Night Thief (11 page)

His words tempted her. He loved her, and she loved him. But he would never be able to save her from time. Age would steal their love, and he would be alone again, and wounded.

Her fault.

The moonlight cast a long shadow of his broad shoulders thinning into a trim waist. She knew every inch of his muscled body, and she ached to go to him, to throw her arms around him and hold him tight.

But she forced herself to stay back. “A lifetime for me is a blink of time for you.”

He spun around. “That is
my
concern, not yours. It will hurt me more to know you live in this world, and I cannot touch you or hear your voice. Let me love you for whatever time we have together. It will be a cherished gift, not a burden.”

He came to her and knelt down, taking her face in his hands, his gaze demanding hers. “I want you to stay with me.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Marry me, Rita.”

Warmth and love flooded her body, taking her resolve with it. “I do not wish to make eternity unbearable for you. I never want to hurt you.”

His lips curved into a sexy smile meant for her alone. Kane cupped her neck, drawing her closer to him until he whispered against her lips, “Then say yes.”

Chapter Twelve

Kane claimed her lips, kissing, caressing, tasting, until she surrendered and returned his affection. His growl in response sent heat firing through her body. Marguerite slid her fingers back into his hair, bringing her arms up around his neck until her breasts pressed tightly against his chest.

His tongue caressed hers, making the rest of her body ache for his attention. How could she walk away? She would regret it for the rest of her life.

Unless.

Her cousin’s words echoed through her mind.
You could love without ever having to say goodbye
.

Marguerite pulled back from the kiss and whispered, “Make me like you.”

“What?” Kane frowned, taking a step back from her.

Her heart pounded with fear and…hope. “Vampires can make others. Make me a Night Walker like you.”

He looked stunned. She waited for him to answer. Finally, he took her hand, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “You do not understand what you are asking. You sat by and watched death come for your cousin. It is understandable that you would wish to escape the same fate.”

She yanked her hand free of his. Her fingers balled into fists at her sides.

“I may have lost my beautiful Callia, but I am not some weak-minded woman for you to coddle.” She huffed, shaking her head. “I am
well
aware of what I am asking. My cousin was my last tie to this world. Is it wrong that I wish to join yours? I would think you might be happy.”

“I love you as you are.” He started toward his horse. “I would not wish for you to give up your life without thinking it through.” Kane stopped and turned. “I heard you telling Antoine you did not fear growing old. He offered you immortality, and you shunned the inhumanity.”

“But now I have seen the inhumanity of death.”

He sighed and shook his head. “I will not lie to you, knowing that death would not steal you from my arms would comfort me, but for that reason, we should wait. Think this over, Rita.”

She bit back the urge to fight him. Now that she had made the decision, she wanted to act before she changed her mind.

Exactly the reason Kane wanted to wait.

She rolled her eyes at herself. “How long do we wait?”

“Mourn your cousin.” He lifted her up onto the saddle and climbed up behind her. He wrapped one strong arm around her waist, and his lips brushed her ear. “Take time to consider your choice. There is no going back.”

He launched his horse into a gallop before she pressed any further. Marguerite closed her eyes, replaying the evening in her mind. The pain of losing her cousin, the shock and disbelief of seeing Kane, first inside Notre Dame and then as a jungle cat, and the joy at hearing Kane profess his love for her all rattled in her mind with warring emotions.

Had she ever answered his proposal?

When they reached the stable, Kane jumped down and helped her down from the saddle. She stared up into his eyes, fatigue weighing on her shoulders. “I never gave you my answer.”

He bent to kiss her lips, tender, slow, and soft. “I will ask again. Later.”

“How much later?” She whispered into the kiss.

He swept her off her feet and into his arms. “Later.”

Marguerite slid her arms around his neck, kissing the exposed flesh of his tanned chest.
He should never button his shirts
. When her lips reached the base of his neck, Kane’s voice rumbled deep in his chest. “You are a dangerous temptation.”

