Filthy Rich Vampire: Chapter 36

A cool breeze drifted across my body, and I rolled over…into a sleeping vampire. I blinked dreamily as my eyes adjusted to the dark bedroom. My brain woke up in the process and filled in all the short-term memory bits still hazy from sleep. I was in Paris–in Julian’s bed. Warmth spread through me as I remembered, stopping when I reached the part where I found Jacqueline in his bed. I lifted my head and looked around the room, relieved to find we were alone.

Julian’s self-appointed best friend–as she had called herself in the bathroom–had been a bit of a shock, but she seemed nice. At least, nicer than most vampires I’d met so far.

But more than anything, I wanted to be alone with Julian. I’d only been here for a few hours, but already I understood why they said Paris was a city for lovers.

I watched him sleep just long enough it wouldn’t be creepy. His face was relaxed and peaceful, not caught in the lines of grumpiness or blood-lust that usually plagued him in equal measures. Like this, his beauty was mesmerizing. The primal masculinity that radiated from him was still there but entirely under his control. The sharp lines of his face softened with sleep, drawing attention to the perfect bow of his lips. Every ounce of me wanted to lean over and kiss him.

But I was pretty sure I should brush my teeth. Besides, I doubted it was a good idea to wake a sleeping vampire.

Slipping from my bed, I freshened up in the bathroom. I’d have to thank Jacqueline later for keeping it well-stocked. She might not have expected him to bring someone home, but she’d prepared it in case he did. There was extra toothpaste and mouthwash. Hanging on the back of the door were two fluffy black robes. She’d pointed them out to me earlier, eager to show me every treasure I had at my disposal. Maybe I was being stupid or too trusting, but I liked Jacqueline other than finding her naked.

Quietly, I discarded my clothes from traveling, which I’d been wearing far too long to feel comfortable in. I didn’t want to risk looking for my luggage, so I wrapped myself in a cozy robe and then tiptoed past the bed, holding my breath, and out onto the terrace.

It was quieter than when we arrived. The traffic sounds had faded into the background as most of the city slept. But another magic had descended in the absence of day. Glittering lights punctuated the midnight sky, and the Eiffel Tower glowed in front of me. There was something about being here that felt like coming home. That was silly, considering I’d never been here before. Even so, a beautiful ache cracked open my chest, and I found myself longing for my cello. I didn’t know how else to express the feelings building inside me.

“Beautiful.” Julian’s quiet voice broke the spell and placed me under a new one. Whatever magic ran in his veins only required one word to cast itself over me.

“Yes.” I sighed as he moved behind me and circled my waist with his strong arms. Melting against him, I admitted, “It’s the most beautiful city I’ve ever seen.”

“I was talking about you, pet.” He nosed my hair away from my neck so he could kiss it.

I melted against him. We’d been on our best behavior for far too long. I couldn’t stand another minute of resisting him. Craning my neck to get a better look at him, I bit my lower lip.

“Is that an invitation?” he asked darkly.

“Um-hmm.” I nodded. Still, I couldn’t stop myself from baiting him now that we were alone. “I feel terrible to have ruined your surprise.”

“Surprise?” he repeated, sounding confused. But what I meant caught up with him before he’d finished speaking. He groaned. “I’m sorry for that debacle. Jacqueline is, well, Jacqueline.”

“How illuminating.” I laughed. “She seems nice. She wants to go shopping.”

Julian’s eyes widened for a second, but then he relaxed. “That seems like a good idea. She’ll be better at that than I would be.”

“Then I should go?” I was still a bit confused by their dynamic.

“Jacqueline is important to me,” he said, swiftly adding, “not romantically. She is my oldest friend, and she has put up with my shit better than anyone I’ve ever known. I would like her to get to know you.”

“Why?” The question slipped out before I could stop it.

But he showed no sign of annoyance that I questioned him. “Because you are also important to me.”

His words–or rather, the way he said them–caught me off guard.

“And you’ll need things to wear. You didn’t pack enough clothes,” he added.

I was pretty sure he meant that I didn’t pack the right clothes.

“Then I’ll go.”

“This afternoon” he said firmly. “There’s an event you need to attend in the evening.”

“With you?” I asked slowly.

“No, this event is only for females,” he said casually. “The Salon du Rouge. You’ll be expected to attend. I’m sure Jacqueline will go with you.”

“Okay.” I had about a million more questions about this female-only event. I was here to pass as Julian’s girlfriend, stay at his side, and basically act as an amulet to ward off overeager familiars. It seemed silly to attend events by myself, unless…

Unless Julian was beginning to see me as part of his world. A thrill shot through me, but I tamped it down before it could spread its vicious deceit all the way to my heart. That wasn’t how this worked. We had an understanding. We had boundaries. I’d come to Paris knowing that, and I couldn’t waste the moments I had with him, hoping for an unpromised future.

