Bloodspell (10 page)

"What would you like to know?" Although his eyes remained warm, she couldn't help noticing that his tone grew noticeably cooler.

"Well, what brought you to the thriving metropolis of Canville, Maine for one?" she said, leaning forward in a journalistic pose. "Where did you grow up? Do you have any brothers and sisters? How were you able to get up and walk away after what I did?" She had slipped in that last question so smoothly that Christian almost didn't notice. Almost. Victoria was staring at him intently, but his face remained a carefully composed mask, giving away nothing. She sighed theatrically. A ghost of a smile appeared.

"I was born in New York but I spent most of my life in Paris, including my childhood and early teenage years. I have a"—Christian hesitated, then continued in an almost dispassionate tone—"twin brother, he is still there." Victoria's eyes widened as she digested that information. He rushed on as if he just wanted to get it out in one go. "My parents are dead although I have a few cousins and other extended family still in France. Then I moved to America to study, moved around here and there, and pretty much ended up here at Harland with my program. Et voilà." He spread his hands and inclined his head in the mockery of a bow.

"That was the fastest synopsis of someone's life I have ever heard! And you managed to tell me absolutely nothing. Saying just enough without saying too much so perfectly—it's an art!" Her voice was nonchalant despite the amulet burning a hole in her chest.

"Why would you say that?"

"I don't even know you. You could be dangerous."

Her cheeks flooded with violent color at her blunt comment, and Christian leaned forward in magnetic impulse. His jaw tightened and pain shadowed his face for an instant before he changed the subject abruptly.

"Tell me more about the hospital." His tone was brusque and Victoria stiffened but welcomed the change of topic.

"Not much to tell." She unconsciously echoed his curt tone. "I told you that I had some sort of blood poisoning, which the doctors thought was a form of acute leukemia when some abnormal cells tried to take over."

"Did they?"

"Did they what?"

"Take over?" Christian's tone was light but he was watching her carefully.

"I recovered, didn't I?" Victoria could be evasive too. After reading the journal, she knew she had to be more careful. She could play the offense as well. "Tell me how you managed not to get hurt when I threw you."

Christian smiled a slow, lazy smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Perhaps I am like you," he said.

"I sincerely doubt that!"

From that point on, their conversation began to degenerate into an evasive verbal exchange. They circled each other like two alpha lions, each waiting for the other to make the first move and neither willing to trust the other. Before long, their check arrived, and they walked to the car. The ride back was quiet, with long awkward silences, and Christian spent most of the time looking out the window, preoccupied.

Victoria focused on driving as she pulled off the exit, her own thoughts chaotic from the strangely charged dynamic between them. She jumped as his soft voice broke the silence.

"It's just up here on the right."

She pulled into a curving driveway lit with ornamental lights that led to the front of a majestic house.

Victoria switched the engine off and turned to face him. Admittedly, she didn't want the night to end, even if the ride back had been uncomfortable. A part of her didn't want him to leave, the insistent part that was drawn to the danger lurking just beneath the surface, like a moth to a flame. She wanted ... her gaze dropped to his lips and she hastily averted it ... she didn't know what she wanted!

She focused her attention on his house. "Your home is beautiful."

"Thank you. Would you like to come in?" he asked.

"No, thanks. It's late and I should be getting back." Without thinking, she leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, a silent apology for her part in what the rest of the evening had become.

Christian froze as her lips grazed his skin, his body a statue. A muscle ticked in his jaw as if he were fighting to control himself, his eyes like pieces of flint, dark and furious. Victoria pulled back, a flash of hurt lancing through her at his response.

"I'm sorry. I didn't—"

The words stuck in her throat as Christian unclenched his jaw and forced himself to face her, gently grasping her shoulders. Liquid silver stared into molten jade, and he touched his lips to hers, the kiss tentative at first, as if he were afraid to give himself over to it. But as the warmth within her bloomed, decimating walls and reason, his lips sank into the softness of hers with desperate urgency. Victoria dug her fingers into his arms, caught. It felt as though her life began and ended in that kiss.

Her lips parted in a silent gasp against his mouth and Christian's body jerked as the warm rush of her breath tore through him. He pulled away with sublime regret, a tortured look in his eyes. His voice was a harsh rasp.

"What am I
doing
? It's ... forbidden."

Victoria felt his bunched muscles shift restlessly under his shirtsleeves where her fingers still gripped, and although her mind felt fuzzy, his words still registered. She ripped her hands away in silent shame. His arms remained wrapped around her.

"Let me go," she said thickly. Her eyes were panicked.

Christian released her. He looked like he was in pain, his lips a thin, grim line. "I'm ... sorry."

"I need to go," she said, shoving the memory of his lips away, and forcing herself not to look at his mouth. How could she have thrown herself at him like that? She was mortified. Christian shifted and she tensed automatically.

"Please, I won't—"
hurt you.

"You won't what?" She turned to face him, her eyes glacial. "Do it again? Don't worry, that was a mistake for both of us."

Christian stepped out of the car, his earlier warmth replaced by a shuttered, careful expression. "It was a mistake. I'm sorry."

Though they were hers, the words stung.

She did not look at him. She couldn't look at him.

"See you around then." The tears didn't come until she reached the end of the driveway.

CHRISTIAN STARED THOUGHTFULLY down the driveway long after she'd left. After that kiss, he knew without a doubt that he was playing with fire. The ferocious hunger in his belly had almost consumed him, just from the single taste of her lips. Even then, his body continued its slow metamorphosis as he struggled to calm himself—his muscles bunching spasmodically, readying themselves for the chase, his teeth distending, adrenaline flowing wildly in his veins.

