Christian (Vampires in America: The Vampire Wars Book 10) (11 page)

“Coffee?” he managed to ask. It was either that, or grab her and disappear into his basement bedroom for several hours of ravaging.

“You really do have coffee here?” she asked.

Marc laughed at her question, as he unlocked the door between the garage and the kitchen, drawing Natalie’s surprised attention.

“Don’t mind Marc,” Christian told her. “And, yes, we really do have coffee.”

“I didn’t . . . that is, I’ve never seen a vampire eat or drink anything before.”

“Except blood,” Christian corrected.

“Not even that,” Natalie admitted. “I mean, obviously I know that’s what you all do. But I’ve never seen it.”

Christian guided her through the open doorway with a hand pressed against her lower back. “Never?”

“I told you, I worked in Anthony’s office, but that’s it. I have my own place. I come to work, I’m in the office all night, and I go home.”

“No going to blood bars, no clubs?” Christian found that hard to believe. The humans in Mathilde’s court, and the few other courts he’d visited, all embraced the vampire life style, seeking out vampires as lovers, which meant offering themselves as blood donors.

“None. Anthony quietly discouraged it, but that’s not why I didn’t do it. I was just never interested.”

“But you knew Anthony from New Orleans, yes? He called you
cousin
.”

“I don’t know why he did that. He’s never called me that before last night.”

Christian knew why, and it had nothing to do with any
cousin-like
feelings on Anthony’s part.

“So you’re not related, then?” he asked her.

She shrugged. “He does claim a kinship with my family, but none of us knows where he really comes from, and privately, we don’t consider him family.”

“And yet you’re working for him.”

“When Anthony wants something, he doesn’t give you much choice. I don’t know how he heard about me and what I do. I have a reputation in the field, but it’s a rather obscure field and a tight-knit group. But he found out somehow, and while he was discreet, the message to me was clear. If I didn’t take this job, my family would suffer. I’ll admit that the work is fascinating, but all I’ve wanted was to finish the job and go back home.”

Christian noticed that she’d said “wanted” not “want.” As if her goals had changed recently. “And now?” he murmured, sliding his fingers around the curve of her hip, drawing her in until their bodies touched.

She jumped at the contact, giving him a look that was both startled and confused. “Now?” she repeated, staring at him wide-eyed. She swallowed hard, and said, “Now, I think I’d like a cup of coffee.”

Christian gave her a half smile, and leaned over to touch his lips to the top of her warm hair. “Then, that’s what you shall have. I must warn you however, that you might fall in love with my brewing skills.”

MARC FLICKED ON the lights in the kitchen, and Natalie caught sight of the gleaming machine taking up half the counter space on one side.

“I can make you anything you’d like,” Christian said with unabashed pride.

“Wow. That’s a serious espresso maker.”

“Christian takes his coffee seriously,” Marc said, biting back a smile.

Christian pushed up the sleeves of his black sweater, and went directly to the machine. He opened a cupboard next to it, and began setting out ingredients, his hand poised over the row of syrup bottles lined up against the tile backsplash. “The usual, Marc?”

Marc opened the fridge and pulled out an old-fashioned glass bottle of milk, and an über-professional looking stainless steel whipped cream dispenser that made her hope Christian never saw the imitation stuff sitting in a tub in her freezer. These guys were
really
serious about their coffee. The unreality of the moment struck her—here she was, sitting in a house in the suburbs, watching two big, buff vampires putter around the kitchen, making fancy coffee. Or maybe not
just
coffee. She frowned when Marc returned to the cupboard for . . . caramel sauce?

She stared at the drink Christian was constructing. “Is that a caramel macchiato?”

“Best drink ever invented,” Marc said.

“He’s a farm boy at heart. Loves his sweets,” Christian said at the same time. “He’s mine, but I can only do so much.”

Marc didn’t seem bothered by the description. In fact, he seemed rather pleased. But what Christian had said only confused Natalie. This was one of those vampire things that she didn’t fully understand. Vampires were humans who’d been “turned” by another vampire. She knew that much, and she knew that not just any old vampire could create a new one. There was a definite rank structure among vampires, based on power, and only the top few could make a new vampire.

