Page 45 of Vampire so Virtuous (Boston Vampires #1)

“Wait here.”

“Hell no, I’m coming with you.”

“ Ma chérie , wait here .” He pointed a finger at the floor like she was a puppy.

Cally folded her arms. “The safest place is by your side, and we don’t have time to argue. Let’s check on Marcel.”

He glared at her, then, with a mutter of “ Têtue ,” he opened the door and walked out.

Judging by his tone, that was probably French for ‘hardheaded’—or worse. She followed him anyway.

Another staircase led to the bedrooms, but despite his disapproval, he didn’t disappear in a burst of vampiric speed. They moved through the house to the living room, seeing no sign of an intruder. Antoine threw open the door and strode in, then stopped abruptly.

“Belle.”

Marcel knelt in the middle of the floor, head bowed, looking older and more vulnerable than Cally had ever seen.

A woman sat in Antoine’s chair, his book open on her lap, facing the door. Her beauty was captivating, with high cheekbones, graceful features, and an air of effortless poise. She seemed about Cally’s age, but the paleness of her skin and her red eyes marked her for what she was.

“Of course you would be reading this, mon amour, ” Belle said by way of greeting, tapping the page with her fingertips.

“Am I your Mercédès, or your Villefort?” She noticed Cally and paused, running the tip of her tongue over her lips in a way that promised pleasure laced with pain.

“Hmm,” she said, “perhaps this is your Mercédès.”

Antoine strode to Marcel and helped him up. Belle didn’t object, merely watching with a studied disinterest. “Is he a thrall?” she asked.

“No.” Antoine’s response was curt.

“Marked?”

“No.”

“And her? A thrall? ”

“You already know they aren’t.” He spoke softly to Marcel, who cast him an apologetic glance before stiffly heading for the far door.

“Ah! A diversion, then!” She was suddenly behind Cally, so fast there wasn’t even a blur of movement. Her breath warmed Cally’s cheek, tinged with the faint scent of iron. “So young,” she murmured wistfully. One hand skimmed Cally’s bare back while a fingertip brushed across her cheek. “So fresh.”

Cally forced herself to remain perfectly still, aware that pulling away would only lead to being yanked back. Her heart raced, and she fought to quell it, even as Belle idly traced circles on the side of her neck, just where her fangs would sink.

Antoine had been watching Marcel leave, but now he turned, the most rigid Cally had ever seen him. “Welcome, Belle,” he said flatly. “Uphold our traditions, and keep my domain tranquil.”

It felt ceremonial, but it was delivered without a vestige of emotion, as if he were masking.

He hadn’t acted this way with Minh, and Cally didn’t need his staid lack of reaction to know Belle was the far greater threat.

Her skin tingled, and the stillness in the room only amplified her sense of danger.

She fought to steady her breathing, focusing on the grounding connection of her feet against the floor, refusing to let the tension crack her composure.

“She smells like you,” Belle said. “She smells délicieuse. ” She leaned in, inhaling deeply through her nose, then hummed in pleasure.

“I know you never cared much for rules,” Antoine said, his tone pointed, “but there are customs to observe.”

“Yes, yes,” Belle said, waving her hand dismissively as she rattled off her next words. “Your trust is met with solemn commitment.”

“Why are you here?” he asked.

“Why shouldn’t I be, mon amour ?”

Did she keep calling him ‘my love’?

Cally flinched as Belle’s hand closed around her neck, her thumbnail tracing a line down her nape. She couldn’t suppress the shiver this time, and beside her, Belle hummed as she felt it.

“I love it when you tremble,” she said. “Do it again.”

Cally wanted to pull away, to fight, but even the smallest movement felt like a risk.

Every instinct screamed at her to run, but there was nowhere to go.

She clenched her jaw, hating the way stillness felt like surrender.

The imbalance of power in the room pressed against her, suffocating. Antoine had to have a plan. He had to.

She searched his face for some clue—reassurance, defiance, anything. But his expression was deliberately blank. A cold dread settled in her stomach.

“Why don’t you have a seat,” Antoine suggested in the same flat tone, and gestured toward the chair Belle had been sitting in. The wave of his arm was stiff, lacking his usual grace.

“If I do,” Belle replied, her warm breath caressing Cally’s ear, “will she come sit on my lap?”

Hell no.

“I don’t think you’re here to play with my—” Antoine stopped, taking a breath. What words would he have called her if he’d finished that thought? Food? Marked chattel? Diversion ? “Why are you here, Belle?”

