by Lisa Morgan
“I tell you what,” he teased, “I’ll make a deal with you. If, by some miracle, you manage to inflict any harm on me, even so much as cut a strand of my hair, I will give you that motorcycle of mine.”
“What would I do with a motorcycle?” I asked, confused.
“You seemed to enjoy your ride home with me on it. I thought you had a desire to have one of your own.”
Oh, I have desire all right, I thought, and noticed Michel smile a little.
A thought entered my mind at that moment, and I needed an answer to it immediately. “Seatha and Autumn told me that vampires have certain attributes, such as the ability to move with incredible speed, and you guys have a couple of pointy teeth, but can … Can you hear my thoughts?”
“What?” he asked, sheepishly, but that glaring, fanged smile grew. “Whatever do you mean?”
“At the music store, I’d been thinking about strawberries. Later, when you handed me my cell, you told me you loved strawberries.”
“Actually,” Michel replied, drawing closer to me in a single wide step, wearing a flirtatious smile, “at the music store, I believe you were thinking of cheesecake and strawberries, wasn’t it?”
Heat rose in my face as I now knew that every single thought I’d had about the vampire standing in front of me had also been heard by him. I wanted to run away and hide. I heard Tibet was nice this time of year …
“Were you going to let me know that vampires could hear people’s thoughts?” I asked, growing angry at the thought of all he’d heard running through my mind since I first laid eyes on him.
“Why would I tell you? Your thoughts are rather,” Michel paused, smiling like the cat that caught a bird, “flattering.”
“Because it’s rude,” I bit out.
“We all have our crosses to bear. I shall carry this one,” Michel said, still smiling.
Shaking off the vampire’s mocking, I was determined to fight him now, if for no other reason than to regain some semblance of dignity. “If I hurt you, I get your motorcycle. What’s in it for you?”
Michel became serious, thinking of his terms to our little competition. He took a few moments to pace around me, seeming to size me up.
“My conditions are such,” he spoke plainly, coming to stop in front of me, his expression all business. “If you should wound me in any way, I will relinquish the keys to my bike to you. However, if I should be able to knock you down, not causing any permanent damage to you as Liam would be most displeased, you will kiss me.”
My heart fluttered at Michel’s proposed terms, and all that rage I’d felt vaporized like a rain drop in the desert. A kiss? I should just give up and lie down.
“What’s wrong, Maggie?” Michel taunted, that dangerous smile creeping across his face. “Have you suddenly become overly concerned for me, or are you merely in need of a pillow before you lie down?”
My thoughts again! That did it. No way was I just going to let his vampire gorgeousness walk away with all of my self-esteem.
“Fine,” I stated, sounding far more casual than I felt. “It’s a deal, but I don’t want you to cry when you hand me those keys.”
Michel took his fighting stance and smirked. “No crying at all. Now, attack!”
I yelled in my very best warrior-esq noise and rushed at Michel as fast as I could, the sword clutched in both my hands and raised over my head. He didn’t flinch as I raced toward him. I had to fight my own common sense, reminding myself not to slow. I was within a foot of him, bringing the sword down as hard as I could and not holding back.
Michel’s hand that had been lifted behind him shot at me with blinding speed. He grabbed hold of my forearm, spinning me around so my back was against his chest. He squeezed my wrist, and with a shout of pain, the fairy sword fell from my hand, clanking against the hardwood floor. Michel swept my ankles with his foot, and with his arms around me, spun me to face him. With both my wrists in one of his hands, he snaked his other to the small of my back and lowered me gracefully to the floor.
I lay there for a moment, breathless, blinking as I stared above me. Michel was leaning over me, one of his hands helping him to hover over me and holding my arms above my head with his other. His green and silver eyes gazed into mine. We were, again, inches apart when he dropped his face closer.
“Now, Maggie,” he teased devilishly, the breath of his words against my mouth, “I’ll take that kiss.”
My heart pounded against my ribs as Michel’s eyes wandered to my lips. He studied them before he drifted his gaze back to mine. Loosening his hold, he brought his hand to cradle my chin, his thumb gently rubbing my cheek.
