Soon he found her drawing out all his frustrations and dreams, listening as if he were the only man in the room – not shouting him down as his so-called friends did.
“And how would you change things?” she asked. “What would you do?”
Her interest was intoxicating.
“We need a good, strong leader, to kick this country’s backside and give us a future. I want my mother to have a beautiful house and servants, my sisters to marry successful men, their children to have a future. We Germans need our pride back!”
Ilona listened, leaning forward on the table, her chin resting on her diamond-encircled forearms, her eyes like black tulips. He stared at her luscious mouth, entranced by the tips of her teeth. He was slurring his words, couldn’t help it. God in heaven, I must have her or die!
Werner was in full flow when they were interrupted. A man appeared from the crowd and sat beside Ilona without a word of explanation. Werner went rigid, would have hit the stranger if he’d been less drunk.
The intruder gave him a glance, then turned to Ilona as if he didn’t exist.
“What are you doing?” His tone was lightly quizzical. Ilona seemed annoyed.
“What does it look like? I don’t know what you want, Karl, but go away.”
“You asked me to follow you.”
“To get you out of Holdenstein before Cesare lost his temper, that’s all. I’ve nothing to say to you. I said it all in Boston, I believe.”
Werner witnessed this exchange, outraged but powerless. If this swine ruins my chance with her… Then he felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck. Only by observing the man did he realise how extraordinary Ilona was – because Karl was the same. Luminous, elegant, darkly mesmeric.
That was why he couldn’t find his voice to protest.
“I disagree,” said Karl. “I’m sure you have a great deal to tell me.”
“I’ve already told you too much.”
Karl touched her upper arm with blatant affection. Werner was in despair.
“What has Violette done to you, to make you work for Cesare? I thought you despised him.”
“I do,” Ilona said crisply. “But when it comes to Violette, I happen to believe he’s right.”
Werner, hearing the words without understanding what they meant, rose unsteadily to his feet. “Get lost, sir. The lady is with me.” He lunged at Karl across the table, only for Ilona to stop his fist in mid-air.
It was like hitting a wall. He sat down in shock. How could such a slender hand be so strong? “Don’t,” she said, pressing his hand onto the table. Her fingernails pricked his skin, as if to hold him there.
Karl’s only reaction was a look of faint disdain. Werner thought, Who the hell does he think he is?
“He’s perfect, isn’t he?” Ilona said to Karl. “Young, strong, idealistic, handsome, a little naive. I have a very good eye.”
“And Cesare wants them for Pierre?” Karl’s eyebrows lifted.
“What else?” Ilona said smoothly.
“You tell me.”
“What do you want me to do? Are you going to follow me about trying to save me from myself? Do you want to protect this young man from me? I don’t think he’ll thank you.”
“Do what you will.” Karl stood as he spoke. “I’ve never interfered in your affairs. But I hate to see you being used.”
“I’m not! How dare you?”
“Cesare is using you. I never thought you’d allow that to happen.” Karl inclined his head with cool politeness, and walked away. Werner watched him, but within seconds he’d vanished among the revellers.
The woman was distracted, her face hard. Werner was so distressed at this exquisite creature being almost within his grasp, only to be torn away, he forgot his manners.
“Who was he?” he demanded. “Your husband? Brother?”
Her attention swung back to him.
“No,” she snapped. “He’s my father.”
“You mean… your priest?”
She started to laugh. He added defensively, “Well, he was hardly older than you!”
“No, he really is my father.”
An obvious lie. Werner, agitated and aroused, had no idea how to proceed. “But what was he saying to you, what did he mean?”
“Nothing. Forget him.” As she looked into his eyes, he felt something dimming and slipping away inside his mind. His train of thought evaporated. Her eyes were so softly moist, and she was still laughing…
“Can I share the joke?” he said, clasping her hand.
