“I take it you heard our…argument?” Nic sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, trying to dispel the tension that gripped his head in a vise.
“I’m a spy you hired to make sure nothing happens to her. Did you expect me to ignore it when she’s upset? Even if you’re the cause?” Her black boots made no sound on the tile floor as she approached. “I’ve never been very good at staying ‘in my place.’ One of the reasons I was…between gigs when your tosser friend called me.”
Hearing Sylvie insult Carlo both soothed a bit of Nic’s betrayal and piqued his curiosity. “And what ‘out of place’ commentary do you have on this whole situation?”
“I won’t let Carlo or that backstabbing bitch near Evangeline again.” Sylvie held up her hand when Nic tried to interrupt. “I could tell you what happened, but you should really talk to E. She’s telling the truth. Maybe before you stomp all over her heart—a heart that’s been cracking into pieces for two days—you should ask her what happened.”
12
Evangeline wrapped her arms around Nic’s pillow and let herself cry. How could he possibly think she let Vittoria take her blood? No, she didn’t know much about the vampire world, but she wasn’t an idiot.
Her heart ached. For two days, she’d felt nothing. No spark of their bond. No reassuring warmth of their love. And now, their emotions mingled, battling one another for control. Anger. Fear. Exhaustion. Pain. She even felt his nausea, his hunger. Or was that her hunger? Despite Sylvie’s repeated attempts, Evangeline hadn’t managed to choke down more than a couple of bites of food at any meal.
“Evangeline?” Nic knocked as he cracked the door.
“If you’re here for blood…” Evangeline held out her arm without looking at him. After what he’d said to her, he could take from her wrist.
His cool fingers brushed over her skin. “No. I am here…to apologize.” The mattress dipped as he sank down next to her, and he tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear, skimming the bonding mark at her neck.
Love welled within her. Helpless against the bond, she sniffled, wiped her eyes, and peered up at him. Dark smudges bruised his eyes. Blood dotted the cuffs of his untucked dress shirt, and she pushed up his sleeve. “My God, Nic. What happened?”
He pulled his hand away. “Too long bound in silver. I will heal.” Silence filled the space between them as Nic rubbed his hands up and down his thighs, his gaze fixed on the glittering water out the veranda doors. “What happened while I was gone, cara? How did Carlo get your blood?”
Evangeline fiddled with the hem of her sweater. She couldn’t force her voice much above a whisper. “Vittoria.” Pinching the bridge of her nose as another jagged piece of her memories clicked into place, she sighed. “I was upset when they took you.”
“I know.” Nic cupped her cheek and slid his thumb over her lower lip. “I could sense you. For a time.”
“She was great. Or…I thought she was. I didn’t even talk to Sylvie. Just hid up here.” With a small shrug, she hugged his pillow tighter. “I felt…closer to you here.”
Nic’s turbulent emotions started to settle, and he linked their fingers as he leaned against the headboard. The connection soothed her, and she scooted closer, but still kept the pillow between them like a shield. “After a few hours, Vittoria insisted I come downstairs and join her for a glass of wine. We sat outside, and she told me about the first movie she saw…Cabiria? Something about a kidnapped little girl. I…remember her pouring me a second glass—I told her I didn’t need one—and…I woke up the next day when Sylvie got worried and came up to check on me. I was in bed. Still half-dressed. I thought…I’d had too much to drink. But I remember now. Some of it.”
Anger shimmered over Nic’s tired features, and a muscle in his jaw ticked as his irises flooded a dark amethyst. “Tell. Me,” he managed through clenched teeth.
“I couldn’t move.” Evangeline started to shake, her fear a hard knot in the center of her chest. Nic reached for her, but she slid back. If he held her now, she’d lose control. “Vittoria carried me up here, and then Carlo came. They whispered in Italian, and I think they fought. Vittoria took a lot of blood. I don’t know how much. I tried to stop them…but whatever they gave me…”
Her tears spilled over, and she couldn’t continue. As he gathered her against him, his lips brushed her ear. “It was not your fault, cara. And I should never have assumed it was.”
