Time for Eternity (41 page)

He raised his brows. A smile was almost discernible at the corners of his mouth, but he couldn ’t keep it from lighting his eyes.

“You’re very decisive.”

“It’s about time.”

He feigned a mournful expression. “An eternity with a shrewish wife. I shall become a shadow of myself. The wicked duc tamed at last.”

“You have been acting the wicked duc the whole time. I feel cheated at such a sham.” She smiled slyly up at him. “But perhaps you can play the wicked duc just one more time?”

This time he did grin. There were no two ways about it. He went to the dressing table in the corner and got something, she couldn’t tell what. He put it in the drawer of the night table. Before she could ask what he was doing, he pulled the fichu from her gown and tossed it to the floor. Then rubbed his hands over the tops of her breasts. She arched her back. “Shall we get you out of these clothes, mademoiselle?”

It took two of them the better part of a quarter of an hour to get naked together.

One thing about the twenty-first century is that their clothes are easier to shed.

Be quiet, Frankie, and enjoy what you missed the first time around.

Henri lay beside her on top of the red brocade embroidered in gold. Then he got up. “Too scratchy. This must be perfect.”

He picked her up in one arm, reminding her how strong he was, and pulled back the coverlet to reveal the sheets. He laid her down and crawled up beside her. His body was as beautiful as it had been before, but now there was some added poignancy about it, as if its beauty were all the more precious for having been violated. He kissed her, his lips as soft as his body was not, his tongue moist and intimate in her mouth. How different from the guard she ’d kissed. She ran her hands over his chest, feeling his nipples peak under her touch.

He growled in response and bent his head to her nipple. Dear God, but that was sweet. Sensation shot to her loins. She throbbed, helpless with longing for what was to come. He sucked first one breast and then the other, first gently and then with coming passion, just as he would soon be sucking at her neck again. The very thought of how sensual an experience it was to give him her blood made her writhe under him. That provoked another growl and she could feel his throbbing erection along her hip.

She reached for it as he kissed her throat. She arched her neck, inviting him, but he was only moving from breast to mouth and so finished the journey by thrusting his tongue between her teeth, exploring, savoring.

She ran one hand over the muscles in his back as she slid her other up his shaft. The head of his member was exuding a little moisture and she spread it with her thumb. That made him catch his breath. Where had she learned to do that?

From me. And I’ll lend you some vocabulary. They’re called “cocks.”

Good. I can give him more pleasure.
She clasped his cock and stroked up and down.

“God, Françoise, you’ll draw me.”

“Then get to it, wicked duc.”

He needed no more invitation. She spread her legs and he slid his finger between her nether lips. She knew he would find her slick and ready. He positioned himself over her on one arm, and held his cock at her entrance. She moved her hands down his back to cup his lovely buttocks. They looked into each other’s eyes as his buttocks bunched under her hands and he thrust slowly inside her. She breathed in as fully as she could and exhaled in satisfaction as she was filled. Slowly he began to move.

This was what she had wanted. Not just sexual excitement but the closeness, moving as one, the tenderness giving way to passion. This was what Frankie had missed for all those years.

He laid himself down over her, his hair hanging over his bulky shoulders. The weight of him was so satisfying. “Françoise,” he murmured. “I love you.” It was a simple declaration. Not flowery. But direct and heartfelt. His vibrations ramped up. Did he have enough power to draw his canines, weak as he still was?

Doesn’t feel weak to me,
Frankie noted, chuffing a laugh.

Sure enough, the scrape of canines along her neck said he was doing fine. She opened her eyes so she could see the burgundy red of his. Someday hers would glow like that. She smiled at him when she felt his hesitation. “Do it, wicked duc.” She arched her neck and turned her head.

His teeth sank into her artery. The prick of rose thorns —hardly more. They withdrew. Then the rhythmic sucking began that matched the mutual thrust of their hips. She had never felt so much a part of another. Her blood pumped through her artery into the soft pull of his lips even as the fever built in her loins. He pumped inside her until she was close, so close to ecstasy …

He stopped, stock-still.

