Violette Dubrinsky (14 page)

“She had a vision, Victor.” Her eyes begged him to listen. “When she first met you, Antoinette had a vision.”

His smile was feral, and Azaleigh recoiled, either from his fangs or his blood-colored eyes. Anger was there, but standing so close to her, he could smell the blood in her veins, and the scent of sunshine and light, to which he was not immune.

“A vision that made her turn me into her personal zombie?” Victor followed her, his black Leeds shoes clipping the hardwood with each step. Azaleigh retreated until the wall halted her, her gaze frantically searching his, as if unsure whether he intended to hurt her. Her fear fueled the beast caged inside, but Victor didn’t want that. He locked onto the rapidly beating pulse at her smooth neck, and his mouth grew dry. One taste, and he’d let her go back to New York, to the new life she now had.

He didn’t know he was growling until Azaleigh placed a trembling hand on his shirt. As he blinked, her blanched face came into focus.

With a curse, he stepped away, moving to the other side of the game room. Even at the distance, he could still hear her heart thundering, smell her blood. He hadn’t fed in days. Tonight, he’d intended on finding a willing blood slave or guest and sating his need.

“Go home, Azaleigh.”

She cleared her throat, and took several deep breaths. “The vision was of the two of us.”

“And that was the reason she enslaved me for forty years?” He couldn’t bring himself to laugh—his stomach was beginning to ache—but he did manage a snort of disbelief. “Antoinette’s dead, and I am with my people. I don’t care to hear anything else about her. Go home.”

“She saw us together, Victor, in the sunlight.”

Her voice was growing closer, and with it, her scent. Victor turned, halting Azaleigh in her steps.

“So, she saw the future. Antoinette was always gifted with Sight. It means nothing.”

Licking her lips, Azaleigh slipped the parchment back into her bag, and took a few steps forward. He swallowed audibly.

“I missed you, Victor.”

Her words surprised him, but her scent was making him crazy. Victor stepped behind the pool table, opening the distance between them again. “You chose to leave.”

She turned to face him. “I didn’t think we could be together.”

“You never discussed it with me, Azaleigh. You left when I couldn’t follow you.”

Lowering her head, she agreed. “I’m sorry. I thought I was doing the best thing for—”

“For you, and you did. Now, you can have your sunlight, your human partner, and live a normal, happy life.”

“For
us
, Victor.” Her voice grew louder. “I wouldn’t survive here! I was your blood slave, remember? I couldn’t do that for the rest of my life, and before you say anything about ‘freeing’ me, I can’t do the balls, and the dinner parties, and the hunts and—and the darkness for the rest of my life, and I thought you couldn’t come with me, so I left.”

He hissed at her. “I don’t need any of this! I don’t need the balls or the parties, but once, I needed you, and you left!” She went still, blanching further, but he wasn’t finished. “You went back to your little apartment in New York, and you found someone else.”

“I didn’t, Victor.” Azaleigh came forward quickly, shaking her head in such fierce denial, he might have believed her. “I didn’t find anyone else.”

“I saw you!” The pool table crashed to the side, pushed away by his hands in anger. Azaleigh instantly stepped back, her hand covering her neck, as he advanced. Victor caught her around the waist, pulling her flush against him and keeping her steady as he spoke. “Do you know I followed you to New York? I contacted your realtor, and he gave me your phone number. It took me another week to find your address, but once I had it, I came for you.” His grip loosened when she only stared at him in awe. “I was going to convince you we could be together despite the differences, but you were with someone else.” She tensed, and when her eyes flitted away from him in shame, Victor could have roared. “Two weeks, Azaleigh, was what it took for you to replace me.”

When he released her this time, Victor stalked to the wall-phone near the door. “This is Victor Winters. I need a car for Ms. Azaleigh Montclaire to Hallows Brook within the next five minutes.”

***

“Wait, Victor!” Coming out of her shock, Azaleigh rushed to him, catching his jacket between her fists. “It wasn’t like that. I know what you saw, but it wasn’t like that.”

She was still reeling from learning that he’d followed her to New York. The one night she’d had a ‘date’ he’d seen her.

Victor placed the phone into its cradle, and gently extracted her fingers from his jacket, holding them in his large, cool hands.

“It wasn’t like what, Azaleigh? His tongue wasn’t in your mouth, and you two weren’t close to naked? I left before you got to it, but I’m smart enough to know what followed.”

