“Ah, good. You’ve alleviated the awkwardness of the topic by mentioning it yourself.” Beauregard laughed, sounding uncomfortably like Sebastian. Then his charm vanished, and his eyes burned pink again. “Why do you wish to see him? I did not expect a woman of your stature and confidence to be chasing after the noncommittal rake that is my grandson.”
She bowed her head, taking care not to look directly into those dangerous irises. “I think that the rake is more like an apple that has fallen not so far from the tree. Ancient though the tree might be. And the matter concerns my aunt.” There was no sense in being coy with Beauregard—she needed his help to find Sebastian.
“Your aunt?”
Then Victoria realized her mistake. She should have let him believe it was Sebastian himself that she, playing the woman scorned, was after. But perhaps she could yet save it. “He…sent me something that belonged to my aunt, and I…wished to thank him.”
She knew Beauregard was too smart to be fooled by a complete reversal of personality, but perhaps subtlety would be more effective anyway.
“Thank him? Ah.” The way he allowed that last syllable to ease from his mouth in a low sigh told her he had taken the bait. The pink glow faded from his eyes, to be replaced by smugness. “It has been months, hasn’t it? And you wish to thank him.”
“I need to see him.” She allowed the desperation in her voice—let him think what he would. Let him tell Sebastian she was pining for him. It wouldn’t matter in the end.
“As you might imagine, gratitude is something my grandson and I both appreciate. I might be inclined to pass on the message to Sebastian, in exchange for some from you.”
She didn’t reply, merely tightened the grip on her stake and waited for him to continue. It was nothing more than she’d expected.
He bowed in acknowledgment, spreading his hands as if he had no choice. “I find that I have a curiosity…and a craving…that I desire to satisfy.”
Victoria knew exactly what he meant. Her palms grew clammy and her heart began to thump harder as she felt his control begin to swirl about her. He was very powerful, and likely as strong as she was, even with her two vis bullae.
“You cannot feed on me,” she said, shifting the long stake at her waist. “I’ll send you to Hell first.”
Beauregard looked affronted. “Feed? My dear, you needn’t be crude. Feeding is like the rutting between hogs, or the mindless f**king of a whore. What I wish from you is much more than a mere gorging on your hot, thick blood. Your Venator blood.” His eyes were blazing ruby-pink, and she felt the insistent tug toward him. “Your sweet, female, Venator blood.”
His voice was hypnotic, but she remained clearheaded enough to feel the wood under her fingers, even the hot splash of wax that spilled down in a trickle from the taper in her hand.
“No,” she said, making her voice firm even as her mind softened. “You cannot bite me.”
“Then kiss me, Victoria. Let me taste you,” he said softly, but it felt as though the words were there, all around her, filling her ears and insinuating into the blood suddenly rushing in her veins. “Let me taste what it is that my own blood desires.”
She blinked, focused on the feel of her weapon, forced herself to draw in the scent of rotting garbage nearby, willed her heartbeat to settle back into its own rhythm. “No,” she said sharply, breaking the gentle lull between them. “You can’t enthrall me, Beauregard. I’m too strong.”
“I ask for nothing but a kiss,” he said, his voice still calm and low, but his eyes dimmed. “Mouth-to-mouth. You might hold your stake between us if it would make you feel more at ease, Venator.”
“Perhaps I would slam it into your heart and send you to Hell, then,” Victoria replied, her voice easier, more normal. “Then Sebastian would surely seek me out, angry that I sent his grandfather to his eternal damnation.”
Beauregard lifted his chin. “Please, Victoria, do not remind me of my fate. I prefer not to dwell on it. You would have no cause to do so, for if you give me what I wish, I’ll bring your message to Sebastian. Just…let me taste you.”
She didn’t respond for a moment, and perhaps he sensed her weakening—after all, it was merely a kiss…and she would keep her stake poised and ready. And if his lips were on hers, that meant his fangs weren’t at her neck—or delving into any other area of her flesh. This wouldn’t be the first time she’d kissed a vampire.
“One kiss,” she said at last, feeling the slam of her heart. “And I keep my stake between us.”
“If it will make you feel better,” he said, stepping toward her almost before she was ready.
His strong fingers closed over her shoulders, his head with the silvery blond curls bent toward her, the shadow in his cleft chin deepening. She rested her candle hand over his shoulder, kept the stake between them, and lifted her face, closing her eyes.
She started at the strangeness when his mouth touched hers, when she felt the bizarre sensation of one warm, soft lip and one cold, firm one closing over her own. Cool and hot, slick and soft…the myriad of sensations flooded her, and her head tipped back even more.
The hand holding the stake between them was smashed between their torsos; Beauregard’s hand slid up from the back of her neck, which was still freezing cold, and his fingers worked up into the base of her simple braid. Victoria was kissing him back, tasting the warmth and wetness, feeling the slide of lip to lip, the pull between them, the pressure of her mask’s edge cutting into her cheek. He moved, pulling slowly away, and suddenly she felt a scrape, a tingle over her lower lip, and then the warm iron of blood.
Beauregard had her head cupped in his hands, and he held her there, his mouth fixed on hers, the gentle sucking at her lower lip tugging through her body, spiraling down into her middle, curling warmly between her legs. She twisted her face, tearing away, bringing her stake hand up as he released her, stepping back.
His chest was moving up and down, and he looked at her, his fangs gleaming like blue-white daggers. “By Lucifer’s blood,” he murmured.
She would have lunged toward him, but he held up a hand. “I will give your message to Sebastian.” Then he eased into the shadows. She heard the last remnants of his voice as it faded: “It has been a pleasure, Victoria. I look forward to doing so again.”
She was alone.
Instead of turning her back on the place where Beauregard had disappeared, she edged along the plaster wall of the alley, back the way she’d come, keeping her attention behind and in front of her while she tried to pull her heartbeat back under control. Blood still dripped down her lip from the little nip he’d given her. If there were any other vampires nearby, they might sense the blood and come looking for its source.