Колин Глисон - The Vampire Narcise

“You still love him, and until that changes, you can’t see anyone else. You can’t love anyone else. Including me.”

“I don’t—I might have thought I loved him once, but not any longer. I could never… You have no idea how his betrayal destroyed me.” She made her voice hard and filled with loathing, reminding herself of his sins.

And now they were going back to Cezar again. She felt light-headed and faint. Both of them. Maybe she couldn’t do this after all.

Chas was looking at her, shaking his head. Intensity and anger vibrated off him. “He loves you. How can you not see it? At first I thought it was simply your disinterest. And you…you want him so badly you—”

Her mouth was trembling, but she had to stop him from talking. “Don’t be a fool. He loves only himself, his own pleasure. There’s no space for anyone else. And we Dracule…we live for pleasure. I do.”

“Jesus, Narcise.” He drew in a deep breath, covering his eyes with his hand, then sliding it down his face. When he was finished, he looked at her. “God help me, I cannot believe I’m about to say this.” She waited.

“If nothing else, at least you’ll know I’ve learned from my mistakes….” He shook his head, his dark hand falling away. He wasn’t looking at her now; he was looking down the hall, away from her. “I gave Sonia one of Cale’s handkerchiefs.”

Narcise’s heart stopped. She already knew Giordan’s Asthenia was cats, so it would be no surprise…but why would Chas be hesitant to tell her— “She saw you in the vision. Dead. His greatest fear is you dying. Why do you think he’s insisting on going back to Cezar with us?”

“You must be mistaken,” she whispered, frowning, fighting the shivers that attempted to take her over. “He has other reasons for seeing my brother again,” she said, forcing bitterness into a voice that shook. But it was difficult. All at once, she felt off balance and confused. Weak. Even nauseated.

Chas didn’t respond right away. He was looking down the corridor in the direction Giordan had gone, his face still and harsh, his lips curled into each other. White edged his mouth and around his nose.

“Are you that blind, Narcise? His only reason for going back again is for you. Don’t you understand what happened?” But still, he didn’t look at her. “Your brother blackmailed him into it. All of it. He was only with him in order to protect you…in exchange for getting you away from Cezar. But you wouldn’t go.”

Narcise put her hand out against the wall. “You’re mistaken,” she breathed again, trying to draw air into her suddenly frozen lungs.

But Chas was still looking away, his body rigid. “I wish to hell I was.”

Giordan had no compunction about leaving Rubey’s while Narcise and Woodmore were finishing their tender little tête-à-tête in the corridor.

He hoped they took their time and fucked while they were there, so he could get that much more of a head start. Never mind the way the thought made his insides roll sickeningly and darkness hover at the edges of his vision.

The sun that had burned his Mark no longer bothered him, so he was able to travel during the day. This gave him an advantage: horseback to Dover instead of the closed carriage Narcise would have to take, then across the Channel. If he could get to Cezar first…

A shudder took him by surprise and he quickly submerged it. Yes, he’d go back there. Yes, he’d do what he had to do—to save the lives of countless children and English citizens. To keep Narcise from having to.

He’d even kill Cezar if he had to…although it would probably kill Giordan as well, to do it. The remnants from his interlude with Narcise in the alley still made his insides pitch and his knees wobble.

Now, clear-minded, he understood why he’d reacted so strongly: his body and soul had been protecting him from the pain and anguish that would come from trusting his heart to Narcise again. The violent illness had been his reaction to hate and violence he’d eschewed for a decade, the reaction to a long-submerged addiction that had suddenly come rushing back: the need to hurt, to wound, to have .

“Ah, sister. I’ve been expecting you. I see that you could no more stay away from me than I could stay away from you.” Cezar looked up as Narcise walked in. “And Wood-more as well. You didn’t mention in your message that he would be joining us. To what do I owe this great pleasure?”

They had entered Cezar’s private chambers, escorted by Belial, who stood too close to Narcise for her comfort. Her brother sat across the room at a desk. As they entered, his face changed from one of bald delight, to contemptuous welcome…to a startled, blank expression, as if he were trying to hide his true feelings.

Narcise found that both disconcerting and optimistic.

“Belial,” Cezar said sharply. “Escort my sister to the dining area. I’d like her to entertain my guests this evening.”

“I’m not here to entertain your guests,” Narcise told him, evading Belial’s reach. “I’m here to stop Bonaparte from invading England.”

Lifting her nose, she breathed, trying to scent Giordan’s presence. Was he here or not? When he hadn’t come back at the promised time to find them at Rubey’s, she’d figured out that he meant to beat them here.

They’d sent word by pigeon to Cezar to stop the invasion, for they would not have reached Paris within the three-day timeline, promising that she was on her way back to him. So far, no news of invasion had come and she believed he’d kept his word.

Of course, he knew if the invasion went forward, she wouldn’t come back to him.

Narcise didn’t spare a look at Chas, though she felt him tensing next to her. On the back of her shoulder, the Mark was inflamed with fury—so much that she could hardly move her arm. Even breathing was difficult. But it had been that way for two days, and she had learned to accept it.

“Ah, my darling sister,” Cezar said, his voice carrying more of a lisp than usual, “the emperor will be here later this night. And if you provide enough entertainment, I am certain you can convince him to change his mind. Belial, take her.” Now he seemed breathless with excitement.

But Narcise wasn’t about to go quietly. For some reason, Cezar feared her, more than anything in the world, according to Sonia. The thought gave her confidence she’d never had before. She started toward her brother as Belial made a move to stop her. She flung his hand off her arm, her eyes glowing red and hot. “Don’t touch me or I’ll kill you.”

Chas had moved at the same time, producing the short but lethal stake he’d hidden in the sole of his boot.

“Cezar, you promised me if she returned…” Belial whined, stepping back. “She owes me.”

“I did indeed,” Cezar mused slowly. “Perhaps I could accommodate your request tonight.”

Narcise felt Chas tense behind her, but he remained still and silent as planned. She’d prepared him for her brother’s malevolence. Stepping away from Belial, her heart thumping hard, she started across the chamber. The made vampire didn’t worry her. It was the children in England she was concerned about. And where was Giordan? “I’ve returned to you, brother. You agreed to call off the invasion if I returned. Did you not miss me?”

Cezar’s eyes were pinned on her, and she saw both fear and admiration therein. His throat convulsed as he swallowed, his attention avid and palpable. She halted halfway across the chamber, unwilling to get close enough for him to grab her.

“I thought you wouldn’t return,” he said, his voice thready. “I thought I’d lost you forever. Narcise. ”

“I’ve returned willingly,” she told him, watching him closely. “I trust that you’ll do as you promised.” She didn’t look at Chas.