Death's Mistress

“I had no idea how dangerous she could be,” he said drily. “She kept her abilities very well hidden. I was more concerned with the possibility that she would give herself away. Christine was quite lucid much of the time, but at others…”

“I saw.” That image of her playing in Anthony’s mutilated chest would stay with me a while. She’d seemed so… happy.

“But at Alejandro’s court, eccentricity is the order of the day. Apparently no one noticed. And Alejandro kept her closely confined; he knew that I would be looking for any way to steal her back.”

“But Elyas wasn’t so careful.”

“No. Alejandro transferred Christine to him once he discovered that Tomas was missing, fearing that his threat to kill her might lead me to desperate measures. Elyas agreed to take her, but it seems that his only concession to security was to tell the doorman not to allow her egress! She appeared timid and powerless to him—not someone to worry about. Not someone to fear.”

“Which is one reason she was able to kill so easily. Everyone else thought the same.”

“Fortunately she appears to have concluded that killing single vampires would do little good in her quest to eradicate the breed. And it might lead to her discovery and execution before she could put a larger plan in place. At least, Marlowe can find no reports of mysterious deaths, either here or near Elyas’s estate. We do not know what occurred at Alejandro’s, but I assume it was the same.”

“She was saving it up for one big blowout.”

“It would seem so.”

I rolled over so I could see his face. “Okay, end of the easy questions. What were you doing in my head?”

“Mind speak is part of your legacy, from your vampire half. I assume the wine you have been drinking allowed it to manifest.”

Fey wine—a curse and a blessing, I thought. And then my eyes narrowed. “But how did you know that? I haven’t been mind speaking to you, or to anyone.”

He looked away, and his tongue swept over his lips again. “There may have been a few instances when I picked up… thoughts.”

“Thoughts?”

“Feelings, mostly.”

“Good feelings?”

His eyes flicked back to mine, and a faint smile tugged at his lips. “Very good.”

Considering the kind of things I’d been picking up from him, I decided to let it drop. For the moment. “All right. But why tell me all that crap about you and Christine? You let me believe that you two were going to pick up where you left off.”

“How could I do otherwise? You have spent a lifetime killing revenants. How could I tell you that I was harboring one?”

“You were afraid I’d kill her?”

“That, yes. But there was also your reaction. I knew you would be shocked, disgusted, horrified—everything I saw on your face in the tu

“Knew what?”

“That there was no chance for us!” His face was serious, passionate. It made me want to thump him.

“Why? Because Marlowe disapproves and the Senate won’t like it? Personally I think that’s kind of a bonus.”’

He looked at me in disbelief. “I stole from you. I lied to you about Christine. I left you with a madwoman—”

“Twice.”

“You have every right to wish to never see me again!”

“Yes. But then, you also helped me fight off a bunch of crazy fey, ran out on your murder trial because you thought I might need help and, from what I hear, pried me out of a wall.”

I yawned, and when I looked up again, Louis-Cesare had that same mix of hope, uncertainty and fear on his face that I’d seen once before. “What are you saying?” he asked carefully.

“I’m saying…” I paused. What was I saying? Was I actually thinking about this? Was I actually doing this? Because out of a lifetime of crazy things, this had to take the prize. Dhampirs didn’t have relationships—not long-term ones, at least. And certainly not with the creatures we were supposed to be hunting. I didn’t know what the hell I was doing, and this was probably going to end in disaster. Everyone knew, there was no such thing as happy endings, and princes didn’t end up with the family pariah.

But now it seems that I am a pariah, too, drifted through my head.

“Stop it,” I said, leaning back against him. His arms were tight around me, but his hands were gentle. I could hear a heartbeat in my ear, and it sounded natural, soothing. “What are you saying? That I can’t corrupt you?”

He brushed his lips over mine, the faintest of touches, his breath warm against my skin. “I intend to give you every opportunity to try.”

I smiled as I drifted back to sleep. Okay. That could work.