Let Them Speak (Vampire Assassin League #13) (4 page)

And
then she saw Devereaux.

He stood at the far end of the table, his hand
resting on the back of a chair, as if it was nothing to race that far in a blink of time. At least, nothing on that chest or belly looked out of breath. It just looked fine. Sculpted. Masculine. And just maybe if he fastened his coat or donned a shirt, she wouldn’t have to keep noticing all that.

Get a grip, Sydney
. He’s a vampire. Vampires do not breathe. Geez.

“Well
. This looks perfect for any scene with dining we might script. What am I saying? Vampires don’t dine. They don’t…do they?”

“What do you look like beneath those spectacles of yours?” he asked
, right out of the blue.

Her heart skipped a beat
. And damn that organ for being so attuned to everything about him!   Sydney tipped her head sideways and regarded him for long moments. It didn’t seem to do much. He didn’t even look like he needed to blink.

“Like a person who can’t see
. All squinty-eyed and lost. What’s through that door, there? The kitchen?”  She pointed.

“Butler pantry.”

“And behind that is the kitchen?”

“You wish to see?”

“That is why I’m here, Mister…uh…Devereaux. I’m seeing how a real vampire lives. Right?”

“
Live
is such a contentious word,” he replied.

“You have a pretty extensive vocabulary for a dead thing.”

“I have a lot of time. I read.”

“Right
. How?”

“Like anyone else, of course
. I love reading.”

“And you just happen to be in a book
club or two? Or maybe you have a library card and the library here in New Orleans stays open all night?”

He smiled
. She should have known what was coming.

“I have a staff
. How else would I keep my abode in perfect condition? They keep me apprised of maintenance issues. I have it centrally conditioned to any climate change, so I don’t have to redo the interior constantly. Humidity is an issue on old wallpaper fixatives.”

“I’ll bet,” Sydney replied for something to say.

“My staff also orders books for me.”

“What kinds of books?”

“All kinds. Literary. Non-fiction. Commercial fiction. Mysteries. Romance. Science fiction. Would you like to see?”

“Uh…”

“My library?”

Oh
no. He has a library?

She was going to have a really hard time fighting an attraction to him now
. This was cheating. Nobody who looked like him needed more. That was just adding unnecessary kindling on the fire. Sydney licked her lips. Gripped her hands tighter. Conquered the urge to approach him. And then her feet just did it. Coming within an arm-span of touching him. And that just meant she had to look up.

“Is your library close?”

“You like books, do you?”

“Devereaux.”

“Sorry, love. I was just pondering the vagaries of fate. And irony.”

“Irony?” she parroted
.
Oh my!
  He’d just called her ‘love’
.

“I’ve met lots of women…none of whom liked me because of my tomes
. This must be what is meant by poetic justice.”

“I never said I liked you at all.”

He grinned, putting pretty sharp canines on view. “Well, we’ll just have to do something about that, won’t we?” 

CHAPTER FOUR

He shouldn’t
.

He really shouldn’t
.

It wouldn’t be fair
. Or honorable. Or moral.

And why the hell should he care about any of that now
?
Merde!
  He didn’t question the vagaries of fate. And he never hesitated. Devereaux Castillion jumped at what was offered. Always had. And yet, now…he dithered? And pondered honor and amoral behavior?

When had that happened
? And why now? With her?

He sucked in his cheeks, putting minute slices into his lower lip with his canines
. Tipped his head slightly. And shook in place. Again.

This was incredible
!   He had his mate. Right there!   There wasn’t any doubt, either. This mating thing was creating all kinds of havoc throughout his frame - havoc of a sort he’d thought long gone. Lost. For all eternity. Acceptance was better than hoping. Wishing. Longing. Yearning.

He’d suffered all of that, but never mentioned it
. Nobody did. That was a sure path to complete insanity. Akron had been succinct. He’d warned Devereaux. And re-warned him. Some vampires found their mates and it was a glorious thing. Some were never that lucky. Devereaux had listened that entire night, deep in the grip of fevered tremors, panting with each agonized breath. And then he accepted what Akron offered. Dev had no one to blame but himself.

