Page 41 of Vampire so Virtuous (Boston Vampires #1)

There was a big man in army trousers, boots, and a leather jacket who kept glancing at her, despite standing some distance down the carriage.

Cally gave him a wave, then ignored him. She couldn’t decide if it was more like having a guard dog or a prison warden.

He followed her out of the T, keeping a respectful dozen feet behind her.

Another met him outside of Arlington Station—a woman, this time.

She looped arms with the man like they were a couple.

Were it not for the fact that they followed Cally all the way to the club, she might’ve thought she was mistaken.

Antoine waited, leaning against a wall, and it was aggravating to see he performed even that simple task with casual grace. He was wearing his usual black jeans and long leather jacket, but he’d swapped his black T-shirt for a button-up collared shirt, still black. It looked like silk.

He straightened as she approached, gaze flicking briefly to the two thralls behind her before settling on her. Hunger flashed in his eyes, intense and possessive.

“You look… ravishing.”

Ravishing?

She had dressed up, opting for classic and confident in a sleek, black body-skimming midi that hugged her figure, with a cut-out back and high slit adding just enough allure.

Paired with a little smokey eye makeup to bring out the gray of her eyes, dusty rose lipstick, and a cropped jacket in a sleek, matte fabric with heeled ankle boots, she’d been aiming for sharp—and judging by Antoine’s reaction, he appreciated it.

She almost smiled but caught herself. She hadn’t dressed for him.

She’d dressed for herself. And to blend in.

“It’s not a date, Antoine, it’s an investigation.”

“Of course, ma chérie ,” he teased. “We can pretend that way, if it makes you feel more comfortable.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, but he only laughed and offered his arm with another graceful gesture, like he’d been trained at a French finishing school.

For all she knew, he had—except his grace wasn’t that of a fop; it was more feline, like that of the predator he was.

She hooked her hand around his arm, feeling his firm muscles beneath the leather of his coat, and fought back a shiver.

Whether from instinctive caution or something more traitorous, she refused to acknowledge it.

Antoine noticed anyway. “Cold?” he asked.

She was, but she wasn’t about to admit it. “No, I’m fine—”

He was already sliding his arm around her waist, drawing her against him.

That close, he smelled faintly of spice and musk.

His hand slipped inside her short jacket, resting on her bare skin where the dress had been cut away.

His touch was surprisingly warm for a creature whose blood wasn’t his, but hers.

“I said I’m fine.” But she didn’t pull away. For appearances , she justified it to herself.

The queue for the nightclub was only a short distance off, and they were in sight of the bouncers, though neither paid them any attention.

“If those are thralls,” she nodded subtly toward the entrance, “would the vampire who owns this place recognize you?”

“It’s Minh’s place,” he answered quietly as they walked to the back of the queue. “This is his territory, his club.”

“You already knew?”

“I recognized it when my… Noah showed it to me.” They were too close to others for him to use ‘thralls,’ but she knew what he was going to say.

“Is that Noah?” She hitched her chin toward the two thralls that had followed her, now moving to join the end of the queue, a group of four between them.

“Mmm. And Zoey you’ve met before.”

“I have?” Cally turned to take a longer look at the woman.

She clung to Noah’s arm, smiling up like she was besotted with him, responding to something he’d said.

She wore a white blouse knotted at the waist, a short skirt and knee-high boots, her long brunette hair tied with a yellow ribbon.

Perfect for the nightclub, and it suited her. “I don’t recognize her.”

“She was in the park near your house that night.”

Zoey looked very healthy for someone who had been homeless only a few nights before. They both did. Was that a benefit of being a thrall, or did Antoine just feed them that well?

“Part of your harem?”

His body tensed against hers. “I do not feed on my thr—” He cut himself off, glanced at the nearest couple in line, then grimaced and stiffly replaced it with, “—staff.”

“Staff, huh?” It was fun to goad him when he couldn’t easily respond.

How often did Antoine find himself incognito among the ‘chattel?’ Not very, she wagered.

“I wouldn’t expect you to feed off them when you have perfectly adequate tables.

Besides, sweetheart , a harem is usually for other purposes. ”

“I don’t have a harem,” he said, eyes narrowing.

“Oh?” she teased, edging forward as the queue moved. “Why, I could imagine you really getting your teeth into something like that.”

“Stop it, Cally.”

“Or what? You’ll spank me?” The words slipped out before she could stop them, almost as if she were channeling Eve’s irreverence. For a moment, they both froze. Antoine’s eyes darkened and his hand tightened on her bare back, pulling her in closer.