“Does that mean Marc is your vampire child?” she asked Christian, then caught her breath, hoping she hadn’t asked something taboo.

“Of course, he is,” Christian said agreeably, as he whacked the filter to dislodge the spent grounds. He winked at her. “I do good work, don’t I?” He aimed a fond look at Marc, and asked. “How’s that macchiato?”

“Perfect, as always.”

“So what will it be, Natalie?” Christian asked her, as twin streams of espresso poured into matching cups, and the rich scent of a dark brew wafted through the air.

Natalie shrugged, figuring she might as well go for it. “Can you do a pumpkin spice latte?”

Christian slid his gaze sideways in a glance that she couldn’t interpret. Was he insulted that she’d asked? Or appalled at her taste in drinks? But he didn’t say anything, just opened the same cupboard, and pulled down a shaker of something that sure smelled like pumpkin spice. Was there anything he didn’t have in that cupboard?

Minutes later, the unmistakable scent of autumn baking joined the delicious aroma of real coffee beans, and Christian slid a grande-sized ceramic cup onto the counter in front of her. She took a cautious sip, and . . .

“You really did it. This is delicious!”

“I told you,” Marc said, taking a stool at the end of the kitchen’s island counter with his macchiato. “He takes his coffee seriously.”

Christian joined them a moment later, sitting next to Natalie with a double espresso in a brilliant blue ceramic cup. As she watched, he plucked two sugar cubes from a dish sitting on the counter, then picked up a small, golden spoon and began stirring.

“So, Natalie,” he said casually. “What happened in Anthony’s office after I left last night?”

“What makes you think something happened?”

Christian gave her a chiding look. “I am an uncommonly powerful vampire,
ma
chére.
I can hear the racing of your heart, the shallowness of your breath. And I pay attention to things that matter. You were both surprised and relieved to see me when you walked into Jaclyn’s office tonight. You suspect Anthony of plotting against me, and were afraid he’d already succeeded when I didn’t return your call.”

“Why
didn’t
you call me back?” she demanded, deflecting like crazy. Because she
had
been convinced Anthony had done something to him, and she didn’t want to deal with the way it had made her feel. Not with him sitting so close that she could smell the citrusy scent of his aftershave, could actually
feel
his presence as if he disrupted the laws of physics by being there. She wanted to reach out and stroke the smooth skin of his jaw. Wanted to squeeze his forearm to see if the muscles there were as solid as they’d looked when he was banging that damn espresso filter around.

Christian’s sexy mouth curved slightly, as if he knew what she was thinking. “Jaclyn had already asked to meet with me. I planned on coming by your office afterward.”

“But I warned you to avoid the estate. Couldn’t Jaclyn have met you somewhere else? Here, maybe, for a cup of coffee?”

“You didn’t warn me, you only said that you wanted to meet elsewhere. And while I could have asked Jaclyn to meet me away from the estate, in this instance, she was speaking for Raphael, and him, I do not set aside lightly. In any event, I’m not afraid of Anthony or anyone else. And as for the other . . . only Marc and I know about this house. And now, you.”

Natalie gave him a confused look. “But where do people think you sleep?”

“I own a condominium in the Huntingdon tower.”

Natalie was amazed. The Huntingdon was some of the priciest real estate in Houston. “You own a condo at the Huntingdon, as a
cover
?”

Christian shrugged. “An investment. But I prefer this house.”

“Are you leasing this one?”

“No. Making a residence vampire-safe requires modifications that most landlords would not welcome. I purchased this house as soon as I decided to compete in the challenge.”

“But if you win the challenge and rule the territory, won’t you own the Hawthorn estate along with everything else? Isn’t that how it works?”

He nodded, and sipped his espresso. “But I won’t keep it. I don’t like the estate house or its memories. I can still smell the blood that was spilled there.”

Natalie made a face. She’d never be able to walk those halls again, without sniffing for blood.

“But you’re avoiding my question,” Christian persisted. “What happened in Anthony’s office after I left?”

“It wasn’t what happened in his office. Or not only,” Natalie said reluctantly. “I told you I saw the fight, so I know Anthony’s lying. And you’re right, he doesn’t want you here, but I don’t know why either.”