“Listen to me, Victor!” She was growing desperate now. In his eyes, still ungodly red, Azaleigh could see he didn’t believe her. “We kissed once, and that was it. Nothing happened. I promise. Victor, please listen. I was trying to get over you—I didn’t think I’d see you again. I was trying to move on. I wanted to know if someone else could make me feel the way you did.” He scowled down at her, disbelief twisting his features. “Nothing happened, I swear.”

Victor gently pushed her away. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“I didn’t do anything!” Anger punched through her desperation and tears. “It’s been three months, Victor. Look me in the face and tell me
you
didn’t do anything.”

His eyes narrowed on her, and she felt something squeeze her heart as she saw the truth in his eyes. Of course he had. She’d known he would. Had expected it. But it still hurt.

“You left, Azaleigh.”

“I’m not blaming you. I-I was just pointing out that we both tried to move on.” Running a hand over her face, she wiped at the salty tears now falling past her lips.

There was a loud knock at the door, and Victor eyed it, before turning to look at her. As he moved to answer, Azaleigh looked at the dark wood floors.

“I love you.”

His steps halted, but then they began again, steady and determined. She heard the slight squeak as the door opened.

“The car is outside.”

“Good, Garland. Ms. Montclaire will be ready within the next minutes.” Victor closed the door, and briefly, hope fluttered in Azaleigh’s chest. She looked up to find him staring coldly at her. “I thought you’d want to wash your face.” His head indicated a door to his right. “When you’re finished, go outside. Garland will take you to the car.”

Victor’s hands were on the door knob once more when she found her voice. “Thank you for seeing me,
Your Highness.
I’m sorry I wasted your time, but I’ll be out of your life forever in just a few minutes.”

Storming past him into the restroom, Azaleigh closed the door and stared at her reflection. Her face was streaky and blotched red, her eyes pink and puffy. Shaking her head, she ran the tap, washed her face, and blew her nose. When she stepped from the bathroom, there was no sign of Victor. Only the expensive cologne he now wore remained.

Making her way into the hallway, she found Garland, Victor’s huge, stoic Protector, waiting for her, and followed him out to the black Benz outside.

The driver, who barely looked legal to be operating heavy machinery and was so pale she knew he belonged to Victor’s people, kept peeking at her, as if he had something to say. Already irate, Azaleigh snapped. “What?”

“Sorry, ma’am. I was wondering if they announced it already.”

“Announced what?”

“The prince’s engagement.”

Her heart had broken before with Victor’s cold words, but it now felt close to ripping from her chest, falling to the ground, and shattering once more.

“He’s engaged?”

With a cautious look as if unsure he should have mentioned anything, the driver nodded and stepped on the gas. Azaleigh became aware of the wealth of luxury cars bypassing them to enter the compound. Turning to peer after them, she caught sight of the expensive evening gowns, the sharp suits, similar to the one Victor had been wearing.

“They’re supposed to announce it tonight. The prince and Gina Hendricks, the South Carolina heiress.”

Tears blurred her vision then, and Azaleigh stared at the ruby-adorned, gold ring on her finger the entire way home. Her driver, probably sensing her mood, didn’t bother to engage her in further conversation, and when he finally opened the door to the car, managed an unsure smile. Entering her house, Azaleigh closed the door and collapsed against it, sliding the ring from her finger.

Antoinette had been wrong.

Chapter 11

She came awake jerkily, her body fighting his as Azaleigh drew long pulls of air into her lungs to scream. Victor tightened his arms around her, and spoke softly.

“It’s me, Azaleigh. I’m not here to hurt you.”

Her heart thundered, but she swallowed and tried to control her breathing.

She’d taken the same room she’d occupied before, laying out more of her possessions in it. There were no suitcases pressed up against the walls anymore. The vanity was decorated with lotions, hair products, her essentials. After their conversation, he’d wondered if she was back in Hallows Brook for a few days or permanently. Coming to the house, and seeing that she’d added her stamp to it, told him it was the latter.

“Victor?” Azaleigh’s voice was hoarse, and she cleared her throat a few times before adding, “What are you doing here?”

It was the question he’d asked when he found himself standing at the front door. He was missing his own engagement party, chasing after a woman who’d left him three months ago. Just hours ago, she’d returned to him, speaking of a letter from Antoinette and telling him she loved him. He’d been angry then, was still angry, but her words haunted him as he mingled with his guests. Gina Hendricks was beautiful, womanly in her curves with a beguiling innocence in her features. If Azaleigh hadn’t returned tonight, he would have been content with her. But Azaleigh had. She’d come to him. And the only thing Victor could focus on in the presence of Gina and the rest of his guests was Azaleigh’s tear-stained face, and the pain in her eyes when she’d told him she loved him and he’d thrown her out.

