Page 26 of Vampire so Virtuous (Boston Vampires #1)

Perhaps I might even slip into the background…

“I assume all your entertainments are available to us?” Lady Beatrice asked lightly.

… Or not.

Belle nodded graciously, though Antoine, familiar as he was with her, noticed the slight tightening in her shoulders. She clearly wasn’t pleased with the request. Was she merely possessive, or was there some other reason?

“Naturally, my home is yours,” Belle replied, her thick French accent hiding any tension that might have seeped through .

“The spawn should leave,” the man said imperiously, stepping forward.

It was the first time Antoine had heard that word, but the implication was clear: she was his sire; he was her spawn.

It wasn’t an attractive term, but as all vampires were made and not born, everyone in the room was also spawn.

More concerning still, they each had a sire—and presumably, their sires were even more powerful.

Antoine had no desire to ever meet any of them.

“I wish him to stay, Lord William,” Belle replied, lifting her chin.

“What we have to discuss is not for his ears, Belle d’Aubigny.”

She bowed her head in acquiescence. “As you wish, my lord.” Then she waved a hand at Antoine. “Leave us.”

*

Antoine had use of a simple room in Belle’s chateau. Its only furnishings were a bed, a chest for clothes, and a table with a chair beside the fireplace. The room wasn’t large, with no windows to worry about, no light to disturb his sleep. It was barely more than a cell, but it served his needs.

Dawn was nearing. Antoine sat in the chair, dressed only in his breeches, reading a book. The fire provided some light, but he didn’t need it.

The door opened without so much as a knock, and he looked, irritation flickering across his face. What thrall would dare? Belle never visited him here; she merely summoned him when she wanted him. But the sharp reprimand he had ready died on his lips as Lady Beatrice entered.

“My, what a plain little room,” she said, with obvious distaste.

Antoine rose promptly, setting his book on the table. “My lady, I was not made aware that you would be visiting.”

“If you had known, it wouldn’t have been a surprise,” she replied, letting the door close behind her. Her eyes roamed over his bare torso.

He stepped toward the bed, casually reaching for the shirt he had discarded there. “Is there something I can assist you with, my lady?”

“Your English is impressive. Do you have a name?”

“Antoine, my lady.” He lifted the shirt and began to slip one arm into a sleeve.

“Oh, don’t feel a need to dress on my account,” she said, waving a hand airily. “Such a fine figure you have.”

He hesitated. Was that a command? Would it offend to continue?

“Thank you, my lady.” Safer to let the shirt fall from his arm. He tossed it over the back of the chair, then asked again, careful not to sound dismissive, “How can I help you?”

She approached him, one hand lifting to trail a nail across his chest, leaving a thin red line in its wake. “I’m sure there are various things you could do for me.”

Antoine suppressed the urge to pull away.

He was used to being summoned for Belle’s amusement, and it seemed such was his lot in life.

Despite her deceptively delicate appearance, this woman was far more powerful than Belle.

He knew firsthand how much more powerful Belle was than he, and the Lady Beatrice would be faster, stronger, and possess powers he couldn’t even begin to comprehend. He was at her mercy—if she had any.

“As my lady desires,” he answered softly.

“Tell me,” she said, flicking one fingernail across his nipple, “what manner of services do you perform for your mistress?”

“Whatever she wishes of me, my lady,” he replied diplomatically, allowing for, but not hinting at, any innuendo. There was already enough promise of sex.

Her hand drifted lower, fingertips grazing his abdomen, teasing with a hint of her nails. “Does she fuck you?”

Antoine felt himself begin to respond to her. This close, she was as beautiful as Belle in her own way, and for the past two years, he had been trained to perform as his mistress desired. Her question was nothing if not direct, yet he felt torn by some sense of loyalty.

“She takes from me what she wishes, my lady.” That was true enough.

“I’m sure she does.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, laden with the promise of pleasure—hers, not his.

Her hand descended further, trailing a finger across the growing bulge in his breeches.

Antoine suppressed a shiver, fighting his body’s response.

She still hadn’t made clear her intent, and it was not his place to presume. “Does she feed from you?”

Again, he hesitated. The questions were strangely intimate, and he wasn’t sure if he had permission to answer so directly.

“As I have said, my lady, she takes from me what she wishes.”

Her eyes flashed with anger at his equivocation. Her face hardened, and before he could react, her hand shot up, fingers digging into his hair with a speed almost too quick for him to detect. She twisted, yanking his head back and exposing his throat with a strength he knew he couldn’t match.

“Does she, or does she not, take your blood?” She bit off each word, pulling him down to his knees before her.

“She does, my lady,” he answered, keeping his tone as moderate as he could. The pain in his scalp was mild; Belle regularly inflicted far worse. If this was all she wished to do, he could bear it .

She laughed lightly, the sound carrying a faint bite. “My, but our Belle has been a naughty girl.” Her grip tightened, holding him in place as she gathered her skirts. It took her a while to collect the voluminous fabric, and he could do nothing but remain still before her.

