Maggie Shayne - Weddings from Hell

In the faint light his gaze was brilliant as a polished tiger's eye. "I'm a vampire."

"I know what you are." Did he think her a stupid child? She had known what he was for years—long before giving him her virginity. Long before she fell in love with him. Shortly after coming to live with Eliza and Henry, they'd been out for an evening ride and her horse had bolted, spooked by a rabbit. Payen had caught her horse—on foot. If that hadn't been proof enough that he wasn't human, the fact that he looked no different now than he had more than a decade earlier certainly was.

His hand fell away from her cheek, but he didn't move away. He didn't have to; he'd already put more distance between them than physically possible. "And you are human."

A moot point and they both knew it. "That's remedied easily enough." When he began to protest—obviously she knew it wasn't that simple—she cut him off. "You'll have to do better than that."

He spoke so readily she knew the response had been planned—perhaps even rehearsed. "I swore an oath when I drank from the Blood Grail never to change another person."

"That was a long time ago, Payen." So long it was beyond her realm of understanding. He was beyond her realm of understanding, but she didn't care. She could live to be one hundred and still know only a fraction of his life, and it didn't matter. She loved him.

"I gave my word."

Brushing back the hair that tumbled over her shoulder, Violet pinned him with a sharp gaze. She wasn't a girl anymore and she wasn't going to let him get away from her as easily as he had before. "Who are you trying to convince that we can't be together? Me? Or yourself?"

"You," he replied without hesitation, without malice. Then, with the hint of a smile, "And perhaps I need a reminder myself."

The words came rapidly, without thought—without care. "Is a seven-century-old promise worth a chance at happiness?"

He almost said no, she could see it in his eyes. Stubborn, stupid man. He wanted her as much as she wanted him. Perhaps—and she daren't let herself believe it—he loved her as much as she loved him. "I made a vow."

"And prevented me from saying my own." A cheap shot, but who cared?

"You thanked me for that." His expression, his posture, and his tone were defensive. This time he did pull back. "You wanted me to tell you not to marry Villiers."

He wasn't going to turn this on her, make her somehow to blame. "Because I had hoped that you harbored some feeling for me." She had nothing left to lose—he had already taken her innocence and her reputation—her heart and soul. What else could he do?

"I do." It was a low blow and they both knew it. And it answered her question, obviously he had the power to still do a lot to her. He spoke so smoothly, held her gaze so carefully that only the tiniest flicker of emotion came through, but she saw it.

He wanted to play, did he? She threw back the blankets and slid from the bed. "Obviously, not enough."

"Damn it, Vi. It's not that simple."

"I think it's amazingly simple." Snatching her robe from the foot of the bed Violet slipped it on and tied the sash tight around her waist. "Either you love me or you don't, Payen."

The color drained from his face, and Violet's heart shattered into thousands of sharp, jagged shards.

Not enough . She fought the pain, tucked it inside her. "That's what I thought." But dear God, she had hoped. She had almost believed.

In a flash he was out of the bed. Gloriously naked, and comfortable with it, he came after her. He stopped just short of touching her. He was very careful not to touch her. "You don't understand."

Violet stood her ground. Toe to toe they stood. She wanted to hit him, wanted to shake him and kiss him. Wanted to climb him and take him inside her. She poked him in the chest instead. "Then make me."

"My feelings for you are inconsequential." Payen shoved a hand through his hair on an exasperated sigh. "I knew what I was doing when I became a vampire. I lost everything I had or could have had to become what I am."

She watched him for a moment, the subtle flush in his cheeks, the shuttering of his gaze. Why hadn't she seen it before? Had she been too young to see it—or just blind? "What was her name?"

His expression closed down completely, but not before she saw the truth there. "What makes you think there was a woman?"

She spoke plainly, her battered heart slightly buoyed by this new revelation. "Because men are seldom as stupid with anything else as they are when a woman is involved."

"You do not think very highly of your own sex."

"On the contrary, I think women capable of almost anything. That men are so easily duped by us is what gives me pause." She placed a hand over his heart, felt the slow—too slow to be human—beating there. "Tell me."

"Alyce," he replied, his gaze clouding with a mixture of memory and regret. "And she's the reason Stephen Rexley died."

The annoyance on Violet's lovely round face gave way to bewilderment before comprehension dawned in her eyes. "Henry's ancestor?"

Payen nodded, turning away from her as he did so. "He was my friend." He wasn't going to tell this story naked. He found his trousers on the floor and pulled them on. He needed all the armor he could get.

Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, Violet was patient enough to wait for him to dress before he continued. He pulled on his shirt but didn't tuck it in and sat on the edge of the bed, regarding her with a tired gaze as he tugged on his shoes. It wasn't a pleasant story, but one she deserved to hear. He owed her that at the very least.

Maybe then she'd understand, but he doubted it. Damn, she was so young. To talk of love and promises—what did a girl her age know of either? No doubt she thought him some kind of romantic figure—a white knight—her hero. He was neither.

She was still waiting patiently, in her thin robe that left little to his imagination—not that he needed imagination to know every delectable curve and hollow.

He sighed. "We were both Templars charged with protecting the Blood Grail from the Order of the Silver Palm. I had just drunk from the cup and become vampire to better serve our cause. Stephen was uncertain whether or not he could also commit himself to an eternity of standing between the Silver Palm and the power they sought." He smiled, both sad and amused. "I rushed at the chance to pledge myself."

And when the cup was taken by Philip's men, he tracked the six new vampires for a century, waiting for a chance to steal the chalice back. They did not abuse its power, although they certainly abused their own, but that changed when one of them committed suicide by walking into the dawn. The remaining five turned to the church, and learned that the Blood Grail was safe once more.

Violet was watching him, her expression strangely unreadable. Normally she was an open book to him. "I imagine you did. You loved Alyce?"

Impatient minx. But she kept him from dwelling too long. "Yes. She was a girl in the town where Stephen and I lived at the time. We met her through her brother, a young man we would sometimes drink with at the local ale house." His jaw tightened at the memory of that young man. "I loved her with all the foolishness a young man can. I didn't know it but so did Stephen."

She didn't seem the least bit bothered by his confession, wise enough to not be jealous of a woman long dead. Perhaps she was less of a girl than he gave her credit for. "Which one of you did Alyce love?"

Payen chuckled proudly—and a little bitterly. Not a stupid one, his Violet. "Above all, I'd say herself, but that might not be fair. Between the two of us, I think she loved Stephen more. Regardless, she was only interested in one thing from either of us."