Christian (Vampires in America: The Vampire Wars Book 10)

by D. B. Reynolds

  Scoville seemed to nod his agreement, and opened his mouth to say something, but a sharp glare from Anthony stifled whatever it was.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Anthony sneered. “And I will, of course, continue to share whatever intel I receive. Are there any questions?”

  Christian couldn’t imagine what questions there could possibly be since nothing new had been discovered. It made him wonder again what the true purpose of the meeting had been. He stood to leave, but Anthony detained him with a raised hand.

  “Stay a moment, Duvall,” he said, making it sound more like an order than a request.

  Christian considered telling him to shove it up his ass, but it occurred to him that Anthony’s motive in inviting him to this meeting might finally be revealed. He gestured for Marc to go with the others, then lingered until Scoville, who was the last to leave, closed the door behind him.

  “I don’t like you,” Anthony said plainly, taking a stance behind his desk with both hands on his hips.

  Christian tilted his head sideways dismissively. Was he supposed to care whether Anthony liked him or not?

  “You’re bad for the South, and bad for the continent.”

  Christian kept his gaze on Anthony and waited.

  “As Lord of the South, I’m asking you to leave my territory.”

  Christian almost laughed out loud. Really? Did he think that would work? “Regrettably, Anthony—” he said, intentionally omitting the lord’s title, “—you surrendered that authority when you announced your resignation. Once the challenge was live, you granted territorial access to any and all challengers, until it’s resolved.”

  “The challenge isn’t live yet,” Anthony snarled. “Not until this weekend.”

  “I beg to differ,” Christian replied, noting the obvious signs of Anthony’s growing rage. “You unofficially opened the challenge when you sent poor Noriega out to ambush me. Tell me,” he continued, taking a step closer to the angry lord. “Did you honestly believe he could defeat me? Are you that blind? Or was he only a sacrifice to rally the troops? To gain support for whichever one of your children you really want to succeed you?”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Anthony snapped. “That was Noriega’s decision, I didn’t—”

  Christian tilted his head in sudden understanding. “It’s not Scoville either, is it? He’s the only one of your children left in the open competition, but he’s merely the next stalking horse. So who is it, Anthony? And how do you expect him to triumph, if he’s too weak to even compete openly?”

  “Get out of my office, you foreign guttersnipe. We’ll see who triumphs, and who doesn’t,” he growled.

  Christian would have dismissed his words as empty posturing, but there was a gleam in the old vampire’s eye, a hint of victory in the sneer he aimed Christian’s way. It gave him a very bad feeling, and when he examined the source of that badness, he could find only one cause.

  Natalie.

  He turned and walked out of the office without another word, gathering Marc on his way. He waited until he was out in the hallway, then pulled up his cell phone and called Natalie’s number.

  “Straight to voicemail,” he said tightly, heading for the stairs and Jaclyn’s office. Marc followed, his own cell phone in hand.

  “Cibor’s not answering either,” he said, and Christian had to force himself not to race to Jaclyn’s office, not to give Anthony that satisfaction. But the four vampires who tried to block his path were another matter entirely.

  Christian slowed to a stop. He didn’t recognize any of them, until a fifth vampire pushed his way to the front.

  “Wait,” Christian ordered Marc quietly, then acknowledged the fifth vampire. “Scoville,” he said. “I really don’t have time for this.”

  Scoville didn’t say anything, just placed himself at the head of the group, taking a position a step removed from the others to make it clear that he stood on his own.

  “Are you tonight’s sacrifice then?” Christian asked him. He was outwardly calm, but inside, he was raging at this delay. It had to be more of Anthony’s scheming, except that Christian couldn’t believe he had managed to subdue Cibor, much less Jaclyn. He couldn’t believe Anthony would even have had the balls to try, given that Jaclyn and all of her people belonged to Raphael.

