When Twilight Burns (The Gardella Vampire Chronicles 4)

“Let me take you home, Victoria,” Sebastian said. His chin brushed the side of her head and she raised her face to look over his shoulder.

“Not yet,” she said, still scanning the darkness.

At that moment, a dark figure came into view, making a wide skirt from around the front of the house. Appearing not to see her off to the side, he moved quickly, yet unsteadily, disappearing into the crowd of people. There was no mistaking it.

“Max,” Victoria breathed, her whole body going soft with relief. Then she felt jittery and warm. “Thank God.” She stared after him, trying to determine if he was hurt or wounded. Where had he been?

“And so it goes,” Sebastian muttered, so quietly she wasn’t certain he’d really spoken. Then she realized she’d stepped away from him, toward the crowd of people. And Max.

“What?” Victoria looked back up at him.

His face was drawn and hard. His lips formed a humorless smile. “Ah, Victoria . . . don’t be a fool. He doesn’t want you. He doesn’t want anyone.”

Twelve

In Which Sebastian and Victoria Have an Uneventful Carriage Ride

The carriage rumbled down the night-dark street. The smell of smoke lingered inside, clinging to all three of its silent occupants.

Victoria sat next to Sebastian, across from a grim-faced, bedraggled Max.

But they were all weary, their throats and lungs skimmed with smoke, eyes dry and stinging, clothing torn and soot-streaked. Victoria’s thigh continued to ooze blood, and the scratches on her face still stung.

She’d had to fairly shove Max into the carriage for the ride back to Aunt Eustacia’s home, reminding him that they were going to the same place. Since he’d settled grumpily into his seat, arranging himself so that no one could sit next to him even if they’d wanted to, he’d remained silent.

Yet his eyes were not quiet. Still sharp, they scanned over her—yet never met her gaze—and Sebastian, then moved to stare out the window of the vehicle. His mask was long gone, as was the hat he’d worn, and the cape she’d teased him about. Stubble made his face darker and more shadowed. His eyes were sunken in their sockets, and his skin seemed to have tightened in the last hours. Those elegant hands hid in the shadows.

Sebastian shifted next to her, bringing a gentle waft of smoke and clove, and she felt his ungloved hand settle on her knee. Lightly, half pinned between their thighs . . . but it had eased there stealthily and smoothly. As if to keep from drawing attention.

Yet it was there. Warm.

He doesn’t want you. He doesn’t want anyone.

Victoria glanced at Max, who continued to watch out the window. Sebastian’s words had opened whole recesses in her mind. Had he guessed that the great weight, the awful, heavy mood that had settled over her as he encouraged her to come home had been from worry and grief over Max?

As she was turning to leave with Sebastian, knowing that there’d been no hope for anyone left in the flaming building, knowing that if Max hadn’t been in the house he would have been fighting with them, realizing that this time he had to be gone . . . had Sebastian realized how empty and weary she felt? How lost?

Would she have felt the same way if things had been reversed—if Max was leading her away from a missing Sebastian?

And so it goes.

“Sorry to intrude on your carriage ride, old chap.” Max’s curt voice cut the silence. He had shifted and was looking at them. Down at the hand on Victoria’s knee. “But my lady insisted.”

“Where were you?” Victoria asked.

He lifted his gaze to her languidly, as though contemplating whether to respond. “As it turned out, Miss Sara Regalado required my escort. It took some time to extricate myself from the situation.”

“You left with her?”

One side of his mouth twisted. “The lady was most insistent, and I do hate to disappoint. She had visions of reacquainting me with an old friend, believing that she’d be rewarded for doing so. However, I found the idea quite distasteful.”

“So Lilith is here? In London?”

Max’s eyes gleamed with appreciation. “Apparently that is the case, although I cannot confirm it.”

“And in what condition did you leave Miss Regalado?” asked Sebastian.

Max transferred his gaze. “As I usually do—quite distraught.” His smile was pale and humorless in the shadows. “But nevertheless mobile.”

“What about George?”

“I didn’t have the pleasure of his company; I assumed he was herding the evening fodder out to the vampires. Did you not see him?”

Victoria shook her head. “No, although I was otherwise . . . engaged. He could have been there for some time, and later took himself off once it was clear the battle wasn’t to be won.”

“And did you bestir yourself to stake some vampires, then, Vioget?”

Victoria felt Sebastian move. Ever so slightly, tension rippled along the arm and leg that pressed against her side. Then, as the hand on her knee lifted, the tension eased. “A few,” he replied negligently. “We . . . Victoria and I . . . took care of most of them.”

She felt a gentle tug on the loose part of her hair and thought it had caught between them . . . but then she realized he’d taken a lock of it and was rubbing it between a forefinger and thumb, twisting it softly around a digit. A most intimate gesture, and one that made her distinctly uncomfortable.

Before she could pull away or otherwise respond, the carriage gave the fortuitous lurch that announced their arrival.

Victoria stood quickly, causing Sebastian to release her hair. Max had the same idea and they fairly collided in the center of the small carriage, shoulder to chest.

“In a hurry, my dear?” he asked with a grim smile. “Don’t let me get in your way.”

He settled back into his seat as the carriage door opened. Barth was there to help Victoria climb down, which she did with little fanfare—and without waiting for Sebastian.

The dawn had come, and her mind was spinning.

As she walked up the house’s walkway, she heard the low murmur of a male voice behind her, and the carriage door close again. A quick glance behind told her she was alone, and that Max and Sebastian had remained in the carriage.

Only hours later, with the sun blasting its heat through a rare, cloudless London sky, Victoria was awakened by a knock on her bedchamber door.

With bleary eyes, she looked next to her. The bed was empty, but rumpled. No, she hadn’t dreamed it—the warm slide of Sebastian’s body next to hers, the hands on her hair, the gentle kiss before he gathered her close to sleep. He’d murmured something unintelligible into the top of her head.