by Unknown
“I see. What exactly are you referring to?” she asked, unwilling to give him more than he already had. By chance if he was still in the dark, he was going to be staying there. There was no way she was carelessly outing her people.
“I’m sick of games!” he snapped.
Jolie could feel Jacques’s body tense at the detective’s tone with her.
“Your past doesn’t make sense, and when I say past, I mean all the way back to the eighteen hundreds.”
It looked like he dug deep enough to find it all out.
The ruse was up.
Now, it all came down to what he was going to do with the information that they were about to share.
The room was enveloped with silence as Jolie considered her options.
“Okay, Detective, ask your questions, and then we’ll answer you truthfully. Keep in mind that once you let the cat out of the bag, it isn’t easy to get him back in,” she warned, watching him begin to pace again.
Jolie felt the familiar tendrils reach out and touch her mind asking for acceptance.
“Is he ready for the truth?”
“It looks like he must be, because I see no other choice. We need him as an ally, and if we don’t tell him, he’ll be obsessed with digging it all up on his own.”
“Very well,” he answered, warily.
Her attention was immediately drawn back to the detective when he came to a stop directly in front of her and Jacques.
“Fine. Let’s start with how many aunts named Jolie do you have?” As a cop, he was good at telling if someone was lying to him. Staring into her violet eyes, he momentarily felt like he was falling into their depths. Suddenly, her hand was on his arm, and she was trying to get his attention.
“How many?” he asked again, shaking the fog from his head.
“None.”
“Then, who did you inherit all this from?” he asked, waving his arm in the direction of the room. “I did some research, and this was all inherited from two dead aunts, also named Jolie.”
Jolie shook her head in calm denial. “It’s all mine. I’ve owned it for many years. They never existed anywhere but on paper.”
“I checked on the Van Gogh, and it was owned by a J.A Harcourte. She acquired it in eighteen forty and on paper it never changed hands. If you say that you don’t have any aunts, then who the hell is J.A Harcourte?”
“I am,” she answered, feeling Jacques tense again. She sent him reassurance that the detective meant no harm. This anger was just a byproduct of his confusion. He was disturbed to not be able to neatly tie up the loose ends.
He wasn’t the first cop who she had worked with like that.
“How can you own them? That would make you over a century old. There’s not enough plastic surgery in the world to pull off this kind of beauty,” he said honestly.
Neither spoke, hoping he would figure it out. It was against the rules to openly discuss their kind. If it ever got out that they were even having this conversation with him, it risked them all.
He pulled out a printout that he got from the French archive. “Who is this a picture of then?” he asked, handing it to Jolie. His body was so full of tension that he began absently rubbing the bridge of his nose. There was a wicked headache brewing in the back of his skull, and he didn't understand one damn thing of what was going on around him.
“It’s us,” she answered, looking at it and remembering all the fond memories that went along with the old snapshot.
“You’re saying you’re that old?” He looked confused.
“Are you asking my age, Detective?”
“Sure, enlighten me, Jolie. How old are you? You can’t be more than thirty five. I’m forty, and you’re certainly not older than me.” Then, he pointed at Jacques. “He’s got to be my age,” he stated, taking in the appearance of the man. Where Brogan was beefy, Jacques was lean like a runner. No one in that room was over four decades old.
“You flatter me, Detective, but I’m going to have to burst your bubble. I know a lady never divulges her age, but I’m over eight hundred years old.”
At first he stared at her, and then he began laughing.
Jolie waited until he finished. The good news was that now all the tension had drained from him.
Small miracle there.
“You’re nuts then, Doctor, if you actually believe you’re that old.” He glared at Jacques with a sarcastic look plastered on his handsome face. “Are you going to tell me that you’re eight hundred and thirteen years old, too?” he asked, waiting for a more concise answer from the man standing behind the loopy doctor.
“No, She’s older than me,” he answered, cautiously. Leaning down to kiss his mate on the top of her head, he continued, “I always did like older women. It’s my downfall.”
Jolie laughed in his mind. “Pervert.”
“Oui, I can be, mon amour,” he replied.
“How old are you then?”
“Seven hundred and eighteen years old,” he said without having to think about it.
It was said with such nonchalance that Brogan was honestly beginning to believe he was in the nutbin. “You’re both crazy,” he said, backing away from them. In the pit of his stomach, there was that little niggling fear that they weren’t exactly lying. His mind flashed back to the suit of armor in the hall. He and his partner had admired it, and now he recalled the initials on the breast plate. The ‘J’ and ‘D’ had to be a joke.
Right?
“How do you explain what you found then, Detective?” she asked, gently trying to sway his mind into accepting what he had found out about them.
“I can’t,” he said. “I freaking can’t get it to make sense.” he whispered, taking another step backward.
He swore there was a ripple under Jacques skin, and it didn't exactly look human.
Oh shit!
“We can only tell you the truth, Detective, and I’m afraid our fate is in your hands. What you choose to do with the information is completely up to you,” Jolie added, taking one more step toward him.
Brogan felt like prey, and he didn't like it at all.
When he bumped into a chair, she opted to take control of the situation. Lifting her hand, Jolie made a waving motion and the door behind him slammed shut.
