Night Novellas: Night Thief & Night Angel

by Lisa Kessler

  “You are a vision, Le Voleur D’or.” He lifted her hand to press a kiss to her knuckles.

  “You have confused me with someone else. I am Marguerite Rousseau.”

  He lowered her hand slowly with a sensual glimmer in his eyes that said he knew exactly who she was. Her pulse jumped.

  She reached for her shawl and took his arm. In her mind, she kept reciting her prayer, blocking Antoine’s voice and wondering about Callia and the others who were still trapped serving the monster.

  Tomorrow she would take the rest of her stolen trinkets to the marketplace to sell. It would still take a few days to find buyers for all of it. She prayed Callia would keep her word and stay busy in the kitchen, far from Antoine.

  “You are quiet.”

  Kane’s voice jarred her from her thoughts. She glanced up at him, surprised to find concern in his eyes. He made it difficult to remember he was…not like her.

  “Did someone die tonight while Gerard fed me roasted duck and potatoes?”

  His expression sobered, his jaw set. “Yes. And Paris will not miss him.”

  “You speak as if killing means nothing to you, and yet last night, you tried to convince me you are not a monster like Antoine.”

  He clenched his jaw, his gold-tipped cane clicking the cobblestones beside him. “I feed on those who do not deserve the gift of life. Animals who believe they can take what they wish without care for the well-being of others.”

  “So you appoint yourself to judge their fate.”

  Kane sighed and stopped walking. She turned to glance up at him, and he reached to cup her cheek. “For tonight, can we forget our differences?”

  Her eyes searched his for any sign of malice, but only honesty reflected back at her. It would be easy to trust him.

  She needed to remain strong. Callia depended on her. But her traitorous lips whispered, “Just for tonight.”

  He leaned closer, and she tilted her chin to meet his lips, caressing, tasting, until her heart pounded in her chest. He straightened, his gaze locked on hers. His voice sounded deep, strained. “We should stop before we miss the opera.”

  Marguerite nodded, although her knees felt wobbly, like a newborn foal. How could an undead creature inspire so much heated desire inside of her?

  They passed the next two streets in silence. She wondered what Kane might be thinking, but she didn’t trust herself to inquire. Her body hungered for his touch, yearning until she forgot her responsibilities. The last thing she needed was to find herself in his arms again. Callia depended on her to escape to the new world.

  In the distance, the tall columns of the Salle Favart opera house loomed, and her concerns gave way to excitement.

  She’d never been inside. Crowds of wealthy Parisians bustled at the entrance. Kane guided her around carriages and toward the doors.

  A man shoved his way in front of them.

  All the color drained from her face. “Antoine.”

  Instantly, Kane stood in front of her, blocking the vampire. “I do not believe we have met.” He offered his hand. “I am Kane Bordeaux.”

  Antoine glared at his hand. “I do not care who you are.”

  Marguerite fought the urge to run. Where could she go?

  He would always find her.

  “Are you attending the opera tonight?” Kane’s voice remained calm, and he lowered his hand.

  “No. I came to retrieve my property.” Antoine reached to grab her, but Kane caught his wrist and twisted until it snapped.

  Antoine winced and jumped back, clutching his broken arm.

  “Mademoiselle Rousseau is no one’s property.” Kane took her hand and brought her forward to his side, his eyes narrowed at Antoine. “You will heal this time. If you ever touch her again, you will not be so lucky.”

  He pushed past Antoine, and Marguerite followed without looking back.

  Once they reached their seats in the first balcony, he took her hands, staring into her eyes. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded, although her stomach sickened with dread.

  “Yes, but I fear what he might do next. Antoine has a vicious temper.”

  “I am sorry I could not end his worthless existence tonight, but I suspect that is why he approached us in such a public place.” His thumbs brushed over her knuckles in a reassuring caress that calmed her frazzled nerves. “He knew there would be witnesses.”

  “I hope your confidence is not ill-placed.”

