The Vampyre Legal Chronicles - James (11 page)

Three nights later Charlotte awoke alone in her big bed.

The bedroom was lit by a single candle. Blinking up at the ceiling, she remembered her beautiful home was no more and that she and James now lived in the penthouse suite of Gillespie, Pattullo and Hindmarch in San Francisco.

As she lay there, Charlotte very carefully took stock of her physical and emotional health.

Since she’d learned the skill of blocking from Ezekiel, the Legion's voices in her head were now quiet, thank God.

In the basement medical facility Ezekiel was healing in a way that could only be described as miraculous. Although he was still incredibly weak. Escorted by Anais, she visited him daily for a couple of hours for a crash course on how to manage the basics of her magic. Saira Pattullo usually joined them, too.

Saira and Anais had become Charlotte's go-to people when she needed help or information.

And it hadn't taken her long to realize she’d made two very good friends.

Aversion to her vampyre had been replaced by a deepening curiosity and an acceptance that this other person was indeed a complex part of her, too, and nothing to be feared.

She was learning so much of how her magic worked and how it harnessed the elements of their natural world and the laws that guided Ezekiel’s work and beliefs.

Compared to accepting her reality that everyone who mattered in her life was a vampyre, for Charlotte, learning witchcraft was a walk in the park. The craft of magic made absolute sense to her as was the realization it was an inherent part of her DNA. She’d been born with it and that was why she’d been attracted to healing, to serving others. That fact aided her mental health enormously and gave her a much needed injection of self-confidence.

Alone, she’d taken to practising magic in small steps.

Focusing hard, she directed her thoughts, moved her fingers and doused and re-lit the candle in the room.

Thrilled with herself, she hugged even that small achievement close.

Rising, she padded over to the French doors and opened them wide.

Her panties were tiny and made of silk the color of bone as was the matching vest. Since the evening was warm she didn’t bother with a robe.

She stepped out onto the balcony.

Tipping her face up to the moon, she leaned her elbows on the heavy stainless steel rail and intoned a short prayer to The Goddess. The moon, she'd discovered from Anais, was to vampyres what the sun was to humans and the satellite’s silver rays prickled the skin on her face, her arms, and her legs.

Charlotte inhaled, relaxed into it to absorb the cool and wondrous power of the night.

As James slid into her mind, her good mood didn't last long.

Anxiety fisted in her gut.

She wondered what on earth was to become of her marriage.

Soon after they'd found Ezekiel, her husband had travelled to New York with his brothers.

His anger with her before he'd left was all she thought about these days. It twisted her stomach in knots.

She was waiting for him to make the first move.

He hadn't phoned her.

Now her brow creased, it wasn't like James to keep her hanging like this, but what was to be done?

Saira had explained to a confused Charlotte that for a mated vampyre to have another take his mate’s vein was tantamount to Ezekiel fucking her, which was, in Charlotte's opinion, perfectly ridiculous. There was no way she was attracted to the witch and neither was Ezekiel attracted to her.

Each morning she spent time with Anais who helped her meditate to calm her mind and directed her to think of the positives of her situation. Today Ezekiel had helped her take a huge step forward in harnessing her powers.

"Take a deep breath," he'd said, "and think of the Earth as a woman with a beating heart. Hear it. Feel it. Sense it. Open your mind."

Breathing deeply, Charlotte had let his deep voice lead her to a calm and peaceful place.

She smiled. "It's like the ebb and flow of the ocean."

"Exactly. Well done."

He'd also taken the opportunity to explain to her that her blood was a very special juice. A sticky, red substance imbued with life, with magic, and that's why vampyres existed in the first place. Ezekiel had desperately needed the injection of magic from her blood to begin the healing of his horrific wounds. He might be healing fast, but the witch was still weak and needed regular shots of her hemoglobin. Thankfully taken from her in the usual way rather than by him taking her vein.

James might be annoyed over something she considered trivial, but he was behaving like a child and needed to get over himself. As far as Charlotte was concerned what she’d done was nothing more than the equivalent of volunteering at a blood bank. How many times at the hospital had the staff donated blood during an emergency?

However, today she’d learned all about the global pharmaceutical company run by a vampyre, Constantine Mabille, that manufactured synthetic hemoglobin specifically for vampyres. Saira had produced bags of the stuff for Charlotte’s regular consumption. The medic had also told her that she could supplement her intake by feeding from James.

The very thought revolted her and had caused a rare spat with the vampyre medic.

"I'm not drinking blood from James. Ever," she'd said to Saira.

"You're one stubborn witch," came the response.

"Damn right. Did I ask for this? Did I?"

"No."

"'Nough said."

Although at the moment there was fat chance of her ever feeding from her husband.

Once he’d assured himself she was fine after she’d fainted, James hadn’t come near her. In fact he'd travelled to another city. Apparently, all the Gillespie vampyres were at some very important meeting in New York, video conferencing with the
Precedential Elders
(whatever the hell they were) discussing a Judicial Order against Eleanor Pattullo. The full force of the vampyre leadership were lined up against Cristophe Pattullo's daughter for crimes committed against the vampyre nation.

