Christian thought about Lena. She, on the other hand, was a different story—she was one of the deadliest and most lethal vampires he had ever met. He should know, after all, he had made her.
He stared out the window at the passing shops and restaurants, and thought back to the first time he had met Lena. An Austrian baroness, she had been stunning, mesmerizing, and both Christian and Lucian had been enraptured the minute they had seen her dueling in Vienna. It was in the last decade of the nineteenth century on a day neither of them would ever forget.
Her delicate feminine beauty had belied her strength and furious force of will, not to mention her skilled grace with a rapier. They'd watched her as she fought against three men, two twice her size, her weapon spinning at impossible speed. Her blond hair had whipped free of its covering, and people around them gasped. They'd thought her a boy.
"She's magnificent," Lucian had announced, staring at his brother in unspoken challenge. "I want her." Back then, competition had been a natural force between them—it had made the prize more exciting and much more satisfying when won.
"I want her, too," Christian had said.
And so it began.
They had pursued her relentlessly, fueled by the competition from each other, and fascinated by everything about her; her disregard for propriety, her flagrant disrespect for the rules, and her insatiable appetite to try anything—she did what she wanted when she wanted. She could speak nine languages, fight with all manner of weapons including her fists, having grown up with seven brothers, and she was fearless.
In the end, Christian had been first to petition the Council to allow her to become his companion, and they had granted the request. He'd told Lena the first time he'd taken her to his bed, and afterward, Christian offered Lena the gift of immortality.
"How could I want anything more than to be with you forever," she'd said.
There'd been no mention of love, and Lena had embraced becoming a vampire, and him, with open arms. Lucian had been a gracious loser, but in hindsight, Christian recognized that things had changed between them after that day.
It was during a time in his life when the monotony of immortality had weighed its heaviest and he had been looking for something, someone, anything, to offset the incredible sense of emptiness that had plagued him. Lena's uninhibited zest for every part of life had been like a spike of adrenaline to his system.
But despite his being her maker, a true bond between them had never formed and his attraction to her had worn off. He didn't love Lena, and the things that had drawn him to her in the first place, her fearlessness and lust for life, became the very things that he loathed the most. Like Lucian, she reveled in the kill, she reveled in being immortal, being stronger, faster, better, and she was willing to do whatever gave her the biggest thrill. In the end, she couldn't change who she was, a deadly killer who thoroughly enjoyed being one.
So he had left the House without any regrets, and she had stayed with Lucian. Over the years, she had remained eternally beautiful, but had become a thousand times more lethal.
As they drove through the city, Christian caught a glimpse of the gilded top of the Eiffel Tower in the distance, beautiful and majestic, and he felt an urge to just stop and breathe in the magic that was Paris. He instructed the driver to head toward the Arc de Triomphe. He felt like taking a walk.
He got out of the car and dismissed the driver for the night, saying that he would get himself back to St. Germain. The night air was crisp and cold, the Champs-Elysées beautifully lit with trees covered in tiny white lights meandering down either side of the grand avenue. Brightly lit storefronts glittered as far as the eye could see and the occasional glow of headlights pierced the darkness. He loved the sounds and the smell of Paris. It was like old world glory, infusing his blood with the sense of life and warmth that he barely remembered from his mortal existence. He knew it would always be home in his heart even though he only visited once a year.
Perhaps one day he would bring Victoria here. She would love it.
As her name crossed his mind, he felt the familiar stirring in his heart and wondered whether she was thinking about him. Christian had tried to communicate mentally with her but for some reason, he'd been unable to, and when he'd tried to call, it went straight to voicemail. He didn't like not being able to reach her, but there was nothing he could do but keep trying.