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

by Chloe Hart

  “I’ll never touch another woman again, you know.” He was leaning forward, his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped together, his eyes on the fire in the hearth.

  “I will never again touch human blood. I hate myself for what I am, for what I’ve been. I hate every woman I’ve ever been with for the sin of not being you. I wish I were some college boy, a pimply computer geek who could ask you out on a normal date, offer you a normal life. I wish I were anything but what I am. Isn’t that enough destruction for you? Whatever I have been is gone. I don’t know what I am now, except that I’m yours.”

  Kit’s heart skipped a beat. “Mine?”

  “Yours. Yours forever, if you like that better.”

  He still wasn’t looking at her. From his tone, he might have been talking about weather or sports or gardening. But the words were there, hanging in the air between them.

  Kit took a deep breath. Her very blood was singing. “You don’t sound too happy about it.”

  He finally met her eyes, his expression savage. “Why should I be? What good do my feelings do you, or me, or anyone? I couldn’t save your brother—”

  “Saving Peter isn’t your job. It’s mine.” Suddenly Kit realized something. “I want to do it. I’m honored to do it. I think…I think maybe I was born to do it. To be a warrior. You’ve given me that, Luke. You’ve helped me recover my destiny.”

  * * *

  Luke had been working himself up to a pretty good tirade when Kit said those words. They echoed in his mind a moment, effectively shutting down the rage and desire and self-pity that had been fueling him for the last several minutes.

  That was what Kit did to him. She cut through all his defenses and all his selfishness, through the insistent voice of his own personality. She drew him outside of all that and into her.

  She looked small and fragile sitting in his oversized leather chair, but there was a dignity about her, a grace, that made her belong wherever she was.

  “I love you,” he said before he could think, or stop himself, or wonder if it was the right thing to do. He didn’t even realize he’d said it until he saw Kit’s eyes widen and heard her breath catch.

  Damn it, he thought wildly. What was happening to him? In four hundred years he hadn’t said those words to another living—or non-living—soul.

  “Kit, I—I don’t—”

  She leaned forward suddenly. “If you try to take it back, I swear to God I’ll kill you.”

  “I love you,” he said again. “I love you. I think I’ve loved you from the moment you walked into my life and tore it apart.”

  She reached out and took one of his hands in hers. The expression in her eyes turned his heart to water.

  “Does this mean we get to kiss?” she asked, and her lips were soft, and parted slightly, and he sensed her heart racing and her pulse pounding.

  He shook his head. “No.”

  Kit glared at him and let go of his hand. She sat back in the chair again, tucking her knees up to her chin and wrapping her arms around her shins.

  “Explain,” she said.

  She’d reverted back to logical Kit, and he was relieved. Logical Kit he could deal with. Logical Kit would force him to be logical, too, which would help him keep his bloodlust in check.

  “Down in the underworld, we talked a little about claiming.”

  “I remember.”

  “A claim is…well, an act of possession. It’s the closest thing vampires have to a marriage.”

  “How does it work?”

  “Well…the first stage you saw. Down in the underworld. When I claimed my right to protect you with my body.”

  “You said it was like a supernatural signature. You also said I wasn’t affected.”

  Luke nodded. “It’s a commitment that binds me but not you. The next stage—” he hesitated. “The male bites and draws blood, and speaks a phrase of possession. You’re mine. If the female accepts the claim she says it back to him.”

  He could see Kit turning this over in her mind. “What happens afterward? You said it’s like a marriage.”

  “It is—with a little supernatural enforcement. You can’t—literally can’t—be with anyone else. Your body would rebel, make you physically sick. There are other changes too. You can sense each other at a distance, for example.”

  Kit clasped her hands together tightly. “Have you ever claimed anyone?”

  He met her eyes squarely.

  “Never,” he said.

  “That’s why,” she said softly. “The night we came back. When I offered you my blood. That’s why you refused.”