And Charlotte couldn’t be sorry for it, even though she was finding it hard to believe
why
the vampyre had wanted her dead in the first place - all because she'd had a hot affair with James over one hundred years ago? Oh yes, she'd heard all about her husband's hot affair with Eleanor from Saira.

One hundred years had passed and still the woman wasn't over it?

She shook her head, trying to get her mind around the timescale and failed spectacularly.

How many times had she woken up all alone and in a cold sweat in the middle of a flashback of the agony she’d endured during her transition from human to vampyre? That was usually when her vampyre took over and forced her back to sleep.

Confronting the truth about how Eleanor had managed to manipulate her so easily, had Charlotte admit that if all had been well in her marriage, if her and James had had total honesty and trust in their relationship, no one could have used their weaknesses to come between them.

Both of them were at fault.

James Gillespie had married her but hadn’t taken the final step to bring her fully into his world. She’d been living in a sort of no-man’s land being neither one thing nor the other.

Her instincts about James and how he'd treated her in bed had been spot on, too.

He
had
been holding something back; a crucial part of himself.

And by holding himself back sexually from her, he'd fed her insecurities.

Who’d have guessed the truth, he was a vampyre?

But even though she was so very angry with him, Charlotte admitted, she’d been at fault too. By indulging in self-pity and stupidly confiding in another woman instead of her husband, Charlotte was just as responsible as James for the mess of her marriage.

While
he
should have told her the truth about being a vampyre and the price she’d need to pay to be with him, instead James deliberately and wilfully removed her right to choose her own destiny.

Nursing a heavy heart she wished James would return to her and they could sort themselves out and get on with their lives.

Turning back, she entered her bedroom and Charlotte stopped dead and simply stared.

Her heart was doing a pretty good imitation of having cardiac dysrhythmia.

As if she'd conjured him simply by thinking about him, James was standing in her bedroom with his hands thrust in his suit trouser pockets staring very hard at her.

And he didn't look friendly.

Her gaze took in his long, lean frame and a liquid dark longing pulsed and ached between her legs.

How could she have forgotten the physical impact of him and how stunningly beautiful he was? His glossy hair was tied at the neck. His face looked like it was carved from solid rock.

All the while those blue eyes slid slowly from her bare feet and up her body with an intensity that made her eyes sting.

Oh God, he was
still
angry with her?

And she had the most peculiar sensation of her vampyre sitting up, alert and ready to spring into action.

Without uttering a single word, he stepped past her placing himself between her and the balcony.

His vividly blue eyes searched the night skies, narrowing fractionally as they probed the rooftops.

"Didn’t anyone tell you that at any one time hundreds of Centuri have their eyes upon you? You’re giving them quite a show, darlin’," he said in a silky voice that made her mouth go dry.

She scanned the rooftops and sure enough there they were. Her enhanced eyesight was able to see quite clearly that Centuri were changing rooftop positions in sequence.

However, she wasn’t absolutely certain they were looking in
her
direction.

Why the hell was James angry with her?

How was
she
supposed to know all the bloody rules of being a vampyre?

He’d hardly been the help and support he’d promised, had he?

With a toss of her dark curls, Charlotte decided that the days when she stood trembling in front of his anger were long gone.

"I’m sure it’s nothing they haven’t seen before," she said, not bothering to hide the bite to her tone. "Is this how my life is going to be now? Watched all the time? The only people who treat me as if I'm not about to have a nervous breakdown are Anais, Saira and Ezekiel. Why? Why did you
do
this to me?"

The sixty-four-thousand dollar question.

"I didn't mean for you to get hurt like this, Charlie."

"Why did you marry me in the first place?"

He blinked.

"How can you ask me that? I love you."

Her brows rose.

"Really? Then I cannot imagine what you'd do to me if you ever hated me."

In the gesture of one utterly frustrated male, he ran his hand over the back of his neck.

His blue eyes held hers.

"This is not helping us, Charlie."

"No," she agreed as anger leaked away leaving her tired and disoriented. "You're right. When can I go back to work?"

"You can't."

That was it?

No discussion?

No debate?

The embers of anger sparked now, stoked by outrage.

"What do you mean I can't?"

"We need to keep you close, for your own safety."

She caught the tone of something in his voice, something that made her vampyre listen carefully.

"Am I not safe here?"

James fingered the jewel and the gold chain of his bloodstone in his pocket.

And the smooth feel of it gave him strength.

God, she looked fabulous.

Amazing.

Gorgeous.

"Of course you're safe. It's just..."

The way those big green eyes stared into his made him stop.

Jesus, what was the matter with his mouth? He could hardly articulate a single thought.

"Want to know something?" she asked now in a belligerent tone, her eyes cold.

"What?"

"You are not the person I thought you were when we married. I don't recognize you. I don't know you. And at the moment I don't even like you."

Fair enough.

He wasn't so fond of himself at the moment either.

How the hell had he made such a monumental mess of her life, of his life?

"It'll get better, Charlie. I promise."

Cue a long silence.

"Will it? What if I want a divorce? How does that happen in your world?"

Cue another long silence.

"I refuse."

"And that's it?"