“Did you mean it?” he murmured against her hair, taking a deep inhale of the melon-scented shampoo she’d used.

Her hand moved down to his, resting against her bare midriff, and she tentatively covered it with her own. “Mean what?”

“Do you love me?”

She hesitated for the briefest moment, but nodded once. Victor released a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. On his way here, he’d half expected her to say no, that he’d killed whatever feelings she had for him when he’d been so nasty to her.

“That’s good, baby.” He smoothed her soft hair from her neck, pressing his lips to the pulse that was gradually slowing there, and resisting the urge to sink his teeth and feed. “Because I need you. I was angry before, and I’m sorry for treating you like I did, but I do need you, Azaleigh. I need you more than I need anything else.”

She rolled in his arms, coming to face him, and though she couldn’t see him in the pitch blackness of the room, he could make out every expression flitting over her face. He read wariness, distrust, and hope.

“I missed you so much, Victor,” she admitted softly, licking her lips as she edged closer to him. He pulled her the few inches remaining until he could feel the elastic of her panties pressing against his dress shirt. “I didn’t expect you to come after me. You were so...”

“Cold?” He kissed her lips gently. “I was angry, and hurt.” It shamed him to admit it, because he could see Azaleigh, crying and broken, begging him to listen. “I wanted to make you feel what I felt. I’m sorry.” Victor kissed her again, this time delving his tongue into her mouth and caressing her until she moaned.

From the moment he’d seen her lying in the bed, he’d wanted to take her. As he tasted her, reacquainting himself with the sweetness, his cock tented his trousers, searching for a way into the warm body beside him.

“You taste even better than I remember.” It was a harsh whisper against her lips, all he could muster before he rolled onto her. Azaleigh didn’t protest. She was as desperate for him as he was for her. Her fingers dug into his scalp, pulling his head down as he devoured her mouth.

Through her underwear, the scent of her need hit his nose, swelling his already aching appendage. Without breaking the kiss, Victor slid a sharp fingernail under her panties, cutting quickly through the cotton.

Azaleigh tugged his shirt from his pants, and quickly undid the button. As her warm fingers caressed him, he jumped, pulled her hand above her head, and finding the other, locked both of them there.

Lifting his head, Victor stared down at her.
My woman
.

“Victor,” she whined, trying to break his hold on her arms. For her impatience, he slid a hand between her legs, testing her readiness for him. Azaleigh was soaked, her wet heat easing his finger within her. As the tight heat of her body gripped him, he kissed her again.

When she’d told him nothing happened with her human friend in New York, he hadn’t believed it. Now, with the restrictive tightness of her body, he was more inclined to. She didn’t feel like a woman who’d had a lover recently.

He added a second finger to the first, using his thumb to gently stroke her clitoris, and she broke his kiss to turn her head aside and scream his name, parting her thighs wider to give him access. Needing to taste her breasts, Victor released her hands and pulled the bra down, sucking one dark areola then the other into his mouth. Her hands flew back to his hair, smoothing down his neck to his back as she arched against him, whimpering.

Victor wanted to taste the nectar coating his fingers, but he was close to the edge. Removing his fingers, he quickly lined himself up with her opening.

“Wait,” Azaleigh suddenly murmured, and Victor could have cried. “Protection?”

Protection
? For a few seconds, his mind went blank to what that was, and then he remembered.

“I can’t give you anything or get you pregnant, Azaleigh,” he said, his voice hoarse and pained. “We don’t carry or transmit diseases, and can only reproduce with others of our race.”

“Oh.” A smile tilted her lips as she pulled his head down to hers. “Then what are you waiting for?”

Victor went deep in one stroke, holding still as Azaleigh bucked under him, struggling to adjust to his size once more. When the grimace faded from her lips, he kissed her apologetically, and began moving, gliding in and out of the slick, warm tunnel he’d constantly dreamed of in the past months.

With her body flying high on passion, her blood smelled sweeter, and Victor’s fangs instantly descended. Azaleigh gasped as they nicked her lips, and he kissed the cut better, never halting his sure thrusts.

“Are you thinking about biting me, Victor?” Azaleigh asked, her hands tightening in his hair as the thought of her blood flowing down his throat made him thrust harder.