  He forced these thoughts aside. Right now, it didn’t matter what was happening in Jaclyn’s office. What mattered was the vampire in front of him who didn’t have a hope in hell of defeating Christian. That was, unless Christian permitted himself to be so distracted that he got in a lucky hit. And that wouldn’t do Natalie any good either.

  “Sacrifice?” Scoville repeated, with a puzzled frown.

  Christian shrugged. “Noriega was the first. Anthony sent him against me knowing he’d die. Tonight, it’s you.”

  “Lord Anthony didn’t send Noriega anywhere; you murdered him.”

  Christian shook his head impatiently. “You know better than that. Or you should.” He released a fraction of his true power, enough for the other vampire to get a good taste of him. “Why would I waste my time challenging someone like Noriega?” he asked.

  Scoville’s eyes widened briefly, an automatic response that was beyond his control.

  “Noriega had no business entering the challenge,” Christian continued. “You knew him. You know I’m right.”

  “Noriega was smart, and he had friends. He wouldn’t have faced you alone.”

  “He didn’t. But none of them had the power to back him up, either. He was out of his league.”

  “Lord Anthony—”

  “Anthony wound him up and sent him out to fight me,” Christian snapped. It was time to end this. “Don’t you wonder why? Don’t you think you should know that, before you become the latest dead pawn in his game?”

  Scoville frowned, doubt written on his face. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because someday soon I will rule this territory, and I will not throw vampire lives away for nothing.”

  The other vampire stared at him, clearly wavering, but not yet willing to go against his Sire’s wishes.

  “I’ll kill you,” Christian warned him. “Not even these others will be enough to stop me. So, ask yourself . . . who will benefit from your death? Anthony obviously wants one of his own to succeed him. But who is it? Not you. You’ll be dead.”

  Christian saw the unwelcome knowledge hit Scoville’s expression, followed quickly by betrayal, and then anger. He scowled at Christian, blaming the messenger. But in the end, he was smarter than Noriega. “Damn you,” Scoville whispered sharply. Then he spun on his heel, ordering his backers to follow with a jerk of his chin.

  Christian didn’t waste any time watching them leave. With a silent command to Marc, he ran the final distance to Jaclyn’s office, shoved open the door, and stared around frantically. The phone was ringing in an empty office. Where the hell was everyone?

  He ran to the conference room where Natalie should have been sitting, but it was empty.

  “À la fin,” he muttered. Enough! He gathered his powers, closed his eyes, and concentrated, scanning every room, searching for . . . anyone. There had to be someone left here, someone who knew what the fuck was going on.

  “Christian,” Marc said, but Christian shushed him with a hand gesture, then opened his eyes and started forward.

  “Two vampires, corner office,” he said and strode down the hall. The office belonged to Jaclyn, and the image he’d gotten had been strong enough that he knew she was there.

  Christian reached the closed door of Jaclyn’s office and shoved it open, not bothering to knock. She was inside, and she wasn’t happy. She raced over from where she’d been sitting with Cibor, fangs bared, hands curled into claws, ready to defend her bodyguard who sat on the couch, eye
s closed, head back against the cushions.

  Christian stepped back, hands raised in a placating gesture. “Jaclyn,” he said quietly. “It’s Christian Duvall.”

  She stared at him for a long moment, her eyes gleaming a gold-tinged red, a low growl rumbling in her chest, as she clenched and unclenched her fists in rhythm. And then like a light switching off, her fangs retracted, reason returned to her eyes, and she drew herself up to suck in a deep breath.

  “Christian.” She sounded far more exhausted than she should have. Jaclyn had significant power.

  “What the hell happened?” He forced himself to be quiet and calm, when what he wanted was to shake the truth out of her. “Where’s Natalie?” he asked, voicing his deepest concern.

  “Anthony,” she said, the growl returning to her voice. “He dared . . .” She drew a deep breath, making a visible effort to think rationally and answer his question. “He planted a compulsion in Cibor’s head, in order to get time alone with Natalie.”