Immediately, he jumped.
Fight or flight kicked in, and he weighed his options. Before he could make up his mind, a tall wingback chair slid across the floor and bumped into the back of his legs.
“Have a seat,” she said, softly.
When he fell into the chair, he found her even closer to his person than he was comfortable with. This had to be a first. A few days ago, he would have loved her standing between his knees watching him. Now, it just scared the hell out of him.
“How did you…?”
“It’s our way,” she answered, preparing how to tell him everything that he wanted to know.
Okay, Brogan needed to stay calm.
“Why don’t you tell me the complete truth, and we’ll go from there,” he suggested, sitting back in the chair. For now, he needed to get back in control. As a cop, it’s what would always keep you safe, and yet he was still terrified to take his eyes off hers.
“We’re vampyres, Detective. I guess you could call us immortals. I’ve lived for over eight centuries and Jacques has lived for seven. I was born in Paris around twelve thousand AD. When I entered life, Notre Dame was being constructed, and the order of the Franciscan monks was created.”
He stared at her.
“Through my life, I’ve seen many die and be reborn into new bodies. I’ve killed and have been hunted thousands of times. Sometime before the year thirteen hundred, Jacques was born, and he was destined to eventually become my guardian. We’ve been together since right before the year fifteen hundred.”
He was feeling sick to his stomach.
“In fact, we had a lot of fun together during the renaissance times. Didn't we, mon amour?”
Jacques replied. “Oui,
my love.”
“You told us the story about the suit of armor. Is it his?” he asked, trepidation in his voice. “It has his initials on it.”
Jolie grinned over her shoulder at him, sharing the memories that they had made together. “It wasn’t a story, Detective. It was history.”
Jacques spoke, “Oui, I wore it when I served under the countess. She was as beautiful then as she is now. I dedicated my life to her, and it was the best thing I ever did.”
Brogan swallowed.
She continued, “We were forced to leave our ancestral home in eighteen forty one because of very similar murders being committed there. We tried to aid the humans and keep them safe, but my family was ratted out to the hunters, and they stalked my family until they burned our home to the ground. We lost a third of them. The only reason the rest of us escaped was because Jacques was awake.”
“I had a bad feeling that day. Even though I couldn’t feel them, I suspected that they were going to make their move. When they did, we were able to sneak out using the tunnels under Paris,” Jacques stated.
Brogan wasn’t sure if they were kidding or not.
“I disbanded our family long enough for the mongrels to call off the hunt. Jacques and I wandered Europe for a while, until we decided to make passage to America and restart our lives. We’ve been here ever since. I bought this home in the late eighteen hundreds and have kept it since then. Jacques and I have seen many things, Detective. Some would entertain you and some would make your skin crawl at what has been endured,” she stated, stepping back from his personal space. “Our lives have been very long.”
He watched her face, and then burst into laughter. “That was quite the speech, Doctor, but I have to say that you’re completely and totally full of shit. Everyone knows that vampyres are fiction. Bram Stoker started it, and Hollywood perpetuated it. I think that you need to get yourself some mental assistance,” he stated, motioning with his finger in circles by his forehead. “I’m getting out of this asylum,” he stated, standing from his chair and heading to the door.
Immediately his skin prickled, and he knew he was in trouble.
Jolie had enough of his laughter and comments on her sanity. She reached into his mind, despite the pain it was going to cause him. It ripped through his natural barriers and brought him to his knees, literally.
If he wanted proof, so be it.
Brogan howled in agony.
“DON’T mock me, Detective. I could end your life now just by looking at you!” she bellowed.
A wave of fear overtook him. It nearly pulled him under. Reaching for his gun in his shoulder holster, he pointed it at Jolie’s chest. His finger was fully ensconced on the trigger and ready to pull it if he was forced to do so.
Jacques stepped past his mate, knowing that it was his turn to control the situation. His instincts as Jolie’s guardian kicked in and he reached an open hand toward the gun, knowing the detective would need more proof.
It slowly turned back at him.
“I can’t let you threaten my mistress, Detective. I understand your fear of the new things you’ve been forced to acknowledge, but I must now step in and stop you. The gun wound would not kill her, but it’ll ruin the rug, and it’s one of her favorites.”
Brogan was willing to admit that he was scared shitless. The man in front of him had a predatory grin on his face, and his eyes gleaned in the light.
“Now, you need to play nice,” he demanded, “or else.”
Brogan struggled to keep the gun from pointing at him, but he couldn’t stop it. Everything wavered, and the next thing he knew, the weapon in his hand was back in the holster and Jolie was in front of him.
“You’re serious aren’t you? You’re both vampyres? They really exist?”
Jolie crouched down to be at eye level with him. Where they could be scary, she also wanted him to know they could be just like him. Deep inside, she could feel the goodness of this man, and that wasn’t to be discredited either.
Plus, he called to her.
“Yes, we are. Everyone in this house, with the exception of our donors, are vampyres.”
“I can’t believe it,” he whispered, softly shaking his head as if he was trying to wake from a very bad and scary nightmare.
Jolie held out her hand, offering to help him stand. At first, she didn't believe that he would trust her enough to take it, but he did.
