Though the set of her shoulders told him she was self-conscious walking about naked in front of her new husband, she did no more than glance at her dressing gown, and he hid his amusement at this charming display of bravado.
“Be careful with the goblet on the right,” he said. “There is a chip on the rim.” If she were to cut herself, the sight and fragrance of her blood might be more than he could endure without revealing his true nature. Then, as she stood more clearly illuminated by the firelight, he was shocked to observe small pink marks on her neck and shoulders.
Michael saw them at the same moment and drew her hair aside to look more closely. “I think you bit me!” she said.
Aghast, he exclaimed, “I am so sorry.”
Catching sight of his expression, she gave him a reassuring smile. “You don’t have to look so mortified, my darling. They aren’t deep—you didn’t break the skin.”
“The last thing I want is to cause you pain.” How could he have let his self-restraint relax so dangerously?
But he knew the answer. He had been intoxicated by his love for her and by experiencing physical love for the first time since his mortal life—now intensified by his heightened vampiric senses. It frightened him to realize that he had been so close to losing control altogether, and he cursed himself for coming so near to wounding her.
“But you didn’t cause me any pain!” Leaving the wine, she ran back to the bed to put her arms around him. “The marks will probably fade in half an hour, truly. And to be honest, I’m flattered to have inspired such ardency in you. I never thought…”
“Never thought what?”
“That I was the kind of woman who could evoke a man’s passion.”
He marveled that she still did not know perfectly adorable she was. “On that point, dragă mea,” he said, stroking his thumb along her lower lip, “I can reassure you without hesitation.”
She caught his wrist so she could bestow a kiss on his hand before drawing his arm around her and nestling down by his side. “You’ve made me so happy, Vasile,” she murmured.
The words were a knife in his heart. She had no idea that her happiness was temporary and built on a lie. He wished he could tell her the truth, because she deserved his complete honesty, but he knew that then she would shrink from him—as any normal woman would—and that her love and trust would turn to revulsion and fear. All of which he might be able to bear somehow, except that in running from him she would be running into danger, and just now she needed his protection more than his honesty.
Now she stirred, interrupting his train of thought, for which he was thankful.
“Do you know,” she said, “I’ve finally determined one reason your gaze is so compelling. You hardly ever blink. I don’t think I’ve actually seen you blink even once.”
That meant he was growing careless, and he scolded himself inwardly for it. “The better to see you, my dear,” he said lightly, drawing her close for a kiss, but she was not so easily diverted.
“You must have remarkable vision to have seen that tiny chip in the goblet from across the room. In fact, your sight is so good that I don’t know why you asked me to read to you.”
He should have been more vigilant. He had known from the start that she might be more observant than was convenient, but falling in love seemed to have made him slipshod. “I must confess to having misrepresented myself,” he said. “I’ve grown so familiar with some of my books that I wanted to hear them in a new way, through your reading.”
Her smile was very tender. “You could have simply told me that.”
“Ah, but I also wanted an excuse to spend more time with you, and that was something I didn’t want to admit even to myself, because I knew how unwise that was.” This was coming too close to revealing more than he should, though. “In truth, I have grown accustomed to using indirect methods to attain my desires,” he said. “Fear of me and my adopted family line is deeply ingrained in this region.”
She mulled that over, an endearing crease forming in her brow as she thought. “That is why the mayor came here looking for the missing girl and called you such names?” When he nodded, she put her hand to his face and stroked his cheek. “It must be very lonely to be surrounded by people who fear you,” she said.
“It is,” he said, and perhaps his voice said more than he meant, for she raised herself and kissed him lingeringly.
Then she said, “In England things will be different. You can make a fresh start there.”
“I do not know yet what lies ahead for me in England.”
“For us.” She laid her head against his chest once more.
Her innocent confidence in their future together gave him a pang. “Of course…for us,” he said, trying to hide the guilt. “But you should get some sleep now.”
She nodded, her hair moving silkily against his skin.
“I love you, Vasile,” she said, and then her eyes closed.
“I love you, dragă mea,” he whispered, feeling the ache beneath his ribs growing sharper. How was it that love and sorrow felt so much alike? Or perhaps it was only when they were inextricably knotted together, as now.
Soon her breathing took on a slow, regular rhythm that told him she was asleep. He stroked her hair and felt his heart break as he looked at her face with its peaceful expression. How innocent she was, and how much she would end up suffering for that innocence—for not realizing that she had married a vampire.
Chapter XII
I am married to a vampire, Michael thought as she lay in her husband’s arms.
Everything that her senses had told her to this point had led her toward this conclusion, but the real certainty came now. She let her eyes drift shut, let her breathing slow, and gradually relaxed her limbs. She could tell just when he decided she was asleep—because he stopped breathing.
She waited, alert despite her ruse of sleep, but minute after minute passed and her own breathing was all that she heard or felt. His chest did not rise or fall.
Earlier that night, when they were not so tranquil, the profusion of exquisite sensations must have distracted her from observing such things. Even the chill of his skin had vanished as his body warmed from contact with hers, so it was easy to forget it. But later, when they settled into a quiet embrace together, she began to suspect that Vasile only drew breath to speak—or when he remembered to do so for her benefit.
