Page 56 of Vampire so Virtuous (Boston Vampires #1)

Cally threw her robe on, hair still damp and loose, and hesitated with her hand on the bathroom door.

She’d intended to walk back into her room and get dressed. But he’d strolled around in a dressing gown, so why couldn’t she?

It was her apartment, after all.

He wasn’t on the couch when she walked back in. He’d shifted to the armchair, and the reason was obvious: sunlight streamed in through the window, between the curtains, bathing the couch in soft rays. Instead of drawing the blinds, he’d moved.

He looked up as she walked in, his features brightening, as if he liked what he saw. There was no hunger in his eyes; he was just enjoying her. He breathed in deliberately, mouth closed, chest rising and swelling, as if savoring the air and the scent.

She shot him a glare before padding into the kitchen and filling the kettle.

Maybe he didn’t deserve all those glares. Or did he? The jury was still out on that one.

“Do you drink coffee?” she asked, her back to him.

“No, ma chérie. ” His voice was soft and calm. “It would be a little like you eating grass—it wouldn’t harm me, but it brings no nutritional value, and it is difficult to digest. Also, alas, it no longer tastes pleasant.”

“You drank coffee… before?”

“Before Belle turned me? Yes. Coffee was popular in France, even then. There were many cafés.” He sounded poignant, and it added to his sense of humanity.

She turned to face him, leaning against the counter. “You miss it, don’t you? Your country?”

“France has a way of digging its claws into your heart and never letting go . No doubt anyone could say the same of their own country”—he waved a hand in a distinctly Gallic gesture, likely without realizing it—“but France was so sophisticated, so beautiful, and so alive .”

“How long since you were last there? ”

“Two hundred and seventy-four years.”

Four lifetimes. A staggering reminder of his immortality.

The kettle clicked off, the water boiling, and she turned to make herself a coffee. He exhaled softly.

“Something amiss?” she asked.

“No, ma chérie, I am content.” His voice came from just behind her—she hadn’t heard him move. She looked over her shoulder, and he was leaning with both elbows on the breakfast counter, watching her with his intense expression, taking a long breath as his chest continued to swell.

“You like the smell of the coffee?”

“Not particularly. It is too strong.”

She wondered what he was scenting if it wasn’t the coffee. Then the answer was obvious, and her face heated. She checked her robe, pulling it tighter around her, but it was secure.

The corners of his lips curled ever so slightly upward.

“Do you like it?” she asked, nodding toward the book he’d brought with him, resting on the counter beside his hand.

“It was a good choice. I’m happy to read it again.”

“You’ve already read it?”

“There’s a copy on my bookshelf at home. It is fun reading what chat— humans write about vampires.”

She tensed. “That’s all I am to you, isn’t it? Chattel?”

“So much more, ma cherie, ” he replied, his voice soft. “Besides, you were never truly a chattel. You are a witch, one growing in power.”

“You only learned that two hours ago—and you didn’t even know what it meant.”

He shrugged. “I do now.”

She shook her head, turning away. “I don’t even know what it means. I can’t even believe it. Magic?” She scoffed. “It’s the thing of fairytales.”

“And yet, here I stand, proof of magic. The dark kind, anyway.” He blinked sluggishly, his head drooping.

She cocked her head. “Are you okay?”

“Very tired, I’m afraid. I had hoped to make it back to Fisher Hill before the sun caught me, but it is bright today. Makes it… harder.”

“Do you want to sleep here?” A vampire, peacefully asleep in her apartment? That was right up there on the list of things she never thought would happen.

“That might be for the best,” he said. “At least I’ll be close to you if anything occurs.

Though I do sleep quite deeply, at least until after noon, so you will have to make quite a racket to wake me.

” He straightened and turned to survey the living room, wincing at the sunlight streaming through the curtains, bathing the couch.

“Let me close those,” she said, setting her coffee down and walking past him to pull the blinds into place. It made the apartment gloomy, with barely enough light to see, but Antoine relaxed as though he’d been suffering in stoic silence. She flicked on a side lamp.

“Much better, thank you.” He sat on the couch and began to unlace his boots.

She watched him, conflicted, but when he started on the second boot, she blurted, “You can sleep in the bed if you want.”

He looked up in surprise, then gave her a soft, sleepy smile. Strangely endearing. “Most kind, ma chérie, but I will be quite content on the sofa. Or I could sleep in the armchair, if you want to sit here?”