Little shocks reverberated between both of them, catching her off guard. Jolie couldn’t help but feel safe touching him. It spoke volumes. This human was…special.
This was destined to be messy.
“Do you need more, Detective?” she asked, willing to help his mind work through all of this.
“Can I have more proof?” he asked still skeptical, and yet still holding her delicate hand in his. When he stroked his thumb across her pulse, it jumped.
He needed to know why he was drawn to her.
Jolie didn't want to let him go, but she needed to keep him safe. With her mate close by, this little connection between them was dangerous.
It could get him killed.
“I need to feed. Would you care to donate to me?” she asked, staring into his handsome face.
Jacques tensed behind her at the thought that she was planning to climb all over another man-a human no less.
Jolie could feel his angst and sent him peace.
It helped him relax, marginally.
Brogan looked caught off guard and a little bit horrified at the suggestion. “Feed? As in blood? Mine?” His voice wavered as he shook his head. “No, thank you. I think I’ll pass on the offer.” He paused, regrouping his thoughts. “Do you really drink blood?” he asked, the curiosity outweighing the fear.
“Actually, Detective, in this century with all the blood diseases that are around, we tend to feed off a donor with energy instead. If we have a trusted person, we will feed from them, or if you’re mated, you solely drink from that person.”
“So then, you can die from disease?”
“No, not really. We can be carriers and pass it along, and that’s never a good thing. We moved from blood to energy so that we could blend in more completely with the humans we live amongst,” she replied. “We don’t like to harm the people who keep us safe.”
“So, do you feed off each other?” he asked, gesturing to Jacques. The idea still bothered him, for some primal reason that he didn’t care to analyze at this point. He had bigger problems at that moment. When she squeezed his hand reassuringly, his heart skipped. In her eyes, he swore he saw peace and something deeper.
Then, it was gone.
“Yes, Jacques has fed me for over six centuries, and I reciprocate. We also share blood when we’re mating.”
“Oh.” Disappointment washed over him, and he dropped her hand like it burned.
It was true.
Jolie was taken.
“It’s not like Hollywood has portrayed it. It’s quite calm and peaceful.” She stared up into his nervous eyes. “Would you like to see what it looks like up close and personal?”
He looked back and forth between the two and wanted to get away from them, but curiosity got the best of him once again. He was either the bravest man alive or the biggest fool. “Okay, but I only have to watch, right?”
“Of course, Detective. I’ll feed Jacques with energy, and then he’ll feed me with blood, so you can observe both types.”
Jolie approached her mate and sat in his lap. His arms pulled her protectively against his strong body. “Are you ready, Detective?”
Heaven help him. “Yes,” he replied, coming to stand at their sides to observe. He watched as Jolie took Jacques’s face in the palm of her hands. She closed her eyes and touched her lips to his.
It was barely a kiss.
Brogan could feel the energy coming off them in pulses and waves. It was strangely warm and comforting to him. He watched, enthralled, until they finally broke apart. Focusing on Jacques, he observed the man’s eyes dilati
ng back to normal. Gone were the black orbs and back was the grassy green color. “It doesn’t hurt, does it?”
“No, it’s more like being submerged in very warm water. Its calming and relaxing,” answered Jacques. “It is quite pleasant.”
“Now for blood.” Jolie watched as Detective Brogan instinctively stepped back. “Detective, it is not scary. Please relax and watch Jacques’s face. That will tell you how he feels.”
“Okay,” he said, taking in their motions carefully. When Jacques placed his hands on her waist and moved his head to clear his hair from his throat, he was fascinated.
They were right. It wasn’t violent like he expected.
Brogan moved closer, so that he had a better view of Jacques’s neck and Jolie’s face.
“Are you ready, mon amour?” she whispered, against his pale flesh.
“Oui, my love,” he replied, as he braced not for pain, but the pleasure that would wash over him and pull him deep into its grasp.
Detective Brogan didn't move as she turned to face him. When she opened her mouth, he was able to see her teeth slide into place and extend wickedly.
He gasped.
In all honesty, Flynn really expected the entire thing to be some sick joke. Apparently, it wasn’t.
Jolie smiled reassuringly.
Brogan didn't know what to think, but he had to admit they teasingly peeked out behind her lips, and on her they looked beguiling.
Maybe even sexy.
When she placed them directly over Jacques pulse, he watched in fascinated horror. Slowly, she licked his skin, as if preparing it for the initial pain. When Jolie pressed lightly, the sharp points broke through the barrier, and blood pooled before she could close her mouth.
“Christ,” he muttered, as Jolie began sucking on the pulse in his throat. Brogan stared into Jacques’s face and saw nothing but bliss there. In fact, he appeared to be a man trapped in some sort of sexual encounter.
Okay, he was curious.
“What does it feel like?” he asked, not being able to help himself.
Jacques opened his eyes. “Would you like to feel?” he asked, as Jolie stopped feeding.
“No, I don’t want anyone sucking on my neck.” Flynn stepped back, knowing that was one hell of a lie. He really wouldn’t mind holding Jolie in his lap and letting her crawl all over him.