“Michel,” I struggled as he lowered his lips closer to mine.
“I knew I should have been the one to teach her to fight,” a voice mused from the doorway, drawing our attention elsewhere. I shot my head sideways, looking to see who had interrupted my almost kiss.
I recognized the speaker from the drawings in the book, which, by the way, didn’t come close to doing justice. He was equally as beautiful as Michel with ebony hair feathered long over his ears and hanging just below his shoulders, and he had the same green eyes flecked with silver that Michel possessed.
He was slightly taller, but with the same muscular build of the vampire I was trapped beneath. If I hadn’t had one vamp over me, working his magic, this new one could have gotten my heart fluttering.
He leaned against the doorway, all Rhett Butler like, with a glass in one hand and his other rubbing his chest. His eyes were still, as if he were looking right through me.
“So this is her, huh?” he asked nonchalantly, sipping from the goblet. He didn’t seem to feel the least bit of remorse at interrupting us.
Michel sprang to his feet and brought me up with him. My head felt woozy from the quick ascension and I wobbled. Luckily, he put his arm around my waist to help steady me.
The raven-haired guy in the doorway walked into the room, his movements reminiscent of a stealthy predator, and came to stand before us. His eyes examined me up and down, like I was a rare piece of art he was thinking about buying.
“Interesting,” he mused before focusing on Michel. “This little girl is what made you think you could borrow my motorcycle and leave me out in the woods, sprawled on the hood of a battered piece of shit car?”
“Maggie,” Michel introduced coolly without answering the question. “This is Luc, my brother.”
I extended my hand to shake his. Luc glanced to the gesture. Then, with a bored snicker, turned on his heels and made his way to the settee, plopping himself down and sipping his drink.
“Nice to meet you,” I mumbled, offended as I dropped my hand back to my side, my impression of him sinking.
“Of course it is,” Luc quipped back, swirling the liquid in his glass and not looking at me when he spoke.
“Luc has yet to find common courtesy,” Michel said to me in apology.
“My bike?” Luc asked again, unfazed by his brother’s statement.
“I figured you could handle yourself,” Michel explained. “How was I to know you hadn’t worn your charm?”
“I always handle myself,” Luc replied from inside his goblet.
I couldn’t help but snicker at the remark. The brothers both looked to me, and I shrugged. “Too many years spent with my best friend and her clever sarcasm to not find humor in his choice of words.”
Luc continued without appearing insulted, “Those revenants seemed especially enraged. Is it safe to assume that this little girl is the root of their dismay?”
Okay, this guy was arrogant and patronizing.
“What do we do with her now? Surely Autumn is having a fantastic time playing nursemaid to the girl, and Seatha, I’m sure, is dying to take her shopping,” Luc said.
Jerk, I thought, then immediately remembered that the vampires could hear my thoughts. I tucked my head, trying to hide my face as their eyes fell on me. I heard Michel chuckle softly, while his brother remained silent.
<
br /> “Luc, I was just attempting to show Maggie how to wield a sword,” Michel explained.
His brother responded after draining his glass in one long swallow, “I witnessed your instruction. Impressive as it was, might I make a suggestion based on my vast experience in battle?”
“Of course,” Michel answered.
Luc grinned, a pair of canines gleaming over his bottom lip. “Kill her now and save us the trouble of attending a funeral.”
“Hey!” I complained.
“We all begin somewhere. I’m sure you want her prepared to fight?” Michel remarked, no emotion in his words.
Luc stood, shrugging his shoulders. “If we’re to win any fight against the horde of revenants, maybe we’d benefit more from her sitting the battle out,” he offered, running his hand through his hair, moving his bangs from his eyes.
Anger began to build inside me. Who the hell was this tool and what made him think he had any more knowledge than Michel?
“Your motorcycle is garaged,” Michel told his brother, picking his sword up from the floor along with the fae blade I’d been using. He continued to speak to Luc without looking at him as he handed me the sword, “There is much instruction to be done. If you wouldn’t mind.” He gestured toward the doorway, silently requesting Luc to leave the room.