“One day. Don’t look so worried. You are a dear boy.” She tilted her face towards his, and with an immense rush of excitement, he knew that she was his. He ached to taste her mouth, her neck, her breasts… to leave boyhood behind.
“Now,” she said, “are you ready to take me home?”
* * *
Alone, Charlotte tried to stop worrying about Karl.
Cesare, another Kristian? She couldn’t believe it. But to frighten Stefan, of all people, Cesare must have gained some form of sinister influence…
She went out to hunt, losing herself in a river of fire and rubies that reminded her, with overwhelming intensity, how very far she’d come from being mortal.
Arriving home, two hours after midnight, she sensed someone in the house. A whispering, unseen presence, a column of dust.
“Stefan?”
She lit an oil lamp and replaced the stained-glass shade. In the dragonfly scatter of colours, she saw a tall golden shape hovering. Then he materialised fully and gazed at her with terrifying eyes. Cat’s eyes of pale gold flame.
Charlotte caught her breath like a human. She took in the bright hair and handsome face of a gilded statue from Greek legend. And when she realised who he was – as if she could forget – her fear surged.
“Don’t look so horrified,” said Simon. “I’m here to talk.”
“Karl will be back soon,” she managed to say.
“Not too soon, I hope.” Simon smiled. “May I sit down?”
“Can I stop you?”
“Don’t be unfriendly.” He went to the sofa uninvited, but Charlotte stayed on her feet. Somehow she managed to gather herself.
“The last time I saw you,” she said, “you made strenuous efforts to kill Karl and most of our friends.”
The fallen angel shook his head. His appearance was breathtaking, and the worst thing was that he reminded her of her brother, David. A man of openness and decency.
“Yes, we had quite a fight, didn’t we?” he said without shame. “Especially Karl and I. And yet you survived, for which you earned my admiration. Can you accept my apologies? Let bygones be bygones, as humans say?”
Charlotte gaped at him.
“You came to apologise? It’s hard to forget that you starved Karl close to death and tricked him into attacking Stefan and me. As for Violette –”
His handsome face showed no contrition. “Charlotte, my dear, it wasn’t personal. We did what was necessary.”
“Cruel to be kind?” She lit more lamps. Jewel-colours flared and overlapped, but no amount of light could exorcise this demon.
“Quite. You’re so lovely in your tawny silk and lace. You and Karl are both so beautiful. You could have such power if…”
She took a few steps towards him, as on a tightrope.
“If we come with you?”
His eyes were all colours of the rainbow. “Yes, as lovers, friends, helpers, everything.”
She swallowed. “What happened to Fyodor and Rasmila?”
“We parted, as I’m sure Karl told you. And doubtless you know that I’ve joined Cesare and John at Schloss Holdenstein? However…”
She hadn’t known, but she believed him. Her imagination seized on dreadful images: Karl arriving at the castle, Simon and Cesare ambushing him… She pushed her anxiety away. If she pleaded to know where Karl was, that would only give Simon more power.
“What’s wrong?” she said. “Aren’t John and Cesare good en
ough for you?”
“Oh, they are useful, but they could never be lovers. They’re immortal monks, with the sensuality of sackcloth. I need someone warmer. I need you.”
“Why?” she whispered. She felt as if she were falling into his eyes.
“You know Violette is our enemy. You won’t admit it, but you know.” His words made her shiver. “We must join forces against her. I know Karl refused, but I’m giving you both a second chance. Join us, or…”
“What? Are you threatening us?”
“I don’t need to. If you cling to Lilith, she will destroy you.” Simon extended a hand. “Come and sit with me, Charlotte.”
She resisted, but her own body betrayed her, pulling her towards him with threads of desire.
“I don’t believe you’re an angel,” she said, an inch away from his fingertips. “To imagine that God has nothing more important to think about than the affairs of men – or vampires – is a childish construct. But it must be a powerful thought-current in the Crystal Ring, and that’s why it has infected you.”