  He nodded. “It would have been so easy to claim you. The way I feel about you…the way my body reacts whenever I’m near you…I am a vampire, Kit. There’s a demon in me, and I’m afraid of what I might do if that part of me takes control. If I claim you, you’ll be tied to me for all time. That would be bad enough, but I’m afraid I wouldn’t stop there. I’m afraid I’d turn you, even against your will. Or tear you to pieces in a frenzy for your blood. That’s why I need to keep my distance. Now do you understand?”

  Kit was frowning down at her clasped hands. “But…you’ve bitten hundreds of human women without killing them. Or turning them.”

  “I held myself back because I knew that even one death would bring the Green Fae after me. My desire for safety was stronger than my desire to take things too far with a woman. And I never cared about any of them. We exchanged a moment’s physical pleasure, and that was all.

  “With vampire women I went further…and with Hecate, too, because I could. She’s immortal; her body can tolerate a vampire’s passion. But you—” he swallowed. “Your body couldn’t tolerate what I want to do to you. And I want you more than I wanted Hecate, more than I’ve ever wanted any woman. I couldn’t be with you and not claim you, or hurt you, or turn you. It’s not safe, Kit.”

  He could see the lines of stubbornness in her face. “But my cousin, Celia…she’s mated to a vampire. They’ve claimed each other, but he hasn’t turned her or ripped her to pieces. And…and the North American Faery Queen. She’s mated to a vampire, too. And he hasn’t—”

  “I don’t know those vampires, Kit. I only know myself. And I know you. You value your free will more than anything. A claim would bind you, and you would hate that. You value the rational mind, and a claim is the antithesis of reason. It’s primitive, possessive, irrational—”

  She looked up and met his eyes. Her pupils were dilated and her face was crimson, as if she’d been dipped into boiling water. “La coeur a ses raisons que la raison ne connait pas,” she said.

  He knew that quote. “The heart has its reasons, of which reason knows nothing,” he translated softly.

  She nodded. “Blaise Pascal said that. He was a mathematician. A man of science. I never understood what he meant by those words, until now.”

  In the sudden silence, he could hear Kit’s heart pounding. She took a deep breath. “What if I…wanted that. Wanted you to claim me, I mean. What if I…”

  His hands clamped down on the arms of his chair. He used every ounce of self-control he possessed to stay still, and it worked. But there was no self-control left over to keep his face from changing, his eyes from turning, his fangs from descending.

  He had never fought a battle like this. He was dimly aware of Kit shrinking away from him, of the scent of her terror, and that helped him remember who he needed to be.

  A man, not a monster. A man who would protect Kit from anything, including himself.

  He closed his eyes and willed himself back to humanity.

  When he opened his eyes again Kit was pressed back into the chair, her eyes wide and frightened.

  “Okay,” she said shakily. “You made your point. I guess I’m not quite ready for that, or for any of this. But that doesn’t change how I feel. I’ll never stop wanting you, and wishing I was brave enough to…”

  She stopped, and took a breath. “Luke, I want you to know…what I said is still t
rue. I trust you with my life. You can do that fang thing a hundred times a day, and every time it’ll scare the pants off me, but it doesn’t matter. All you’ve ever done is save me. I don’t believe you’ll ever do anything to hurt me.”

  “Fine,” he said gruffly. “Let’s keep it that way, all right? And the best way to do that is to avoid tempting me beyond the point of endurance. Don’t ever ask me to claim you again.”

  “I wasn’t asking. Not exactly. I was just—”

  “You’d argue with God, wouldn’t you? For once, just agree with me. Can you do that?”

  Kit sighed. “Fine. I won’t bring it up again.”

  “Good.”

  There was a moment of silence.

  “What now?” Kit asked finally, looking at him quizzically.

  “Now? Speaking as your trainer, I think you should eat supper and go to bed early tonight.”

  “Speaking as my trainer? Why don’t you speak as the man who’s passionately in love with me?”