Vampirism
wasn’t eternal life. It was endless existence. Lifeless. Chilled. Emotionless. Bereft of any passion except that for blood. And that’s exactly what it had been. Until now. With her. This Sydney Ross, LLC. Looking across and up at him.

Right there
!

Dev shook
again with the awareness before he could halt it. He’d found her!   Sweet paradise!   And while things within him had started changing the moment he’d sensed her, nothing could’ve prepared him for direct contact. Holding her altered the physical realm even more!   His heart beat in accompaniment to hers, while newly-awakened senses bombarded him with emotions:  Lust. Craving. Hunger. Passion. Want. Need. And all of that just ratcheted higher each moment he spent in her presence. An endless series of tremors ran through his frame. His knees weakened more than once. He was amazed she didn’t notice.

What the hell
?

Where was the justice in this
? Dev had her completely in his thrall. He was one of the best at projecting control over humans. And keeping it. And yet…right now –faced with sweetly pursed lips, a frame that sent pulses of electric charges, and the sight of one little vein, tapping against the flesh of her throat – he hesitated?

Dev looked
deeply into the gray-toned eyes of his mate, watching him from over the rim of her disfiguring glasses. She had stunning eyes. Truly. Surrounded by lush, dark lashes with the darkest outline of deep blue all about the iris. She had a hard-to-define shade of eyes. One moment they appeared blue, the next silver, and the next, a purplish tone. He’d been studying them. The color depended mainly on how the light hit them. And how impacted she was by his power. That’s when they looked blank - like hammered silver.

Eyes like hers should be clear and untroubled
. Easily probed. Plumbed. They shouldn’t be riveting him in place, grabbing at him; suctioning him into depths that promised everything. Why…even as he gazed into her eyes, snagged by something indefinable, the room about him faded into nothing but a background for her beauty. Was she enthralling him? How was that possible? That was his
modus operendi.

Ah, to hell with it.

Indecision was for cowards. Devereaux opened his lips in a semi-snarl, reached for her shoulders and bridged the distance between them. Then he was lifting her at the same time that he lowered his head, fully intent on that vein. Once there, however, he wavered, prolonging the moment, running his tongue along her skin and raising goose bumps. He knew she’d be nirvana. Perfection. He opened his jaw to stab through skin and then the greatest shriek stopped him.

Dev jumped, going airborne before he could prevent it
. He spent the next micro-second dropping back to the floor. The shriek came again. Insistent. Piercing. Sydney shook her head slightly, blinked several times in rapidity, and then moved to pull a cell phone from a jacket pocket. Dev frowned.

Not good.

“Oh. Hi Stan.”

Dev listened to the answer with half an ear and no interest
. He was intent on counting seconds. Tracing time. Damn it.

“Oh
. I’m fine. Yes. Really? It’s four? Already?”

Some more words
. He could make them out, but he’d reached twenty seconds of his count. She had twenty-one left.

“Too much
? Is it negotiable? Well, we might not need it. This place is fantastic. Oh. I don’t know. Another hour. Maybe more.”

Another hour
? How about an eternity of hours?

“I’m about to tour the kitchens
. Actually, as old and perfectly maintained as this place is, I’m going to guess the kitchens are outside. Maybe in a different building. We’ll probably have to cross a courtyard. What? No. Don’t wait up. I’m fine.”

Another smattering
as Stan replied. She had ten seconds before Dev was going to have to end her call. That might not go over well. Eight. Seven. Six.

“Take
care. Yeah. Later.”

She clicked her end button
. Devereaux held out his hand, palm up.

“What?”

“Phone.”

“Why
? You have a problem with cell phones in this place?”

“Now.”

She looked up at him and sent a thrill right through his newly awakened heart. That almost stopped him from using his mesmeric power. Almost. There wasn’t an option. Hunters weren’t stupid. They’d barely left the vicinity. Having Sydney Ross, LLC, disappear would probably engender another vampire alert. Two of them in that span of time would just get more Hunters descending on New Orleans. And more notice. Devereaux would probably be ordered to report to VAL headquarters again, too.

“Will I get it back?” she asked.

She wasn’t enrapt? Under his spell? His enthralling powers must be weakening or something. Dev frowned at the proof before his eyes. What the heck was this?