“No, you’re wrong.” Simon looked irritated, which pleased her. “If this happened to you – you’d know.”
“Safer not to let it happen, then. Otherwise you forget who you are, and lose your sanity. You become a mere cipher for the Crystal Ring – or for God, if you insist.”
Abruptly he grabbed her hand and pulled her towards him. She couldn’t break free. “You’re too clever, Charlotte.” With a swift movement, he dragged her onto his lap. “Too analytical.”
He gripped her arms. Their faces were very close now. His eyes entranced her and she went molten with desire. His lips parted and she ached to taste his beauty…
Suddenly she realised what was happening, and jerked back, petrified. Was I about to be willingly unfaithful to Karl?
Not willingly.
“Don’t pull away,” said Simon, his hands tightening. “Whom will we hurt? Immortals are above earthly rules. When Karl knows you desire me, he’ll come to me too. And you do want me, don’t you? Lilith is death but I am life.”
Charlotte’s face flushed with stolen blood. Simon was stronger than her. If she fled into Raqia he would follow, and if she struggled, he would hurt her. And the dreadful thing was that she didn’t want to resist. There was nothing to do but relax, and slide her arms around his neck, and open her mouth to a kiss as fiery sweet and honeyed as blood.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE CLARET-COLOURED VEIL
In Sebastian’s absence, Robyn tried to carry on as normal. She would not let him rule her life. The thought of languishing in feverish love-sickness between his visits was abhorrent.
So she attended the usual charity and social functions, lunched with friends, drove down to Cape Cod with Alice in hope that the sea would work its calming magic on her.
She continued to receive Harold as if nothing had happened. But she put off a couple of prospective lovers, no longer interested. Now there was only one man whom she wished to pleasure, torment and ruin…
Sebastian presented the temptation of an impossible challenge.
Kneeling astride Harold, coaxing him to his brief little spasm, she recalled why she used to find sex so depressing. Fortunately he was easy to please. He never minded what mood she was in, never chided her for being brusque. But afterwards, as he entwined his sweating body around hers, he said, “You got someone new, h’mm?”
“Maybe.”
“I can tell. It’s like you’re not here.”
“Sorry.”
“I hope you’re not falling in love with him.”
She tried to smile, but her mouth wouldn’t co-operate. “I left that nonsense behind at school.”
“You’re never past it, believe me,” he mumbled.
“I’ll always be here for you, Harold dear.”
But she saw he was worried. Robyn wondered what she’d given away.
Alone, she thought about Josef and his relationship with Violette, Karl and Charlotte. Does he know what they are? He must, of course! That would explain his evasiveness and strange remarks… “Some of these people are not so nice,” indeed!
And that time I found him in bed, hugging the covers around himself. Hangover, hell! Which one of them…?
She rubbed her forehead, trying to press out her frown. Worrying about Josef was pointless. He might be still in New York or travelling home. Even if she could telephone him this minute, what could she say? Warning him to be careful was only telling him what he already knew. Then he’d wonder how she knew… and she felt strongly that Sebastian must remain her secret.
Oh, there’s so much I’d like to ask you, Uncle, she thought. But you’ll never tell me unless I explain why I want to know, and I can’t.
She tried not to dwell on Sebastian, but sometimes she found herself wandering through the house as if searching for something. Often she would turn cold with a sense of being watched…
Infuriating that he could do this to her. She felt she was performing for a ghost audience; always moving, dressing, undressing as if Sebastian could see her.
And thinking, When will you come to me again?
* * *
“Perfection,” Simon breathed, his cheek pressed to Charlotte’s as he held her on his thighs. “You and I and Karl. You can’t refuse me, because you know…”
He kissed her again and Charlotte let him, aching. She had only one chance to stop Simon, she knew. One chance to control herself.
