Page 7 of The Assassin and the Libertine
“I’ll offer you a trade then,” I said. “I’ll return your arm to you in exchange for the opportunity toenlightenyou.”
She narrowed her eyes and her lips twisted in derision. “If you think toenlightenme carnally, know that I would rather fuck Lucifer himself than willingly let you defile me.”
My cock twitched at her profanity and I chuckled again. “What a wicked mind and sharp tongue you have, Madame. But no, rest assured I prefer my bedmates’ dispositions to be much more amiable and, more importantly, willing. No,ma chère Duchesse, I mean only to enlighten you with the truth. With several truths, in fact.”
“And you’ll let me go unharmed? If I merely listen to you?” Suspicion darkened her tone.
“Of course. But you’ll have to promise the same. We’ll both leave this meeting alive—well, alive or undead.”
“You’ll just be postponing the inevitable,” she sneered.
“Perhaps, but if that is the case, you have nothing to lose,” I pointed out.
She considered this. Testing my grip on her arm once more as if to confirm her predicament, she groaned in irritation and relented. “Very well. You have my word. I will hear you out.”
“And?”
“And I will not attempt to kill you tonight. I cannot promise the same for tomorrow.”
I nodded, satisfied, and released my hold on her arm. She pulled away and sat on the stone bench, rubbing her hand. When I was sure she wasn’t going to stake me or run, I sat on the opposite end of the bench and faced her.
“I wouldn’t have broken it, you know,” I said. “I donothurt women.”
She scoffed at me—her disbelief needling me more than it should have.Irritating harpy.
“…unless they ask me to,” I purred. She attempted that imperious glare again, but it faded with her impatience.
“Plead your case,Noailles,” she demanded.
“Étienne.”
“Your Christian name will not soften me to you,” she chided. “But in the spirit ofdétente, you may address me as Daphne.”
Daphne. The beautiful nymph who begged to be turned into a laurel tree, rather than love the sun god, Apollo. A fitting myth of one woman’s pride in the face of love.
“It suits you,” I chortled.
She tapped her foot expectantly. I sighed.
“I did not kill Madame de Pompadour,” I said. “I’m sure that’s what The Order has told you and I’m sure that’s why you’re here tonight, but it isn’t true.”
“And I’ll just take your word for it, shall I? You’ll have to do better than that if you are to convince me.”
“Were you at court that day? The day they found her body?” I asked.
She shook her head and glared at me accusingly. “No, but I heard the report and the stories. Her throat had been bitten, almost all of her blood drained. You are the only vampire allowed inside the palace. There are guards posted everywhere. If any othersanguisugehad come in, they would have been found and executed.”
At her use of the elitist slur for the vampire peasants, I could not stifle my disgust. I whirled on her, enraged. My fangs lengthened and my eyes darkened. A predator ready to strike.
“Take care with your words, Duchesse.”
She leaned back, eyes wide.
“Do you know why there are so many vampires in Paris?”
“The plague,” she said. “Most say it came over from the East. There is no treatment or cure. It spread through the city because of the deplorable conditions the peasants live in.” She spoke slowly—guardedly.
Waiting for me to attack her, I suspected. Most of the nobles thought vampires were little better than slavering dogs, unable to master their baser instincts.The fools. I leaned into her, forcing her back against the barrier of greenery.