Evangeline took comfort in his scent, in the strength of his embrace, even though she sensed his exhaustion and hunger. “After…Vittoria made me drink something, and it hurt. Like…like my father’s treatments used to hurt. But I passed out, I think. I didn’t remember what she’d done…not any of it…until a few hours ago. Even now…I only have bits and pieces.”
“They will regret the day they were turned. Both of them.” Shifting her to the side, Nic struggled to his feet, but halfway to the door, he stumbled and fell to his knees with a groan.
“Nic!” After reliving the drugged terror at the hands of those she’d trusted, seeing her life mate unable to stand shattered any sense of security she’d found in his arms. Dropping down next to him, she shoved her shoulder under his arm and helped him to his feet. “You need blood. Now.”
“I need to call Carlo,” Nic muttered as Evangeline dragged him back to the bed. “He stood in front of me and lied…”
“You can tell him in an hour. Beat the crap out of him, throw him off a building, I don’t care. But you’re not doing anything until you’ve fed.” She wrinkled her nose. “And showered. And burned these clothes.” Brushing her hair off her neck, she leaned in, her fingers skimming his hips.
“Evangeline, you have not eaten.”
Nic turned his head, but Evangeline deftly unbuttoned his shirt and ran her hands down his sculpted chest. His mutation assured he wouldn’t lose his muscle tone, his strength, even after years locked in a cell. But she saw his weakness. The way he almost looked…deflated. As if he were only a shade of his usual self.
“You don’t age,” she whispered. “But the last time you looked like this…you were dying in the middle of the forest. Let me help you.”
With some effort, Nic sat up so Evangeline could slide the shirt down his arms. As the material hit the floor, she wrapped her legs around his waist and settled against him. The reassuring press of his growing erection steadied her. Despite how hurt she’d been, she still wanted him, and he needed her.
“Are you certain?” His whispered words carried such pain.
“Yes.” As Nic gently pressed his lips to her neck, feathering kisses over her vein, she closed her eyes. This, she knew. When he held her, when he fed from her, their bond flared, stronger than any other emotion she’d ever felt.
She gasped as his sharp fangs sank into her skin, and desire flooded her core. Nic’s moan gave her the peace and reassurance she needed. Grinding her hips against him, she hoped he’d understand she craved more. All of him.
A vampire’s bite was almost always pleasurable, a compound in their saliva sending a rush of endorphins through their victims. But with Nic, it was more. His body strengthened, almost as if he were coming back to life under her touch, and arousal sent her heart pounding against her chest.
Nic sealed the wounds, a single, gritty “enough” escaping his lips, and then he flipped their positions, laying her on the bed so he could yank off her loose pants. A growl rumbled in his throat as he took in the scent of her arousal, the damp lace between her thighs. The tunic ripped under his hands, and then his mouth was on her lace-clad breast. Her nipple peaked under his expert tongue while he reached back and deftly unclasped her bra.
“Mine.” The single word uttered over their bond shattered her, and when Nic dragged her panties down her hips and slid two fingers inside her, she came apart.
“Oh God. Nic. Please.” She needed their connection, this physical tie between them that had snapped the moment the SUV had carried him away. Rarely had Evangeline been as thankful for his enha
nced speed as she was the moment he buried himself deep. She hadn’t noticed him shedding his clothes, but his naked body caged her, and when he pulled back enough to meet her gaze, the desperation in the amethyst depths matched the raw need in her core.
“Harder,” she begged, and he obliged. Bracing a hand on the headboard, he rocked his hips, and every time he thrust, Evangeline floated higher, until she feared she’d simply fly away. “Bite me.”
No warning. No soft kiss to her neck, no tenderness, only a savage roar as his fangs pierced her vein. His name tore from her lips, and she imploded, her body in free-fall, until Nic plunged over the edge with her.