And now, with her head resting against his broad chest, she learned something else: he had no heartbeat.
At first she was gripped by fear in the face of something so unnatural. But her fright passed quickly. This was a man she knew, not some monster out of a ghost story. He had always treated her with the greatest consideration and care, first as employer and host, and now as the most tender and gentle lover. After seeing how horrified he had been at the idea that he had bitten her, she was convinced he had not been feeding on her. Either the dreams were no more than dreams, or something else had been biting her, which could be why he had spoken of guarding her. He meant to keep her safe, not to harm her.
From all that she knew of him, she trusted him, and likewise trusted that he must have a good reason to try to hide from her what he was. It was logical when everyone else responded with fear and violence to the idea of vampires that he would hesitate to tell her, but in time he would learn that he could safely open himself to her.
How astonishingly quickly everything had happened. Yesterday they had never so much as touched hands, and now…she stifled the laughter that tried to bubble up in her. This glorious night had made her giddy. She had never thought her chances of marriage were good, but to marry this extraordinary, captivating man? That he wasn’t exactly human was a drawback, true, but in her present state of euphoria she was certain they would make a success of the marriage nonetheless.
She must let him know that she loved him in the full knowledge of who and what he was. Best to lead up to that gently, though.
She drew in a long breath as though she were w
aking from sleep, and she felt Vasile draw in a breath as well.
“Michael?” he said, in so caressing a voice that she wondered if he, too, was delighted they were calling each other by their first names. “Can’t you sleep?”
“I don’t wish to.” She looked up into his face, and found his amber eyes looking more unguarded than she had ever seen them. “I’ve been thinking about what you told me,” she said, “about the choice the healer gave you, and the decision you made.”
“Yes?”
She raised herself on her elbow to gaze down at him. “I would have made the same decision. I think if I were dying I would risk just about anything for even the chance to be with the one I love again. Granted, it would be less agonizing for me because I don’t believe I would be defying a God.” She lay back down by his side in case he would find it easier to talk without her eyes on his. “Do you still believe that you forswore the love of a heavenly Father, that you are barred from heaven? I can only imagine how terrible that would feel.”
His voice sounded as if it came from a long way off. “I no longer know what to believe. Not after all I’ve been through.” Then he touched her hair, and she looked up to find him smiling at her. “I only know that there still exists a heaven for me, for that is where I am right now.”
It both humbled and exhilarated her that she could bring such peace and happiness to him. “Even though I don’t believe in a God or heaven or hell, I do hold some things sacred,” she told him. “Such as love, and honor. To me our marriage is a sacred bond, and I am resolved to be worthy of it. I intend to do everything I can to bring you happiness for every day—and night—of our life together.”
At first he seemed moved beyond the ability to speak. He put his hand to her face for a moment, his mouth touched with a smile of wonder. “Amen,” he said softly.
“Amen,” she echoed, and for a moment it was as if time was suspended and nothing in the universe was real outside the bed where they lay together.
Then Vasile tensed, his brow furrowing. He looked toward the door.
“What is it?” she asked.
He sat up, turning his head to listen more intently. “Something is wrong,” he said below his breath.
She heard nothing, but she realized that with his supernatural senses he could probably hear more than she. For half a dozen heartbeats, all was still. Moving with silent grace, Vasile rose from the bed and crept toward the door.
Then, from outside the room, came a shouted command in Romanian. Dumitru’s voice. Was he standing guard tonight?
His voice cried out again, wordlessly, then was abruptly silenced. A heavy thud against the door made Michael start.
Vasile said softly, “Stay here, please.”
She nodded, feeling gooseflesh rise on her arms, as Vasile slowly opened the door.
The blood-soaked body of Dumitru, which had been slumped against the door, fell heavily into the room. Michael smothered a cry as she saw that his throat had been torn out. Then, before she or Vasile could move, a giant gray wolf leaped over the body and onto Vasile, knocking him to the floor.
She cried out in horror, but then astonishment silenced her as Vasile’s body began to change. Even as he grappled with the wolf, his limbs shortened and became covered with fur. His head altered its shape, elongating into a muzzle, the ears growing pointed. In the space of three heartbeats Vasile had transformed into a wolf. He snapped back at the invading beast, struggling to throw him off.
There was no time for amazement. She had to help him. Her eyes darted about the room in search of something to use as a weapon—but this was clearly no commonplace wolf, and normal weapons might be useless. Iron worked against supernatural creatures, didn’t it? There was the fireplace poker.
She slid off the bed and sidled toward the hearth, giving a wide berth to the struggling forms, now nearly indistinguishable. The wolf that was her husband was more white than gray, but the two were locked in such a snarling, writhing mass of fur that it was almost impossible to tell where one left off and the other began. She seized the poker and moved closer, looking for a chance to strike.
The mass shifted, and gray fur showed uppermost. She jabbed and heard a yelp. The beast lifted its head, and she drew the bar of iron high, ready to bring it down on the thing with full force.