  “He has Natalie?” Christian experienced an emotion that was nearly foreign to him. Genuine fear.

  Jaclyn shook her head, seeming confused. “She left,” she said slowly, as if forcing her brain to recall what she’d seen. “I was with Cibor, but . . . I remember her saying she was sorry, and then gathering her things.” She looked up at Christian. “Sorry for what?”

  “I’m going to find out. Did you call Raphael?”

  “He called me. He’s already on his way here for the challenge, and says he’ll deal with it when he gets here.”

  “He’ll have to stand in line.” Christian spun away, but Jaclyn’s voice stopped him.

  “Raphael wants Anthony for this, Christian. If he’s done something to Natalie, you can’t kill him.”

  Christian turned and met Jaclyn’s worried gaze. “If he’s done something,” he repeated, but he couldn’t finish the thought. He respected the hell out of Raphael, but if Anthony had so much as touched Natalie, he’d be dead before morning. “Tell Raphael I’ll try to leave Anthony alive for him. But no guarantees.”

  She nodded. “She’s blaming herself for all of this, Christian. She needs to understand it wasn’t her fault.”

  “Oh, I’ll make sure of that,” he said grimly. “I’ll make sure she understands a lot of things.”

  NATALIE PUT THE last of her dinner dishes into the dishwasher, and closed the door. She didn’t know why she’d bothered to fix anything. Her stomach was so knotted, she hadn’t been able to eat. And she doubted it was going to get any better. She’d tried to distract herself with work, but her mind kept blinking over to the coming confrontation with Anthony. Their date. He hadn’t said where they were going, or what this perfect place of his was, but she didn’t think she’d be able to swallow more than a cup of tea, or a glass of wine. Or maybe she’d just throw up in his face, and they’d call the whole thing off. The way she was feeling now, projectile vomiting was definitely a possibility.

  She forced herself to climb the stairs to her bedroom. She had no intention of primping for the date, but she needed to get dressed. She walked into her bedroom and looked around aimlessly, then crossed to the bathroom, and stood staring at her reflection in the mirror. She looked awful. Stress did that to a person. She hated the idea of spending even an hour with Anthony, but hated even more what he might do if she refused. He’d already hurt Cibor, and, by extension, Jaclyn. And what about her family? Anthony was just petty enough to take it out on them because she wouldn’t go out with him.

  Which reminded her. She needed to call her parents, just to be safe. She picked up the phone and hit the appropriate speed dial, then listened to it ring. Part of her wanted to get their answering machine. It would be so much easier to leave a message. But another part wanted to hear their voices.

  “Hey, baby girl.” Her father’s words rolled with a Cajun accent that was much deeper than hers, and the more time she spent with him, the stronger her own accent became.

  “Hey, Daddy.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  She forced a laugh. “Why would you ask that?”

  “Because I know my Natalie. Come on, talk to your daddy.”

  She blew out a long breath. “I just wanted to warn you . . . about Anthony.”

  “If that bloody bastard’s giving you any trouble, you just come on home. Don’t you worry about anything else.”

  “It’s not that bad. Honestly. But you know how he likes to play games. Well, he’s playing one now. There’s this guy I’m dating—”

  “Who?” her father demanded, forgetting all about Anthony.

  “Now, Daddy. Don’t go getting all protective on me.”

  “As if there’s any other way for me to be with my own baby girl.”

  Natalie smiled, and it felt good. If there was one thing she was sure of, one thing that would never change, it was that her parents loved her.

  “That means more than you know,” she murmured, then stiffened her resolve. “His name’s Christian . . . the guy I’m dating. And he reminds me of you.” She thought she might have heard a light sniff from her father’s side of the phone line. “Anyway, Anthony and Christian don’t get along, so Anthony’s pretending he and I are . . . involved, as a way to get back at Christian.”

  “As if.”

  Those two words issued in her father’s deep voice with its Cajun accent were so perfect that she laughed out loud.

