop me at the estate. My car’s there, so I can drive home, change clothes, and come back.”

  “No, we’ll stop at your place on the way,” Christian disagreed, as the three of them trooped into the garage. “While you’re there, you should pack enough to see you through a few days. It’s no longer safe for you to be on your own.”

  Natalie bristled. “I’ve been on my own for years. I don’t need—”

  “Ordinarily, I’d agree with you. But these are hardly ordinary circumstances. Anthony doesn’t strike me as the most even-tempered vampire when he doesn’t get his way, and he won’t like you spending time with me.” He held open the back door of a big, black Suburban for her, while Marc climbed in behind the wheel.

  “I’m aware of that,” Natalie snapped, carefully
hiking her skirt in order to climb into the back seat without flashing Christian. She didn’t like the way he was moving in and dictating her life. But she disliked Anthony’s newfound attentions more, not to mention what might happen if he discovered that she’d witnessed Noriega’s death. She wasn’t shortsighted enough to forego the protection Christian offered. And then there were those kisses. She wanted more of those, and whatever went with them. But that didn’t mean she had to cave to his every whim. At least not without a fight.

  Unfortunately, Christian didn’t fight back. He didn’t get angry, or snap back at her. He simply stood in the SUV’s open door, eyeing her patiently, as if he had all the time in the world to wait for the crazy lady to see reason. Fucker. He wasn’t any fun to argue with.

  “Fine,” she told him finally. “I’m not completely self-destructive, you know.”

  Christian smiled suddenly, and it was like the sun coming out. “Can you work in Jaclyn’s office today?” he asked, as he climbed in after her.

  “Sure, but what will I tell her?” She slid across the leather seat to make room for him. Which took some doing, because Christian was a very big guy.

  “You don’t have to tell her anything. She understands more than you think, and she’s not fond of Anthony.”

  Natalie nodded. She knew that. It was one of Anthony’s pet peeves that he’d never managed to co-opt Jaclyn. She started to give Marc her address, but he was already punching it into the navigation system. At some point, Christian had checked her out enough to know where she lived. She wasn’t even surprised. Vampires, especially powerful vampires, didn’t respect any boundaries but their own. Christian had wanted the information on her, so he’d gotten it. Something as prosaic as asking her for it had probably never occurred to him. She liked confidence in a man, even arrogance, as long as it was deserved. But if she and Christian were going to have a relationship, he’d have to remember that she wasn’t one of his minions.

  She frowned as the thought occurred to her. If they were going to have a relationship? Good lord, when had her thoughts taken that particular detour? Okay, yeah, she wanted him, but a relationship? She turned and studied him in the dark interior of the SUV—his chiseled profile broken up by the single lock of hair hanging over his forehead, the coiled power of his big body, and his confident posture as he sat with one arm flung across the back of the seat behind her.

  Oh, who was she kidding? Hell, yes, she wanted a relationship. One night, or even three, with this beautiful man would never be enough.

  He turned suddenly, his mouth curved in a sly smile, and winked at her. Natalie blushed, thankful for the shadows that hid her reaction. Needing to look somewhere else, she glanced out the window, and saw they were nearly at her address. She leaned forward. “It’s on the left,” she told Marc. “The kind of grayish building.”

  “Got it,” Marc said. “Do you have a garage?”

  “Carport in the back. You can pull in, since my car’s not there. Assuming this beast will fit. I drive a Prius.”

  “I didn’t think those were legal in Texas,” Marc joked.

  “I get looks, believe me. There it is, number three,” she said, directing him.

  Marc slid the big Suburban right into the tight parking space, slick as could be, though Natalie had to close her eyes, certain they were going to crash into the wall. Next to her, Christian laughed.

  “For a woman who works with vampires, you have very little faith in our abilities.”

  “I mostly work with numbers,” she said tartly. “Those I have faith in. Which is why I know that that was a tight fit.”

  She climbed out of the SUV, with her keys in one hand. The Suburban took up so much space that there was only room for them to get out on the driver’s side, so Christian came out right behind her. She’d showered at his house while he’d still slept, and so she only needed to put on fresh clothes and a little makeup. “Give me twenty minutes to change and pack a few things,” she said, sliding her keys into the lock. “The Mr. Coffee’s right over there, if you want something to drink,” she added.

  “And the nightmare continues,” Christian muttered.

  Natalie laughed as she hurried into her bedroom, stripping off her clothes on the way. She took five minutes for a swipe of mascara and some blush, then stood in her walk-in closet, trying to decide what to wear to the office tonight. Normally, she wore skirts. Anthony liked a businesslike appearance, and skirts and heels made her feel good about herself, pretty and sexy. But tonight, she wanted to be invisible. So she pulled on a cream silk blouse and tank, and some black slacks, finishing off with a pair of spike-heeled ankle boots.