Even through the rushing drumbeat of desire, with his whirlpool eyes sucking her down, his hands plucking at the buttons of her dress, she knew what to do. She must seem to surrender. Relax into him, like a warm helpless nestling in his lap, so he didn’t suspect…
While her mouth moved feverishly over his lips and cheeks, her mind stayed aloof, calculating. Assuming victory, Simon closed his eyes and sighed. Charlotte seized the moment. She drew back her lips and struck.
How strong and thick his neck was, like oak! She feared her fangs would break against his flesh – no, they were through, but she couldn’t find a blood-vessel and his fingers were tightening on her arms…
At last she broke through a vein-wall, and blood burst into her mouth. It tasted strange, like red wine turned to vinegar: too strong, but she couldn’t stop. This was the only way to weaken him.
“Not yet,” Simon whispered, trying quite gently to prise her off.
He hasn’t guessed I’m attacking him! she thought. She sank her fangs deeper, drawing hard to drink as deeply as possible before he realised.
She shook with apprehension, even through the bliss of feeding. If he stops me too soon, he’ll punish me and I don’t even know if he will weaken like other vampires…
“Don’t,” he said. “Charlotte, enough!”
Oh, he understood. She felt him go rigid, his desire swamped by rage. He began to resist, his hands so tight on her upper arms she feared the bones would break.
Simon’s strength was great – but so was hers. She stole it from him with every thick, sour mouthful of blood. And even he could not break her purchase.
His hands released her arms only to creep around her throat. Vampires could live without breathing so he couldn’t strangle her, yet the pressure still awoke a primeval terror. Charlotte felt the constriction tightening until she could barely force a trickle of blood down her throat… tightening until it seemed his fingers would crush her spine.
She could no longer swallow. Agony filled her skull, but she went on sucking at the wound, the blood escaping from her lips to bubble over her chin and his hands.
Just as pain nearly overcame her, the pressure eased. To her astonishment, Simon’s hands slid away and his head tipped back. Charlotte paused. If he was faking surrender to trick her, she couldn’t risk mercy. She drank again, wincing as she pushed blood past her bruised windpipe.
Red fire filled her, while Simon was slumped like a fainting human beneath her. Oh, his collapse was real after all…
“So beauti
ful,” he sighed faintly. “I could die for you.”
She was only sipping now, too caught up in the divine rhythm to stop. After a few seconds, she felt Simon’s hands caressing her back… and she sensed another presence, very dark and definite, watching them.
Karl.
With a stab of dismay, she wondered what he saw. That she was defending herself from Simon, or making love to him? Because she wasn’t entirely sure.
With an effort she wrenched her fangs free. Blood ran from her open mouth, soaking his collar. He was too weak now to prevent her escape. As she slithered off his lap, his hands fell away and he made no attempt to keep her there.
Purple-red blood drenched his hands and her dress. It was everywhere.
Charlotte fled to Karl, mortified. His face, half-shadowed, revealed nothing as he looked from her to Simon, who lolled as if someone had stabbed him where he sat. His golden skin was flat beige, all radiance lost.
Karl’s arm went around Charlotte. Before she could speak, Simon pushed himself to his feet with a magnificent effort.
To her embarrassment, he kissed her hand and gazed into her eyes.
“Was it as pleasurable for you as for me?” he asked silkily. She’d expected fury, but this was worse. Simon looked at Karl and added, “As they say in the parlance of these times, your wife, my dear fellow, is a jolly good sport.”
Karl merely looked at him, his expression frigid.
With that, Simon left – not through the Crystal Ring, but through the door. Charlotte emitted a sigh of relief and despair.
“What happened?” Karl asked coolly. With long, delicate fingers he brushed the drying blood from around her lips.
Charlotte told him everything, even how close she’d come to letting Simon seduce her.
“He wasn’t violent, just persuasive. Gods, I’m so sorry. The only way to stop him was to feed on him. And he won’t give up; I think he’ll come back when he’s recovered his strength, because he says he wants you, too.”
The Dark Blood of Poppies Page 28