  “That’s what I said, too,” she told him. “But you know how Anthony gets. So if he calls you or anything, just ignore him. And, you know, you and Momma be careful.”

  “That old bloodsucker doesn’t scare me. Don’t you worry about us. And if your new beau is worth your time, he’ll tell you the same thing.”

  “You’re right about that,” she muttered, then said. “I’ve got to go, Daddy. I expect Christian any minute now.”

  “You tell him what I said.”

  “I will.”

  “And you come visit us. Your momma misses you.”

  Natalie smiled. Translation . . . her father missed her.

  “I’ll come soon. Now I’ve got to go. Give my love to Momma.”

  “I’ll do that. You take care, baby girl. I love you.”

  “I love you, too, Daddy. Bye-bye.”

  When she hung up, she felt both better and worse. Better because she always felt better after talking to her father. And worse, because talking to him made her so homesick.

  Her phone beeped with a new voicemail. She’d ignored the incoming beep when she’d been talking to her father. And she ignored the voicemail, too. She’d left Christian a message earlier, but ignored all of his calls and messages since then. She wasn’t going to debate this on the phone. He was just going to have to wait until she could talk to him in person. Besides, she already knew what he’d say. He wouldn’t want her to go tonight, would insist he could handle Anthony. But he didn’t know Anthony like she did. She wasn’t going to risk Christian’s life just to avoid one crummy date.

  Pushing away from the mirror, she leaned into the shower and turned on the water, waiting until it was hot before stepping under the spray. While she showered, she obsessed about how angry Christian was going to be. Her stomach churned, and she wondered how she’d gotten involved so deeply, so fast. And when he’d become so important to her.

  Once out of the shower, she did a quick blow dry of her hair, and pulled on some underwear, then wrapped her robe around herself, and was crossing into her bedroom when the ringing doorbell made her jump. Her gaze shot to the clock on her bedside. A little early, but not unexpected.

  Doing a quick finger-comb of her hair as she went past the mirror, she hurried down the stairs and over to the door, doing a quick check through the peephole. Her already knotted stomach twisted harder.

  Time to face the music.


  She looked again. He did not seem happy.

  “Open the fucking door, Natalie,” Christian growled. “I can hear you breathing.”

  Damn vampire hearing. She yanked the door open. “You’re early.”

  Christian’s back had been to the door while he’d been saying something to Marc, but when the door opened, he did a graceful spin, and now he was glowering down at her. “It’s lovely to see you, too, chére. Invite us in.”

  Natalie stared at him. She’d been so set on her course when she left the estate earlier, so certain she was doing the right thing. But now . . . now she was beginning to think she’d acted rashly, that her much vaunted intellect had been overtaken by fear, and she’d let it rule her decisions. That wasn’t like her. She usually over thought everything, so what had happened? She suddenly realized she didn’t know what she wanted anymore. And Christian was waiting.

  “Of course,” she said finally. “Come in, both of you. But you have to listen to me,” she added, as first Marc and then Christian slipped past her.

  Turning, Christian moved her out of the way, and closed the door, only to loom over her, his deep blue eyes glittering with anger. “So talk, mon ange. Tell me why you left Jaclyn’s office, left the estate, without a word of explanation. Why you ignored my repeated calls to ascertain that you were, at the very least, alive and well.”

  “I called you,” she snapped. “And I told you to come over here. There was no point in arguing over the phone when it’s so much more satisfying in person!”

  Christian grinned. “Are we going to argue, chére? What about?”

  Natalie licked her lips nervously. This was it. Doomsday. “About me going out with Anthony tonight.” She didn’t even finish her sentence before Christian’s eyes filled with blue fire and she braced herself for his roar.

  “Have you lost your fucking mind?” he growled, in a voice so deep it made the floors tremble.

  “No, I have not,” she said, standing firm in the face of his anger. It was nothing she hadn’t expected. “He’ll be here at midnight, and—”