  “I like the boots.”

  Natalie spun around to find Christian leaning against her open doorway, one foot angled over the other, looking very comfortable and scrumptious, his arms crossed over his muscled chest.

  “You startled me,” she said accusingly. “I didn’t hear you come upstairs.”

  He freed a hand to point a thumb at his chest. “Vampire. We move quietly.”

  She knew that. She might have been able to pretend before that hers was an ordinary job, and that the people she worked with were just as ordinary. But they weren’t. The death she’d witnessed two nights ago had made that perfectly clear.

  “I’m almost ready,” she told him, reaching for a jacket.

  “You need to pack a bag. And bring your dress for Saturday night.”

  “Right,” she muttered, staring at her clothes and considering how much she’d need to pack, and how long she’d be gone. She frowned abruptly, then turned to give him a puzzled look. “Saturday night?”

  “The challenge gala,” he explained.

  “But I’m not invited to that.”

  “You are now. I’m inviting you.”

  “I don’t know if I have anything appropriate for . . . What are you doing?”

  Christian was digging around in her closet. “This is perfect,” he said, holding up a dress that she’d bought on a whim, but never worn. It was short and sexy. A little too sexy, which was why she’d never worn it. It was a dark emerald green that did wonders for her coloring, with silk layered over satin, and a bodice that scooped low. But it wasn’t the revealing bodice that had kept it hidden in her closet. The back of the dress was a graceful drape of silk that bared her skin almost to the curve of her butt. It looked great—she’d put it on more than once in front of her mirror—but she’d never managed to dig up the courage to wear it in public.

  “Oh, I don’t know if—” she started to say, but he cut her off.

  “I do; you’ll be the most beautiful woman at the gala.” He grinned. “Don’t worry, I’ll fight off any unwanted suitors.”

  “What about wanted ones?” she asked saucily.

  His gaze narrowed. “Them, too.”

  She chuckled at the success of her jab, then eyed the dress. It was gorgeous. And, really, how could she say “no” when he said she’d look beautiful?

  “Okay,” she agreed. “I need to grab the shoes.”

  “Don’t forget to pack enough for a few days. It’s too dangerous for you to stay here until the challenge is decided.”

  Natalie’s unease at what he was saying overrode her irritation at his tendency to give orders. “Dangerous? Do you really think—?”

  “That Anthony would hurt you?” He studied her for a moment, as if trying to decide if he should tell her the truth, as if wondering whether she could handle it.

  “Tell me the truth,” she demanded.

  His lips tightened briefly, and he said, “Yes.”

  “But he’s never done anything like that before.”

  “And he’d probably regret it. But in the final analysis, only one person matters to Anthony, and that’s Anthony. I don’t believe for a minute that he plans to retire quietly to
New Orleans. He has a game in play that will maximize his own power and wealth after the succession. We just don’t know what it is yet. But whatever it is, I’ve spoiled it for him, and he’ll do what it takes to get rid of me. He wants you for himself—”

  She opened her mouth to protest, but he continued.

  “—I can see it in the way he looks at you. He covets you, as if you’re already his. He may even have convinced himself he loves you, or that you love him. But if he gets angry enough, he’ll hurt you. Either to claim you for himself, or to get to me.” He stepped closer in the confined space, cupping her cheek in his big hand. “You matter to me. Anthony knows that.”

  Natalie looked up at him, unable to stop herself from leaning in until her breasts nearly touched him. Her chest felt constricted, her heart too big for the space, pounding in her ears until it was all she could hear. Christian tightened the fingers of his other hand around her hip, pulling her in until there was no space between them, and the tips of her breasts scraped the thick muscles of his chest. His gaze traveled over her face, lingering on her lips, and she knew he was going to kiss her.

  When his mouth met hers, her lips were already open in welcome. She expected to be ravished, but was enticed instead, his lips caressing hers with delicate, sliding kisses, his tongue quick and teasing, until she went up on her toes, and pressed her mouth to his to demand more. She felt his smile against her lips, felt him shift the angle of her head as he sank deeper into her, as his tongue swept forcefully into her mouth, stroking, tasting. Natalie wrapped her arms around his neck with a pleasured sigh. She couldn’t remember wanting anyone the way she did Christian. She was hungry for him. Every inch of her longed for him, from the ache between her thighs to the swell of her breasts, and everything above and below.

  But he was being so careful with her. As if she were something fragile, as if he had to hold himself back. She wasn’t terribly experienced. Hell, she’d never experienced a man like Christian. But she wasn’t going to break, either. And she didn’t want him to hold back.