13
Nic stroked Evangeline’s back, her blood and their coupling soothing the memories of the interrogation, but not his anger towards Carlo and Vittoria. How could Carlo have stood outside his cell, knowing he’d taken Evangeline’s blood, and not say anything? And then to give Enrico a vial, another vampire Nic did not know if he could trust…
“You’re somewhere else,” Evangeline said quietly as she slid her fingers over the scars on his chest.
“Perhaps.” Nic turned his head, his enhanced vision still able to make out the tiny crescents of waves on the deep blue sea—even in the semi-darkness before moonrise. “Do you know why I chose to build my home here?”
“You never told me.” Evangeline tugged the sheet up over them with a sigh. “You haven’t told me much of anything.”
The admonishment cut deep, and he failed to stifle his flinch. “I am sorry. We had so little time, and…I was selfish. I did not wish to spend our days—hours—talking about the interrogation, about my fears, my memories…”
Resting her chin on Nic’s chest, she offered him a sad smile. “I know. But you need to understand how out of my element I am. This…living above ground, in this big house, with free access to the internet, books, and…out from under my father’s control…” Evangeline chewed on her lip for a minute, then huffed. “It should be so easy. This is everything I’ve always wanted. Freedom, the chance to find out who I am, you… But I’m scared. All the time. Cars? I’d rather never see another one. Reading the news? Bombings in Russia, a train derailment in Switzerland, violent protests outside Congress in the United States. The world is so much bigger than I ever knew. And scarier.”
Nic’s heart swelled with love even as he ached for the years of her life Evangeline would never have back. All the time her father stole from her. And from him.
“I never thought about it that way, cara. I had the benefit of watching the world grow. Eight hundred years ago, the entire population was under half a billion people. Now, the world holds more than eight billion. I witnessed the evolution of flight, the dawn of regular newspapers, the first skyscraper. Death and destruction are a part of life, and after you see so much of them, you stop looking. Or…stop noticing.”
Uncertainty pinched her brows. “I love you, Nic. I feel our bond, and when you were gone…I couldn’t breathe. I need you. But I’m terrified that we won’t be able to make this work. That we’re too different.”
Nic buried his face in her hair, as if holding tighter would somehow quell her doubts and fears. “We may not have many things in common yet, Evangeline,” he said as he dragged his lips along the shell of her ear. “But we love one another. I believe the rest, we will learn. Together. When I was alone in the Conclave’s prison, I feared I would never see you again. I held on to the memory of you at lunch. When you had your first bite of pizza, you relaxed. For a brief moment, the world did not frighten you. I know we will have many challenges ahead of us. We are unique in this world—both of us. If the Conclave decides we are a threat, we will have to run. But, we will do so together.”
Evangeline angled her head and slanted her lips over his. As her tongue danced with his, the lingering tension in Nic’s shoulders melted away, and he relished the feel of his life mate in his arms. They would find their way. Together.
After a shower, Nic tied his hair back and donned a pair of jeans and a tight, black t-shirt. How odd to feel so thankful for something as simple as clothing. Evangeline fiddled with the hem of her cashmere sweater, her face too pale for his liking.
“Tesoro,” he said, holding out his hand, “did you eat at all while I was gone?”
“I tried.” Her shoulders hunched, and twin spots of color rose on her cheeks. “You try to eat when you’re terrified you’re going to lose everything.”
“I know, cara.” Wrapping her in his embrace, he brushed a kiss to the top of her head. “But we are together now. And you must keep up your strength.”
“I don’t feel…weak. Just nauseous.”
Nic drew back and cupped her cheek. “What else do you feel? Are you ill? A side effect from the drugs Vittoria gave you?” He couldn’t sense anything wrong with her, but perhaps whatever Vittoria had done to her had impacted their bond? A sudden, almost violent wave of jealousy and anger rolled over him, and Evangeline shuddered.
“I’m okay. Really.” She forced a small smile, but her words lacked conviction.
Willing his fangs to descend, he nipped at his wrist. “Take my blood. It will help.”
“Nic—” Her nostrils flared, and when she sealed her lips over the twin punctures, Nic tangled his free hand in her hair, relishing the feel of her mouth. She didn’t take much. Only a single pull, but the satisfied purr that rumbled in her throat reassured him as she laved her tongue over the wounds to help seal them.
