Perilous Partnership (11 page)

The smooth skin of Orlando‟s back gave way to the smoother skin of his chest as Alain sought the vampire‟s nipples, tweaking them the way he knew his lover liked best. The surge of Orlando‟s reaction caused an answering jerk in Alain‟s cock. He could feel the dampness increasing as they rubbed together harder and faster, his breath sawing in and out of his chest. He needed to climax like he needed to breathe, but he needed Orlando to come first.

Trying to speed that moment along, Alain slid his other hand into the back of Orlando‟s trousers. Orlando bucked harder against him as Alain cupped the firm curve of the vampire‟s buttocks. Though Alain had grown used to the freedom of touching Orlando this way, he never forgot to be grateful for the love and trust it implied.
Come for me
.

The bond created between them by their Aveu de Sang did not allow for the transfer of actual thoughts, but Alain had learned that the emotions behind the words often carried through with almost equal effect, and this time was no exception. Almost immediately, Orlando twitched against him, the rush of heat through their clothes enough to trigger Alain‟s climax as well.

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After a moment, Orlando lifted his head, licking at the wounds that would be healed by morning, one of the side benefits of the Aveu de Sang. “And look,” the vampire murmured. “We didn‟t even miss our stop. Let‟s go home. I haven‟t gotten enough of you yet.”

Alain grinned. That was another benefit. Orlando‟s fangs in his neck and the power of the bond between them gave him an almost immediate recovery time.

RAYMOND looked around the kitchen, making sure he had finished cleaning up everything from dinner. He could have sped up the process with a wave of his hand, but while he trusted his magical acumen, he did not want to take any risk with Jean‟s collection. Some of the pieces were originals from the late eighteenth century, and Raymond had no idea how they would react to magic.

He had learned relatively early in his wizarding life that some objects, due to their chemical composition or some other factor for which he had no explanation, interacted explosively with otherwise harmless spells. His shields would protect him from any backlash, but he did not want to have to explain to his lover how he had broken a one-of-a-kind piece.

Deciding everything was rearranged to his satisfaction, he refilled his wine and went in search of his missing lover. He found Jean on the small balcony that overlooked the Faubourg St-Honoré. “I think tonight went well. They had a lot of good suggestions.”

“They did,” Jean agreed, opening his arms and pulling Raymond to stand beside him. Raymond went willingly, murmuring a warming spell since he had not put on his coat. “They are competent wizards and good men.”

Raymond nodded. “I always knew they were competent wizards. It‟s taken some time for me to come to appreciate them as individuals.”

Jean remembered the tension from early in the alliance when Alain and Thierry, along with most of the Milice, had distrusted Raymond because of his past. “You never really told me what happened back then. Why you sided with Serrier. Were you always on the fringes?”

Raymond shrugged, not entirely comfortable talking about his past. “We‟re of an age, the three of us, at least now. Alain and Thierry are a couple of years older than I am, though by the time we all came to Paris and became involved with l‟ANS, it wasn‟t enough to matter, but they were already friends. Best friends. And I wasn‟t very socially adept. I preferred my books to people. I realize now how wrong I was, but at the time, I was convinced they wouldn‟t know what to do with a book if I shoved one in their faces. So I got my job teaching history and researching the origins of various spells and the logic

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behind them while Alain and Thierry worked for Marcel in a variety of capacities. They each married. Alain had his son. They added a third to their friendship, Eric, with his wife and kids. And I studied. Then Serrier came along. You have to understand that his rhetoric didn‟t start out as an attempt to overthrow the government. He came on the scene talking about the laws restricting dark magic and arguing that magic wasn‟t light or dark in and of itself but rather in its application. Blood magic, sex magic, even the
Abbatoire
, he argued, could be used for good as well as for evil. For someone like me, obsessed with the past and the uses various spells had been put to over time and the evolution of society‟s opinion on those spells, his ideas were pure brilliance.

I was thoroughly taken in, completely dazzled.”

