Victoria sighed, curling up on the sofa while Christian lit a fire in the fireplace as the temperature had dipped a bit since earlier in the day. She didn't want to think about what Christian had done to make that happen. It seemed that the supernatural world had its fingers and connections everywhere ... more so than she'd ever imagined. She wondered if she would ever get used to being a part of that world—the world that existed in the shadows on the periphery of human reality. For better or for worse, she was a part of both now. She sighed.
"Are you all right?" Christian asked quietly, joining her. She nodded leaning against him. He inhaled the strawberry smell of her shampoo with the heady scent of her flickering beneath it. His longing for her, and her blood, had only gotten stronger. All he wanted to do was to bury his face in her neck and take and take until he couldn't take any more, even knowing that her blood would consume him, consequences be damned. He shifted uncomfortably.
"Have you talked to Holly?" he asked, resorting to conversation as a suitable distraction.
"Yes, earlier today. I don't know if I ever told you that my grandmother had confided to Holly about us, about me. She knew. But she wasn't prepared for Gabriel. None of us were." Victoria faltered, the sense of betrayal still keen. "She says Leto is doing much better too. I think the magical therapy I did might have actually worked, thanks again to the blood magic," she said. "I think it will take him a while to come to terms with you and me though. Overcoming centuries of hate will take time." She smiled wryly. "Did you talk to Lucian?"
"Briefly. He's as well as can be expected. The Houses are convening next month to elect the new member to replace Enhard." His eyes clouded.
"I'm so sorry, Christian," she said.
"It's okay. Time heals everything, and that's one thing I have plenty of." Victoria wished she could erase the sadness etched in his face. She smiled brightly.
"Speaking of Enhard, did you know that he could fly?"
Christian looked at her, knowing she was trying to make him to remember the good things, the happy things, about Enhard. "Yes. He was over eight hundred years old. At that age, vampires can fly or shape-shift. There are very few left as old as he was."
"He told me about Valerius and Brigid," Victoria said quietly. "He said Valerius was his mentor. He must have hated her so much when she killed Valerius—almost as much as he hated me."
"He didn't hate—"
Victoria interrupted him. "Not at the end when he helped me. It was only his love for you that made him trust me. But I know that he was afraid of me, of what I am." She hesitated. "He was afraid that I would kill you, too."
Christian marveled at her perspicacity. As strong as she was, he knew the possibility was there that the blood could eventually control her and it scared the hell out of him too. It was a heavy curse, Le Sang Noir, or as she called it the Cruentus Curse, which she had explained to Christian meant bloodthirsty in their old language. It was an apt name. Bloodthirsty.
"Tell me what you're thinking," Victoria said.
"I was thinking about you, and about the blood," he said. He could feel her body tense but then immediately relax. "It would protect you at all costs, right?"
"Yes, probably," she said. "What are you worried about?"
"Me." Victoria sighed and looked up at his handsome somber face. "And ... you," he admitted.
"Christian, we've been through this before," she said. He quelled her words by placing his finger against her lips.
"I know that, but sometimes fear is healthy. It's what keeps us alert and not seduced by a false sense of security because of who we are, especially because of who we are." He smiled sadly. "I don't want to lose you, Victoria ..."
"You won't."
"Will you do me one favor?" he asked. When she agreed, he continued. "Will you put a protection charm on yourself when we are together?"
Victoria said nothing and bit her lip as she nodded once. Truth was she always had a shield spell in place whenever they were together, not because she feared him but because she didn't want to hurt him. Enhard had had a right to worry; she was every bit as dangerous as Brigid had been.
She sighed as Christian stroked her hair, lulled by the warmth of the fire and the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, and closed her eyes, falling victim to the safety of his embrace as she always did.
Christian kissed her temple and felt her pulse immediately jump with life beneath his lips. Like a beacon, her blood soared, cognizant of its own seductive power and predatorily recognizing his weakness against it. He could hear it calling sensually to him with the tone of a forbidden lover and he sighed as he felt the tightening of his upper jaw. He'd fed earlier, but still it wasn't enough.
It was never enough.
He stood and stepped away putting several feet of distance between them, and stared out the window at the moonless night. Her scent curled around him. He sighed. Without any noise, he opened the French doors and stepped out onto patio, welcoming the cool air against his face.