“Please?”
he said next. It sounded like a plea. It probably was. He didn’t delve into it too closely. In a moment he was going to snatch it.

She handed him the phone without looking
. He crushed it.

Her eyes went wide
at the sound and then she looked down, watching with open mouth as bits of plastic and circuitry filtered to the floor.

“
What did you do that for?”

“I’m protecting you.”

“From Stan? Or…my crew? Or what? The world at large? Are you crazy?”

“
Shush.” 

Dev lifted the hand she was watching
and put a finger up. It didn’t do much.

“
That was the latest thing in smart phones. It costs a pretty penny. You’re going to replace—”

“Sydney.”

She moved her gaze back up his chest, hovered for a bit at his jaw line, and then finally lifted her eyes to his. A large whoosh accompanied the locking of their gazes, caused by the flare of every chandelier rocketing into full light throughout the lower floor. And probably the ones in the upper floors as well. The amount of illumination was staggering. Eye zapping. They both had the same squint as he consciously extinguished each and every light, except the one behind her; the one atop his dining table. That one he left as if a beacon. Surrounding them. Isolating them.  

“
Did…uh? Wow. Did you just do that?” she asked.

He nodded.

“How?”

“
I told you. I’m a vampire.”

“And that means you have what
? Superpowers?”

She looked worried
. He smiled crookedly, hiding his fangs.

“Some
. It comes with the territory.”

“You’re not kidding
, are you?”

He shook his head.

“You’re really…a vampire?” 

She swallowed between the words
. He heard it. He almost felt it; which was amazing enough to make his eyes intensify, while hers widened.

“Oh yes,” he finally answered.

“You’re not going to hurt me, are you?”

He couldn’t help it
. He grinned. And she fainted.

CHAPTER FIVE

This wasn’t her hotel room
. This wasn’t even her hotel.

Sydney blinked on the gloomy image of high walls, lofty ceilings
with molded plaster, an ornate window treatment – which didn’t do much to assist whatever the flickering light source was, and the impression of vast space. She groaned.

“Good
. You awaken from a faint quickly. I’ve brought spirits.”

Sydney turned her head
. It was the vampire man. And how was it possible that he looked even better than before? He should probably fasten his coat. Or put a shirt on. Or find loose-fitting pants. Or maybe shave his head. Gain some acne. Grow a beard. Hell, do anything other than be the most gorgeous thing ever, even while looking slightly mussed and a little uncertain. And he was making the view extraordinary, since he was crouched at her side, holding a tray with all sorts of cut-glass decanters with one hand, while the other fussed with a shot glass.
One hand, Sydney.
As if that tray weighed nothing. Well, what did she know? To him, it probably did.

He looked up at her, putting a slight crease in his forehead
. Her heart reacted with a thump that almost hurt. She had to look away for a moment before the blush betrayed her. He might be a monster. As if they existed. He might be insane. Psychopathic. Delusional. But damn!   None of that curbed the effect he seemed to have on her. Again. Still.

“
You were out four minutes, eleven seconds.”

“
Really?”

“
Not bad, actually. I’ve seen longer. You probably need reviving. You have a preference?”

He started shifting bottles.

“To what?”

“
Most ladies require smelling salts after a swoon. Or at the least, a shot of something strong. I’m a bit out of touch. What do ladies drink nowadays? This flavored vodka stuff? Or…tequila? Perhaps whiskey?”

“You have liquor?”

“No. Not me. I purloined this selection from the staff quarters.” 

“You purloined it?”

“I wouldn’t claim most of these concoctions. They don’t even stock dark rum.”

“Dark rum
? Ugh.”  She pantomimed a shudder.

“You’re no taste for dark rum
? That’s…distressing. I was hoping for a bit of—um. I’ll save it for later.”

“Where am I?”

“On a couch.”

“Where
? Exactly?” Sydney asked.

“
Oh. My home. First floor. Morning room. Or you could call it the withdrawing room.”

“Withdrawing room?”

“That’s what it used to be called. Now, I believe the term has been shortened to drawing room. I modeled it after those in English baronial estates. Women used a room such as this when they retreated after dinner, leaving the men to drink their port. This room also catches the morning sunrise. So you can call it the morning room if you like.”