  Before he could reply, the overture filled the theater. The gas lamps dimmed until the stage became the focal point of light, demanding her attention. Marguerite tightened her grip on Kane’s hand as Giulietta Borghese stepped to center stage and opened her mouth. The coloratura melody mimicked a bugle’s call, but the high notes shimmered like they’d fallen from heaven’s choir.

  She’d never heard anything so joyous and beautiful.

  And when Mécène Marié de l’Isle took to the stage singing “Ah! mes amis,” the entire theater burst into applause for the tenor. She never wanted it to end. All of the glorious costumes and music made it easy to forget the man sitting beside her was no man at all, that a monster wanted to claim her as a possession, or that her last living relative relied on her to gain passage to the new world.

  At the final curtain, she shot to her feet, clapping.

  “Bravo! Bravo!”

  Kane stood beside her, applauding.

  When the curtain fell, she turned toward him with a smile. “This was an amazing night.”

  His eyes sparkled. “The night is not over yet.”

  Chapter Seven

  He kept his senses alert when they left the opera house, scanning for any sign of Antoine. Satisfied the coward had moved on, he clasped Rita’s hand. “There is an inn not far from here. Would you honor me with a dance?”

  She squeezed his hand and nodded. “I would love to.”

  Kane led her down the narrow alleyways, chastising himself. Each second he spent with Rita made her more precious to him. This path led to madness. Her mortality would drive him crazy with worry. Seeing Antoine threaten her tonight had tested his control, and he had wanted to rip the vampire’s heart from his chest in front of hundreds of people.

  He needed her to be safe.

  Once he finished Antoine, how would he be able to let her go? He knew she longed to sell her treasures and vanish across the sea. His chest tightened at the thought.

  “You seem far away.”

  Her bright blue eyes gazed up at him, and he struggled to reign in the emotions he had no idea how to control.

  “Forgive me. At times it is difficult for me to remember that for tonight, our differences do not exist.”

  A curl teased her throat, making him ache to touch her.

  “Perhaps dancing will help you forget.”

  “Perhaps.” He lifted her hand to his lips, intoxicated by the scent of her skin.

  They turned the corner, and he opened the door of the inn. Music swelled around them. Kane guided her inside.

  Marguerite kept her hand in his and he moved through the patrons toward the cramped dance floor. When she turned toward him, his arm moved around her waist, drawing her close to him.

  Where she should always be.

  He silenced the thought and forced himself to live in the moment. Their bodies moved as one in a lively waltz.

  Seeing her smile and hearing her laughter while they turned in dizzying circles cast a spell over him.

  Finally, Rita looked up at him, her skin glowing with color. “I need air.”

  He nodded and led her toward a shadowed table, but she shook her head.

  “No, I need air.” She gestured toward her corset.

  Damn Parisian fashion.

  “Can I help?”

  She nodded. “Yes, but we need someplace private.”

  He guided her through the tables and into the alley.

  Rita’s chest heaved as she struggled to catch her breath.

  Anxious to assist her, he
scooped her up and ran with a speed no mortal could achieve. When he lowered her feet to the ground at his stable, her eyes were wide with shock and her hands trembled. He cursed his carelessness.

  “I should have warned you. Forgive me.”

  She shook her head, tousling the curls that now drooped lower on her pale shoulders. Her chest heaved and she gasped, “I never dreamed anything could move so quickly.”

  Attempting to distract her from the shock, he pointed to her dress. “Show me how I can help you breathe.”

  She turned her back toward him. “Unfasten the buttons, and then loosen the corset.”

  Carefully, he released each tiny pearl button. Unable to resist, he bent forward, pressing a kiss to the back of her bare shoulder. He felt her body tense, but she didn’t move away. His lips caressed the side of her slender neck and her head tilted, opening herself to his affections. Kane popped off the last of the annoying buttons and quickly worked the laces of the corset loose.

  Rita’s moan of relief shot heat right to his groin. He wanted to hear her moan his name. She turned, smiling up at him as her dress threatened to expose her beautiful breasts.

