Drawn to the Vampire (Blood and Absinthe, Book 4)

by Chloe Hart

  She was desperate to be covered from his gaze, and she pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweater with frantic, shaking hands.

  Once she was dressed, she straightened up to look at Luke. His expression was angry, but there was hurt there, too.

  Kit hugged herself defensively. “For God’s sakes, put on some clothes,” she snapped.

  The hurt in his eyes disappeared, leaving only the anger.

  “Absolutely, sweetheart,” he said coldly, standing up and deliberately letting the towel drop to the floor. Kit had one glimpse of what had to be male perfection before she turned away hastily, cheeks burning.

  “What got your knickers in such a twist, anyway?” Luke asked tightly. Kit heard the wardrobe door open, and she was grateful that she’d soon have a non-naked vampire to deal with.

  “You had your arms around me and you—you were kissing my hair.”

  The wardrobe door slammed shut violently, and Luke was standing there in jeans and a thick black cotton shirt. There was still anger in his expression but something else, too.

  Vulnerability.

  “I wasn’t trying to seduce you,” he said, as if it really mattered that she believe that. “I was just trying to—to comfort you. You were crying—”

  “I don’t want your comfort!” she almost shouted at him. “What do you know about comfort? What do you know about human love or human pain or—or—”

  Luke’s expression had closed and hardened. “Nothing,” he said. “That’s what you want to believe, right? I don’t know anything about love or pain. Forgive me for the terrible sin of trying to make you feel better. It won’t happen again.”

  They stared at each other for a moment. The vampire was cold and controlled; Kit was trembling.

  All of a sudden she couldn’t stand to be in that room one more second.

  “I’m getting out of here,” she said harshly, moving towards the door.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Out. I can go out, right? I’m not a prisoner—not anymore. I thought I might take a little walk down to Daro’s and rip him limb from limb.”

  He was in front of her, blocking the door. “Bad idea, Kit,” he said calmly.

  She stared him down. “Maybe you don’t understand how I feel about this. Daro took away my free will. He made me do things I would never…I don’t know how else to explain it to you, but what happened to me last night is the worst thing in the world.”

  “I know that, damn it. Why do you think I didn’t…oh, forget it. Whether or not you believe me, I do know how you feel, and I still say it’s a bad idea to go after him.”

  She folded her arms. “Why?”

  “You don’t know what he’ll do. He’s already cast one spell over you. Do you want to take the chance he’ll put you out of commission tonight? What’s more important: getting revenge on Daro, or rescuing your brother?”

  He had a point, damn him.

  “Fine. I won’t go to Daro’s. But I’m still leaving, so get out of my way.”

  He still hesitated. “About your strength—”

  Kit drew back a step. “What?”

  “It’s just…I don’t think it has anything to do with Peter. I do know something about the underworld, and there’s no transition or threshold or anything like that. Once you’re there, you usually don’t change at all. You’re in a kind of stasis. He’s not out of reach, Kit. We can get him out. We will get him out.”

  Kit bit her lip. He was offering comfort again, even though he’d said he wouldn’t, and even though he was keeping his distance physically. And it worked. She still had no idea why she had those sudden bursts of strength, but what Luke said made sense. It might not have anything to do with Peter.

  She didn’t know what to say to Luke, so she just nodded. He hesitated another moment and then stepped to the side. Kit breathed a sigh of relief, pulled the door open, and was gone.

  * * *

  She was gone.

  After a few moments, Luke moved away from the door, walking restlessly and aimlessly around the darkened room. He looked at the curtained windows in frustration. If only he could look out, try to spot Kit as she left the hotel…but what good would that do? She’d gone where he couldn’t follow.

  Into the light.

  Worry began to assail him. Had he been wrong to let her go out there? She was so damned stubborn, not to mention willful and impetuous and confrontational…what were the chances she’d really keep away from Daro?