“So what happened?” Jean asked. “That certainly wasn‟t the rhetoric he was spouting by the time Marcel asked for the vampires‟ aid.”

“He got frustrated,” Raymond replied. “The Parlement wasn‟t interested in even entertaining his propositions. Marcel had other issues on his agenda and so didn‟t use his political pull to try to get the attention of the députés. Serrier said if they wouldn‟t pay attention to us, we had to demand their attention. He was a persuasive speaker. A powerful speaker, and he had an audience who was tired of feeling dictated to by non-wizards. We followed him. Wrongly, I can see now, but at the time, I was blinded by the sense of purpose he instilled in us. We were going to change the world for the better.”

Jean nodded. “I‟ve heard that a few times in my existence. It never ends well. Lafayette, Robespierre, Napoléon, Les Trois Glorieuses, Napoléon III… I could go on. Revolutions begin with the highest of intentions and end in chaos far more often than they end in success, at least in France.”

“When Serrier‟s protests turned violent, I started questioning his position,”

Raymond went on, “and when he went from violence to outright cruelty, I switched sides, but by then I already had the scar on my back and a reputation, mostly unfounded, but that didn‟t matter. Marcel believed me, but everyone else watched me constantly, sure I was there to spy for Serrier or to undermine the Milice. There wasn‟t anything I could say or do to convince them otherwise, so I didn‟t even try. I moved into the garret where I lived when we met and hid from the world so Serrier couldn‟t find me. And I did everything I could to make sure he failed.”

“Which he did, thanks to you.”

Raymond shrugged, uncomfortable with the praise. “Monsieur Lombard killed him, not me or anything I thought to do.”

“Monsieur Lombard might have killed him, but I was there too, if you remember. I watched you fight, and I watched you constantly seeking new and better ways to bring him down,” Jean insisted. “Marcel was right to choose you

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as his successor. Dinner tonight proved that once again, if you needed more proof.”

“How so?” Raymond asked, surprised by the assertion.

“You talked about Alain and Thierry as part of the wider Milice when you talked about your detractors after you defected, but I was there too. I know they were your biggest detractors, or at least your highest placed ones,” Jean said.

“They worked with you when Marcel ordered, but they‟d have been just as happy to see you in hell as to have your help. Tonight they came to dinner at your invitation, sat and discussed plans for l‟Institut with you, drank your wine, and did all the things friends do. Not simply colleagues. Friends. You may not have been thinking in those terms when you invited them here instead of convening a meeting in your office, and they may not have been thinking that way when they accepted, but I‟ve had over a millennium to observe people.

Those were your friends—our friends—sitting around our table tonight, and they‟ll work all the harder on l‟Institut because of it.”

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“SO where do you want me to start?” Thierry asked Raymond as soon as they arrived at Dommartin the next morning. Alain and Orlando had not arrived, but Thierry was not sure they would come out yet given Alain‟s complete lack of sensitivity where earth was concerned.

“The first concern is making sure the main building is sound,” Raymond said. “Even if we don‟t renovate all the rooms immediately, I need to know if any areas are dangerous.”

“I can do that. I‟ll reinforce anything I can, of course, but this isn‟t Notre-Dame. There isn‟t a source of magical power here to support my efforts like there was there.”

“Notre-Dame is unique in many ways,” Raymond agreed. “Information is enough for now. Even if we end up doing a portion of the repairs magically, we don‟t have to do it all at once.”

“I‟ll get started then,” Thierry said.

“I‟ll make sure you aren‟t disturbed in case you need Sebastien‟s help.”

Raymond had learned quickly how intimate an act vampires considered feeding. While that stricture had relaxed somewhat as vampires grew more accustomed to feeding from their partners during magical rituals, Raymond saw no reason to push their limits unnecessarily.

“As if I would let him try it without me,” Sebastien growled. “I‟m not taking any chances on losing him.”

“I told you—”

“And I told you,” Sebastien interrupted. “We‟ll mark anywhere that‟s unsafe.”