My stomach growled, shattering the blissful moment.

“You’re hungry,” Julian said, starting to pull away, but I caught his hand.

“No, I’m not.” I was ravenous. My body was clearly confused as to what time it was or when I was supposed to eat. But I wasn’t ready for this moment to be over. It was too perfect.

“Liar,” he accused in an amused murmur. He planted kisses along my shoulder, nudging the robe to give him more access to my skin. “It’s my job to care for you. Let me.”

My breath hitched as he spoke. He had been attentive since the moment we met, even when that attention was coupled with annoyance or frustration. But now it had a new partner. There was a tenderness I hadn’t heard before when he spoke and something else that didn’t match the Julian Rousseaux I had known before:

Tentativeness.

But why? What on earth did a nine-hundred-year-old vampire have to be uncertain about?

Regardless, I had not flown all the way to Paris to lose an opportunity like this. I twisted in his arms, hooking an arm around his neck, and dragged his lips to mine. Julian groaned but didn’t resist. Instead, he slid his hands past my robe and grabbed the fleshy part of my hips. His fingernails dug into my skin, nipping at it with their sharpness, and my eyes flew open.

I pulled away, waiting for him to realize his mistake, but he didn’t. “Julian, your gloves…”

“Yes?” His eyebrow curved into a question mark. “Would you like me to put them back on?”

“N-n-no,” I stammered. My brain scrambled for any clue–any moment to latch on to–that would explain this sudden change of heart. “I just thought…”

But I didn’t know what I thought, because this was all happening so fast.

“I wanted to feel your skin on mine,” he explained softly. “I told you before that we wear gloves to protect others. Our nails are quite sharp.”

“I know,” I teased him softly. His grip on my hips loosened a little.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, his eyes shadowed with concern. “If you would like me to stop…”

“What’s a little pain mixed with pleasure?” I reached down and covered his hand with mine through my robe. “Don’t stop.”

“There’s another reason we cover our hands, pet,” he explained softly. “Our magic rests there, or what’s left of it.”

“Magic?” I repeated. “So when you say familiars are witches…”

“Magic is real,” he said with a smile, “but it is complicated. Very little magic remains in most vampire bloodlines. It’s why we have the Rites. Witch blood strengthens our bloodlines.”

“Like an infusion?” I asked. It was a little hard to concentrate with his bare skin on mine. He was warmer than I’d expected him to be. I wondered how it would feel if his hands slipped farther down between my legs.

I was so preoccupied I didn’t realize Julian had fallen silent.

“I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “It’s a lot to process.”

“You should eat. You’re beginning to smell like pure sugarcane,” he said softly. He tried to withdraw his hands, but I held one firmly in place.

“Why do you cover up your magic?” I asked, realizing that he might never be open to this topic again.

“So we don’t use it,” he said, surprising me. “Sometimes when we touch someone else…”

My eyes widened as I began to understand. “Is it dangerous?”

“No and yes.”

“That’s very helpful,” I said dryly.

“It can be used to hurt someone, but only in those of us born long ago. Most modern vampires couldn’t light a candle with their magic. But more importantly, it carries our life. Why do you think vampires feed on human blood?”

I shook my head. I suspected that everything I’d read or seen in movies was wrong. So far it all had been, anyway. He didn’t sleep in a coffin. I’d seen him in a mirror myself. And Jacqueline had worn a St. Michael’s charm.

“There’s a little magic in all creatures, even humans that have long forgotten or shunned it. It sustains our own lives. But the truth is that we cover our hands because vampires believe sharing our touch is one of the most intimate acts we can experience.”

My mouth went suddenly dry at the implication of his words. He had chosen to share it with me. I swallowed. “What are the other acts?”

He tilted his head, looking confused.

“The other acts?” I pressed. “You said it was one of the most intimate acts. What are the others.”

He nodded. Bending lower, he brought his lips to brush over mine before sweeping them across my jaw to my neck. “To feed, obviously. It’s one of the reasons we usually drink from a cup.”

“Usually?” I asked.

“No one is perfect,” he said lightly.

“Sex,” he answered next, and I felt myself flush with heat. “Naturally. Although, sometimes sex is just fucking.”

I nodded, even though I really couldn’t claim to know anything about it.

“And the other?”

“You’ll laugh,” he said, but I shook my head. Still, he answered with a bemused smile, “The most intimate act is to hold bare hands.”

A nervous giggle escaped me, but then I realized he was serious. “Holding hands? Really?”

“It’s hard to explain.”

But I wanted him to explain because I wanted to know…if someday he might hold my hand. My eyes found the floor, too embarrassed to ask.

“So, if you’re touching me now…” I trailed off, gathering up my courage to ask what I really wanted to know. “Does that mean you’ll take me to bed?”