Page 51 of Vampire so Virtuous (Boston Vampires #1)

Boston, Massachusetts, Present day.

“Does he know what you are?” Belle asked, looking down at her.

What I am? What am I? Nothing. Cally didn’t answer.

“I asked you a question. Here’s another one. Do you know what you are?”

Belle’s mood had changed, that much was clear. There was an urgency to her tone that hadn’t been there before. It was unnerving.

“Just a chattel,” Cally gasped, still battling the weakness in her body and the aftershocks of pleasure coursing through her.

“So much more than that.” Belle turned and walked to the sofa opposite, where she sat, watching Cally with amusement. Then she patted the cushion beside her. “Crawl over here if you cannot yet walk, and we will discuss you.”

It took everything not to collapse onto the floor and catch her breath. Her clothes clung uncomfortably to her skin, but she refused to crawl before this vampire.

With gritted teeth, Cally raised one knee to push her foot beneath her.

Even that simple action drained her. Her body still trembled and tingled.

Belle watched, clearly amused, as though she knew exactly what she had done.

Cally tried again, but her legs refused to cooperate, too weak and unsteady to support her.

“I need a moment,” Cally panted, struggling to regain control of her breath. Damn, that had been intense.

“But I don’t like to be kept waiting,” Belle coaxed in her low, throaty voice. “Do you need… encouragement?”

No, thank you.

“You fed from me.” Cally wished her pulse would steady. “The least you can do is give me a minute.”

“So stubborn, so defiant,” Belle teased, her gaze hungry. “I’m all a-shiver seeing you on your knees before me.” A soft, breathless laugh. “So many wicked thoughts. ”

Cally clenched her jaw, ignoring her, eyes fixed on the distant sofa. How hard could it be to stand? Why weren’t her legs cooperating?

Belle cocked her head, tapping her lower lip with a finger. “Are you comfortable in such a tight dress? Why not remove it while you’re down there? I won’t mind.”

“I’m fine like this, thank you,” Cally managed, voice tight with restraint. She struggled to her feet.

“As you please.” Belle gave herself a little shake. “But I’m letting myself get distracted by you, and now it seems we need to speak of serious matters.”

Her legs were shaky, but Cally made it to the sofa before collapsing, and at least she hadn’t had to crawl. She half-fell onto the cushions, her body slick with perspiration beneath her clothes—the clothes she’d managed to keep on… so far.

Small wins.

Belle turned in her seat, inching back into the corner of the sofa, putting distance between them, almost as though Cally were too tempting. “I will start, I think, by asking you again: do you know what you are?”

She clearly wanted something specific, but Cally had no idea what. Her previous answer hadn’t worked, so she tried another. “A marked chattel?”

Belle tutted, as if to say, ‘too obvious,’ and shook her head.

Cally paused, uncertain of what to say. At least the games seemed to have stopped—for now. It gave her a chance to catch her breath, for her pulse to steady.

“A warrior?”

Belle cocked her head. “A curious choice.”

“It’s what Antoine calls me,” she admitted.

Belle gasped, delighted. “All this and more? No wonder your blood is so potent.” She gave Cally a curiously steady look. “I took only a little, no more than I needed,” she said. “Do be sure to tell him that.”

Cally didn’t feel dizzy, so that was probably true, though it was hard to remember in the aftermath of what Belle had subjected her to. She couldn’t have stopped Belle from draining her dry if she’d wished, yet it seemed important to the ancient vampire that Antoine knew she hadn’t fed deeply.

Her mood had shifted dramatically.

“I’ll tell him,” Cally said. “But I don’t know what answer you want. Are we still playing games?”

“So feisty.” Belle’s eyes glinted with delight.

“I have missed ones like you.” She lifted her hand as though to touch Cally again, then pulled it back at the last second, her fingers curling in the air.

“Very well, I will tell you. Otherwise we will be here all night.” She took a slow breath, for no other reason than to build suspense. “You, ma fillette , are a witch .”

“Uh-huh,” Cally said, waiting for more.

Belle blinked, as though she’d expected a stronger reaction to her grand reveal. “Did you know you were a witch?”

“A friend of mine introduced me to a coven. We do finding spells with crystals and… stuff.” She glanced away, embarrassed.

“That is nothing; the art is lost,” Belle said abruptly. Then her gaze sharpened, as intense as Antoine’s finest. “Do you know what it means to be a witch?”

Cally rolled her eyes. “Shall we just assume I don’t? It’s probably faster.”

