Page 85 of Vampire so Virtuous
“Yours, or mine?” he shot back, riding the heat within him.
She clenched her jaw—rather beautifully, Antoine noted—the tension only sharpening her features, making her look all the more fierce. “Fine.”
She pressed the button.
Nothing happened.
It was so pathetic it was almost funny, and Antoine’s annoyance subsided.
Cally’s eyes widened, frustration tightening her expression, and the scent of her fear swelled enticingly. Her hand trembled as she pressed the button again, and then again, her thumb digging into it desperately.
He waited a polite interval. “Shall I ask Marcel to bring fresh batteries?”
She waved the torch around, pressing the button repeatedly, and when it pointed at a magazine on the coffee table, a flicker of fluorescent light reflected off the cover, showing the beam was working. She swiftly pointed it back at him.
He inclined his head toward her hoodie. “Do you have anything else inthat pocket?”
Cally dropped the torch in the side of the chair, but didn’t reach again for her pocket. Instead, she pulled the collar of her hoodie down at the front, revealing her delicate, pale throat. Not to offer herself, this time—more was the pity—but to extract the chain she wore around her neck. She pulled it up to reveal a crucifix. A small one, in silver, like she’d had limited choices. She held it out toward him, her eyes wide, and the scent of her fear deepened, adding an exotic spice to the air.
Antoine lightly rubbed one eye with a fingertip. The UV light had prickled, but had been weak enough to ignore. “I’m afraid I’m not the best person to point a cross at,” he said apologetically. “I’m an atheist, you see. But I do admire those with faith.”
Cally gave him a furious glare, then reached for her bag. Antoine looked on with interest.
“What does stop you?” she asked with an edge of despair. She pulled out three large, fat white bulbs. “Garlic?”
“I am French. I do not think those will harm me. However, do feel free to eat them—I hear they improve blood flow.”
She grabbed for the cross again. “Silver?”
He see-sawed his hand. “More a werewolf thing.”
She froze. “There arewerewolvestoo?”
“Not to my knowledge. Pity, really.”
She glared at him and pulled open her bag. “Does fire work?”
“Do you have any?” he asked, intrigued to see what she’d pull out. A butane can and a lighter? A portable flamethrower was unlikely, the bag wasn’t big enough.
“No,” she said. “But I have this.” She was holding a wooden stake, the end sharpened to a vicious point with the crude homemade marks of a knife.
Antoine offered some encouragement. “A stake through the heart kills most things, and vampires are likely no different.” There was still a good chance he could heal from it; he’d recovered from some nasty injuries over the years. “In fairness, a knife would be a better idea. Easier to slip through my ribcage. The challenge, of course, is getting it in there.”
Cally stood abruptly, the bag falling to the floor, spilling a Bible onto the carpet. But she wasn’t about to attack, despite holding the stake before her with both hands. Instead, she began to edge away from him and toward the door. The spicy scent of her fear filled the room, making his mouth water. It was difficult to keep his fangs from extruding.
Antoine leaned forward, tucked the bible and torch into her bag, then setit on her chair.
Cally was halfway across the room, backing away, watching every move he made.
“Do you think I will let you leave so easily?” he asked.
“I came so you could remove your mark,” she replied, so steady that he wouldn’t have known she was afraid if he couldn’t smell it. “Since you clearly won’t, we’re done.”
“I think there’s more to it than that,” he said, watching her. “You have declared me to be a vampire, a creature that has drunk of your blood, and yet you walk willingly into my house, then threaten and attack me.”
“You won’t hurt me,” she said, taking another pace backward toward the door.
“Oh? Why so sure?”