“Oh, I don’t mind,” Luc declared, turning back to meet my eyes as he ran his finger over the rim of the glass “Please, continue. I haven’t laughed at her in at least five minutes. Please, continue,” he urged.
“We can do this later,” I muttered to Michel, offering him the blade in my hand.
Michel’s eyes narrowed in disappointment. “Time is not our ally, Maggie. We will continue now.”
“But …” I protested with a casual head nod in Luc’s direction, hoping Michel could take the hint.
“Really?” Luc quipped sarcastically, noticing my gesture. “If you’re going to have a problem learning while I watch, I will most surely leave the room.”
“Thank you,” I replied, seeing Michel wipe his hand over his face while shaking his head. I looked back to Luc, finding a bigger smile plastered to his face.
“Absolutely not going anywhere!” he laughed openly. “Are you kidding me? And miss this? Not a chance! I’d felt gracious just moments ago, but alas, it’s gone now. Sincerity; I always find it so fleeting.”
Oh this guy was really getting on my nerves.
Michel spoke softly, “It will be fine, Maggie. Just ignore him.”
“Yes, Maggie,” Luc spoke in the same soft voice Michel had used, but his expression reminded that he was mocking me, “pretend I’m not even here.”
Unable to come up with a witty retort fast enough, I flipped him off instead.
“Feisty!” Luc roared, his grin a mile wide. “Excellent! Maybe this will be entertaining.”
Michel sent a nasty look to his brother, but Luc only shrugged his shoulders and made his way from the chair to a buffet table covered with decanters. Seeming to know exactly which one he wanted, he grabbed it and pulled the stopper out with his teeth.
“A little early for drinking, isn’t it?” I asked, watching Luc.
“Not if you’re offering,” Luc answered without turning to look at me as he poured the thick red fluid into his glass. It coated the sides of the crystal, making a crimson film, and I could smell a rusty sort of aroma.
Blood? Right here in the same room as me? I knew Michel and his brother would need to drink the stuff, but I’d assumed they’d do it someplace more private.
A slight growl escaped Michel’s lips, cutting the silence and getting my attention. His eyes seemed greener than before.
“Relax, brother,” Luc returned the stopper and casually turned around. “I promise not to bite your girlfriend until she wants me to.”
My mouth fell open at Luc’s comment. Michel growled more viciously, but Luc waved him off. “You have work to do. I would focus on teaching the girl to wield a sword and less time worried I’ll steal her off.”
I felt my heartbeat quicken again, but not with that uneasy he almost kissed me feeling. This would be more on par with disgust, my opinion of Luc officially hitting rock bottom.
“Never gonna happen, fangy,” I shot back. Michel turned to me, his eyes clearing. Those gorgeous flecks of sliver crept back into his irises.
“A wordsmith,” Luc quipped into his glass without setting his gaze on me. “However did we get so lucky?”
Michel shook his head. He thought aloud, looking to his sword and running his fingers over the sharpness of it, “Perhaps we should start without the weapons? We could begin with your footwork and ways you can avoid a strike to yourself.”
“Whatever.” I shrugged, taking my sword and setting it on the floor by my feet. I was now more determined to be successful. No way was I going to let his brother have something else to smile about.
“So,” Michel explained, “let’s see. How high can you jump?”
“Jump?” I questioned, just as Michel thrust out his leg, kicking me in my knee.
“Ow! Damn it! That hurt!”
Michel instructed without apology, “An opponent will use any means they have to disable you. And,” he smiled again, “I didn’t kick you nearly as hard as I could have.”
“Right,” I complained, rubbing my throbbing leg, “because my legs are still attached?”
“Precisely,” Michel answered in all seriousness. That sobered me. “Now this time, jump.” Michel shot his leg out again, and this time I jumped as high as I could, missing his strike.
“Excellent! Now, when I kick at you, jump again, but upon landing, duck.”