“I suspect he had a successor already picked out from among his own children. Someone who would retain their allegiance to him, giving him all the perks of the lordship without the responsibilities.”

“And then you showed up.”

“I not only showed up, I outclass every one of his children, as well as Anthony himself. He can’t defeat me in a straight-up challenge, and he knows it.”

“And that’s why I wanted you to avoid the estate. He’s planning something sinister, I know it.”

Christian stroked the backs of his fingers along her cheek. “I cannot hide out like a coward. If I am to rule this territory, I must show that I can hold it.”

“And what about Jake Baudin?”

He raised his eyebrows in question. “I don’t know who that is. You?” he asked Marc, who thought for a moment, then shook his head.

“After you left, Anthony got a phone call from someone telling him about Noriega. At least, I think that’s what they told him, because he had a major temper tantrum. Tore up his whole office.”

“The call was probably from one of Noriega’s buddies, the ones who backed him when he confronted me. They’re all quite alive,
ma belle
, despite what you think you saw. I knocked them out to even the odds, but only Noriega died last night.”

“Oh.” Natalie felt like she should apologize. “I’m sorry.”

“
Ce n’est rien.
You couldn’t have known.”

She’d thought he killed all those people, and he said it was nothing. Natalie didn’t forgive herself so easily, but she continued with her story. “After Anthony trashed his office, he came out, all serious and sad, and told us that Noriega was dead, and that you were the one who’d murdered him. And then, totally out of the blue, he told me I needed to go back to New Orleans with him. And not like on the same plane, more like, with
him
, if you get my drift.”

“You cannot go anywhere with him, Natalie, much less back to New Orleans. I won’t—”

“Don’t finish that sentence, big guy. Believe me, I have no intention of going anywhere with him. But if I
wanted
to, you’d have nothing to say about it.”

YOU’D HAVE NOTHING to say about it.
Her words replayed in Christian’s head while he fought to control his reaction. He sure as hell
did
have something to say about whether or not Natalie went off with another male, especially if that male was Anthony. But did she really believe what she’d said? Was she going to ignore the obvious chemistry between them? Why the hell did she think he couldn’t stop touching her? And why did she think he’d insisted on bringing her here? For a cup of coffee? Hell, no. As fine as his coffee was, that wasn’t the reason. It was because this house was
his
territory. He could protect her here.

And while
she
might be confused about why Anthony had a sudden urge to drag her back to New Orleans,
he
sure as hell wasn’t. Anthony wasn’t the most powerful vampire around, but he was stronger than most. And he wouldn’t have missed the sizzling attraction between the two of them last night. That kind of chemistry crackled in the air to a vampire’s senses. And it must have infuriated Anthony. Christian had seen the covetous look in Anthony’s eye when he’d looked at Natalie. Who knew how long he’d been lusting after her, playing her along by pretending to be some distant relative, the benevolent uncle. Natalie might have fallen for it, but Christian wasn’t buying it.

The obvious attraction between him and Natalie--the one that she seemed determined to ignore—had obviously pushed Anthony to make his move. Hence, the sudden invitation to New Orleans. And if Natalie rebuffed him . . . well, let’s just say that Anthony struck Christian as the kind of vampire who wouldn’t hesitate to use his power to get what he wanted.

Christian glanced at Marc, who was already finishing off his macchiato, and placing his cup in the dishwasher.

“I’ll see what I can dig up on Baudin,” Marc said. “He’s probably one of Anthony’s spies, but in whose camp?”

“Hubert’s down in Mexico,” Christian suggested. “That’s the next conflict, and Anthony knows it.”

Marc nodded his agreement, and left the kitchen. Christian followed the light sound of his footsteps down the hall to the basement stairs, and heard the basement door close behind him. That was one of the renovations Christian had mentioned to Natalie. They’d upgraded and finished the basement to include an office and sleeping quarters for the two of them, all secured within the confines of a first-class vault, which had been built by the best vampire construction team in the country. It hadn’t been easy or cheap to secure their services, but they’d been worth the cost,
and
the wait.

Christian switched his attention back to Natalie, who was gazing at the empty doorway where Marc had left the kitchen, like a child waiting for her mother to reappear.