When she finally draped one bare leg over his shoulder and pulled his head closer, her skirts cascaded around him. He was under them, and it became clear she wore nothing beneath. Her hand guided him to her.

“Do you know our laws, Antoine?” she asked, her voice husky as she ground her hips against his face.

“No, my lady,” he said, muffled against her body, but he knew she would hear him clearly. He hesitated, then tentatively licked, his compliance growing as her hand urged him.

“Another area where Belle seems to be remiss.” Her foot dug into his back, pulling him closer. She gasped softly, a small sound of pleasure. “But I cannot judge her too harshly when she’s clearly trained you so well.”

Resigned to his fate, Antoine used his tongue with all the skill he could muster. His life might well depend on it.

*

Boston, Massachusetts, Present day.

“Memories?” Gabriel asked.

“Too many,” Antoine replied shortly.

Gabriel scoffed sardonically. “You can say that again.”

“What about you? Ever met a Curia member?”

He ducked his head briefly, his eyes darkening. “A few times. First was about a hundred and fifty years ago, in Chicago. A vamp tried to push into someone else’s territory and broke all the rules. They sent Nathan Walsh. You know him?”

Antoine shook his head.

“Scary. Came alone, no escort, no servants. One night, then every thrall and spawn in the territory was dead. The vamp was taken, wrapped in chains. Never heard what happened to him, but he’s never been seen since.

” Gabriel stared at the card table. “I was on clean up for that one. We had our work cut out for us, getting everything hidden before the chattel discovered the bodies.” He paused, lost in the images in his mind.

“He’d been brutal. Efficient, yes, but brutal. ”

“He killed the spawns?”

“Mmm. He killed everything and everyone the vamp had touched. Including the spawns. ”

Antoine shifted in his chair, uncomfortable. “That’s surprising.”

“I think the Curia sees the Code as more of a set of guidelines, to be ignored when it suits them.”

Antoine thought back to Belle, to Lady Beatrice.

“Because, my pet, rules are just rules. Nothing matters beyond power.”

“I agree,” he said. “And that makes them unpredictable, and a law unto themselves.”

“Yes, which is concerning,” Gabriel said. “The second time I encountered the Curia was here, in Boston, shortly before you arrived. It is, in fact, how I got my territory.”

“Oh?” This was new ground, something they’d never discussed. Not that they’d ever particularly talked before; this was fast becoming the longest conversation they’d ever had. Allies indeed.

“The vamp who had my region before me was a tobacco plantation owner from North Carolina, by the name of Alonso Ramirez. Originally a Spaniard who came over during the colonization. He moved north in the eighteenth century, and settled here in Boston.” Gabriel shrugged.

“I knew him in passing; I hadn’t been here long.

The Curia turned up, evicted him, and handed me his territory. ”

“I have heard of such happening before. Yet in the Code, our domains are sacrosanct.”

“That’s the point, isn’t it? They can do what they want, and they ignore the Code when it suits them.”

“Do you know why they acted so?”

Gabriel shook his head dismissively. “It was never prudent to ask.”

“What of your other interactions with them?”

“Pomp, circumstance, a lot of public fawning and private conversations. Nothing more.”

“Mmm. So, a visit from the Curia could turn everything on its head.”

“Or be an excuse for a very awkward party.”

“We could so wish,” Antoine said. “Well, I am glad to have made an alliance this evening, and perhaps even a friendship.”

Gabriel inclined his head. “Turbulent times. We should’ve done this years ago, Antoine.”

“Yes, we should. I suppose the whole ‘loner’ thing comes with the territory, doesn’t it?” He rose from his chair.

Gabriel rose too, walking around the table. “You always kept to yourself. Ironic, though—of all the vampires in the city, you’re the easiest to talk to.” He held out his arm .

Antoine clasped it with his. “I’d say the same, Gabriel, but then I hardly ever speak to the others.”

“Call me Gabe,” he said, still gripping Antoine’s arm. “You’ll let me know if you hear anything from Minh?”

“As I said, if I catch wind of his plans, I’ll share,” Antoine replied, pulling his hand back. Gabe let go, but his fingertips trailed along the inside of Antoine’s arm.

“Good.”

The lingering touch was perplexing and distracting, and Antoine had to refocus. “Are you planning a takeover?”

Gabe regarded him cautiously. “The thought had crossed my mind.”

“Well,” Antoine said, “If he’s occupied with me—for the time being, anyway—now might be a good time. Strike swiftly, and consolidate before the Curia arrives.”

“And you would not block me?”

“If Minh’s making a move my way, it’d be poetic justice, don’t you think? A chance to improve relations with a new ally, and I have no plans to expand.”

So long as you don’t seek to move in on me.

“Grand. I’ll give it some thought. And if you were to turn a blind eye, perhaps I might forget that the Antoine I met of old, and the one before me tonight, have quite different power levels.”

Antoine chuckled diffidently. “Has it really been so long? You flatter me.”

“Mmm, perhaps. Or perhaps when I move in on Minh’s territory, you will be occupying him and his thralls, and I will find little in the way of opposition.”

“Then we both win, don’t we?”