I introduce the two girls. Kate leans over and whispers, “She’s gorgeous!” And I respond with the truth: “She has nothing on you, of course, Kates. It’s just that you’re so very . . . taken.” She gives me that what-a-flirt look, and I shrug. I speak the truth and nothing but the truth. And yet . . .
The band is good, but I don’t even notice. My eyes are trained on Kate all night. As she dances with her sister in front of the stage, I feel like I could do this—watch Kate move, spin, throw her hands up in the air, and bounce around—for the rest of eternity. When she stops to throw her arms around Vincent and kiss his lips, my stomach plunges. She will never love you, I berate myself, and turn toward the bar so I don’t have to see.
Giulianna’s ready to go the second the concert’s over. We take our time, walking arm in arm through the lamplit streets until we reach her building on the rue Saint-Honoré. She invites me in, and I accept.
The air in her studio is heavy with perfume. Giulianna drapes her coat over a chair and turns to face me. I lift her chin with my fingertips and touch my lips to hers. She’s soft and warm. I pull her closer, feeling my pulse accelerate as she presses her chest against mine. She runs one hand through my hair and traces circles behind my ear with her fingertips. Our kiss deepens.
Giulianna starts fumbling with the buttons on my shirt, and in seconds I’ve torn it off and am holding her in my bare arms and we’re stumbling toward her bed, unable to stop kissing even while we’re pulling each other down to lie atop the scattered pillows.
I know what’s coming next. I look at Giulianna’s expertly made-up face, sink into her catlike beauty, and then close my eyes and I’m kissing Kate. I don’t even try to stop it anymore—this happens every time. With every girl.
In the beginning I fought it. It felt wrong. Now I just let it come, let Kate take the place of Evelynn, Olivia, Quintana, Giulianna. And although each of these girls has something special about her that draws me in initially—something that makes me laugh or smile or lust after—none of them even comes close to her. With Kate in my life, seeing her on an almost daily basis, no other woman will ever measure up.
My phone rings in my jacket pocket. I ignore it for a second, and then, rolling over to lie beside Giulianna, I answer. “Your timing sucks, Vince,” I say, unable to disguise my heavy breathing.
Vincent’s tone is urgent. “Jules, we were just attacked by three numa outside the club. Killed them all, but Arthur’s injured, and I just stuck Kate and Georgia in a taxi. Can you meet them at their house? Make sure they get safely inside?”
I’m standing up and throwing my shirt back on within a split second. With Kate’s safety in question, I have no choice. I move quickly toward the door. “I’m sorry, I have to go,” I say to Giulianna.
“No, don’t,” she says, pacing across the studio floor toward me. The disappointed pout on her lips almost makes me regret my hasty departure. I pull her with me to the doorway and let myself out, pausing on the doorstep.
“Sorry. Emergency,” I say, and lean down to give her one last kiss. “I’ll call you tomorrow, Kate.”
She crosses her arms and shoots me a pissed-off frown. “It’s Giulianna,” she says, and slams the door in my face.
SEVENTEEN
VINCENT’S “EXTRACURRICULAR ACTIVITIES” continue, with Arthur, Gaspard, Ambrose, and me taking turns as his numa-slaying wingmen. And finally, after reducing their numbers by more than a dozen, the numa react. But not in the way we expect.
One afternoon Geneviève calls, saying that while she was out, someone broke the lock, forced her door, and turned the place upside down. Gen can’t find anything missing, but JB and Vincent are going to check it out.
The first thing Vincent worries about is Kate. “If this is the beginning of the numa’s defensive strike, they could go after her. Since Lucien went out with Georgia, they’re all aware Kate’s my girlfriend.”
“Why would they be targeting you?” I ask. “No one knows you’re doing the killings. You never leave a survivor.”
“I’m numa enemy number two, after JB, and his beloved is immortal. Trust me: Kate’s an easy target. Could you please pick her up at school and stay with her until I’m back?”
I can’t argue with him on that. And I don’t really want to. He’s asking, and I’m not going to say no to spending time with Kate. An idea strikes me, and as I pull the BMW out of La Maison’s drive, I make a pit stop first and pass by my studio to do a little rearranging.