“Are the windows shuttered?”

“Of course.”

“Wonderful
. Guess that’s out, then.”

“What?”

“I’m talking to myself, okay?”

“Why
? I’m here.”

Sydney sat
. He’d been a little off. It wasn’t just a couch. It was a Victorian-era settee, covered in dark-colored velvet material with a tuck and button design, that was then affixed to an ornate curved-back, wooden frame. In perfect, mint condition. The armrests were even rolled and tucked. This piece belonged in a museum with a ‘Do Not Touch’ sign on it. And she was sitting on it. She hoped she hadn’t drooled.

“Look
. Uh…Devereaux. That is your name, isn’t it?”

He nodded
. Dang!   The guy was stirring. Everything about him seemed to pull at her. Everything. She had to dart her eyes away and selected a matching Victorian era cabinet behind his left shoulder that probably stood ten feet. That piece of furniture supported candelabra with a full complement of lit candles atop it. Well. That explained the flickering light source. She looked back at him; narrowed her eyes to absorb the impact; started speaking.    

“
Look. Devereaux. I think we got off on the wrong foot. We weren’t even properly introduced. My name is Sydney Ross.”

“No LLC?” he enquired.

She smiled. She couldn’t help it. “That stands for Limited Liability Company. I’m a contractor. For a film studio in California. That’s why I’m here, actually.”

“
Oh…is it now?”

“You heard my employee…um
…?” 
What the hell was his name?
And why was it so hard to focus?

“Stan,” he supplied.

“Oh yeah. Stan. Are you using some sort of mind control on me again?”

His eyebrows rose
. Her heart decided to move to her throat and pound away from there. That was going to make speech difficult.

“Well?”

She was right. Her voice was croaked. And it pained to make the sound.

“I’m not using vampiric powers on you
. Not right now. And…I’ll try not to use them again. Fair?”

It was her turn to lift her eyebrows
. She watched his eyes dart away this time. As if she affected him. It wasn’t possible. The most handsome thing in existence? No way. Not Sydney Ross. That would never happen. But buggers!   It was thrilling to just think it!

“
You’ll
try
not to?” 

She prompted it after long moments when he just crouched there
. Looking at something on the settee behind her. Or maybe the wall. Completely immobile. Demonstrating not one hint of expended energy from holding up what looked like fifty pounds of tray. Statue-like. Nothing flexed. Nothing trembled. He didn’t even look to be breathing.

Impossible
. Unless he really was a vampire.
Come on, Sydney. Get a grip here.

H
e moved his eyes back to her, snagging and then holding hers. Damn!   His gaze was hypnotic. Dark. Intense. Powerful. Her pulse ramped into a higher tempo and sound, making it difficult to hear his words. But at least her heart had relocated from her throat.

“I can’t promise I won’t
use them again. I’m not that noble.”

Well
. At least he was honest. Or he looked honest as he said that. And what were they talking about anyway? His promise about non-use of a concept that didn’t exist? This was insane. What was option three again, Syd? Oh yeah. Embrace the impossible. Embrace him?

Oh shit
. Her body gave an instantaneous lurch, sliding her thighs along the velvet. Toward him. That prompted a tingling she was going to ignore. She started talking to disguise it. She didn’t even care what she said.

“
Okay. Fine. We’ll move on, then. I’m on assignment here. I came to New Orleans to scout locales for a possible series…and while this home of yours is amazing and probably perfect if we make it look a bit dusty, I can’t imagine what price range you’re talking.”   

“Devereaux
Castillion.”

“What?”

“It’s an introduction. My full name.”

“
Oh. French. And Spanish?”

His jaw tightened and he
flushed. Or something. It was hard to tell with the lack of light. Whatever it was, the view just got more amazing. Stirring. Endearing. As if he was troubled. Unsure. Thank goodness for the candlelight. That was one point in her favor. It muted some of his impact. Oh what was she thinking? Any light on him was too much.

“My father was a plantation owner from the old country
. Spain. The Castillion plantation was large. Sugar cane. In Santo Domingo. My mother was…uh…she was one of the non-hired help. Of mixed blood. Mostly French.”

“You’re
…Creole, then?”

“Does it matter?”