“Do you want me to?” he countered, pulling her leg higher to get deeper into the tight, pulling heat.

A seductive smile crossed her lips and she nodded, biting her lip when he withdrew almost to the point of leaving her, then thrust to the hilt.

“Yes.”

Azaleigh turned her head to one side, and Victor could clearly see the two, faded dark brown dots on her skin, his healed-over bite. He teased her first, drawing his tongue over her racing pulse, before fulfilling both their desires and taking her vein.

“Oh my God!” she moaned, fingers scratching his side through the shirt as he held her pinned to the bed.

He stroked her to a frenzy as her addictive body spurred him on. They came together, Azaleigh’s body milking him, and his, helpless to resist the forceful, delicious spasms that overtook him.

He released her neck, licking at the sweet droplets that formed over the incisions he’d made. Her eyes were closed, and a slight smile played around her lips as she took quick pulls of air into her lungs.

“I love you.”

Her eyes flew open, and he repeated the words, kissing lips that parted into an ‘o’ and rolling to his side. He sat up and removed his soaked-through shirt, tossing the dark blue Egyptian cotton aside like it hadn’t cost more than someone’s salary. Victor stood and let the trousers fall away.

As he climbed back into the bed, Azaleigh pushed into his arms.

“How much?” She asked the question so softly, Victor wasn’t certain whether she’d spoken or he was hearing things.

Turning to her, he stared into her face. Her eyes were open, and locked on his. Serious.

“More than anything.” What he felt for the woman in his arms overrode rationality. It just was. Now that she was back and available to him, he couldn’t image a life without her.

She nodded, but her gaze became guarded. “What about Gina?”

He was surprised she knew about Gina, but Victor answered. “I left the party to come to you. There won’t be an engagement. I’ll tell them tomorrow.”

Azaleigh didn’t speak for a long time, but from her irregular breathing patterns, Victor knew she was awake.

“I want to be with you,” she finally said, her voice soft and vulnerable. “I want to live with you, and laugh with you, grow old with you.”

“What about the human in your apartment?” It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her, he was ready to listen now. When she’d spoken before, he’d been in a rage, and all he’d heard was that ‘it’ had happened once. What the ‘it’ was, he wasn’t certain.

“Adam?” Victor’s teeth snapped together at the name. “Nothing else happened. We kissed once, but there was nothing there. I—he wasn’t you.”

With that confession, she burrowed further against him, and Victor couldn’t help the surge of masculine pride that made his chest swell, and his hand clutch her tighter.

Suddenly, Azaleigh stiffened and he eased his hold. “And you?”

Confused, he tried to read her expression. Her head was tilted down, but he could still see the tight seam of her lips. “Me?”

“What about the others?”

If Azaleigh growled, Victor was certain that was it would sound like. “I don’t understand—”

“The other women, Victor.”

With a frustrated huff, she tried to peel her body from his. Victor didn’t relax his grip, and when she’d struggled enough, Azaleigh finally tossed him a glare and stopped.

“There weren’t other women.”

She looked so surprised, Victor almost smiled. He’d tried, God knew he’d tried, but blood-lust had been the only thing he’d felt in another female’s presence. Beautiful, naked, and willing had done nothing to jumpstart his arousal. One thought of Azaleigh though, and he was aching.

“But when I asked you about that tonight, you said—”

“I didn’t say anything, but I knew what you’d assume,” he corrected. He’d wanted to hurt her the way he’d hurt when he saw that human pawing her.

“Oh.” Azaleigh was silent for a long time before she drew closer, tossing an arm about his chest. “I want us, Victor. Just
us
.”

“Good, because I want that too.” Even as he said it, Victor realized there were barriers. He wouldn’t grow old, would never suffer from disease or illness, had the ability to recover from any injury so long as he fed, but she would succumb to one, if not all of those things, unless he made her like him.

“Antoinette’s letter had something else...a spell.”

“A spell?”

“Do you miss the sunlight? Really miss it?”

“I only miss it when you’re not with me.” She
was
his sunshine.

A tear fell from her eye, and Victor instantly pulled her on top of him. “Why are you crying?”

“I love you, Victor, but I don’t know if I can ask you to make the sacrifices for us to be together.”

“Let me make that decision, baby.” He drew his hand up her back, and coming in contact with the bra strap, unhooked it and tossed it away. “What will I have to sacrifice?”

Azaleigh kissed him, a deep kiss that spoke volumes of her love, and something else. When she lifted her head, it was to murmur softly.