He clasped his hands behind his back and walked down the avenue as groups of young people with their ruddy happy faces swirled past, laughing and talking loudly. He watched as a young couple, hands laced, kissed passionately on a bench, and felt the familiar sensation unfurl in his belly. He hadn't fed since arriving in Paris. Normally he could last a week between feedings but the fight with Lucian had drained him more than expected.
His gaze remained relaxed as he slowly swept the area. He didn't have acres of woodland to work with as he did in Canville, but at the end of the day, blood was blood. He supposed he could go to Lucian's, there were enough willing human donors there as he had seen from the housekeeper's lurid bruises, but everything about it repulsed him, making the cattle analogy a little too real for comfort. He kept walking, his predator's mind alert and searching.
Soon, it seemed like hours had passed, and Christian had considered and just as quickly discarded several handfuls of people passing by. Frustrated, the sensation in his stomach becoming more insistent with each vibrantly alive body, he faced the truth of the matter—he knew exactly what he wanted, someone like her. Despite how terrible it seemed, a small part of him wanted in some desperate way to mirror the act, with someone who at least looked liked her. The mere thought of it excited him.
He walked past the Place de la Concorde and into the Jardin des Tuileries, where he sat on a small green metal chair and waited, watchful. Something stroked his awareness and he focused on a girl who had just crossed the far end of the gravel path. She smelled nothing like Victoria, but her long dark hair, coloring and height were enough to make his heart beat faster from a distance. Curiously, she did not appear to be nervous when he approached her, asking if she had the time in flawless French. She smiled coquettishly, attracted despite herself to him, a handsome, mysterious stranger. He had forgotten how naturally the magnetism came to him.
It wasn't difficult to persuade her to accompany him to a wooden bench in the shadow of a small tree, his silver eyes compelling, his vampire power hypnotic and irresistible. She had no chance. They sat and he leaned into her slowly as her hair fell forward in a dark curtain, her neck long and slim and inviting. Warm. Pulsing with life. He felt his jaw tighten, his teeth lengthen, and a single thought crossed his mind ... Victoria.
To the random passerby, they looked like any other couple in love, sharing a fevered embrace, her expression beatific, arms resting on his shoulders. Christian took what he needed and watched as the puncture wounds healed, facilitated by the enzyme in his saliva until the only sign of entry remaining was a slight, reddening bruise. He thanked her for her assistance and watched as she woozily made her way to the main road. She would not remember the encounter other than a stranger asking her for the time.
Although the blood had satiated his hunger, he felt strangely empty, and the edge of his desire remained, taunting him with its presence. It was a longing that only Victoria herself could assuage.
Christian couldn't sleep and spent half the night sitting on his balcony in the blistering cold, staring out at the night sky. He missed not being able to communicate with Victoria at any moment and his anxiety was getting the better of him. He wanted to call her, knowing that it would only be nine in the evening there but he didn't want to seem obsessive. After all, she hadn't called him either.
After another hour of arguing with himself, he finally picked up his phone and dialed her cell number. It went straight to voicemail and he didn't bother to leave a message. He went back to staring blindly at the dark sky.
CHRISTIAN TRIED TO call Victoria several times throughout the morning with no success. He decided that he would try the ski lodge once his meeting with the Council was over. It had only been a couple days, but he needed to know that she was all right.
The limousine cut west neatly through the afternoon traffic on the way to La Défense, the business center of Paris. The Council was a powerful body that owned several wealthy corporations and made use of their boardrooms to conduct other business like special Council meetings. Real estate was just another of the perks of immortality.
The limousine pulled to a stop, and the chauffeur opened the door. Looking up briefly at the overcast sky, Christian stepped out, leaving his overcoat in the car and walked briskly over to the Tour Areva, one of the tallest skyscrapers in La Défense. The building was entirely black, fitting for its owners, with dark granite walls and darkly tinted windows, a massive onyx structure rising more than six hundred feet into the air.