“Of course not. Look, all I’m here for is the house. Doesn’t really matter who owns it, their history, or their ancestry. As long as they’re legally entitled and mentally competent to sign a lease, that’s the bottom line. Got it?”

“No
. You’re here because I brought you here.”

Sydney tilted her head
. Hard to argue that. “True,” she finally remarked.

“And the real reason is a bit more complicated.”

“Try me.”

He glanced down at the tray he still held and back at her
. “You don’t need a restorative?”

“Do I act it?”

If an undead thing sighed, he would have. She got that part from the exasperated sound coming from somewhere between his teeth. And that reminded her…she hadn’t noted any elongated canines recently. And that’s what had started this spate of nonsense he called swooning. She watched him swivel and place the tray on a low table right behind him. Actually, she watched the muscles in his legs flex and move beneath his trousers as he did it, but that wasn’t something she was willing to admit.

Damn
!   If he was a vampire, she was up against some major odds. She’d heard about their allure. That’s why they were starting this series with a vampire episode. Everywhere she looked was advertisement about how sexy a vampire is. She hadn’t believed it. She still didn’t, even with one of them right there!   Within touching distance. And the propaganda was dead on, too. Vampires were very sexy. This one in particular was oozing sex appeal with every passing second. Hell…nobody in the real world would believe this.

Maybe she should search out an option four here.

“Okay. So. How about I start? How much are we talking to lease your place? It’s got three floors, right? Or…make that two habitable floors and an attic. And I know you’ve got a servant’s wing. I’m going to guess at least what – three bedrooms? Maybe four? And I’m also going to guess you’re a bit low on bathrooms, so we’ll need to bring in our own port-a-units. Stop me if I’m wrong.”

He ignored her for the most part,
thank goodness!   She’d kept talking as he stood, ran his hands along his coat edge before pulling his pant legs out from where they were pressing on some very interesting parts, and then he simply swiveled and took up the space right beside her. On the settee. And that just matched one of those really nice muscular thighs against one of hers. Only now she got to experience exactly how hard and masculine it felt, too. She couldn’t face him. She clasped her hands together and tried to watch them and not the leg right beside hers.

“How old are you, Sydney?”

“That’s pretty personal information to ask a potential lessee, isn’t it?”

“Twenty-six?”

She smiled. “Almost thirty. Next month. Thank you.”

She pulled in a breath and moved her head to face him
. And got some sort of electric shock the moment her eyes met his. She watched as his eyes widened, too. As if he also felt it. But that was patently ridiculous. The entire situation was.

Option Four must be
to get drunk. Perhaps she should start. She didn’t even care if it was dark rum. Or vodka.  

“Hmm.”

That bit of growling noise he gave sent shivers through her spine. Down her arms. Legs. Hell, even her fingers and toes tingled. Sydney swallowed and moved her view to his chin.

“
Look. Devereaux. I need an opening figure.”

“I’m twenty-six
,” he replied.

She snorted
. “I’m older than you? That’s funny.” 

“Age is a variable here.”

“How about I start? I’ll offer…six. Six grand a month. With utilities.”

“I
was turned in the year 1783.”

Her mouth opened
. Nothing came out.

“
I was dueling.”

“
Dueling? Right. Swords or pistols?”

“A sword is a gentleman’s weapon.”

“Interesting. So. How about I move to seven grand? And we’ll pay water and sewer. And what the hell, I’ll toss in refuse removal.”

“I didn’t lose the duel
. He did.”

“Okay
. I’ll ask. How do you…um…well. Die isn’t the right word, now is it? Go undead? Yeah, that works better. How do you go undead from a duel you won?”

“Penicillin didn’t exist then
. I was wounded.”

“
Ouch. Bet that was un-fun. How about eight? I’m not sure I can go higher without calling for authorization. And you made that a bit difficult with your phone stunt earlier. You have one I can use, though? Right?”

“Vampirism isn’t what they say.”

“There are too many versions. Which one are you talking about?”

“It’s not eternal life.”

“Okay. Let me get this straight. You’ve been a vampire for over a couple of centuries and that’s not eternal to you?”

“It’s more
about the life part of that. It’s non-living. And it’s endless. Forever.”