Drawn to the Vampire (Blood and Absinthe, Book 4) (8 page)

And with that she turned and walked away.

Chapter Five

A few hours later, flying over the English Channel, Luke found himself asking a question he’d rarely asked in the four centuries of his existence.

Why was he such an arse?

Luke was used to taking what he wanted and apologizing later, if at all. In more than four hundred years he hadn’t experienced any real guilt over being what he was. There were times he positively reveled in his dark existence, when the pleasures of being a vampire outweighed everything else.

Not that there hadn’t been any pain during those long years. Lately, especially, his lost humanity had begun pulling at him, filling him with longing for the things that were forbidden to him now. Sometimes the pain of that longing seemed almost unbearable. It was that pain that had led to his quest.

But all that was personal pain. Selfish pain, he admitted reluctantly, born out of his own frustrated desires.

What he was feeling now was different.

It was that damn wish, he thought savagely, glancing at Kit in spite of himself. She was sitting on the opposite side of the plane, looking out the window with her chin cupped in her hand, her short golden hair shining even in the dim light of the cabin.

Her generosity had been so impulsive, so obviously an expression of who she was. And now she was sitting there looking so young and vulnerable, and at the same time so full of courage and strength and determination…

God help him, he wanted to protect her, fight for her, take care of her.

What the hell was happening to him?

It was a desire to stop it, whatever it was, that had caused him to impose his little condition on Kit in exchange for the Gem. Her own reaction had confirmed he’d done the right thing. She’d said herself she was starting to trust him. So he’d given her a harsh reminder of who he was: a vampire with a taste for blood…and other things. It was better for both of them that she not forget that.

So why was he feeling all this sodding
guilt
, for Christ’s sake? Why was he wishing he’d allowed Kit to start trusting him, letting that trust turn into—what? Companionship?

He didn’t even know what that would feel like. He’d been alone for so long—by choice as well as necessity. Merton Ambrose was the closest thing he had to a real friend.

Well, there was no use crying over spilt milk. He’d done it, Kit was royally pissed at him, mission accomplished.

Time to move on.

Still, the guilt he continued to feel, however unnecessary and unwelcome, might have been the reason for what he said to the driver of the car that met them at the private airfield outside Paris.

“Hotel Fontaine,” were his words, met with a respectful “Oui, Monsieur,” as the limousine left the tarmac.

The Fontaine was one of the most elegant hotels in Paris. Something of a well-kept secret, it was tucked away on a quiet street in the Marais, near the Place des Vosges. Luke had originally planned to stay the night at a less exclusive address, but when he’d opened his mouth to tell the driver where they were going, he’d made the mistake of glancing at the small blond girl beside him.

A journey to the underworld was a chancy endeavor at best, and they could easily end up dead—or worse. Might as well sleep on silk sheets until then.

They’d driven in silence for forty-five minutes and had reached the outskirts of Paris when Kit cleared her throat. It was the first time she’d spoken to him since she’d walked away from him at the tower.

“I thought you said the portal was in a cemetery,” she said stiffly.

“It is,” he said just as stiffly, trying not to show his relief that she was talking to him again. “But portals like that aren’t open all the time. There’s a man we can go to who will know exactly when it will open next. In the meantime we’ll need a place to stay, unless you were planning to wander the streets.”

“Oh,” she said, still stiff, and remained silent the rest of the way, looking out at the nighttime scenery of Paris until they pulled up in front of a deceptively modest-looking building.

Luke tipped the driver and waited for him to open Kit’s door. He didn’t think she’d appreciate it if he performed that service for her.

This was confirmed when she brushed past him into the hotel. She took a seat in the small, graciously appointed lobby while he went to the front desk.

“Monsieur Cadris! So glad to have you with us again.”

The man behind the desk was an old acquaintance, and Luke was relieved. They had no reservation, after all, and the Fontaine was usually booked well in advance. But after a brief consultation and a discreet exchange of Euros, Luke and Kit were led to a small, elegant suite on the ground floor. There was a fireplace and two queen-sized beds—Luke had been very clear on that point, figuring he’d annoyed Kit enough for one day. A set of French doors opened onto the hotel’s private garden.