“Thank you, bellezza. Now, do you think you can eat?”
“I’ll try.” This time, her smile reached her eyes, even though a deep sadness still churned in the brown depths. She’d removed her contacts, complaining she’d cried too much today to keep them in a moment longer.
As they entered the kitchen, they found Bayard standing at the open French doors, staring out over the hillside. He turned and gave them a quick nod. “Sylvie is checking the perimeter.”
“Call her in, please,” Nic said. “After the events of the past few days, I would like to speak to both of you.”
Bayard excused himself to find Sylvie as Nic pulled white wine and a container of leftover linguini from the SubZero refrigerator. “Did you cook?”
Her laugh brought him so much joy. “Hardly. That’s Sylvie’s doing. I can work the espresso machine. But she taught me how to make…’toad-in-the-hole’? It’s good.”
Nic arched a brow. “Eggs in a basket is a much less…disgusting term for that particular dish. I do not know if you have ever eaten toad, but it is not palatable. Contrary to popular opinion, I do not believe it tastes ‘just like chicken.’”
“Huh?”
How easily he forgot that she did not grow up in a normal society. “It is a saying parents use to convince their children to try exotic meats. Admittedly, to a human, many things probably do taste like chicken. Vampires…we have a more sensitive palate.”
Evangeline stared at her hands clasped on the counter as Nic poured them both a glass of white wine. “There are a lot of things you’re going to have to explain to me.”
“And I will happily do so.” Pressing the glass into her palm, he caged her against the kitchen island, hating the shame he saw in her eyes. “You are my life mate, Evangeline. More than that, I am hopelessly in love with you. Why are you embarrassed?”
“I just hate feeling…so out of my element.” She took a sip of wine, then gestured to the six-burner stove. “Can I help?”
“You can slice the bread.” Nic moved easily around the kitchen he’d designed, while Evangeline cut several pieces from a crusty loaf.
Sylvie and Bayard slipped back through the French doors, bickering over who was going to take the first overnight shift, and, distracted, Evangeline nicked her finger as she glanced over at them.
Time stopped as Nic scented Evangeline’s blood. With every ounce of his enhanced speed, he hauled her against him and pressed his lips to the small cut.
She tensed in his arms, her eyes wide, as both Bayard
and Sylvie swore, fangs exposed. Sylvie stepped in front of her partner, blocking his forward momentum with her tiny frame. “Evangeline,” she said, her jaw clenched tight. “What the fuck is in your blood?”
14
Evangeline peered up at Nic. He’d sealed the wound, but gripped her finger so hard, she feared he’d crack the bone. “You’re hurting me,” she whispered. “Let go.”
“Not until they calm down.” Nic nodded towards Sylvie and Bayard. Though Sylvie looked almost relaxed, Bayard’s fangs perched on his lower lip, and his eyes held a wild and desperate need.
“I…need blood,” Bayard managed. “Excuse me.” He raced back out of the house and a moment later, Evangeline heard the guest house door slam.
Sylvie blew out a breath and approached slowly. “I swear, on my life, E. I will never feed from you.”
Whatever Nic saw in Sylvie’s eyes must have convinced him, and he released Evangeline before bracing his hands on the island. “Vaffanculo. I knew we would have challenges, but threats from those closest to us…”
Evangeline covered his fingers with hers. The cut had healed, helped along by his kiss, but her finger still held the memory of the wound. “No one touched me, Nic. Sylvie could have overpowered me any time the past couple of days. She didn’t. And Bayard…as soon as he found out what Carlo and Vittoria had done, he drove to the Conclave so he’d be there when you were released. He slept in his car when they wouldn’t let him inside.”
“I had not fed in two days,” Bayard said from the doorway. When he licked his lips, no hint of his fangs remained. “And I was not prepared. I apologize.”
“Very well.” Nic straightened and gestured to the stools on the opposite side of the island. “Sit. Evangeline, stay over here with me, please.”
Revelations in Blood Page 8