  Daro and his spells…

  Luke ran a hand through his still damp hair. For all the gratitude he’d gotten from Kit, he might as well have taken her last night.

  In spite of the fact that he now knew she was attracted to him, he didn’t think she’d ever admit it, much less act on it. She’d made it perfectly clear what she thought of him. He was a heartless monster in her eyes, good only as a hired gun to get her into the underworld so she could save her precious brother.

  He could have taken her. He could have said he didn’t realize she was under a spell. Hell, he could have said he knew about the spell and didn’t give a damn.

  It wasn’t like she expected anything else from him. She thought he was an evil vampire with no feelings and no conscience, so why hadn’t he acted like it? She wouldn’t have thought any less of him than she already did.

  And he would have had one night with her.

  Luke went to her bed and stretched himself out, prone, remembering what it had been like to feel her beneath him.

  Her scent clung to the sheets, the pillow, the very air. Her warmth…the fire within her…in four hundred years Luke had never wanted anything as much as he wanted to bury himself inside Kit Bantry. To feel her sweetness all around him. To taste every inch of her. To possess her utterly, to drive into her until she forgot everything but him.

  He’d had his chance last night. Had it and let it go by. And what was his reward? Kit taunting him this morning for acting like a human being.

  Acting like a human being…

  Luke’s eyes snapped open. He sat up, and then rose to his feet. For a minute he stood still. Then he pulled off the silver band he wore on his right ring finger, placed it in the center of his palm, and extended his hand in a gesture of supplication.

  He closed his eyes. “Demeter, I pray thee, grace this poor creature with thy presence.”

  He waited a moment, then opened his eyes.

  She was hovering a few feet away from him, little more than a wraith in this dimension but still visible.

  “Hello, Luke.”

  He bowed his head. “Thank you for coming, my lady.”

  Even as a spirit Demeter was beautiful, with wide, deep eyes and flowers twined in her ghostly hair. She drifted a little closer as she appraised him.

  “It’s been a few years, hasn’t it, my dear? And yet you haven’t aged a bit. What have you got for me this time? Fabulous jewels? Holy grails? Sacred statues?”

  Her voice was faintly mocking, but after a hundred years’ acquaintance Luke was used to her ways.

  “Once again, my lady, I beg you to restore my humanity.”

  “And once again I ask you, why should I grant this request?”

  “Because I’ve formed an attachment to a human girl.”

  Demeter’s outline shimmered a little, as if disturbed by a breeze he couldn’t feel.

  “I see,” she said gravely. “Rather inconvenient for you, I’m sure. And certainly unexpected. I think you’d better tell me about it.”

  So he did. He told the story haltingly, and, he thought, clumsily, especially when he came to the events of last night. He didn’t want to sound like he expected a reward for good behavior…but wasn’t that exactly what he did want?

  His story finished, Luke stood still and waited for the goddess’ verdict.

  Demeter was quiet a moment, absently creating a flower out of thin air and twirling it between transparent fingers. “You’ve formed an attachment to her,” she said finally, “but she doesn�
�t have similar feelings for you.”

  “That’s because I’m a vampire. If I were human…”

  “If you were human, you think it would be different?”

  He was silent.

  Demeter tilted her head to the side. “I think you’re forgetting something, my child,” she said gently.

  “What?”

  “If you were human, you couldn’t help Kit with her quest. It’s because you’re a vampire that she came to you. Only a vampire can lead her into the land of the dead.”

  Luke was taken aback. He had forgotten that. His desire for Kit had driven everything else into the background.

  “What’s more important?” Demeter asked. “To help Kit save her brother, or to win her for yourself?”

  “All right,” he growled. “I get it. And I withdraw my request. You’re the most annoying goddess in the pantheon, do you know that?”

  “I do my best,” she said serenely. “But don’t give up, lad. It’s taken more than a century but I think you may actually be making progress.”

  He stared at her. “Do you mean if I help Kit you’ll—”

  “Now, Luke, you know it doesn’t work like that. I’ve told you before that there’s nothing you can do to buy back your humanity.”

