Page 44

“So this was only a way for Jackson to spy on our conversations,” Samantha said.

“An excuse, certainly,” Dominique agreed, turning pages again. The faded, looping cursive was difficult to make out. If this was a ruse to plant a bug, it was an elaborate one, but not beyond the realm of possibility for Jackson, who had tried to plant surveillance equipment in their homes before.

He paged back to the passage that had so upset Serge. “‘…casts out the mortal soul and becomes the true nature of the consumer of life and rules him always.’”

“Lies,” Cassidy said. “In all the ways it matters, you’re still who you were as a mortal.”

Dominique rubbed his chin, and felt the acute bones of his jaw, felt his alter ego tug at the chains that confined it—most of the time. “The beast is not who I was.”

“That’s not your true nature.”

“It is now.”

Her clapped mouth shut, but not her mind. No, it isn’t.

Because I fight it. Because you help me fight it. “You remember what I was like when you first met me?”

One of her arched brows rose higher in challenge. “An obnoxious Frenchman with a limited wardrobe?”

“And you liked that about me, non?” His smile faltered when she didn’t take the bait. “The beast ruled me, chérie. It still does.” For all his efforts to keep his humanity, he would always need blood, and he would always want to take it in the most violent, emotionally charged way possible. If his encounters with Bijou had taught him anything at all, it was that he would always be a slave to his instincts.

I don’t care. Just because it’s written in a book that looks and smells old doesn’t mean it’s true of you.

But it was true. He knew this, and so did she, even if, like Serge, she chose to pretend otherwise. When that bit of logic hit her, she sat forward and put her glass down on the table. “It’s because of me.”

“Oui,” he murmured. Her faith in his ability to master his darkest demons was the only reason that he could.

“What is?” Samantha asked, looking between them. Beside her, Serge stared at the parquet floor between his feet.

Cassidy propped her elbows on her knees and touched her fingertips together. A storm brewed in her mind. He caught it in their link like a first whiff of ozone on the wind. There was no stopping her. He could only watch in spellbound horror.

“You can’t kill your sire. Not if there’s any possibility of you”—Dying. She glanced at Serge—“damaging yourself.”

“I can’t destroy him either way. I am no match for him. No blood-drinker I have ever met would be.”

Serge began to quake.

“Even if you could, it wouldn’t be only your life you’d be risking. Is it?”

Her quiet words struck hard and fast as lightning, illuminating a new truth. Kambyses was ancient. How many had he sired? How many generations of blood-drinkers walked the Earth because of him? Thousands? Tens of thousands? More? How many of these were like Dominique and Serge? Struggling to exist night after night with the least amount of violence, clinging to whatever little joy they might have? If he destroyed Kambyses, could he cast them all into “death eternal” like some divine judge, jury, and executioner?

“Non,” he whispered. “Perhaps not.”

“He obviously wants you for something, and he’s gone to great lengths to find and manipulate you.”

Dominique opened his mouth, but words would not come. Nor could he move. Or think. The sheer power of the storm about to annihilate his existence paralyzed him with dread.

“Serge, you said you foresaw me bringing home a weapon today.”

When the pirate’s eyes lifted to focus on her, they lit up as he, too, recognized the coming tempest. He nodded slightly, mesmerized.

“I only brought the trigger.” She glanced at the book. “The weapon is…”

“No!” Dominique bellowed. Samantha and Serge flinched in unison.

Cassidy tilted her head in defiance. “Yes.”

“You must have nothing to do with him. Never!”