“I came to see you, of course,” she said, her tongue flicking out, trailing up the side of Cally’s neck and over her ear. Instinctively, Cally tried to pull away, but Belle’s strength was far greater, and her hand kept her from moving even an inch.

“I love the smell of her fear,” Belle said dreamily. “It mingles so pleasingly with her lingering arousal. Is that for you, mon amour ? Did I interrupt something… excitante ?”

Cally froze. Could Antoine smell me too? Of course he could. Vampires were apex predators. He’d known all along, whenever she was… Her cheeks burned with a sudden, intense heat.

“So innocent,” Belle said in her throaty voice. “No wonder he likes you so.”

“Belle,” Antoine snapped. “ Un peu de décorum, s’il vous pla?t! ”

She laughed lightly, a musical, carefree sound, as though the only joy in the world was Antoine’s irritation.

Part of me can relate.

“How long has it been since you first said that to me?” she said, stepping away from Cally, who had to fight not to sag in relief.

Belle ignored her, advancing on Antoine, her steps slow and deliberate.

Her feet crossed like a model on a catwalk, her hips swaying with a grace that Cally knew she could never match, no matter how long she lived.

Antoine didn’t move, and Belle didn’t stop until she was pressed up against him.

He remained impassive as she reached up, using a fingernail to flick the top button off his silk shirt.

It flew in an arc and landed silently in the thick carpet.

“I like you in silk,” she murmured, her words barely audible to Cally.

“I’ve always liked you in silk. Do you remember that time in—”

Antoine grabbed her wrist, forcing it behind her and into the small of her back. “I’m past the point of letting you touch me.” His eyes flashed red, and there was barely restrained anger in his voice.

Belle gave a delighted gasp, as though he’d hurt her and she liked it. She didn’t fight him. “So,” she breathed, “the spawn thinks he can better the sire?”

He released her as though he’d always intended to, taking a step back with a strained composure.

“Of course not, my lady,” he said, his mask sliding back into place, erasing any trace of his anger in a heartbeat.

“But may I remind you that you stand within my domain now. I am no longer your—” He cut himself off, his gaze flicking past her to Cally, his eyes shadowed with something unreadable.

“Your what, mon amour ?” She closed the space between them, standing so close she’d feel his breath, but this time, she only rested a finger on his chest, trailing it over his shirt as she circled him. “Are you too shy to admit to your chattel that you were my pet ?”

“I’m no longer your pet.”

“Of course not. All this power you’ve gained.

Perhaps you mean to make me your pet now?

” She had moved behind him, and Antoine clenched his jaw, staring at a point on the far wall behind Cally, as if avoiding looking at her.

But Belle had no such qualms, watching Cally as she spoke.

“Did he not tell you, sweet girl? Do you not know who I am?”

“You just told me,” Cally said stiffly. “You’re his sire.

You made him.” To her surprise, her words came out firmer than she expected.

Anger had always been her defense, and watching her treat Antoine with such disdain pissed her off.

But was he any better than Belle, or was it just the devil she knew ?

“Foolish and courageous,” Belle said, a sly gleam in her red eyes. “A perfect match for each other.” She rose onto her toes, leaning in until her lips nearly brushed Antoine’s cheek. “Is she virtuous, too?”

“No,” Antoine replied firmly. “You cannot have her.”

A strange flutter of something warm twisted in her chest, but she quickly smothered it. She wasn’t a damsel, and he wasn’t her knight.

“Oh, mais mon amour , it is customary to present a visiting Curia member with a gift, is it not?” She resumed her circle of him, trailing her fingernails over his leather-clad shoulders, leaving faint scratch lines behind. “You are being lax in your courtesies.”

“To be fair,” he said carefully, “I’ve had no time to prepare one. Your visit was rather unannounced.”

“Yet not so unexpected, I think?” She gave a musical laugh.

“Don’t fret, my pet—ah, too far. Je suis désolée ,” she said, not sounding in the least remorseful.

“You are no longer my pet, but a vampire with his own territory and considerable power.” She leaned in again. “Did you think I would not notice?”

Antoine said nothing, standing stiffly, but a muscle twitched in his clenched jaw.

“Where did you find such power, mon amour ? Have you been… naughty ?”

“I learned the lessons you taught me, my lady.”

She laughed again, though this time it sounded more forced. “So, it explains why that loathsome Minh was complaining so vociferously to Roberto.” She gave the ‘r’ a soft, throaty sound with a hint of her French accent. “Did you bite him, my pet?”

“I told you once already,” Antoine growled. “I am no longer your pet.”