But it was too quick for her. In a blur of motion it rushed at her, its fangs bared, and an agonizing pain sliced through her as the wolf’s teeth sank deep into her thigh. She screamed, and the poker dropped from her hand. As blood spurted from the wound, her legs gave out, and she fell heavily to the floor.
With an anguished howl, the white wolf started toward her. She caught only a glimpse of dark amber eyes, and then the gray wolf whirled to fasten his jaws around his throat.
“No!”
Her cry went unheard as the gray wolf gave the white one a vicious shake. Scarlet drops of blood flew toward her, and a terrible groan came from the white wolf as its forelegs buckled. With another shake the gray wolf released him, and the injured wolf sank toward the floor.
The floor was awash with blood—her own at first, but now so much was flooding from the white wolf’s torn throat that she knew both of them were gravely injured. She pulled herself across the floor toward him, feeling herself grow weaker by the moment.
Panting, the white wolf seemed to blur and shift, and then it was her Vasile who lay torn and bleeding before her. Blood gushed from what was left of his throat, but he tried to smile at her. His lips seemed to shape the word dragă. A terrible memory came to her of the folklore saying vampires could be killed if they lost too much blood.
The gray wolf, too, blurred as its form reshaped and rose up on its hind legs. As Michael reached Vasile’s side and touched his face, a shadow fell over her, and she looked up to discover that the scratched and bloody figure of Mr. Rich was standing over them.
He grinned, and the red blood on his teeth made her shudder. “Miss Cargrave,” he said. “We meet again.” He was naked, and an array of scars on his chest and arms suggested that this was not his first such fight.
Her anguish for Vasile left little room for any other emotion, but now she felt a hot flare of anger. She tried to sit up but found she could do no more than prop herself up on one elbow. The blood pumped forth from her wound at a terrifying rate.
“How could you do this?” she demanded. “Vasile never harmed anyone.”
“That’s hardly a point in his favor.” Rich caught sight of her ivory brocade gown where Ana had laid it neatly over the back of a chair. He caught it up and used it to wipe the blood and perspiration from his face and torso before dropping it to the floor. The locket brooch pinned to the bodice caught his eye, and he bent to unpin it, then opened it to regard Rosamond’s picture.
“That’s my sister,” Michael said. She sounded so calm, perhaps because her strength was ebbing away. “May I have it, please?”
He tossed it toward her with a shrug, but she was unable to catch it before it landed on the blood-slick floor. “I’m afraid you won’t get to say goodbye to her, m’dear. You can blame Dalca for that. I might have let you live if he hadn’t kept you with him tonight to get underfoot.” His look of contempt took in both her and Vasile, who was so weak that he could barely squeeze her hand when she slipped it into his.
“What did Vasile ever do that you would attack him this way?” she demanded.
“Your husband and I have the same sire,” he said. “Now Wulfgar wants to gather all his children for an ambitious undertaking in England, and my task is to travel about to make certain they’re all complying. But no vampire who is so softhearted about humans deserves a place in Wulfgar’s coterie.” He nudged Vasile roughly with his foot. She bit back a protest, but Vasile was so depleted that he didn’t seem to notice. “Your precious Dalca didn’t even bite his prey—bled them like some kind of surgeon.”
She had known Vasile would be gentle in taking what he needed and avoid striking unnecessary terror into anyone.
She felt a spark of pride at this confirmation of his kindness.
“I’ve even heard that he was looking for a way to become mortal again,” Rich went on. “That called his loyalty to Wulfgar into serious question.”
“But isn’t it up to Wulfgar to choose who stands with him?” she asked. Perhaps if she was persuasive enough Rich would change his mind and be able to save Vasile.
But their tormentor shook his head. “I’m saving him the embarrassment of having to dismiss one of his former favorites. This way is better. And it’s most considerate of you to die with him, Miss Cargrave.”
I suppose I am going to die…and so will Vasile, unless I think of something. He was glassy-eyed now, barely conscious. Kissing his brow, she felt how clammy it was, and colder than she had yet known his skin to be.
Then her eyes fell on the brooch, close enough to reach. If she could just remain conscious long enough—and if she had enough blood—
Rich was still talking. Confident that she and Vasile were so near to death that he need have no fear of them, he was wandering around the room, examining objects that struck his interest.
“This way,” he was saying, “I can bring the villagers to view your corpses and tell them Dalca was killing the girls all along. I caught him in the act, but alas, not in time to save you. Mind you, when I arrived in the village the day before you I had no such plan in mind; I took the first girl just for my own amusement.”
Now, while all of his attention was directed toward self-congratulation. Gritting her teeth, she jabbed the pin of the brooch into the inside of her wrist as hard as she could. The pain was slight compared to the throb of her lacerated thigh. When the blood came welling up from her wrist, she pressed the wound to Vasile’s lips. If only he could drink enough to give him strength again. She curled her hand against his cheek so that it would look as though she were simply cradling her husband’s face in his last moments.
The thought made her bite her lip hard to hold back a sob. He won’t die. He mustn’t.
As Vital as Blood (Victorian Vampires Book 1) Page 11