“ D’accord . A history lesson, then.” Belle took a breath, folding her hands in her lap with surprising grace and poise, all traces of her sadistic playfulness gone.

“One cannot speak of vampires without speaking of witches,” she began, as if the carpet was full of wide-eyed school children, sitting waiting for a story.

“In centuries past, the power of witches was far greater than the superstitious drivel and mystic nonsense that it has become,” she said with distaste.

“Once, witches were feared for the curses they could unleash and the rituals they performed. And they were loved, for the blessings they bestowed and the protections they wove.” She waved a dismissive hand.

“But the most famous tale? A man—for alas, there is always a man—jilted his lover, a witch.”

“And he turned into a vampire?” She could see this one coming.

Belle gestured in agreement. “That’s how the story goes, yes. With her coven, she cursed him to darkness, to drink only blood, and to never know peace. To be, for evermore, a vampire.”

Cally longed to say ‘uh-huh’ again, but she bit her tongue. At least she wasn’t being held painfully by her hair while Belle toyed with her, though Belle’s bedtime stories were another kind of torture.

“It is not known how true this is, of course,” Belle continued. “The history is lost to time, as it often is.” She raised a finger. “What is undeniable, however, is the symbiosis between witch and vampire. Both grow stronger with the other.”

Cally blinked, a heavy unease settling in her stomach. One thing to hear stories; another to be caught living in one. She took a slow breath, trying to steady herself, then asked, “How much of this is true, and how much of it is just a legend?”

“Merely because something is a legend doesn’t mean it isn’t true, n’est- ce pas ?

” She gave Cally a look that almost seemed friendly.

“As for the witch and the vampire, they soon found themselves in mutual respect—each feeding off the other’s strength.

Over time, others followed, and such bonds grew powerful . ”

Cally shifted uncomfortably. “So, vampires and witches started working together, huh? I’m guessing until they didn’t?”

“Indeed. Jealousy and fear are powerful motivators, ma fillette, and for the longest time, witches hunted vampires and vampires hunted witches, so that never again could such a bond be formed.”

Cally’s gut twisted, her mouth going dry. “You’re saying vampires will hunt me because I’m a witch?”

Belle shook her head. “No longer, ma fillette . Rather the opposite. There are very few witches left, so you are precious. Not least as a source of power. Any who feeds upon you”—she licked her fangs as if still tasting Cally’s blood—“will only grow stronger.”

“Great. I’m a walking battery buffet.” Cally rubbed her temples, trying to calm the headache that had arrived. “So when this gets out, I’m—”

“This can never get out,” Belle said firmly. “No one must ever know.”

Can I trust you? Unease twisted inside her—then she paused, grappling with the irony of her own thought. How the hell am I asking that about another vampire, in the same night?

“How can I keep it a secret?” Cally asked, the despair clear in her voice. “You could tell as soon as you tasted me.” She glanced at the door. “How many vampires are in this house?”

“A great many, ma fillette. But while I can taste your power, that is a uniqueness of…” She paused. “Did Antoine ever explain about bloodlines?”

“No.” Cally frowned. “You mentioned bloodlines back at his house. Mixing them?”

“Indeed. Each vampire is created by a sire. You know this, correct?”

“Yes.”

“ D’accord. Legend says the first vampire spawned seven more, each inheriting a portion of his power.

Each vampire, therefore, has its own bloodline—particular abilities, some unique—passed from sire to spawn.

I can taste your power, but most vampires cannot.

They would need to be powerful.” She waved a hand.

“It is possible some of the Curia might sense it if given the chance. But even Antoine—who, of course, is of my blood—is not yet strong enough.”

Cally frowned. “Wouldn’t they notice the power gain?”

“Doubtful,” Belle said. “If they feed often, they will notice their power grow, of course. But a taste?” She shook her head.

“Alas, the one sip of your delicious blood has not materially affected my own power. Besides, they would need to feed, and Antoine has marked you. It would be bad… etiquette.”

That didn’t stop you, and it was rather more than a sip. “So they can’t tell I’m a witch,” Cally breathed in relief. Can I trust her? Would she lie? “Wait, does Antoine know?”

Belle tilted her head, as though acknowledging Cally as a particularly precocious student.

“Such an interesting question , but one we shall, how do you say, park for the time being. Now, it is prominent in our laws that a vampire may not feed on another vampire, ensuring the bloodlines remain pure and unmixed—and that vampire does not hunt vampire. After all, there are rather fewer of us then there are humans.”

Cally fought to keep her expression neutral, but Belle missed nothing.