Page 44 of Vampire so Virtuous (Boston Vampires #1)

“You flatter me.” He ran a few paces then leaped a short hop to the far side of the roof. “I estimate it at no more than thirty miles an hour—but I admit I may have been trying to impress you.”

“Consider me impressed.” She clung to his neck as he took off again.

The cold night whipped through her dress as he soared from one building to the next, but beneath his thin shirt, his body was warm. Cold wasn’t the only thing urging her closer, but she held back.

He sailed over a busy street below, the air rushing past, a dozen seconds before he touched down again.

When he landed, her breath hitched—not from the leap, but from the way he looked at her.

His expression was unreadable and half in shadow, yet his eyes were as intense as ever, an unmistakable pull in their depths. It made her shiver.

“Are you cold?”

“No, you’re keeping me warm,” she said. “I figured vampires would be like ice.” She let her fingers skim over the fabric of his shirt, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath, and play of muscle as he gathered himself for the next jump.

“I’m constantly healing. It generates a lot of heat.” He shifted his grip a little, their bodies rubbing together as he pulled her in tighter.

“Oh.” He wasn’t just warmer than she’d expected a vampire to be, but warmer than anyone she’d ever been this close to.

And they were very close.

His hold on her seemed effortless, yet the adjustment made her hyperaware of the way his fingers pressed into her back, and his other arm hooked beneath her legs.

She swallowed, pulse fluttering. What was trust if not this?

He could drop her from the peak of one of his jumps, and it would all be over. Yet she knew she was safe.

Safe in a vampire’s arms. The thought should have terrified her—but it didn’t.

They landed again, her hands still fisted in his shirt, his face only inches away. The city stretched out below them, but all she saw was the sharp angles of his cheekbones and the soft curl of his lips. If she just leaned in… but instead, she lay her head on his shoulder and chewed her bottom lip.

When she closed her eyes, the ride took on a rhythm. Leap, soar, land. He touched down so gently that she couldn’t always tell, sometimes thinking they were still in the air until he leaped again. Then she knew, for the surge of acceleration took her breath away.

Somehow, she’d curled closer without realizing it, her lips brushing the crook of his neck. His skin was soft, his hair tickled her face, and he smelled faintly of the subtle spice of cologne and musk, mingling with the leather of his jacket.

Cally couldn’t resist. She licked the side of his throat—then sank her teeth in.

He stumbled as they landed, jolting her. His arms closed more tightly around her, and it took him a step to catch his balance.

“If you do that again, ma chérie, I cannot guarantee I will get you home without breaking your trust.”

It was too dark to see his skin beneath his swirling shadows, but she hoped she’d left a mark. She traced the bite with her tongue, and he made a noise deep in his throat.

Home . From the direction they were heading, he wasn’t taking her to her apartment, but to his house in Fisher Hill. Shouldn’t that be unsettling? Why did the thought of staying with him make her feel safe?

She pondered it for a minute or two. Before Antoine had come into her life, she’d never really felt un safe—not more than anyone else.

Taekwondo had helped, not least for the confidence it gave her.

But since being bitten by the very vampire whose arms now held her, her world had turned on its head.

The nightmares she’d had, she could place firmly at his door. But the evil in Minh’s nightclub? Not so much.

Then there was Minh himself, and his obvious interest in her—if only to strike at Antoine. Anyone she passed could be a thrall, stronger and faster than any other human.

But wasn’t she stronger now, too?

“Does your mark make me stronger?” she asked .

“Physically, you mean?”

“Yes.”

“No, ma chérie. It only helps your healing.”

She frowned against his shoulder. That didn’t seem to track—not with her training with Joon (when she wasn’t hiding because of the marks Antoine had left), nor with the way she had dispatched Minh’s thralls with only a hit or two.

Maybe there was an easy answer on that last point. “Would you expect me to be able to take down a thrall like I did tonight?”

“In truth, I would not. You are more a warrior than I had thought, and it was enjoyable to watch.”

That wasn’t what she’d meant. She tried again. “How strong are thralls?”

“About twice as strong as a normal human.”

He leaped again, and she hardly noticed the abrupt surge. “Strong enough to withstand several blows? From a normal human?”

“Yes, easily.”

“So am I stronger than a normal human?”

He hesitated. “That is an interesting question. I would have to say, based on what I have seen tonight, that you are.”

“But not from your mark?”

Again a hesitation. “I have never heard of such a thing, but the mark on you is already unusual. I suppose we must consider the possibility.”

So that was the answer. She would have to be even more careful when she sparred with Joon. Or maybe not spar with him at all.

“What did you think of Minh’s club?”

“Aside from the horrendous choice of music and the horrible décor?”

She smiled. “Yes, aside from that.”

“There is indeed a sense of evil from the floors beneath. Your vision was accurate, it seems.”

“Oh.” The word came out quieter than she’d expected. It came as no surprise, but it meant Eve had been correct all along—somewhere there was magic in her ancestry. She hadn’t just seen the club, the presence she felt was real too.