* * *

In spite of herself, Kit was impressed. The room was so lovely, and Luke was so good with all the hotel people…

She stopped herself right there. No way was she falling for the whole vampires-are-suaver-than-James-Bond thing. That was just a stereotype, and she wasn’t turning into a vampire groupie. Especially after Luke had made it clear he wasn’t exactly interested in her fine mind and sparkling conversation.

Although she did give him credit for getting separate beds.

While Luke was carrying on a conversation with the bellboy in fluent French, Kit wandered over to the marble fireplace. A fire had been laid but not lit, and Kit struck one of the long matches on the mantelpiece and set it to the newspaper and tinder beneath the heavy logs.

The fire crackled immediately into life. Kit backed away a few steps, watching the flames, and bumped into a rock hard body.

“Sorry,” she said quickly, avoiding Luke’s eyes. Her heart was pounding.

Damn it, she thought to herself as she went to the window. Things felt more awkward now than when she’d first walked through the vampire’s door. She bit her lip.

“All right, I’ve had it,” she exploded suddenly, spinning around. Luke was over by the wardrobe, unpacking the leather suitcase he’d brought from Wales.

He started at the sound of her voice and looked at her warily. “Have you, then? What have I done now?”

“No, that’s just it. Staying angry at you is taking up mental energy I need for other things. So I’ll be the bigger person here and apologize.”

He stared at her. “You’re apologizing to me.”

“Yes.”

“
You’re
apologizing to
me
.”

“Yes.”

“Even though I was the one who acted like a jerk.”

“Like a vampire,” she corrected. “I guess I should have expected it.”

Luke looked at her in exasperation, which Kit thought was a little unfair, considering she was giving him a free pass on the whole bite-me-wherever-you-like proposal.

“How have you survived this long, Kit? You’re too damn nice to live, and considering where we’re going, that’s a serious problem. Thank God you’re going to have me with you. You’re worse than that idiot Persephone, you know that? One soulful look from Hades and you’d volunteer for exile in the underworld to be his queen.”

“Hey!” she said indignantly. “I’m not like that at all. I’m not volunteering for anything, and I’m not some sappy do-gooder or whatever you think I am. I’m just suggesting a truce while we’re working together. We do have to work together, remember? The least we can do is be civil. Or at least, I can be civil and you can restrain yourself from lewd conversational topics. I mean, I’ll forgive you for the last one, but I don’t want any more of them. Deal?”

Luke strode forward until he was only a foot away from her. Kit held her ground, wondering what was going on, but then Luke fell back again, shaking his head like a man defeated.

“Deal,” he said, and his voice sounded resigned. “You’re too much for me, you know that? In spite of all the reasons I’ve given you not to, you’re determined to treat me like an ally. But it’ll be your own damn fault if you get hurt in the process.”

Kit wasn’t sure exactly what he was driving at, but it sounded like he agreed with her truce proposal. “Whatever,” she said. “We agree to be civil and avoid twisted sexual overtones. Although really, that second one is mostly you. It’s not much of an effort for me.”

Luke shook his head. But all he said was, “You should take a bath.”

She blushed, thinking about how long it had been since she was clean and how sensitive his sense of smell was. She wondered how revolting it was to be in the same room with her.

“I’ll go out and get you some clothes,” he continued. “That will give you a little privacy.”

She glanced at the clock on the bedside table. “It’s after nine. Will anything be open?”

“Don’t worry about that. I have my sources. I also asked the bellboy to arrange for dinner to be brought here from a local restaurant. Do you need anything else before I go?”

“Um…no.”

“All right then. I’ll be back within the hour.”

* * *

The bath was glorious.

Kit soaked in the enormous claw foot tub until the steaming water had melted away all her tension, not to mention her aches and pains. And thank goodness there were hotel robes hanging on the back of the door. She kicked her foul-smelling clothes into a corner of the bathroom and hoped she wouldn’t have to wear them ever again.

