Page 197 of Vampire so Virtuous

“Mine, or yours?”

“Ours.”

Forty-six – Cally

Antoine led her out of the back entrance of Minh’s club—the clubformerlybelonging to Minh.

“Gray SUVs,” she noted bitterly. “I didn’t tell you, but his thralls killed an innocent retired doctor, just because I was there at the time.”

He squeezed her hand. “Not your fault,ma chérie.We are not responsible for the actions of others.”

“I know, but still.” She shook her head. Then, more fiercely, “I’m glad you killed him. What is the point of being a powerful witch if I can’t even stop a vampire like Minh? All this magic I supposedly have, and I couldn’t even—”

She broke off as they reached the black shutter gate, torn off its mountings. “It’s never hard to guess which entrance you used, is it?”

Antoine’s face hardened, his pale blue eyes flashing red. “I don’t like being kept from you.”

“Clearly,” she said dryly, but added her other hand to their clasp. “I think I’m warming to that theme.”

The sharpness in his eyes softened, replaced by something deeper—a quiet hunger. “Let’s go home,” he said.

She’d missed his intense, broody gazes. “More than ready. Did you bring your car?”

“You blew it up.”

“I told you that wasn’t me. And you have another.”

“I left it in the middle of Route 9 when the traffic got too heavy.”

She stared at him. “You abandoned your car in the middle of the road?”

He shrugged. “I was in a rush.”

“Well, now it will have been impounded,” she said. “I suppose we could get an Uber.”

“I could carry you,ma chérie.”

“Thought you’d never ask,” she said, and pushed against his arm.

He blinked, his expression flickering between surprise and pleasure. Then, without hesitation, he bent and swept her off her feet. “It is alwaysmy honor to carry you like this.”

She laid her hand against his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin where the vampire spawns had torn through his T-shirt with their teeth and claws. “I’m sorry about your coat. Will you be warm enough?”

“How could I be cold with you in my arms?”

With an exhilarating whoosh, he shot up through the parking garage, shadows curling around them. He barely paused at the street before leaping to the nearest rooftop.

The rain hit fast and hard, drenching them in seconds.

“I forgot it was raining,” she said, pulling up her hood and snuggling closer against his chest for warmth.

The lights of the city flashed past as he leaped from building to building, but she kept her face buried in the crook of his neck, hiding from the rain and wind. She recognized his scent—subtle cologne and the pleasing hint of musk that lay beneath—but this time, there was no trace of leather from his coat. Instead, she smelled the metallic tang of blood covering his clothes and skin, a reminder of the evening’s violence.

“You need a shower.”

“We both do. You smell of Minh.”

“Yuck. Do I? How repulsive.”