“Take the bed, Antoine,” she said flatly. She couldn’t deal with his selflessness on top of everything else. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Then I will gladly accept. To wrap myself in your scent—” He stopped abruptly, clearing his throat. “My apologies. I am half-asleep. That was… a little sudden.” He concentrated on removing his other boot.

Sudden? Well, yes. Yes, it was. But also kind of sweet. In a creepy stalker way.

He rose, carrying his boots in one hand, but she stirred herself and stepped ahead of him. “Let me make sure the blinds are drawn before you go in.”

“Most thoughtful. Thank you.”

While he waited politely outside her door, she drew the blinds, then hurried to gather discarded clothing from the chair and toss it in the hamper.

She gave the room a critical appraisal as she straightened the bed.

It was a fraction of the size of the one she’d slept in at his house, but it was tidy enough.

She hadn’t closed the door, but he still waited outside. She opened it fully and invited him in. “Do you need anything else?”

He entered, placing his boots carefully under the chair, then turned to face her, slipping his fingers into the pockets of his jeans. “I have everything, thank you.”

“Good.”

The room felt smaller with him in it, standing just a few feet away, watching her.

She looked away. “I’ll, uh, leave you to sleep, then. ”

“Thank you, ma chérie. ”

“Sure.” She closed the door behind her, and leaned against it. Then she walked back into the living room, flicked on the lights, and collected her coffee from the kitchen counter.

She was weary too after the stresses of the night, but at least she’d managed some sleep. She could always nap on the sofa if needed.

No, she wouldn’t be able to rest. Not with her mind playing over and over what Belle had said.

Fatum coniunctum. A shared fate.

“Once bound to a vampire, her power will steadily grow. Then it must be used, or consumed, or she will die. ”

Cally shuddered. Then she straightened, setting her coffee cup down so carelessly it sloshed and spilled. She hurried back to her bedroom, pushing open the door.

“Antoine, do you think we should—”

He was facing away from her, naked from the waist up. His smooth, finely muscled back, broad shoulders… and he was in the process of lowering his jeans, his bare ass half in the light of the doorway and half in shadow.

“Oh—so sorry.” She blushed and turned away as he pulled his jeans back up.

“No matter . Was there something you needed?”

“I… never mind.” She stepped back, drawing the door closed, but his fingers gripped it before it had hardly moved.

“What is it, ma chérie ?”

He was facing her, his belt and the top button of his jeans still undone, and a fine line of hair trailed down from his navel, disappearing within. She pulled her eyes up with an effort, which wasn’t much better. His bare stomach, bumpy abs she wanted to run her fingers over, pecs she could…

He was watching her.

She cleared her throat, focusing on his face. “Belle said that if my power built up too much, I could die.”

He tilted his head. “Why would it build up?”

“Because of the symbiosis. She mentioned something about exploding and redecorating the sofa in a more charming color.”

“Did she now?” he said, his lips twitching. Then he frowned. “That’s not funny.”

“I’m glad you think so,” she said sarcastically, “even if it did take you a moment. ”

“My apologies, ma chérie. I am half asleep. Please, tell me what it is you wish.”

She glanced down, squirming, but that didn’t help; it drew her eyes to his half-unbuttoned jeans once more. “I wondered if… we should… you know…”

“You wish to make love?” he asked, a note of puzzlement in his voice.

“Hell no!” Her head came up. “Why would you—?”

He frowned. “You were looking at…” He turned away and took a couple of paces into the room. “My apologies again. I am fighting to stay awake. Please forgive my stupid remarks.”

But I was staring at his…

Did he want to? Did vampires even…?

Belle’s voice intruded in her memories once more. “A vampire cannot get you pregnant, ma fillette.”

Cally gritted her teeth. That so wasn’t helpful. “I meant, should you feed on me? Just to… keep my power from”— killing me —“getting out of control?”

“Ah.” He was refastening the top button of his jeans, the act pulling the denim tighter across his ass.

He turned around once he’d finished. “I don’t think we need to worry.

You were a witch before I first fed on you, and it did you no harm.

If the symbiosis grows your power… well, it is still early.

One assumes it will take time before your power grows to a level where it could threaten you. ”

Of course. That makes perfect sense. I should’ve realized.

“Sorry to bother you.” She made to leave.

“On the other hand,” he added thoughtfully, “it might be better to stay on top of such things.”

“Do you think so?”

“We should err on the side of caution. I can take only what would be required.”

“Do you need to feed?”

He hesitated. “Need? No, not really. I would like to, but I can resist if you prefer not.”