  “Then what can I do? Is it hopeless? If you would just tell me—”

  “I’m sorry. But don’t despair, my dear. While there’s life there’s hope.”

  “Very funny,” he muttered, but Demeter was gone.

  It was ironic that after four hundred years of sending women on their way, now that he actually wanted to keep one around, they kept disappearing on him.

  Karma, he thought wryly, and went to the phone to order a delivery from the butcher shop.

  He wasn’t sorry he’d invoked Demeter, he thought later, waiting out the long hours for Kit to return or the sun to go down. He’d once again failed to get what he wanted, but his heart was lighter. Maybe Kit despised him because he was a vampire, but Demeter had reminded him of one thing: she needed him, too.

  He felt better as the afternoon waned into evening. He drank long and deep after the butcher’s boy came with his delivery, and the taste of blood reminded him that his existence had its pleasures as well as its pains.

  It wasn’t like he was in love with Kit. Even to Demeter he’d only said he was attached. Attachment wasn’t love. It was just more than he usually felt for a woman, that was all. Hell, maybe his feelings only seemed stronger because she kept resisting him.

  And whatever else happened, once this was all over, he would taste her blood. Maybe that would get her out of his system. Until then, he’d just have to—

  The door opened, and Kit was there.

  Luke had been relaxing in an armchair with a book open in his lap. Now he sprang to his feet before he could stop himself, his relief so great it left him weak in the knees.

  “You’re back,” he said, trying to sound matter-of-fact.

  Kit closed the door behind her and advanced into the room. She was carrying a brown bag that she thrust towards him abruptly.

  “I brought you some dinner,” she said, and disappeared into the bathroom.

  It was blood. She’d brought him blood from a butcher shop.

  Luke put the bag in the mini fridge, right next to the twenty euro bottle of Perrier.

  “Thanks,” he said casually, when Kit emerged again. “I’ve already eaten, but this will be a nice snack for later.”

  “We’re going to the cemetery later, aren’t we?”

  “Yes. The sun’s almost down. We can leave as soon as it sets.”

  “Right.” She chewed on her lip, frowning.

  Luke put his hands into his pockets to keep himself from touching those lips. “Where were you all day?”

  She glanced up at him. “I didn’t go to Daro’s, if that’s what you’re wondering. I was just…walking. This is my first time in Paris, you know. It’s a beautiful city.” She hesitated a moment. “I also made a phone call. It turns out you were right.”

  “Well, get used to it. What, specifically, was I right about?”

  “About what happened to me before. It didn’t have anything to do with Peter. I called my cousin Celia to ask about it, and to fill her in on what we’re trying to do. She said that a person with Fae blood may have latent abilities, but if they choose to live as a human—like I have—those abilities remain dormant unless something triggers them. So…I might be a warrior, after all. Like Peter. But because I chose not to follow that path, I never felt the call.”

  Luke thought about that. Once he came to the obvious conclusion, he worried it like a tongue worrying a sore tooth.

  “It makes sense that I would trigger you,” he said. “After all, I’m the thing you were born to fight. Hating me is practically in your DNA. Even last night, a part of you recognized me as an enemy.”

  That had to be it. He and Kit were born to hate each other. To hurt each other.

  The only problem was, he didn’t think of Kit as an enemy. He thought of her as…

  Hell.

  “Something on your mind?” he asked finally, after the silence had stretched several minutes.

  Kit was looking at him with a worried expression. “It’s just…I…”

  Her skin was almost translucent, he thought. That’s why it showed the rush of blood so easily.

  “Spit it out, Kit.”

  Still she hesitated. She came a step or two closer. Then, without warning, she reached out a hand and touched his cheek.

  Immediately he stepped back.

  “Don’t do that,” he said coldly. “You’re not under a spell now, and you made it very clear this morning what our boundaries are. You can’t change the rules whenever you feel like it. Maybe I didn’t take advantage of you last night, but that doesn’t mean I’m tame. Don’t touch me again unless you mean it.”

