Page 47 of Vampire so Virtuous (Boston Vampires #1)

“Here we are,” Belle announced gaily, as her car pulled up before a mansion on the outskirts of Boston. The car clock read just after one. Had it really only been two hours since they’d been queueing outside Minh’s club?

To Cally’s relief, Belle had been content to sit in silence for the journey.

The Mercedes was a fitting indulgence for the ridiculously wealthy vampires—heavily tinted windows and seats of the softest leather.

The rear center console kept Belle on her side, a welcome boundary.

Cally had been thankful for it, but she wasn’t under any illusions about what was to come; Belle had made sure of that, giving her the entire drive to anticipate it.

The large house stood bathed in light, spilling from grand windows across the courtyard where half a dozen guards loitered, looking more absurd than menacing in their ill-fitting suits. One stepped forward to open her door, his jacket gaping to reveal a machine pistol in a holster—very gangster.

He didn’t focus on her, his eyes slightly off.

Thralls .

Belle waited until Cally had walked around the car, then linked arms with her again—cordial, perhaps, but unmistakably possessive. “This is where the Curia is staying,” she said with an air of disdain as they moved into the house. “I do miss my own home.”

Another thrall opened the door for them with a bow, and Belle swept in without sparing him a look.

“I have my own wing, at least,” she said, leading Cally through an enormous living room and into a side hallway that ran on through the enormous mansion. “We will enjoy some privacy.”

The words were casual, but the thought of being alone with Belle sent a chill down Cally’s spine. Why had she agreed to this?

“You promised not to hurt me.” The reminder slipped out, unbidden.

“No, I promised not to harm you.” Belle gave a little laugh. “Don’t worry. Marked chattel heal so easily.” She inhaled deeply, as though savoring the air. “I love your fear, ma fillette. It makes you smell irresistible.”

Cally fought to suppress it, forcing it down, reaching for the iron core that had steadied her in countless fights. Like facing a higher-ranked taekwondo opponent—except this one played by different rules. She drew on her anger with deliberate care.

“I’m not a steak,” she said flatly.

“Hmm?” Belle glanced over, amused.

“Don’t call me a steak.”

Belle gave a light, melodic laugh. “You Americans are so insular. Don’t you speak any French at all?”

Cally shrugged, remaining silent.

“‘ Ma fillette ’ means ‘my little girl.’” Belle added with mock sweetness.

Like that made it better. “I’m not yours, and I’m not little.”

“Not mine? Antoine’s, then? Is that who you belong to?”

“I don’t belong to anyone.”

Belle’s smile widened at Cally’s reply, though her fangs remained hidden. “You are fun though, no?”

Cally looked away, taking in the opulent décor around them, but feeling nothing. Marble and leather, manicured gardens visible through floor-to-ceiling windows. It was all just show, and vampires loved their show.

Even Antoine wasn’t above a little grandstanding.

“My rooms,” Belle said as they reached a set of double doors, two thralls flanking them. One of the thralls opened the door without being asked, stepping back with his head lowered. Cally studied them warily.

“Yes?” Belle asked. “Something on your mind?”

She pressed her lips together.

“Do not be silent when I expect you to speak,” Belle said, her voice carrying an unmistakable command. She gave Cally’s arm a sharp tug as they entered the room beyond. It was little comfort to know Belle had carefully minded her strength—she could likely tear her arm off if she were so inclined.

Such a helpful thought .

It was easier to answer than remain silent. Pick my battles. “I was just noting that these thralls were yours, separate from the ones outside.”

“Oh?” Belle arched a perfectly manicured eyebrow as the thrall closed the door behind them. “How so?”

Cally shrugged, then shared what she’d been thinking. “Your thralls seem less imposing, but more dangerous than those outside—fewer needless muscles, more competent lethality.” There. Honest and flattering .

“Quite correct.” Belle ran a fingertip down Cally’s cheek, the nail leaving a faint line behind, and it took an effort not to jerk away. “No wonder Antoine is so infatuated with you.”

Infatuated? You got that from one brief visit? The thought almost escaped her lips but instead turned into a bitter knot in her chest. No. Just another game to you.

Cally walked away as inoffensively as she could, pretending to study a vase of fresh flowers on a small table.

The room was large, twin cream leather sofas set opposite each other, two matching armchairs, a raised step with a dining table to one side, and a plasma TV dominating one wall.

More doors led off to other rooms. Contemporary and luxurious, yet soulless, drab. Functional.