“And he has a lot of thralls,” Antoine added in a thoughtful tone.

“Oh? How many?”

“It’s not so easy to be accurate. Thirty, perhaps, within that one floor of the club. There would be no reason for him to have all of them there.” He sounded like he was reasoning out loud. “No, it makes more sense that he has even more than that. Which is many indeed for a vampire of his age. ”

“How many do you have?”

“Twenty-three.”

Twenty-three people enslaved. “That sounds… a lot.” And Minh’s enslaved even more.

His body stiffened, catching the judgment in her tone. “I do not like to make thralls. I have done without for decades. The reason I have them now is to defend against Minh, and in light of the Curia’s presence, it seemed wise. Also, I wished to keep you safe.”

She shook her head against him. “Don’t put your thralls on me.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he said. “Your safety is a bonus, not a reason. In truth, Marcel’s safety was the driving factor. Did you hear Minh threaten him, that night in the parking lot?”

“No, I missed that.” I had a lot on my mind that night. “Would he really go after Marcel? That’s needlessly cruel.”

“So is Minh. He would do it to strike at me.”

“Well, I understand wanting to keep him safe.” Cally fell quiet, the weight of his words settling in. “Are your thralls like mindless zombies? Do you control them? Do they still feel?”

“No, they’re not mindless. And please remember that I find the necessity as distasteful as no doubt you do.

” He winced, his shoulders hunching as they flew over the rooftops below.

“There is nothing I can say that will justify what I have done. Only that I have chosen those who had no life, and tried, at least, to give them a better one.”

“As your slaves.”

“I could argue we are all slaves to some force or another, but I will not. It is as you say. They are my slaves.”

Revulsion warred with the possibility of necessity—and that he hadn’t tried to defend himself. “Will you free them when the Curia leaves, and Minh is defeated?”

“Hmm, an interesting question,” he said with a hint of surprise, as though the idea of freeing slaves was a novel one. “I don’t know if it’s possible. I’ve never heard of it happening, but… perhaps there could be a way.”

“Would you? If there was?”

“Yes, I would,” he replied. “There would be some considerations regarding staying in the… regarding what knowledge they retain, but in principle, it would be my preference.”

“You said you have done without thralls for many years. But what about Marcel?”

“Marcel is no thrall. He is as human as you are . ”

“Is he marked?”

“No. I did offer, but no. It is complicated.”

“Oh?”

He grunted, a rueful sound. “On reflection, not all that complicated. Marcel is stubborn, and I chose to respect his wishes.”

“No wonder Minh thinks you are an outcast,” Cally said.

He tensed again, and his tone, when he spoke, was guarded. “Why do you say that?”

“I don’t know many vampires, Antoine, but giving a human a choice? Freeing thralls? Avoiding killing your prey? You may have to work harder to keep your reputation as a monster.”

He gave a dry chuckle. “Careful, ma chérie . One might think you do not hate me quite so ardently.”

“I don’t hate you.” She said it out of instinct, then realized it was true. When had that changed? Had she ever hated him? Feared? Maybe once—but not anymore. Despised? Yes… yet that, too, was fading.

It was, as he would say, complicated.

“Then this is a good time to tell you we have arrived.”

He landed and came to a stop, his shadows dispersing like a wisp of smoke in a breeze, and he set her down on her feet with a graceful movement.

They were on the roof of his house at Fisher Hill, the gardens on one side, the fence and the gate on the other.

A very modern-looking skylight waited a few paces away.

Home?

“I’ll get an Uber.”

“I could have a thrall drive you, if that would be acceptable,” he suggested. “But you’re also quite welcome to sleep here tonight.”

He was trying so hard not to stare at her too intensely, but he was only partly successful. The hunger in his eyes betrayed him.

“Do you need to feed?”

“No, ma chérie . Unless something happens, I will be fine for a few more nights yet.”

A different type of hunger, then.

He was waiting for her answer, standing gorgeous and tall and making no attempt to pressure her. Like a gentleman, not a vampire. A gentleman who would consider freeing thralls when no other vampire would, and whose loyal human friend had described him as a man in pain.

Can I trust him? She’d trusted him to carry her hundreds of feet above the ground, but this was different .

“I don’t know, Antoine,” she said tentatively, glancing over the edge of the roof toward the shadows of the garden.

“May I offer you a drink while you decide?” he asked gently, then gave her his rare grin. “A drink for you, I mean.”

She gave a small laugh. “All right. A drink then, Mr. Charming Vampire.”

“A step up from ‘bastard’; I’ll take it.” He pressed a few buttons on a keypad and the skylight opened, revealing a staircase. “After you.”

She descended to the top floor of the house and into a small, empty room.

There was another keypad, this one with far more buttons and a blinking red light.

The room could originally have been an attic, but it had been properly floored, walled, and painted in neutral colors.

There was no furniture, just a door leading on into the house.

Antoine followed her down. “You never drank any of the Chateau Margaux, and it is one of the finer—” He stopped so abruptly that she glanced at him; he was staring at the panel. At the blinking red light. “It appears we are not alone.”