Paris After Dark (6 page)

Claude’s fangs extended. His green eyes began to glow. He stalked towards her. “You should’ve waited your turn. But if you insist on going first.” He hauled Rachel to her feet and slammed her against the pillar. “Don’t move.”

She was too numb to feel anything.

“What, no begging or pleading for your life? How about the life of your lover?” He glanced at Gabriel.

Rachel glared. “Just get on with it.”

The bones made sucking noises as Claude pulled them out of his body and dropped them on the ground in disgust. He growled, then wrenched her neck back and opened his mouth. His warm fetid breath bathed her throat. “Painful, but pointless. Do you not know how to kill a
vampyre?”

Rachel braced herself.

Claude’s body jerked once. He released her and looked down. Rachel followed his gaze to see the sharp edges of a bone protruding from the middle of his chest.

“I do,” Gabriel hissed, driving the bone deeper.

There was no drama to Claude’s death. He didn’t burst into flames, shrivel up and age, or flail about. He simply fell to his knees, grimaced and died.

Rachel’s legs gave out and she slid to the ground. “We got him,” she said, then coughed. Blood smeared her delicate lips.

“Yes, we did.” Gabriel rifled through Claude’s pockets until he found what he was looking for. He dropped the St Michael medal into Rachel’s hand. “I believe this is yours.” He choked on the words. “I told you I’d get it back for you.”

She smiled and touched his cheek, leaving a streak of blood behind. “Thank you.”

“Listen,” Gabriel said. “We don’t have much time.”

Rachel laughed and winced. “We knew that going in.”

“No.” He shook his head. “You don’t understand. You have a choice to make. Normally this is done by the
sanguis
who sired you. But since he’s dead, I can offer.”

Rachel’s lids drooped shut. Gabriel shook her hard. “Wake up and listen.” He sounded desperate, even to his own ears. Her eyes fluttered open, but they didn’t focus. “I can change you into what I am, but it has to be done with your permission.”

“What are you saying?”

“Do you want to live?” Gabriel asked. “Yes or no.”

Ever since Paul’s death Rachel had been asking herself that question. Up until now the answer had always been the same – no. But that was before she’d met Gabriel. He reminded her that she was indeed alive. She glanced at the St Michael’s medal in her hand. It used to bring her pain and comfort in equal measure. Now as she stroked the necklace with her thumb all she had was fond memories. She met Gabriel’s eyes.

He trembled under her regard. She could tell what it was costing him to wait. He’d live with whatever she decided, but hope burned eternal in his gaze.

“Do it,” she said, then braced herself.

Just like when they’d made love, Rachel felt a slight sting as his teeth broke the skin on her neck. Gabriel held her close, comforting her as he drank. The drips from the water faded and the world began to dim. Rachel felt her heart stutter. Before it stopped, Gabriel pulled the dagger out of her and sliced open his wrist, then pressed the bleeding wound to her mouth.

“Drink for our future.” Gabriel forced her to swallow, when every instinct inside her revolted.

Two Days Later …

Rachel woke up in her bed at the Hotel Luxembourg. She reached down and winced as her hand touched her tender abdomen. She lifted her shirt and saw a clean white bandage. Rachel glanced around. Nothing looked different, but the bandage meant it definitely hadn’t been a dream.

She heard the shower running in the bathroom. A moment later the door opened with a billow of steam and Gabriel stepped out with a white fluffy towel wrapped around his trim waist.

“You’re finally awake,” he said, not bothering to hide his relief. “How are you feeling?”

Rachel sat up. “Fine, I think. How did we get here?”

He grinned and her heart skittered. “I carried you.”

“You do realize the hotel is never going to let me stay here again, right?”

“This is Paris. The city of love.” His expression grew solemn. “What are you going to do now that you’ve recovered?”

He watched her carefully. The vulnerability she’d seen in the catacombs was back in full force. Rachel made a show of thinking about it. She had nothing to go back to in New York other than a small apartment, an empty refrigerator and months of psychological evaluations.

“I thought maybe I’d stick around. My French is rusty and I need to learn the ropes of this whole
vampyre
thing,” she said.

Hope blossomed in his blue eyes. “I’d be more than happy to teach you, if you like.”

“What would I do for work?” she asked. “You can’t live on love alone, not even in Paris.”

Gabriel’s smile was back, wider than before. “I happen to know of a job opening now that my partner has retired.”

“Is that so?” Rachel had a hard time keeping a straight face.

“Of course, I’ll have to interview you.” His heated gaze raked her and she felt an answering pull deep inside.

Rachel arched a brow. “What does a
vampyric
interview entail?”

Gabriel dropped his towel, revealing his growing desire. “It starts with a very thorough physical.”

Rachel grinned, admiring the view. “Did I ever tell you I received the Presidential patch for fitness when I was in school?”

Gabriel’s lips quirked. “Prove it.”