Page 78 of Vampire so Virtuous

She tapped the letter against her lips, offering him a frolicsome smile. “Terror. Pouvoir. Excitation.”

Did she mean the Curia was exciting, or their power was? He had learned that what Belle found exciting, he often found terrifying. It seemedthe Curia was both.

“Quand?” he asked.

“Trois jours,” she replied, and a faint crease of consternation flicked across her perfect face.

Three days was little time to prepare. She whipped her thralls into a frenzy, ensuring the château was spotless from top to bottom. Extravagant gifts were prepared: gold and precious metals, intricate artwork, and scented oils in jewel-encrusted bottles.

“When they are here, we speak English,” she said the morning of their arrival. “You speak English, yes?”

“I do,” he replied tentatively.

She raised a delicate eyebrow. “Better than me, no?”

Her accent was thick, the French intonation shaping her words;theybecamezey,Englishstretched intoEeeng-lesh. But it was unwise to appear more proficient than her in anything.

“I spent some time in England,” he said carefully, wary of incurring her displeasure. But she only rested a finger gracefully against her chin.

“I was thinking,” she mused, “maybe it is better if you go away while they are here. But perhaps it is better if you come, no?”

“As you wish.”

She gestured at him with the letter. “So fond you are of your blue eyes and creamy skin. Do away with your glamour. It would not be wise while they are here.”

He bowed, letting his glamour fade. “As my lady desires.”

She traced her lips with the tip of her tongue, her eyes darkening. “I will wait until they are gone before we explore my desires.”

He bowed again, his face carefully guarded. Her hunger for him had not lessened over the many months, and she was cruel and sadistic in their lovemaking. He healed rapidly, and she often gave him cause to. She liked to feed from him, sinking her teeth into his neck as she rode him, her bloodlust fueling her as she climaxed around him. In the early days, she had punished him for faltering too early. But he had learned. He had trained himself to endure, to keep pleasuring her while she drank from him.

They waited in silence for an hour or two. She sat in her chair in the hall, he stood beside her. Time stretched, thick and heavy. She was lost in thought, her stillness a rare thing. Antoine found himself wondering again, what did the Curia represent to inspire such caution in his mistress?

Eventually, the door opened. A thrall entered, followed closely by a man and a woman. “Vos invités, Madame Belle.” The thrall bowed and departedwith an alacrity that Antoine envied.

The man stepped forward, his red eyes flicking over Antoine before settling on Belle. He was of slender build, not as tall as Antoine, with a face that might have been attractive were it not for the cruel sneer that seemed permanently etched there. He wore elaborate, formal attire—a knee-length velvet coat over a waistcoat and breeches—in a distinctly English style, quite different from the current French fashion.

The lady brushed past him, the wide skirts of her gown sweeping against his legs. Her gaze lingered on Antoine before resting on Belle. She was almost as beautiful as Belle, but far fairer, though he sensed a darkness in her that made him suppress the urge to shiver.

“Enter, uphold our traditions, and keep my domain tranquil,” Belle said softly, her words carrying easily within the empty hall. Antoine sensed the ritualistic weight of them, and for that phrase, her accent had been less pronounced, as though she had uttered it before. Or practiced.

“Your trust is met with solemn commitment,” the man replied, bowing ever so slightly.

“He isn’t a thrall, is he?” the woman asked, her voice sensuous but laced with scorn.

With his distinctive red eyes, it was obvious Antoine was no thrall. Her remark was an insult, though whether aimed at him or as a slur toward Belle, he couldn’t be sure.

Belle laughed, a musical, carefree sound, artfully done. “Oh no, Lady Beatrice, he is merely a diversion.”

Antoine kept his face impassive. Given how easily Belle could subdue him when she chose, and the evident trepidation she had shown at the arrival of the Curia, the power levels in the room were clearly high. He didn’t include himself in that. If Belle wished to dismiss him as a mere toy, it was wise not to offend.

Perhaps I might even slip into the background…

“I assume all your entertainments are available to us?” Lady Beatrice asked lightly.

… Or not.

Belle nodded graciously, though Antoine, familiar as he was with her, noticed the slight tightening in her shoulders. She clearly wasn’t pleased with the request. Was she merely possessive, or was there some other reason?