  In spite of himself, Luke felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. “I don’t think I said that, exactly.”

  “Yes, you did. Close enough, anyway. Come on, Luke—” her tone was half joking, half serious, and he prayed she would only ask what he could safely give.

  She was leaning forward, her gray eyes dark. “We can’t kiss, we can’t claim, we can’t do…well, anything. The least you can do is tell me. Tell me how you feel.”

  He slid off the chair and onto his knees at her feet. He looked up at her, knowing his heart was in his face and not giving a damn.

  “I love you,” he said, hearing the tremor in his voice and not giving a damn about that either. “God, Kit, I love you more than I ever thought I could love anyone. So many years I’ve lived in darkness…it was my reality. The reality I chose. Light became a myth, a bedtime story for children. Like heaven. Like love. Then you…”

  Tears had formed in her eyes. “You haven’t asked me to say it back,” she whispered, as one drop and then another slid down her cheeks.

  “I don’t care if you never say it back,” he said. “It wouldn’t make any difference. If you hated me, Kit, it wouldn’t make me love you any less.”

  Kit slid off her chair and knelt, too, her knees only inches from his. “I love you, too,” she whispered. “You’re the first man I’ve ever loved. The only man I will ever love.”

  Thank God he didn’t need to breathe.

  She was so close, so beautiful, that his physical longing for her should have flared up even hotter, burning him from the inside. Instead it melted away, leaving a strange thrumming peace in his body as he gazed at Kit.

  She loved him. Kit loved him. The unexpected grace flowed over him like water.

  So strange, so strange. He was a vampire, a creature who lived by desire and the fulfillment of desire, a creature for whom craving never came without satisfaction. A creature driven by lust as by a whip, needing no reason or justification for his appetites. How was it, then, that desire had become subject to love?

  Kit leaned forward and kissed his cheek, quickly and clumsily, and Luke was made aware of how quickly his newly exalted state could be tempered by a return to the purely sensual.

  “Good night,” Kit said, looking at him with stars in her eyes. A minute later she was gone, the door closing softly behind her.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Training went well the next day, but that night Kit lay wide awake in bed, listening to the storm rising outside. The wind was howling like something out of a Gothic novel.

  She shivered and glanced at the fire, dying into embers. Its warmth was almost gone. The chill in the air crept inside her bones.

  There was plenty of wood beside the hearth, and it would have been easy to build the fire to its former blazing glory. But she was afraid that if she got out of bed her feet would carry her out the door, up the stairs, and into the room where Luke was sleeping.

  Luke.

  His feelings for her had given him, somehow, a self-control and self-mastery he’d never had before. From the moment they’d met he’d protected her, even from himself.

  But how was it that as he gained control she was losing hers?

  Maybe she should blame it on the training they’d been doing. Over and over today, Luke had told her to let go, to trust her body’s instincts. The strength she’d felt flashes of in Paris was a part of her now. But the more she rode that power like a wave, the more the other tides of her body demanded release.

  “That’s it,” she said out loud, throwing the covers back and sitting up in bed.

  Maybe they couldn’t kiss or do any of the other things people did when they were in love, but she didn’t have to stay here alone in a cold bed. The least Luke could do was hold her in his arms.

  Damn him, anyway. How dare he stay virtuously upstairs while she lay down here feeling like…like…

  Okay, so he was probably right about not letting anything happen between them. For one crazy moment last night she’d wanted him to claim her, but in her heart she knew she wasn’t ready for that.

  But did that mean they couldn’t have anything?

  Luke kept telling her to trust herself, to listen to her body. Well, she was listening now.

  Her determination carried her up the spiral staircase to the outside of Luke’s door. She hesitated only a moment before turning the knob and crossing the threshold.

  “Kit? Is everything all right?”

  Her eyes adjusted to the mix of firelight and shadow, and she could see Luke sitting up on the mattress he’d laid on the floor.

