Page 62 of Vampire so Virtuous
The tugging grew insistent, undeniable proof that something was there. And the more she thought of him, the stronger it got.
So don’t think of him.
Well, that wasn’t possible right now, but she’d be glad to put him from her mind soon enough.
If he’d marked her when he’d first bitten her… first drunk her blood… surely she’d have felt this before?
He had to have done it last night, in the parking lot.
Damn. When he kissed my hand and called me ‘ma chérie’.That had to be the moment—there hadn’t been another one.
Not such a romantic gesture after all. Bastard.
Yet he’d claimed he’d done it before then.
Cally frowned in confusion. Was it a bluff? Maybe not even directed at her, but at the other one.
“You mark your food?”She’d never forget the disdain in Minh’s voice.
He’d been scary. He’d been the demon. Not her one. Not Anthony Du Pont.
Wait. Minh was scary, but Antoine wasn’t? That should scare her more than anything. He was still a vampire, wasn’t he?
He’d fed from her, she knew he had. In that alleyway, that night, the two holes in the side of her neck, the dizziness, the blood loss, the disorientation… her mind still felt foggy from it all. He’d done something to her—twisted her thoughts, erased pieces of her memory, made her weaker.
He’d violated her mind and drained her blood. Thatbastard.
Why the hell don’t I fear him then?
Her fingers gripped the coffee cup tightly, a cold shiver crawling up her spine. Maybe he’d left some lingering compulsion she couldn’t shake off. Like a toxic obsession fantasy. Make her crave him, make her more pliable, more… willing.
But that didn’t ring true. She thought she was going to die in that damn parking lot, the way Minh had looked at her—like she was a snack. After so casually snapping the necks of her three attackers. Then Antoine had come out of nowhere, positioning himself between them, as if he were some kind of shield.
Her thoughts swirled like a storm she couldn’t escape, crashing against the edges of what she thought she knew. Did vampires even have hearts? Could they care?
So what do you stake, then? The emptiness in their chests?
But Antoine had protected her.
Or maybe he wasn’t protecting her at all. Maybe he was marking his territory, staking his claim. A power play between him and Minh. Nothing to do with her; she was just the pawn.
Was that all she was to him? A possession? A snack?
Her hand tightened around the coffee cup, her knuckles pale against the ceramic.
“I said she’s marked. Do you not know the Code?”
Was that why he’d protected her? Because he’d “marked” her? The word made her skin crawl, her breath hitching in her chest. Was this protection, or control?
But if she was right—and she was sure she was—he hadn’t marked her untilafterhe’d protected her.
It didn’t make any damnsense.
She stared across her apartment, unseeing. Questions pressed against her skull, unrelenting. Why had he come to the station? Why had he stayed to make sure she left? He didn’t care about her—or at least, he shouldn’t. But there he was, waiting outside, watching like it mattered to him.
Joon had told her they’d covered up his sister’s death. He hadn’t really believed it was a vampire. But if it had been—and now it seemed most likely—who had the power to make such an investigation disappear?
Her jaw tightened. The police had been relentless, throwing words like “prison” and “jury” at her, as if her life was already over. Then, withoutwarning, they’d simply… stopped.