“Duck?” However, before he answered, his leg came at me. I jumped, but didn’t duck fast enough, and Michel’s hand connected with my face. It wasn’t a punch, more of a slap, but it still hurt. I rubbed my jaw and my eyes misted. I could feel the bruise already forming.
“Again,” the vampire commanded, not allowing me recovery time. He kicked out; I jumped. This time I ducked, missing his slap.
“Now I want you to follow your instincts.” He kicked; I jumped and ducked, but I also threw my fist out and sucker punched Michel in the nose. He doubled over, and guilt filled me instantly.
“Michel! I’m sorry!” I was apologizing as I took a step toward him, but before I could finish, he lunged, grabbing my wrist and twisting me backward, effectively locking me in his arms. A cool tip touched my neck. My heart raced as I felt a dagger digging into me.
“You cannot afford to offer apology or sympathies!” Michel barked, sounding angry as he released me. “No creature will show you the same mercy that you seem to feel they are worthy of! You must close that part of you off in a fight, or lie down and die.”
From behind us, I heard Luc burst out in laughter.
“You’re killing me,” he laughed, not attempting to control himself. Luc made his way to stand beside to his brother, glaring down his nose at me.
“Leave her alone,” Michel spoke sullenly, but I could hear the hint of disappointment in his voice. Where the hell had all the cheering gone? A minute ago Michel had told me I was doing fantastic. The tone he took with his brother led me to believe he’d been less than truthful with his prior appraisal. My ego took the brunt of the insult as I attempted to disguise my face.
“What is she supposed to do? Dance the revenants to death?” Luc chuckled.
“It’s a process,” Michel responded, his words more directed to Luc than me. Failure swept me as I faced them both, seeing Luc’s open amusement and Michel’s disappointment.
“A process that will lead her into a hundred pieces at the hands of Ossa and his minions,” Luc reminded Michel, all the amusement in his tone gone and replaced with a dire warning.
“You seem to be rather entertained watching us. You think you can do better?” I asked him pointedly. I felt, more than saw, Michel shaking his head and I wished I could take the words back instantly.
“Yes, I think I could do
better,” he smirked, and in a blur, my face met Luc’s fist.
The hit was jarring, made even worse because I’d had no idea it was coming. The impact sent me to the floor, more in shock than pain. I’d never been punched and Luc’s strike was more forceful than Michel’s slap had been. Where Michel’s had been to demonstrate a point, Luc’s had been full of malice. My cheek throbbed and sent my ego tucking tail and running for the hills.
I was trying hard not to let the tears spill over my cheek as I rubbed the side of my face. Absently, I wondered where chivalry had disappeared to. Lifting my eyes, I looked for Michel, expecting him to come to my defense. Much to my chagrin, neither of the vampire brothers took steps to see if I was okay.
“Damn it,” Michel exhaled the curse, but it wasn’t directed at Luc or his strike to me, but more an indication that he was disappointed in me.
“She’s just starting, Luc.”
“And we don’t have time to teach her the Cha-Cha or play nursemaid because she’s a novice, brother!” Luc commanded, his volume louder. His eyes turned to me, and for a split second, I thought he looked remorseful. It vanished quickly and using a stern voice he hadn’t earlier, Luc addressed me, “You have instincts, Maggie! Use them!”
“You don’t need to be so cruel,” Michel argued, the same discouraged tone to his voice he’d had when the dagger was to my neck.
I sat on the floor, my air leaving me. Still holding my face, I looked up and watched the brothers as they argued about my training. I heard their words as the bickered back and forth, Luc complaining about time constraints while Michel attempted to reason my inexperience, but a singular thought echoed in my head.
He hit me, I thought. He hit me!
Eighteen
“Time is not on anybody’s side here, Michel, least of all hers,” Luc reminded his sibling while pointing at me in disgust. “The sooner you get that through your flowing locks brother, the better off we’ll be.”
Luc bent his lags and squatted in front on me. His fists on his knees, he chided, “Maggie? Do you want to die?”
“What?” I asked, dumbfounded and my pain momentarily gone.