The Vampyre Legal Chronicles - Marcus (14 page)

Fortunately for
him it appeared Anais was amazingly responsive to suggestion. She'd
taken the whole experience in her stride, like a duck to water,
like a lamb led to slaughter.

Now he worried
she might not have taken enough of the full-bodied and potent fluid
in their first exchange.

On the other
hand, perhaps she'd taken too much?

Even though he
was somewhat in the dark about what to expect when a newborn
emerged, he knew enough to know that the transition in her body had
now begun and nothing could stop it. No matter how much he debated
with himself, he couldn't stop the jaggy edge of guilt scraping his
conscience that Anais was well down the road on a journey not of
her choosing.

He couldn't
imagine how she was going to react when she learned she was
becoming... vampyre.

Why the hell
hadn't he thought the whole thing through?

Why had he
acted first and thought later?

'She is
MINE,'
in his mind his vampyre's tone was caught between a hiss
and a growl.

'Yeah, yeah, I
hear you, pal,' Marcus responded. 'But we're in one hell of a mess.
Compelling her was not the way to go.'

He should have
been straight with her.

Told her the
truth.

Instead, like
the worst type of snivelling coward he detested, he hadn’t been
able to ease her gently, to
invite
her into his world, or
tell her what he’d done.

The timing
hadn't been right, he assured himself.

The unrepentant
and growing more irritated voice of his vampyre growled again in
his mind.
'Mine.'

'Yeah, yeah.
You were a great fucking help. Losing control, rising up and taking
her like that without a single thought if it was the right thing to
do at the time.'

Marcus knew how
his woman ticked.

Anais was not a
woman who would take becoming a vampyre in her stride, and why he
hadn't thought ahead and realised the truth of the consequences of
his action before hand, he'd no fucking idea. Probably because he'd
been blinded by need and thinking with his dick. So how was he
going to explain to a woman with a sharp mind steeped deeply in
logic that vampyres existed, that he was a vampyre prince and that
she was well on her way to becoming a vampyre, too?

How was he
going to explain why he’d taken her blood and given her his, and
what it meant for them going forward.

Where the hell
would he start?

The issue
whirled relentlessly in his mind.

There was no
need to give her the down side right away, or tell her that once
they'd made their vows she was his mate for life.

But guilt dug
deep in his soul.

How often had
he held forth that once he’d identified his mate she’d have no
choice but to commit, be bonded, to a life with him for ever? To
service his every physical need and ultimately give him young, no
matter the risk to herself?

Now he simply
couldn’t imagine why he’d done such a thing to the amazing woman
sleeping in his bed.

He’d taken away
her free will, which was something that hadn’t bothered him until
after the event. He was about to subject her to a life, a future,
not of her choosing.

Instead of
feeling euphoric that he'd finally claimed his mate, he felt like
fucking shit.

How could he
have done it to her?

The beast that
lived within him had never behaved like this before.

His vampyre had
simply swept in and taken what it wanted.

Marcus had
never had sex like it.

Even as he’d
taken her vein, he realised that he’d lost a crucial part of
himself.

He’d lost his
heart to a wonderful, clever and caring girl.

And he’d
treated her appallingly.

To think he’d
scoffed at James for not taking Charlotte’s vein and bringing her
completely into their clan.

Shame burned
Marcus's cheeks.

Taking care not
to waken her, he slid from the bed and padded to the window to
stare out into the night.

Vampyres might
rest, but they didn’t need much sleep.

The night was
their time, their environment, even if it brought with it certain
risks.

Wherever they
travelled in the world, the vampyre lawyers of Gillespie, Pattullo
and Hindmarch chose the penthouse suite in hotels or
apartments.

Now his
enhanced sight spotted the Gillespie clan’s Centuri, on the
rooflines of Shanghai for as far as the eye could see, which was a
double-edged sword Marcus reflected.

Yes, they
protected their princes but they also announced their presence loud
and clear to Ezekiel and his Legion.

Abruptly the
hairs on the back of his neck prickled.

"What exactly
did you mean by, '
My kind have heightened olfactory
senses
?'"

Marcus went
absolutely still.

Shit
.

Marcus hoped he’d
hidden the little jolt of shock that Anais had taken him by
surprise.

Considering he'd lived
for over two hundred years, he'd never been caught by surprise. It
was a unique experience and one he found he didn’t much care
for.

Turning to her
voice in the dark, he blinked as she switched on a low light and
sat up in bed.

She swept back
the thick curtain of shiny hair behind her small ear.

Her smooth skin
was the color of the clearest honey. Those almond shaped eyes were
dazed with slumber and a sleepy arousal as they studied him, going
dark when they dropped to the heavy ache pooling between his
legs.

He was only
human.

Well, sort of,
and his body swelled.

She licked her
lips and something went too tight in his chest.

He'd lived for
over two hundred and thirty years. And during that time, he’d met
plenty of beautiful women. But he'd never met a woman so utterly
beautiful and guileless as Anais.

Since arriving
in China, they’d been cooped up twenty-four hours a day.

Now he wondered
if they'd always been linked in a telepathic sense because many
times during the past days and weeks he’d been picking up vague
impressions of her feelings. Right now he was picking up a cocktail
of confusion, arousal and a deep-rooted wariness and anxiety.

His father
always said it was better to grasp the nettle and suffer the sting
rather than hunt for the long way around to avoid the pain and hard
facts of an issue.

He grasped the
nettle now.

"I mean my
people, my family, my clan. We have a heightened sense of smell and
other… qualities."

Anais wrinkled
her smooth brow and cocked her head as she watched him.

A move that
made her look absolutely adorable.

"You mean the
fact that you and your brothers need transition lenses in your
glasses?"