  She cleared her throat. “There’s a blizzard outside.”

  He chuckled at that. “It is a little windy, yes. Did you come up here to give me an update on the weather?”

  She closed the door and leaned back against it. She was wearing a tee shirt and sweatpants but her feet were bare, and the stone stairs had been like blocks of ice. “It’s much warmer up here than in my room.”

  “The fireplace in your room is bigger than this one. If you just took the trouble to—”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, Luke! Just invite me into your bed. I want…I want to feel your arms around me. You can do that without unleashing the unholy beast within, can’t you?”

  It was the first time she’d ever propositioned a man, even a proposition as innocent as this one, and in the silence that followed her request she felt like a girl who’d just asked a guy to the prom.

  “You want to sleep with me?” he asked hesitantly. “Sleep beside me, I mean?” he added quickly.

  “Yes.” She grinned suddenly. “I promise I won’t try to seduce you. To be honest, I wouldn’t have a clue how to go about it. But it’s awfully lonely downstairs, and the wind is howling, and I thought—”

  “Come here,” Luke said, and Kit was so relieved her knees felt weak. In high school, she never did ask the boy she liked to the prom.

  She crossed the room to his makeshift bed, where he held the covers open for her. He was wearing sweatpants but no shirt, and his bare chest was golden in the light of the fire. With a feeling half of nervousness, half of relief, Kit slipped in beside him.

  He pulled her close, tucking the blankets around them into a warm cocoon, and Kit closed her eyes and rested her cheek against Luke’s bare chest, breathing in his scent.

  Her feet were the last part of her to warm up.

  Surprisingly, she slept, more sweetly and soundly than she would have imagined possible. When her eyes opened again the cold gray light of early morning was creeping in through the high, narrow windows.

  She turned her head and saw Luke sleeping beside her. He lay on his back, uncovered, since she had, apparently, pulled the blankets around herself in the night.

  His chest was like sculpted alabaster, broad and strong, his stomach muscles ripped like a body builder’s. His hip bones angled down and inwards, leading the eye inevitably towards…

  Bad thoughts. Back up to his chest, his shoulders, the strong lines of
his neck, and most of all his face. Without thinking Kit reached out a hand to brush the hair away from his forehead, and then she let her fingers trace the lines of his cheek bones, his jaw, his lips.

  She realized with a sudden shock that his eyes were open. She jerked her hand away and felt herself blush from head to toe.

  “Sorry,” she muttered, scooting away from him to the edge of the mattress. He rolled over onto his side and faced her, smiling slightly. He reached out a hand and touched the side of her face, and the feel of his calloused fingers moving so gently over her skin made her tremble.

  “Turnabout is fair play,” he said in a low voice that sent shivers down her spine.

  “I think this is the thing we’re not supposed to do,” she said huskily. His hand stilled, and withdrew.

  “You’re right,” he admitted. “But you’re the one who started it.”

  “Sorry.”

  They lay on their sides facing each other, and Kit wondered what to call the shade of Luke’s eyes. Sapphire? Lapis lazuli?

  “How’d you sleep?” he asked, finally.

  “Amazingly well,” she answered. “I think we should do this every night.”

  “Vixen,” he said softly.

  “Not at all,” she said virtuously, grinning at him. “I didn’t make a single move on you last night. Did I?”

  “No,” Luke said, reaching out once more as if he couldn’t help himself, and threading his fingers through her hair. The sensation raised prickling goose bumps on her scalp, and her stomach muscles clenched. She scooted a little further away and fell off the mattress onto the floor.

  “Oof!”

  Luke smiled at her as she scrambled to her feet. “For a girl who’s as graceful as a cat in a fight, you sure are clumsy in the bedroom. Are you sure you want to do this again?”

  “Yes,” she said seriously. “I want to be as close to you as I can before I…oh, who are we kidding, Luke? You know there’s a chance I won’t win the harp. And if I don’t, there’s only one other way I can—”