“What?” she asked. Was he having doubts?

He gave her throat one final lick. “Turnabout is fair play,” he whispered. He slid out of her. Her womb grasped at him in disappointment. He rolled over until he could open the drawer of the night table and got something out. She couldn’t see what was in his closed fist. Then he sat up against the headboard. His cock was still amazingly stiff.

Oh, yeah. That’s a great idea.

She crawled into his lap. He lifted her hips as if she weighed nothing. It was up to her to position him then he lowered her onto his shaft. Yesssss. That was what she wanted. He drew her forward and licked her neck. She must be drooling blood. She could feel the hum of satisfaction that was his Companion. Even now her blood had made his vibrations ramp up the scale. He felt more alive. She had done that for him.

He helped her move up and down along his shaft. The pressure that had eased ramped up again. She moaned as she bounced.

The thing she craved would be coming soon.

It was then that he flipped open the little paring knife for nails he had in his hand. How endearing that he had hidden it from her, thinking not to frighten her. She wasn’t frightened. He held her eyes as he cut his chest right over his left nipple. She bent her head even as she started moving on his cock again. He thrust up to meet her.

Blood welled from the cut. This was the moment.

“There is no going back,” he warned.

She lifted her head to glare at him in mock severity. “Didn’t I say no more warnings?”

She licked across the cut. The blood was thick, viscous, sensual. It tasted of … something metallic. It tasted alive. Was that the Companion swimming in his veins?

He held her tight, covering her curls with kisses as she licked, and they moved together in increasing urgency. The feeling of taking his blood just as she was about to take his seed pushed her over some edge and she lifted her head, arching her back and pressing her breasts into his bleeding chest as she clenched around his cock in mind -engulfing ecstasy. On and on the orgasm rolled. He kept thrusting against her to prolong it until finally she gasped. Had she been holding her breath? The feeling had already begun to ebb when he finally let himself climax. He grunted against her breasts as his cock pulsed inside her.

They stayed, pressed together, his cock still inside her, for a long time. She ran her fingers through his hair, holding his head to her. He kissed her breasts, smeared with his blood.

At last they sucked in huge mutual breaths and broke apart. When she looked down at him, a tender smile on her mouth, he looked so doubtful that she had to laugh.

“I wanted this, Henri.”

“And I have wanted this too much to have it be right. I’m still not sure you know what you’ve sacrificed.”

“Frankie knows what being vampire is. It was she who prodded me to fight for what I wanted. She’s the only reason I had the courage to tell you I loved you.”

“She is an optimist. That rarely works out well.”

Françoise blinked. “No she isn’t. She is embittered and cynical. Optimism is naïve. That’s what she always says I am.”

“But encouraging you to push for what you wanted required a leap of faith. What better definition of an optimist?” He must have seen her stunned look. “Maybe Françoise contributed enough naïveté for Frankie to be optimistic, just for once.”

Had she? Had she contributed anything to Frankie?
Frankie?

Bingo, girlfriend.
But the voice was faint.

Frankie?
Was Frankie fading like the time machine?
Don’t leave me, Frankie! Now that I’m vampire, you exist. You can
stay. I
need
you, Frankie.

But Henri doesn’t abandon you, probably for longer than a hundred lifetimes. So there is no bitter Frankie anymore …

She trailed off. “Frankie, no!”

“What is it?” Henri tensed under her. “What’s happening?”

I’m ceasing to exist. I feel it.

You can’t. Henri won’t love me if I’m just a naïve young girl. He loves
you,
Frankie, not me. You said yourself he never
looked at you the way he looks at us together.

She felt Frankie soften, faintly.
But I’m inside you now because you experienced me for these brief days. You will be my
immortality.

If you don’t exist, you won’t come back to this time, and then I’ll never see Henri for what he is, and you’ll never give
me the courage to want to be vampire …

Too … complicated, girlfriend. Leave that to Arthur C. What has happened, happened. Time just moves on.

I can’t live without you, Frankie.