  “You should remind me why it would be a bad idea to lose myself in your arms.”

  “I am the wrong man to ask.” He throbbed against the bindings of his pants, and reached up to cup her cheek.

  “Here and now is all that matters tonight.”

  She ran her hands up his chest, her nimble fingers making quick work of his buttons. He growled when her warm hands explored his bare chest. His eyes locked on hers. “You steal my will.”

  Her lips curved into a sensual smile. “You are no match for Le Voleur D’or.”

  He had no choice but to kiss her. Holding her tight, her lips parted, his tongue tasting her while he slid his hands up her back. Every curve of her body called to his desire. He wanted to touch and taste every inch of her.

  But not in the barn.

  He broke the kiss without loosening his hold on her.

  “Not here. Your bedchamber.”

  Her nod was all the consent he needed. Kane lifted her into his arms, forcing himself to walk while shuddering with need when her hot kisses caressed his chest. Once he had her alone in her bedchamber, he laid her gently onto the feather bed. Her golden hair fanned around her head, her lips swollen from his kisses, her cheeks flushed with color.

  Marguerite watched him shed his coat and shirt. She’d already seen his chiseled chest, but now she could see his broad shoulders and the strength in his arms. Her pulse raced, and she wet her lips, waiting. His hands loosened the laces on the front of his pants until he could slide them off.

  Her gaze ran up his tanned, muscular legs. She’d lain with more than one man, but never one so comfortable in his body. Instead of shame or modesty, he stood before her, his erection plainly displaying his desire for her. No secrets, no games. He offered her more honesty than any man she’d known.

  His heated gaze never left her face as he lay down beside her. He kissed her lips slowly while she reached up, sliding the leather tie from his hair. His mane fell around them while his strong hands slid up her body, firmly molding every curve until she moaned into his kiss.

  His touch set her skin on fire. She wanted no barriers between them.

  She nipped at his lower lip, enjoying the gruff way he gasped her name. “My turn.”

  Marguerite pulled back and got up from the bed.

  Standing before him, for a brief moment, she felt a touch of modesty. She stared into his eyes, watching his expression for any sign of disgust or judgment for her unladylike behavior.

  “You are beautiful, Rita.” He leaned up on his elbow, his tight abdomen contracting and drawing her eyes. When she looked at his face again, his lips carried the hint of a smile.

  “That gown is nothing, a faded scrap, without you inside of it.”

  Her heart pounded. She released her hold on the bodice, feeling the chill of the room when the fabric slowly exposed her body. She stepped away from the puddle of velvet finery at her feet, and instead of feeling self-conscious, she felt… empowered. Every bit as beautiful as Kane had said. She took a step closer to the bed, making him gaze up at her.

  “You make me feel…” She ran her fingertips lightly up the smooth skin of her abdomen, struggling to find the words. “…worthy.”

  Kane rose from the bed, standing so close she could almost feel his erection brush her skin, but he didn’t touch her. His gaze moved slowly over her face until his eyes met hers.

  “You make me question…everything.” His lips brushed hers as he whispered, “You were made for the gods.”

  His hand came up to caress her cheek, and she nuzzled into his touch. Kane bent toward her, kissing her lips, caressing, tasting. She breathed him in. No French cologne assaulted her, only the musky, masculine scent of his skin, like the forest after a thunderstorm.

  Heat coiled inside her as his lips traveled down her neck. His fingertips brushed her waist, until his warm hands moved up her body. She arched her back, offering herself to his affections with wanton desire. A moan escaped her lips when he cupped her breast, his thumb teasing her already pert nipple.

  His mouth seared her skin with sensual caresses. He moved even lower to take her breast into his mouth, his tongue circling her nipple. Her fingers tangled in the back of his hair, clutching him while heat spiraled through her body.

  She tipped her head, letting her eyes drift closed, losing herself in passion. Kane kissed across her chest and slowly licked her other nipple, drawing a gasp from her lips.

  “Look at me.” It was a command and a desperate request all in one rough whisper.

