Page 105 of Vampire so Virtuous
Marcel closed the front door, then passed them with a stately but unhurried pace to open the door to the living room. “Please make yourselves at home.” He bowed stiffly and left.
“Wow, nice house,” Eve said, looking around. She wandered over to the bookcase. “Less gothic than I was expecting. Have you seen his bedroom yet?”
“No, I haven’t seen his bedroom yet,” Cally replied, gritting her teeth. “Are you going to behave in here?”
“Sure.” Eve gasped, pulling a large book off a shelf. It looked leather-bound and very old. “I can’t believe it! He has a copy ofLe Comte de Monte-Cristoin the original French! I love that book!”
“As do I, my dear.” Antoine had appeared silently through the other door,standing perfectly straight with his hands clasped behind his back. He wore his usual black jeans and T-shirt, his bare feet making no sound on the thick carpet. It was incongruous how well his wardrobe choices complemented Eve’s. “That is an early-bound edition from the nineteenth century, and would be quite difficult to replace. Please take care with it.”
Eve turned to Cally, the book clutched in her hands. “You didn’t need a UV light! You just had to threaten his library.” She swung toward Antoine, holding the book up like a shield. “Stay back, foul fiend, or I’ll rip out page one!”
Antoine slowly raised an eyebrow, then glanced at Cally for help.
“She’s joking… I think.” She gave Eve an imploring look. “You said you’d behave.”
“Hmm.” Antoine crossed to his usual seat beside the fire. He didn’t sit, but leaned over to press a button on the side table. A moment later, Marcel opened the door.
“Sir?”
“Marcel, would you kindly escort Cally’sfriendto one of the spare bedrooms? Perhaps bring her a nice mug of hot milk?”
“Sassy,” Eve said. “I like you, Mr. Vampire.” She placed the book carefully back on the shelf, nodded at Cally, and followed Marcel out. The door closed quietly behind them.
Cally rubbed her palm over her face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think she’d be so…her.” At least she didn’t try to buss his cheeks.But he was French. He probably wouldn’t have found it odd.
“Are you all right?” Antoine asked, crossing to her in quick strides—yet at human speeds. “I heard you had an unpleasant evening.”
“What did Marcel tell you?”
“He didn’t say anything. Why? What don’t I know?”
Cally shook her head. They were talking past each other. She started from the beginning. “We were followed back from—Wait.” Cally frowned at him. “What do you mean you heard, if Marcel didn’t say anything?”
“My thralls told me you went into a nightclub in the Theatre District, then left soon after, in a state of distress. One of you was in tears.”
“Yourthralls?”
He took a small pace back, then turned, walking to his usual chair. He sat down and crossed one leg over the other. “Merely a precaution,” he said, as if he had every right. He inclined his head toward her. “You do wear my mark.”
“You had me followed?” Cally took a pace toward him, frowning indisbelief. “We thought we were being followed from the club, and it turns out it was just your damn thralls?” She shook her head, frustration building. “You scared the hell out of us, you know that? And you owe me a hundred and forty-two bucks in cab fares.”
“I left my wallet in my jacket,” he replied dryly, his pale blue eyes studying her. “Why are you here?”
“Why am I here?” He always asked her that, like she had no right turning up. “I’m here because I—we—were being followed! I’m here because we thought we had a clear and present danger, and nowhere else to go!”
“You came here forsafety?”
“Yes! No. Wait.” Cally shook her head. “I came here because… damn it, Antoine.” She drew in a breath and released it, trying to settle herself. “I had a vision, okay?”
“A vision?” His tone was skeptical.
“Yes. Of that nightclub.”
“A vision of a nightclub,” he repeated, tilting his head as he regarded her.
“Yes, goddammit,” she said, her jaw clenched.
“Is that why you went?”