“Don’t tempt me.”

She glanced away, flustered, her cheeks warming. Then swung back to him. “It’s just an expression. Don’t read anything into it, Anthony .”

The intensity in his eyes had faded. Instead, they sparkled, amusement playing at the corners of his shapely lips.

“You’re laughing at me again,” she said flatly.

“Not at all,” he said, mouth quirking, enough to hint at his dimples. He didn’t try to hide it.

Cally tightened her jaw. Why was he so aggravating? So distracting? The queue moved forward, and she took a steadying breath before looking at the bouncers. “So will they recognize you?”

“Possible, but unlikely,” he replied quietly. “They haven’t seen me before. Even if they are thralls—which again, is unlikely—Minh can only monitor one at a time.”

“But Minh will recognize you.”

“If he’s there, yes. I don’t think he uses this entrance, or is much into dancing.”

“What about you, Antoine? Do you dance?”

“You’ll have to wait to find out, won’t you?”

She glanced away again, irritated at herself for asking such a question. “It’s not a date.”

But the arm around her waist tugged, pulling her against his chest. She placed a hand on his shirt reflexively, trying to push back; it was like pushing on a tree trunk.

“What are you—” she began, but he nodded toward the couple in the queue before them, who had moved forward.

The woman was in the guy’s arms, kissing him.

“Don’t you think we should blend in?” Antoine said, closing the gap in the queue, drawing her on.

“I’m not kissing you,” she hissed quietly, her teeth clenched.

“Going as a couple was your idea. Will we draw more attention or less if we fight every step of the way?”

“I’m not going to kiss you,” she said again, but it didn’t seem strong enough. “I’d rather kiss Minh.” And that was too strong, Cally.

A shadow flitted through his eyes, then his arm slipped away from her waist. “It’s not too late for you to leave. I can do this alone.”

She took a breath, aware that her hand still rested on his chest, feeling his firm warmth through the smooth silk of his shirt.

“Why are you so hot?”

“ Comment ?” A flicker of surprise crossed his face.

Cally made a frustrated noise. How did they get from arguing about kissing to discussing the warmth of his skin? But it hadn’t been him; it had been her. And damn it, she’d called him ‘hot.’ Not at all what she’d meant. No wonder he’d regressed to French.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I should not have mentioned kissing Minh. It was… petty.” And, frankly, rather disgusting. “I don’t want to leave.”

He gracefully inclined his head. “I accept your apology, but I still think it would be best if you left. Once inside”—he nodded to the club entrance, which was drawing closer as the queue dwindled—“we need to act as one, or we’ll draw suspicion and bring Minh’s thralls down on us.”

“I know. I’ll play the part.” He was right, damn it. And he’d made no comment about her pettiness, just moved on—even though she’d meant to hurt him. “I’m really sorry about saying I’d kiss him. It slipped out.”

To her surprise, he smiled. “I’ve always liked your facon d’avoir du cran .” His accent thickened, enriching the timbre of his voice, the velvety sounds rolling over her. Her heart beat a little faster.

“I don’t know what that means.”

“Your nerve, your guts.” He studied her. “The way you throw the name of my enemy in my face like you’d rather be with him than with me.”

Cally felt her cheeks heat. “I didn’t mean it. I’ve apologized twice. I didn’t mean to be such a… bitch.”

“Is it wrong that now I want to kiss you even more?”

“You actually want to kiss me?”

“There is more than one way to taste you, ma chérie . ”

He gazed down at her, the corners of his mouth still curled, and his arm had slipped back around her waist. When had that happened? How could such a thing happen without her noticing?

When had she began to feel comfortable with him?

I don’t feel comfortable with him. He’s a vampire, and he drinks my blood.

Yet that wasn’t as convincing as it had once been.

“Next,” one of the bouncers said in a bored tone, waving them forward. “IDs?”

Antoine let his arm fall away as Cally pulled her card holder from her jacket and presented her driving license. He reached for his wallet, showing his own license. Cally caught only a brief glimpse, but the name wasn’t ‘Antoine,’ or even ‘Anthony.’

The bouncer pulled back the red velvet cord, then waved them through. Antoine made no fuss as they patted him down inside, and they checked their coats with the young woman at the counter before heading down the stairs.

“Who are you today?” Cally asked as they descended beneath ground level.

“Hmm? Oh, my license?” He winked. “Edmond Dantès.”

“Seriously? And you get away with that?”

“All the time.”