No.
She heard the whisper, so faint within her it was hardly there.
You can’t live without him. You have as much of me as
there is for me to give. It will be enough …

Frankie!

But there was no answer.

“Françoise. Françoise! Are you all right?” Henri held her head between his hands.

Tears welled. “She’s gone. She’s gone and I can’t be what you love without her.”

“It’s all right, Françoise.” He smoothed her hair. He pulled her to his chest, but she pulled back. His worry showed in his face.

“She said she didn’t exist anymore because we stay together for a hundred lifetimes and there would be no bitter Frankie.”

“You don’t feel her inside you anymore?”

“Bingo.”

“What?”

Françoise blinked. About five times. “That’s … that’s something she always said. It means, roughly, you have said something correct.”

He raised his eyebrows. They stared at each other for a long moment.

“Maybe she isn’t entirely gone. You think?” Françoise heard something subtly different in the way she chose her words. Maybe it was the cadence.

Henri smiled. “Perhaps not.”

Françoise felt a little ripple inside her of something … faint. She smiled. Tears spilled over her cheeks. “I’m glad,” she whispered aloud. “I grew to like you, girlfriend.”

“Maybe she grew to like herself.”

Françoise put her arms around his neck and kissed his forehead, fiercely. She was feeling light -headed. “You’re a wise man, Henri Foucault.” She started to shiver.

He lifted her off his lap and swung her into his arms. “Let’s get you under the covers. Rough three days ahead. But I’ll be here to give you my blood.”

She was really shaking now. “B-better be longer than three d-days this time, buddy.” Buddy? Where had that come from?

“Quite a bit longer.” Henri pulled the duvet up around her. “Frankie was wrong. With luck, it will be more than a hundred lifetimes.” He bent and kissed her forehead.

“M-maybe.”

“That’s all we can expect, my love. Our chance. Frankie had the courage to try to change her lot. She gave us something lost to us the first time round. Can we have less courage? ” He smiled at her. “Maybe we’ll find a way to use what we are to mean something to the world. There are other places where people need help besides France, you know.”

The man was a hero, not a wicked duc. And she loved him from someplace inside that was closest to who she was, maybe even closest to God.

She grinned even as her teeth chattered. She was going to be vampire. She was going to have the powers Frankie missed. She was going to love this man forever. Donna di Poliziano had been right. She’d found what she really wanted and claimed it.

“We do what we can, guy. We do what we can.”

Epilogue

“Do you think it will still be there? ” Frankie worried as Henri guided the sleek black BMW rental car down the steep hill of California Street into the part of San Francisco known as Cow Hollow. The lights of the city were just coming on. “I mean, what if she’s sold it? Or what if … if I never gave it to her because Donna never gave it to me, because in this version of time I was never bitter and didn’t need to go back?”

“Calm down,
ma petite,”
Henri said. “It does no good to twist your hair like that.”

Frankie jerked her hand away from her curls. She glanced at Henri. He smiled. How she loved that smile.

“And stop chewing your lip?”

She took a breath and tried her best to scowl at him. It was always hard to scowl at Henri. “You know as well as I do how important … no, how
dangerous
that book could be. What if someone uses it for their own purposes?”

“If she’s sold it, we’ll track it down and buy it. And the other argument is circular. You know that. It will either be there or it won’t.”

Bingo. Henri was right, of course.

“I might remind you that
you
used it for your own purposes and things seem to have turned out well.” His eyes were laughing at her. But she knew it was love that made them laugh.

“There. There’s the shop.” Miraculously, a parking spot waited for them right in front. In San Francisco, no less. Vampire luck to the rescue again. On the whole she liked being vampire, strong and alive as she had never felt before Henri had given his gift of blood. She had to admit she was eager for one of their number, Julien Davinoff, to finally produce a successful synthetic blood. If anyone could do it, Julien could. But it didn ’t matter. She would never let the inconvenience of needing blood every couple of weeks stand in the way of the life she had built with Henri. She was so lucky, in so many ways.