Raymond just shook his head and marveled again at the difference a year had made for all of them. Maybe Jean was right and they were even becoming friends. Certainly Thierry would never have carried on this kind of conversation in Raymond‟s hearing during the war.

Inside, Thierry turned on Sebastien. “That was one time, in the midst of a panicked situation.” He still shuddered a little to think how close he had come to losing himself in the earth as he searched for Orlando immediately after his

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capture. “It won‟t happen today because I‟m not as invested in getting immediate results, the risks be damned.”

“I‟m still going to bite you while you work,” Sebastien insisted. “If nothing else, it‟s a more efficient use of time and effort.”

Thierry could hardly argue with that, so he let it go. “I guess it‟s a good thing you weren‟t hungry last night.”

“I‟ll always be hungry for you,” Sebastien replied, moving to stand behind Thierry. The wizard reached out for the exterior wall of the main building and began chanting. As Sebastien felt the rising power, something he had been unable to do until after their experience at Notre-Dame, he slid his arms around Thierry‟s waist, letting his lover lean back against him, and pulled Thierry‟s scarf and collar aside to access warm, smooth skin. Thierry shivered in his arms as Sebastien licked the spot in preparation for his bite. To Sebastien‟s continued delight, the rhythmic chanting faltered when his fangs met flesh, piercing deeply. The soft moan that escaped Thierry‟s lips went straight to Sebastien‟s groin, leaving him in no doubt that he would be finding a dark corner to lure his wizard into at some point during the day. For now though, he sucked gently and let Thierry work.

The stones of the abbey had none of the sentience that had so shocked Thierry at Notre-Dame and had made the cathedral such a hot spot during the last days of the war, but Thierry could still sense their age as he sent tendrils of energy through the walls, testing cohesion, seeking weak spots. Each time he found one, he marked it with a magical flare for later attention, preferring to do a full scan of the building before addressing his concerns. Sebastien moved with him as he went from room to room, his fangs a constant reminder of his presence, a stabilizing force that allowed Thierry‟s mind and magic to meld with the stones without fear. He would not go too deep because Sebastien would be there to draw him back.

Even with Sebastien‟s help, Thierry could feel the drain on his power as they neared the refectoire, the last room in the building. “I think that‟s enough for today,” he said as he flagged the eastern corner of the room. “There is no reason to push my limits over this. We‟re not fighting a war this time.”

“Thank God.” Sebastien gave a final lick to the incisions on Thierry‟s neck and spun the wizard in his arms, kissing him fiercely, his fangs scoring Thierry‟s tongue. “Do any of those doors on the monks‟ cells lock?”

Thierry grinned. “I can make them lock.”

“Let‟s go.”

They backtracked through the hall to the nearest cell, Thierry checking as they stumbled into the room to make sure he had not flagged it as needing repair. He had no desire to slam up against a wall only to have it crumble

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around them. A flick of his wand locked the door, his concentration too shattered by Sebastien‟s hands flying over his body for him to manage even the little bit of wandless magic Alain had managed to teach him since the war ended. The slim length of oak clattered to the ground as all thought but getting Sebastien naked as quickly as possible flew out of Thierry‟s head. The room they were in had a narrow cot in it, probably left over from the monastery era.

Thierry gave no thought to the dust that rose from beneath his hands as his palms landed on the thin mattress. His only care was the strong fingers pressing against his opening.

Strong,
slick
fingers.

“You brought lube?” Thierry gasped.

“You were going to be working,” Sebastien replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Of course I brought lube.”

Thierry wanted to make some comment about the presumption of that statement, but Sebastien‟s fingers found his gland, working over it mercilessly, and all Thierry could do was gasp and try not to come on the spot. Even though Sebastien‟s bite had been practical in nature, the sensation of his lover‟s fangs moving beneath his skin could never be anything but purely sexual, and the work they had done in the monastery constituted one long hour of foreplay.