And warm. She slipped her jacket off, throwing it over the arm of a nearby chair.

“Now that you’re here, whatever shall we do with you?” Belle mused aloud. Without warning, her body pressed against Cally’s back, one hand lifting her jaw to stretch her neck, warm breath teasing Cally’s ear. “What would you like to do?”

Cally swallowed, the vulnerability of her position settling in her chest. Belle was inches shorter, slight of build—more like Eve—but it felt as though she were held in steel clamps.

A few answers to her question came to mind.

‘Go home, please’ probably wouldn’t happen, and ‘maybe do some flower arranging?’ was tempting but too dangerous.

She settled for a safer reply, hoping it wasn’t more dangerous still, gasping it out as Belle’s fingers pressed against her throat. “Whatever you like.”

“How generous,” Belle said as the fingertips of her other hand stroked across Cally’s bare back, as though tempted to slice her open just to see how long it took her to heal. “You remind me of a girl Antoine once had, do you know that?”

“No.” Another half-choked response.

“Want to know what happened to her?”

She clenched her jaw, trying to suppress the unease that Belle’s tone stirred in her. “You’re going to tell me anyway.”

Belle slid her hand across Cally’s body, cupping her breast through her thin dress and giving it a gentle squeeze. “I drained her until her heart gave out,” she said dreamily. “She tasted delicious.”

“You promised not to harm me,” she hurried to remind her again, wondering if it made a difference. Belle’s hand made it harder to concentrate, Cally’s pulse pounding in her ears. This wasn’t the time for her blood to race, but how could she stop it?

“And I haven’t. Yet.”

Not particularly comforting.

Despite their agreement, Cally couldn’t help but wonder if she’d ever leave this house alive.

At least she’d traded for the promise of some vague alliance on Antoine’s behalf, though even that hardly mattered now.

How could she have been so stupid as to volunteer to go with her?

Yet, it had always been inevitable. Belle had wanted her, but why?

“Why am I here?” she asked. “What do you gain from this?”

Belle flicked her thumb over Cally’s nipple. Cally’s fingers twitched at her side, a reflexive gesture as though she might push Belle away, but the instinct was quickly stifled. Instead, her nails dug into her palm, the sharp pain anchoring her.

“An interesting question, ma fillette. I confess, it was on a whim. Mostly to irritate Antoine. He gets so riled up when I break his toys.” Belle hesitated, then gave a little laugh.

“No, that’s not really true. It was you.

You intrigued me. So fearless I wanted to make you fear.

So stubborn I wanted to force you to obey.

So innocent, so much to corrupt. And it is your own fault; you smell so delicious.

” She inhaled deeply, as if to make her point.

Cally tensed but didn’t move. “I am afraid of you,” she admitted, and it wasn’t hard to say. “Antoine fears you too.” Perhaps flattery would work.

“Do you really think so?” Belle asked, her hand stilling. “I’m not sure anymore.” She traced her fingers across to Cally’s other breast, running her nails across it. “He used to, but that was years ago.”

“I don’t believe you,” Cally said sharply. “You say it’s about me, but it isn’t, is it? It’s Antoine you’re obsessed with. Did you come here just for him?”

Belle stilled for a heartbeat before laughing, but it sounded forced. “You are quite the impertinent chattel, aren’t you?”

“I told you not to call me that.”

“You think you are in a position to give me orders?” She slid her fingers into Cally’s blonde locks, pulling her head painfully to the side, which was nothing to the bitter taste of helplessness that curled in the back of her throat.

“You think Antoine will come for you? He won’t.

You gave yourself to me with your foolish bargain. ”

No. He will come. But the words caught in her throat, suffocated by the weight of Belle’s assertion. There was no hope, no promise. Just a crushing truth: I gave myself to her.

“You still have to give him your help, your alliance.”

Belle’s fingers twitched on Cally’s arm, as if resisting the urge to press harder. She stepped back, just enough to let Cally think she had the upper hand, but the closeness was still suffocating.

“I was always going to, ma fillette . I didn’t come all this way to see my favorite lose a game that’s of my own making.”

“Game? What game?”

“That is not the concern of such a helpless chattel,” Belle said.

“Oh my, but I do so like you helpless. So much I want to do with you. Such firm breasts you have. Such a delicious curve to your bottom. Do you like being helpless?” She leaned closer, her tongue flicking out to trace Cally’s ear. “Do you like women?”