She hummed against his skin, her lips curving, enjoying the knowledge that her touch affected him. Warmth filled her in spite of her exhaustion and the weight of sadness for Callia. His affection and support gave her strength.

Kane carried her into her room, laying her on the feather bed. “Rest well…”

She managed a drowsy smile. “You as well,
mon amour
.”

His lips caressed her forehead, and he walked out.

…

The moment the sun dipped below the horizon, Kane’s chest pulled in a breath. His heart picked up a rhythm, and he blinked open his eyes. A warmth grew inside of him. Instead of hunting the dark alleyways of Paris for Antoine or some other dreg seeking to harm others, he would be spending the evening with Rita.

Being lonely without her company since the night at the lake shocked him. He’d been alone and satisfied for centuries, but her love changed everything. It made a few days seem like months. He wanted to make her laugh, to touch her, to listen to her tell him about her activities during the day.

Those comforts had to wait.

For days, he’d hunted Antoine. Until the vampire was dead, he couldn’t be certain of Rita’s safety. But his search had been fruitless. Even reading the thoughts of mortals, he found no trace of the vampire or anyone who had seen him since the fire.

Kane was beginning to think the vampire had left Paris.
Good
.

Making his way up from his daylight sanctuary, he found his black pants and jacket already awaiting him, laid out on his feather bed. Gerard also left a tie with the white shirt. Kane shook his head with a smirk. Gerard never lost hope that he would turn his master into a proper gentleman. Tossing the tie aside, he dressed and pulled his hair back, tying it at the nape of his neck.

Rita had been busy in his absence. As Antoine Berjon’s assistant, the art community looked to her to make the burial arrangements after the fire. She used what remained of his wealth to make a donation in his name to the École des Beaux-Arts University where he used to train young artists while he was mortal.

In the evenings, Kane had watched her working at his desk, using his quill, and felt his heart swell, aching in his chest, while he wrestled with her request for immortality. Selfishly, he would love to know she would be with him forever. The thought that he could share his world with Rita for eternity was the greatest temptation he’d ever known.

But what if she regretted her decision?

There would be no turning back. Immortality often brought on madness. He’d witnessed it many times with vampires. Mortals brought their weaknesses, vices, and insecurities with them into eternity. Endless nights often magnified their shortcomings. Would Rita grow to hate him for taking the sun and her humanity from her?

Not to mention he’d never made another Night Walker. He had no idea what to expect. He assumed an exchange of his blood would bring on the change, transferring his immortality into her body and changing her forever.

But he wished he knew for certain it would work. If something went wrong and he lost her, the guilt would be crushing and without end.

He’d avoided her for the past few days, telling himself he was giving her space to consider her options without pressure from him. Gerard kept him alerted to the offers of employment that had come for Rita. If she chose not to abandon her humanity, she would be able to care for herself without his help.

That did not stop him from hoping she would still choose to be with him instead.

He didn’t take time to feed. As an ancient, his body no longer needed replenishment each night. What he needed was Rita.

She stood beside the table, talking with Gerard. She turned toward him, and he found himself tongue-tied for a moment. Instead of the black she wore to mourn her cousin, Rita wore a royal blue gown, matching her bright blue eyes. Her hair cascaded down her back in ringlets that tempted him to tangle his fingers inside them while claiming her lips.

She smiled and tipped her head slightly. “Bonjour.”

He crossed the room and took her hand. “
Kíichpan
.” The word slipped out before he realized he would speak. His native language felt foreign on his tongue.

Rita and Gerard cast quizzical looks to one another.

“Bonjour, Monsieur.” Gerard nodded his greeting and vanished into the kitchen.

Before Rita questioned him, Kane kissed her knuckles and pulled her closer, stealing a tender, slow kiss. “The moon will pale in the light of your beauty.”

“You flatter me.” She rocked up on her toes to steal a kiss of her own, making his pulse jump with desire. “I am sure gossip will swell when they see the color of my dress, but I refuse to wear black. I know he did not perish, and I am
not
mourning his passing.”

The fire in her eyes warmed him. “I believe he has fled from Paris. No one in the city seems to have memory of seeing him since his estate burned.”