She was a pleasure to the nose now, Kit thought with satisfaction. The soaps and lotions the hotel provided were rose scented, and the luxury of feeling clean and smelling good made her forget how hungry she was until there was a discreet knock at the door. She answered it and a uniformed bellboy walked in carrying an enormous tray loaded with several delectable looking dishes.

By the time Luke returned she was sitting at the table the bellboy had set for her, eating the best food she’d ever tasted in her life.

“Oh my
God
,” she said with her mouth full as Luke tossed two large shopping bags onto the bed nearest him. “Where did this dinner come from? Is it legal?”

He smiled as he joined her at the table. “Glad you like it. It’s from
L’Ambroisie
, one of the finest restaurants in the world.”

“No kidding. Luke, you have to try this one. I don’t even know what it is, but—”

He glanced at the dish. “
Feuillete de Truffe
.”

“Whatever. You just have to have a bite of—”

He shook his head. “Already eaten, thanks. While I was out I visited a butcher who lives around the corner, one who’s used to serving my kind.”

Her fork stopped halfway to her mouth. “Oh,” she said, trying not to sound revolted.

Luke’s expression hardened. “Do you have a problem with that, sweetheart?”

“Of course not,” she said quickly. “You’re a vampire, and you have to eat, and it’s not human blood, so why should I care?” She paused. “You can eat human food, though, right? If you want to.”

“If I want to. But it’s not what sustains me.”

“I know that. I just…forgot for a second.”

“Well, don’t forget again,” he said.

After a moment or two, during which Kit resumed her meal with slightly less gusto, he changed the subject.

“I got you a full kit,” he said, nodding towards the bed. “Pants, shirts, under things—”

“Points for letting the innuendo opportunity go by.”

He ignored that, although a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“There are pajamas, too. You can go to bed right after you finish your dinner, if you like. I’m going to pay a visit to the man I was talking about, the one who knows about the portal.”

Kit put down her fork. “I want to come with you. We’re working together, remember? And it’s my brother we’re trying to save.”

The vampire hesitated. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

Kit frowned. “Is he dangerous?”

“Well…yes and no. He’s a human, but he practices the dark arts, magic and foretelling and that sort of thing. He casts spells for money, some of which aren’t very pleasant, but I’d consider him a small-time operator, so to speak. He’s helped me out more than once. If he agrees to work with you on something, he’s fairly honorable about it. He won’t directly double cross you.”

“Won’t
directly
double-cross you? That’s not exactly a ringing endorsement—”

“Listen, sweetheart. If you’re serious about this mission of yours, you’d better get used to the idea that you’re going to have to deal with some questionable types. Hell, I’m a questionable type. If you’re more concerned with keeping your lily white hands from touching anything remotely—”

“Enough, I get it. And I’m done eating. So let’s go.”

Luke hesitated again. “You’ll let me do the talking?”

“Fine.”

“Daro likes to provoke people. Can I count on you to keep your cool?”

“Hey, I’m the Queen of Cool.”

Luke covered his eyes with one hand. “I have a bad feeling about this, but we do need a coin of passage. I think you have to be physically present for the conjuring. That means you’ll have to meet him at some point. If you promise to be on your best behavior, you can come with me.”

Kit grinned at him. “I’m always on my best behavior.”

* * *

Ten minutes later the two of them were making their way down a narrow cobblestoned alley. The night was cold, if not quite as cold as the mountains of Wales had been, and Kit was glad for the warmth and softness of the cashmere sweater Luke had brought her. He’d also provided the black jeans and soft leather boots she was wearing, as well as the lacy scraps of material that were currently passing for her bra and panties.

She’d made a sarcastic comment about his underwear choices, and he’d merely replied innocently that this was the norm in Paris and good luck trying to find whatever “sensible” American brand she preferred.

She’d decided to let it go.

The coat he’d gotten her was a much more unalloyed source of pleasure. It was leather, softly lined, and as comfortable and elegant as it was warm.

The man definitely had good taste. Of course after four hundred years he probably knew a thing or two about what women liked. Not to mention how to eyeball their sizes with more accuracy than seemed decent. The bra, for example, fit perfectly.