  Kit took a deep breath. “Got it,” she said quickly. “You’re not tame, and don’t touch you unless I mean it.” She caught her lower lip in her teeth again.

  “And quit biting your lip like that.”

  “Huh?”

  “I said don’t bite your lip like that. If you don’t want to tease the vampire, that would be a good thing to avoid.”

  Kit relaxed a little bit. “I see,” she said. “Anything else I should avoid?”

  He looked at her appraisingly, the mood between them perceptibly lighter. “You play with your hair sometimes, when you’re deep in thought. Curling one strand around your finger. I could do without that.”

  She smiled at him. “I’ll do my best.”

  “And I’d also appreciate it if you’d stop smiling.”

  Kit put her hands to her cheeks. “Now I can’t stop,” she protested. She backed up a few steps and sank down into the arm chair he’d vacated. “Will you at least let me apologize?”

  “For what?”

  “You know for what. Last night, you…protected me. When you had every excuse not to. I don’t care what my DNA says. I don’t hate you and you’re not my enemy. We made a bargain to work together, and you’ve honored it. You’ve done more than that. I should have thanked you this morning, and instead I—”

  “Snapped my head off?”

  “Well, yes.”

  He waved it off. “Already forgotten. I’ve been around for four centuries, Kit. However obnoxious you are, our time together won’t be more than a blip on my radar screen.”

  She nodded slowly, her expression still worried, and Luke had never wanted to kiss anyone as much as he wanted to kiss Kit Bantry at that moment.

  She didn’t hate him. Not exactly a poem by Wordsworth, but it was something.

  And what about him? Whatever he was feeling, it was more than attachment. It was—no. He was damned if he’d say it, even to himself.

  Luke closed his eyes. If he wanted to save his sanity, the only thing to do was get Kit’s brother out of the underworld and get her the hell out of his life.

  After giving her a li
ttle something to remember him by, of course.

  “The sun’s down,” he said, opening his eyes. “Are you ready to go?”

  She stood up. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” she said, and hesitated. “Luke, what if we can’t—”

  “Stop right there,” he said. “Decide right now that we’re going to succeed. Peter needs you to be strong. Answer me again: are you ready to go?”

  She paused only briefly before lifting her chin. “Yes,” she said firmly.

  “That’s my girl.”

  “I’m not your girl any more than you’re my tame vampire.”

  “Right. What I meant to say was, that’s my temporary business partner. Doesn’t have quite the same zing, but—”

  “Shut up and let’s get to work.”

  He smiled at her. “Whatever you say.”

  Chapter Eight

  They took a taxi to the Père-Lachaise in eastern Paris. The neighborhood was quiet, and the sidewalks around the cemetery were deserted.

  The air was cool when they stepped out of the cab, and the moon, nearly full, cast its silvery light over them as Luke led Kit away from the main entrance to a smaller gate in the wall. He picked the lock with practiced ease and Kit followed him through the narrow doorway.

  She gasped.

  The cemetery stretched as far as the eye could see, a network of stone tombs like tiny houses crowded together, interspersed with fantastic statuary. There were mourning figures carved from stone and marble, hovering angels, crosses; every symbol of religious faith as well as more modernistic images.

  “It’s like a miniature city,” she said to Luke as she hurried to keep up with him. He was striding purposely along one of the many paths, looking neither left nor right at the tombs they were passing.

  She wished she could take a closer look at the elaborate carving, the stained glass windows, the inscriptions. She felt the pull of the place, its power.

  “It’s nothing like American cemeteries. It’s incredible.”

  “It’s a monument to death,” Luke said sharply. “No better than the Egyptians with their pyramids.”

  Kit looked at him in surprise. “I would have expected you to be, I don’t know, sort of drawn to cemeteries. Aren’t they your natural habitat?”