"Aye." Stress
made the Scottish lilt in his voice rise to the fore. "That’s one
of our… issues. The sun affects our eyes."

That was an
understatement.

Thanks to the
vivid imagination of Hollywood, humans believed vampyres burst into
flames or, gimme a break, sparkled in the sun. As ever, folklore
contained a tiny piece of the truth. If the sun directly hit a
vampyre’s retina it destroyed the nerve, leaving the creature
blind.

Thanks to
technology and medical progress, if caught in time the damage could
be reversed. But it was a process Marcus was in no hurry to put to
the test.

Dark eyes
stayed on his, the real affection he read for him made shame and
guilt hit him hard.

"So, is it a
genetic thing?" she prompted.

And right there
Anais gave him the opportunity to open his soul and tell her the
truth.

His heart
spurted in his chest as his vampyre rose, ready and alert.

Marcus cleared
his throat and told himself to remain absolutely calm and not
antagonize the beast within.

"I suppose you
could call it a genetic thing," he said recognising the terror
rising into his throat as his heart beat even faster.

Pitiful.

When had he
become a coward?

Big eyes stared
deep into his and narrowed fractionally as she studied him.

He read a
vicious intelligence in those dark eyes.

"I’ve had very
strange dreams of you."

Even though his
whole body was tense, he grinned.

"Yeah?
Erotic?"

A rosy flush
swept her high cheekbones as her thick lashes lowered.

She was
embarrassed?

God, he adored
her.

Now a new truth
floored him.

He knew, right
at that moment, he didn't deserve her.

"Yes, along
with other, more disturbing, images."

Those eyes met
his and he read anxiety and fear and was sorry for it.

She took a
shaky breath.

"After we made
love, I dreamt you bit me, right here."

Tipping back
her head, she placed fingertips on the carotid artery in her
neck.

Marcus said
nothing, held his breath.

Endless moments
passed.

Anais went too
pale as perspiration beaded on her top lip.

He moved to sit
on the bed.

Taking her sore
hand in his, Marcus thought it felt too hot.

His brow
wrinkled as he studied the wound.

She wasn't
healing as fast as she should.

Could this be
the commencement of her anamorphosis?

As he brought
her hand to his mouth, he nuzzled her fingers to inhale the scent
of her... fear.

His eyes never
left hers.

"How did it
feel?"

"It stung. And
I had the most amazing orgasm."

"And then what
happened?"

She shook her
head, gave a nervous laugh, pulled her hand away and ran it through
the heavy weight of her hair.

"And then I
dreamt I woke up. I ran to the bathroom to make sure I was still in
one piece. This is ridiculous. I’ve been working too hard."

He took her
hand again and stroked the silky skin of her palm, and didn’t miss
the dilation of arousal in her pupils or the catch of breath in her
throat.

Marcus decided
to approach the subject the long way round.

"You are
adopted?"

Now Anais gave
him a big wide smile and the squeezing sensation in his chest made
it difficult to breathe.

"Yes, and
they’re wonderful people. I owe them everything."

His eyes held
hers.

"Where did they
find you?"

Now her face
fell.

"In an
orphanage in Vietnam. I was two weeks old."

"What happened
to your parents?"

She shrugged
and the move made the sheet dip, exposing part of a creamy
breast.

"I don't know.
I was abandoned in a blanket on the steps of an orphanage run by
nuns. Because I'm mixed race, the nuns were not hopeful I'd be
placed in a family. My parents saved me from a difficult life."

"Your adopted
parents, they loved you, cared for you?"

He realised the
careful tone of his voice had alerted her this was not a casual
enquiry.

Those dark eyes
searched his.

"Yes."

Again he
attempted to settle her by stroking her palm before pressing his
mouth to that soft, silky skin.

"Did they ever
discover the identity of your biological parents?"

Her heart rate
climbed.

He could feel
it in the frantic pulse of her wrist.

"I know nothing
about them other than I have Vietnamese blood in my veins along
with French and Irish, apparently."

"You had a DNA
test?"

"Yes." Her
voice was a mere whisper.

"If I told you
there was a possibility of another blood-line in your past, what
would you say?"

She blinked
once, twice.

"What sort of
blood line?"

This time he
stroked her hair in a pitiful attempt to offer comfort.

The evil moment
had come.

Bite the
bullet, Marcus.

He braced
himself.

"Vampyre."

Anais had heard people
use the phrase, ‘
The world spun
.’

However, she'd
never experienced the phenomenon until now.

Two things hit
her.

Marcus was
absolutely serious, and he was looking at her as if she was a
grenade with the pin pulled. For unremitting moments she forgot she
was naked. Forgot she was sitting in his bed. Forgot they'd had
mind blowing sex.

She simply
stared into his eyes.

It was like
watching a flickering movie as everything that had happened when
they’d made love was replayed in her brain.

Heat flashed
into her face as she remembered the total abandon and pleasure
she’d experienced in his arms, to drain away as she recalled the
sensation of being bitten and of the warm, thick fluid in her
mouth.

Her eyes
flicked to his neck.

Leaning forward
to take a closer look, she found a couple of tiny bruises on his
carotid artery. A shaky hand went to her throat, her mouth, as her
fingertips pressed into her incisors but they felt normal.

Her analytical
mind found the reality of his word and what it meant too hard to
compute.

Right now her
brain seemed to split into two separate parts.

One part was
screaming like a fruit loop while the logical, deductive and
trained to observe part required her to confront the facts.

Her voice was
no more than a whisper.

"Did you
bite
me?"

Those dark eyes
never left hers.

"I did,
yes."

Anais couldn’t
think.

She couldn’t
breathe past the fist in her chest.

God, was he a
man who indulged in a type of kinky sex?

Marcus took her
hand again, threaded his fingers through hers.