“Good.” Rita placed her hand in the crook of his arm, glancing up at him. “After the ceremony, perhaps we might visit the lake?”

He rested his hand over hers. “I would like that very much.”

When they reached Notre Dame, Kane remained at the rear of the church. He wasn’t there to pay respects to the artist; he came to support Rita while she welcomed the mourners and helped them remember the artist and man Antoine had once been.

After the hymns were sung and the Mass read, the mourners filed out. Rita remained up front, lighting a candle. He stood to go to her, but something outside caught his attention.

The sweet scent of blood wafted through the door.

Frowning, he turned to investigate. Outside, he let his senses guide him. Around the back of Notre Dame, he paused and reached for Rita’s mind.

Stay inside on hallowed ground. I will return soon.

…

Marguerite froze, surprised to hear Kane’s voice in her mind. With the church empty of parishioners, the temperature inside dropped. She pulled her wrap tighter around her shoulders and glanced at the door. Hallowed ground.

Kane must have found Antoine. Immediately, she focused on repeating the Lord’s Prayer over and over in her mind. If Antoine lurked in the city, she didn’t want him reading her thoughts.

The grisly image of Kane’s chest, bloodied with a wooden stake plunged through it flashed in her mind. Her pulse thrummed. She couldn’t sit here in the cathedral and wait while Kane raced into danger on her behalf. A vision of Callia covered in Antoine’s vicious bites assaulted her, and Marguerite clenched her jaw.

This was not Kane’s fight.

It was hers.

She clutched her crucifix necklace, glancing around the cathedral for any potential weapons. The glass bottle caught her eye, but she hesitated. Stealing from wealthy men in order to escape a vampire didn’t trouble her conscious, but this was the house of God.

She wavered for a moment before deciding her Lord would want Antoine stopped.

With a prayer for forgiveness on her lips, she pilfered the candle cabinet, retrieving a tiny glass decanter. Pouring out the oil, she raced toward the door and filled the glass bottle with holy water. At the door, she took a deep breath and steadied her nerve. Kane would not face Antoine alone.

Outside, she freed her satchel from her waistband and scooped some dirt inside. She had no idea if it would help, but it was technically hallowed ground. It couldn’t hurt.

Marguerite hustled around the church, hoping she wouldn’t be too late.

After wandering the back streets of Paris for nearly an hour without finding Kane or Antoine, Marguerite sighed and turned back. Maybe Kane hadn’t found Antoine after all. He might be back at Notre Dame searching for her.

Her boot heels clicked on the cobblestoned street, the thud of the wood and leather echoing down the alley. A lonely sound. She frowned, glancing at the darkened windows. It was early for the inns to be closed. Fog swirled around her ankles like invisible snakes. Her fingers closed around the crucifix at her neck, and she picked up her pace.

The corset hampered her breathing, and stars danced at the edge of her vision. Irrational panic threatened to overwhelm her. Marguerite slowed, forcing air into her lungs.

And Antoine chose that moment to step into her path.

“
Bonsoir
, strumpet.”

His voice curdled her stomach. She lifted her chin in defiance, brandishing her crucifix. “Stay back, demon. Where is Kane?”

Antoine laughed, but he did take a step back. “I was hoping you knew. I have been looking for him.”

“You have been hiding from him. You should have left Paris when you had the chance.”

“I have missed your defiant tongue, Marguerite.” Antoine circled her. The moonlight glinted off a silver dagger sheathed at his waist, catching her well-trained thief’s eye. “There is someone I would like for you to meet.”

“Everyone you know believes you perished in the fire.” She kept her gaze locked with his, allowing her coy smile to cover any trace of fear. “Tonight they offered me condolences after your funeral mass.”

“This is a
new
friend who is well aware that the rumors of my death are untrue.”

Marguerite’s fingers twitched at her side. “I am not interested in meeting anyone who enjoys your company.”

“That is too bad because she is eager to meet you.” He glanced at the door of a darkened inn. “Suzette. Come to me, my darling.”