Page 132 of Vampire so Virtuous

“Ah, but you and I came to a new agreement, didn’t we?”

Fuck.

Belle ran her lips along the side of Cally’s neck. “Offer yourself to me, and I’ll make itgoodfor you.”

“I’ve had good,” Cally said, stunned at her own audacity. “You couldn’t compare to Antoine.”

Belle laughed again. “Foolish words, my dear. Antoine is the spawn. I am the sire. Let me show you what that means.”

The sting of her fangs was familiar, but the sensation that followed was so much greater than Cally had ever imagined. She moaned, her body alight with pleasure, liquid ecstasy pooling inside her. She arched her back, unable to control the reaction.

Belle drank, each pull sending Cally’s blood racing. The pleasure peaked again, uncontrollable. She wanted to say ‘stop,’ but the word wouldn’t come. She couldn’t control her body, her limbs had lost their strength. Only Belle held her upright, effortlessly. Rapture blurred into delirium, her mind spinning. Someone was whimpering, and it took too long to realize it was her.

Then, as abruptly as she started, Belle stopped. Her tongue flicked over the wound to seal it.

As soon as she stepped back, Cally crumpled to the thick carpet, languid and listless, still awash with afterglow. Kneeling helpless at Belle’s feet.

“So,” Belle said, circling around her, licking her fangs. “Thatis why he has you.”

Thirty-two – Antoine

Antoine paced the living room again, glancing at the clock for the hundredth time.

He pulled out his phone and called Noah. “Is she still there?”

“Still there. Still watching the house. I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

Helpless. That was the feeling creeping over him, and it had been centuries since he’d felt anything like it. One visit from Belle, and he’d regressed to the vulnerable, powerless vampire he’d been when he’d first been turned. All his power, his territory, his history—none of it seemed to matter in the face of her sadistic little smile.

Oh, how he hated her!

And now she had Cally.

He reached the door of the living room, stared at it in frustration, then pivoted, turning on his heel and pacing back across the room. Marcel lifted his gaze from his glass of Bordeaux, as if about to speak, but thought better of it and went back to swirling his drink.

What was it about her? Why couldn’t he stop thinking about her?

Even when she wasn’t in the tender care of Belle, she filled his thoughts.

It wasn’t just her blood—though that was as alluring, delicious, and potent as it had ever been, and had completely spoiled his enjoyment of any other in comparison. He thought back to her unhesitating competency in Minh’s nightclub, the speed with which her feet had lashed out. There had been no fear in her, even when facing creatures far stronger than her.

The taste of her lips.

The way she’d bitten his neck.

Again he saw the thrall fall backward, his face a mask of blood, his knee blown sideways by her perfectly timed kick. Could any other chattel have struck so fast, so hard?

“So am I stronger than a normal human?”

Four times he’d marked a chattel before her, but nothing had ever been like this. Something was different, and the obvious answer was Minh’sblood.

There was no doubt he was stronger, but he was growing stronger still, which made nosense. He’d barely had a mouthful or two before Minh had pulled away—and it had tasted like shit, too.

Antoine let out a low, humorless sound, causing Marcel to look up from his glass.

So Minh was Roberto’s spawn.Thank you, Belle, for sharing that information. Though how she’d come by it, he had no idea. Still, it explained a great deal: the number of thralls Minh commanded, his audacity in challenging Antoine, and his alliances with vampires who were far stronger than he. Even the moves on Antoine’s territory, before the Curia had even ratified such action.

And there was more. Minh wasn’t his only enemy. Nico, Tobias and Matteo, too—all of whom had territories bordering Antoine’s, or close to it in Nico’s case.