Page 137 of Vampire so Virtuous
“I understand,” he said woodenly. Then he looked up at her. “How long until she recovers?”
Belle laughed as she turned away. “Chattel are so weak, my pet. When she is gone, let the Seine have her.”
“She isn’t yours,” Antoine said, clutching her limp body to his chest. Grief and anger surged to the surface when he always tried so hard to force them down. “She is mine. You gave her to me.”
“Ah,” Belle replied, “butyouare mine, are you not? Therefore, she was mine, too.”
Thirty-three – Cally
Boston, Massachusetts, Present day.
“Does he know what you are?” Belle asked, looking down at her.
What I am? What am I? Nothing.Cally didn’t answer.
“I asked you a question. Here’s another one. Doyouknow what you are?”
Belle’s mood had changed, that much was clear. There was an urgency to her tone that hadn’t been there before. It was unnerving.
“Just a chattel,” Cally gasped, still battling the weakness in her body and the aftershocks of pleasure coursing through her.
“So much more than that.” Belle turned and walked to the sofa opposite, where she sat, watching Cally with amusement. Then she patted the cushion beside her. “Crawl over here if you cannot yet walk, and we will discuss you.”
It took everything not to collapse onto the floor and catch her breath. Her clothes clung uncomfortably to her skin, but she refused to crawl before this vampire.
With gritted teeth, Cally raised one knee to push her foot beneath her. Even that simple action drained her. Her body still trembled and tingled. Belle watched, clearly amused, as though she knew exactly what she had done. Cally tried again, but her legs refused to cooperate, too weak and unsteady to support her.
“I need a moment,” Cally panted, struggling to regain control of her breath.Damn, that had been intense.
“But I don’t like to be kept waiting,” Belle coaxed in her low, throaty voice. “Do you need… encouragement?”
No, thank you.
“You fed from me.” Cally wished her pulse would steady. “The least you can do is give me a minute.”
“So stubborn, so defiant,” Belle teased, her gaze hungry. “I’m all a-shiver seeing you on your knees before me.” A soft, breathless laugh. “So many wicked thoughts.”
Cally clenched her jaw, ignoring her, eyes fixed on the distant sofa. How hard could it be to stand? Why weren’t her legs cooperating?
Belle cocked her head, tapping her lower lip with a finger. “Are you comfortable in such a tight dress? Why not remove it while you’re down there? I won’t mind.”
“I’m fine like this, thank you,” Cally managed, voice tight with restraint. She struggled to her feet.
“As you please.” Belle gave herself a little shake. “But I’m letting myself get distracted by you, and now it seems we need to speak of serious matters.”
Her legs were shaky, but Cally made it to the sofa before collapsing, and at least she hadn’t had to crawl. She half-fell onto the cushions, her body slick with perspiration beneath her clothes—the clothes she’d managed to keep on… so far.
Small wins.
Belle turned in her seat, inching back into the corner of the sofa, putting distance between them, almost as though Cally were too tempting. “I will start, I think, by asking you again: do you know what you are?”
She clearly wanted something specific, but Cally had no idea what. Her previous answer hadn’t worked, so she tried another. “Amarkedchattel?”
Belle tutted, as if to say, ‘too obvious,’ and shook her head.
Cally paused, uncertain of what to say. At least the games seemed to have stopped—for now. It gave her a chance to catch her breath, for her pulse to steady.
“A warrior?”