  Marguerite tilted her head forward, her heavy lidded eyes meeting his gaze as he teased her breast with his tongue. Passion burned in his eyes, and coupled with the way his mouth fed on her flesh, her heart raced.

  His other hand traveled lower, sliding up her inner thigh. Desire overcame all traces of modesty. Her hunger for release consumed her, and Kane promised that and more with every touch. She opened her stance for him, and saw a flash of his white teeth against her breast, a sexy smile curved on his lips.

  “Yes, Rita.” He straightened and claimed her lips again as his fingers slid inside her.

  She gasped his name into the kiss, her nails digging into his shoulders to keep from losing her balance. Her inner muscles throbbed around his fingers, her hips rocking into him faster. He kept coaxing, higher than she ever realized possible, until her entire body burned for him.

  Slowly, his fingers withdrew and she moaned against his lips. “No. Kane, please.”

  “Not yet.” He nipped at her bottom lip.

  His kisses traveled down her chin, neck, and chest, caressing her navel, and then even lower. His strong hands slid over the curve of her rear and down the back of her legs until he knelt before her like a naked supplicant.

  She wasn’t sure what was happening. Her body begged to be satisfied, yet he retreated.

  His gaze held hers as he bent her leg, lifting it onto his shoulder. He brushed hot wet kisses along her inner thigh.

  “You deserve no less than worship, Rita.”

  Without warning, he pulled her closer, his mouth devouring her core. Her hands fisted in his hair as pleasure electrified her bloodstream, sending her rushing toward the edge of losing her body and mind to pure sensation.

  He steadied her with one hand, the other sliding up her leg until his fingers slid inside of her. His tongue touched her, teased her, and finally, her entire body trembled with more pleasure than she’d ever known.

  When she came back to herself, he’d already lowered her leg. Kane straightened, kissing her lips and holding her.

  He lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed. Once he rested over her, she opened her legs, allowing him to settle even closer. She cupped his face with a blissful smile.

  “You are most definitely a god.”

  Kane laughed, the sound making her heart f
lip inside her chest. He kissed her lips, murmuring, “This is the first time I have felt like one in centuries.”

  He stared into her eyes, so much lighter than his own, and wanted to memorize this moment, having her in his arms, the taste of her passion on his lips. Refusing to allow himself to ponder beyond this night, he slid one hand down her leg, drawing it up to his hip. With his gaze locked on hers, Kane thrust his hips forward, sinking himself completely into her.

  Her lips parted, and finally she moaned his name. She was made for him. How could he ever be satisfied with this one night? Eternity would not be long enough to enjoy her.

  He nuzzled into her neck, teasing the soft skin just below her ear, lost in the heat of passion. Every demand from his hips, she answered, working into his thrusts. Rita dragged her fingernails up his back, hard. His bloodlust simmered, the jaguar inside growling. He wanted to savor her, but his grip on his control weakened with every thrust.

  Her inner muscles tightened around him, tempting him, but before he surrendered to the passion, Rita rolled him over until she sat above him, straddling him. Her golden hair, mussed and loose around her face, seduced him.

  Sliding his hands up her silky skin, he cupped the weight of her breasts as she took control, working herself along the length of his erection. Everything about this woman awakened his body, his soul. He’d never felt anything like it in his long life.

  He wanted all of her, and he wanted her to be a part of him. Her body alone would never be enough.

  Kane gripped her hips, working himself into her hard, watching the passion rise on her face. Sliding one hand between them, he rubbed and teased her until he felt her body clench around him, dragging him over the peak with her until he erupted deep inside of her.

  Rita collapsed onto his chest with an exhausted smile.

  He brushed her hair back behind her ear, and caught himself wishing for more hours in the night. Was it just the night before that he’d pledged to be more careful and not grow too fond of her? Her mortality would make his eternity unbearable if he allowed himself to become attached. For the past millennia, he’d been careful to live apart from humanity’s emotional entanglements, avoiding their brief moments on this earth.