Christian steadied himself, for the first time in over a hundred and fifty odd years, having the difficulty he would expect of a far younger vampire. The effort was futile.

The only
safe
place for her would be in a world where she'd never met him.

As the bloodlust filled his eyes, all he could see was her face.

OVER THE NEXT few days, Victoria busied herself with classes and getting settled into a manageable routine. Charla had taken her under her wing, and Victoria didn't protest too much even though she sometimes felt like Charla's new prize show pet. She was grateful to Charla for bringing her into her circle of friends and for making the transition a lot smoother than she could have hoped for. Senior year at Windsor actually had the makings of a good year.

She hadn't read anymore of the journal, ignoring its pull every time she looked at the music box, but she'd kept wearing the amulet. Every day following her acceptance of her power, she'd felt the magic grow more and more inside of her. Yet Victoria still found herself reticent to explore it. The power scared her, and the fear of being like Brigid terrified her. She held on to "staying normal" like a lifeline, and for the most part, Leto seemed to understand her desperate need for normalcy.

On top of that, it had been almost two weeks since her shattering kiss with Christian. Even the mere thought of him sent her heart into a panicked whirlwind and made her bones feel like they were made of rubber. She couldn't fathom how someone could make her feel so conflicted—wanting to see him yet dreading it at the same time, and then being disappointed if she didn't. It was exhausting!

She'd found herself breathless on several occasions when she'd seen someone who looked like him walking across the campus or in the town. But it was never Christian and she'd always felt curiously deflated. Victoria was sure that something was wrong with her.

She found herself thinking about him again as she walked toward the music hall between classes and gave herself a mental shake. "Get a grip, Tori," she told herself. "Christian Devereux is not part of your life and you are better off without someone like him. Forget him." She took a deep breath in support of her declaration, and walked into the building.

Her job as an assistant to Windsor's Junior Youth Orchestra kept her busy, and included assisting with attendance paperwork and coordinating rehearsals for the band. So far, she liked it. Charla called it her "Band Geek Job" but Victoria didn't mind. Being around music was therapeutic.

An alumnus of Julliard, her mother had been a concert pianist and Victoria's childhood had been filled with music. She'd learned to play the piano at the same time she'd learned to talk. Despite her natural talents, she'd stopped playing the day her parents died.

"Hey Tori!" a young man with a tuba called out waving. She turned to wave back making her way to the front office and crashed into someone on his way out. She fell straight back into an ungainly heap on the floor.

"We really have to stop meeting like this," a wry voice said, extending a hand to help her up. "At least this time it's not me on the ground."

Victoria grimaced from the pain shooting up her backside and ignored Christian Devereux's proffered hand. She pulled herself up and glared at him.

"What are you doing here?" she snapped, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye as he stuffed his hand back into his pocket. His face was expressionless, guarded, and still as compelling as she'd remembered. Her gaze flicked to the floor.

"Rehearsing."

"But you're not in the band. You don't even attend Windsor."

"I'm a guest soloist for the performance," he said, moving past her and brushing her arm as he stooped to pick something up off the floor. Almost immediately she could feel the flush start in her toes and work its way all the way up the backs of her knees to her ears. "You dropped this," he said, and handed her a clipboard.

"Thanks," she said, concentrating on the fabric of his sweater and not the way it hugged his body beneath it, which was an entirely hopeless effort. Her eyes swung to his face, avoiding his eyes and fluttering to his lips instead. Her chest flared. Focusing on a point on the opposite wall, Victoria gritted her teeth, ears flaming and pushed past him, suddenly desperate to escape him. "Well, okay, see you."

"See you." His response was soft, and something lingering in the two words tugged at her. She ignored it and after a few minutes he walked away.

Victoria felt her heartbeat calm after heaving several large gulps of air into her lungs. Her arm still burned where his shoulder had grazed against it, and she rubbed at it furiously as if trying to erase his touch. It brought back feelings and words she didn't want to think about—the sound of him saying that kissing her had been a mistake and the humiliation she'd felt that was now returning in hot, violent waves.

Get it together,
Victoria.
It's over and done with.
Ignore him.
You have a job to do,
so
do
it,
she told herself fiercely.

Christian wasn't at the rehearsal and Victoria assumed that he was off practicing in another room. The band shifted on the stage for a new song, and Victoria distributed the sheet music. She heard the music director call her name.

"Can you give Christian a folder, please?" he asked.

"Sure." Christian walked over and she handed him a booklet with the piano sheet music.

"Violin," he said.

"What? But you play the pi—"

"It's a violin solo," he said gently, reaching for another folder lying on the table next to her.

Victoria shot him a dubious look. He couldn't possibly play the violin as well as she'd heard him play the piano. But she was wrong. When Christian drew the bow over the strings, it was as if everything else in the room just disappeared and the music took over. Victoria had never heard a violin played with so much effortless grace, and she was sure her mouth hung open.

She didn't want to look at him but couldn't help herself. Christian was staring right at her as he played, and she felt her breath stop as their gazes collided. For an unguarded second, his eyes held an impossible longing, communicated only by the fluency of the wooden bow and violin under his chin. But before she could blink, it disappeared and the music came to a resonant halt. The hall erupted in spontaneous applause.

Dumbly, Victoria clapped along with the others, certain she'd misread their shared glance. Christian didn't want anything to do with her; he'd made that very clear.