How easy to remember his seduction. How he’d welcomed the sight of LaCroix’s fangs. Leaning back, spreading his legs. Baring his neck.
Janette smiled, sly and shy with an anticipation of something quite different from what they’d enjoyed as lovers, the knight and the lady.
***
“You lied.”
She turned, glancing back over her shoulder as she had centuries ago in the castle. “You forgot. Shame on you, Nicolas. Sophia never would have.”
He shrugged, imagining the leather jacket covering him was armor. Not that armor could protect him from everything. “I never claimed I was too much the lover as you do.”
“Not with words.” Ruby lips quirked with sensual sarcasm. “My compassion is different from yours, Nicolas. It’s a wild thing, triggered by wild hearts.”
“I half expect you to start singing Stevie Nicks.” He allowed his mouth to twitch with genuine humor.
Her eyebrow arched. “Your references are improving.”
He leaned back, watching the evening fog swirl between them. “You seem particularly susceptible to hearts wounded by me. Compassion may yet get the better of your passion.”
“It allows me to stop.” She advanced upon him, mist clinging to her bare shoulders, revealing a single black strap. “I never want to stop. Sometimes I need help, in overcoming such urges.”
He stood his ground, allowing her to draw near. “I thought you were all about giving into them.”
“Sometimes the prize is worth waiting for.” She reached up to touch his cheek, rekindling memories of the first time they touched, exploring each other’s bodies in the candle light.
***
The lights flickered, giving way.
Nicholas felt the prickle of her teeth, so sharp compared to her soft hands, the luscious curves yielding against him even as he yielded to her.
It was as if she’d invoked the darkness. It watched them with glowing eyes, intensifying their passion, making their kisses more hungry.
Nicholas arched his head, baring his neck, teasing both he and the darkness. Daring them to come closer. To have another taste. Yes, he could feel its lust, its anticipation.
Not until later did Nicholas de Brabant realize that darkness had a name.
Lucien LaCroix.
***
“We wanted you so badly,” Janette whispered against his skin. “And you wanted us. Have you forgotten?”
He almost gave in. Almost yielded, let himself be conquered. “No.”
Blue eyes more beautiful than any mortal’s looked back at him with a sadness she seldom let him see. “What happened?”
Nick did lean into her touch as if he was that dazzled young lover once more, infatuated by her every gesture. “We had each other.”
The coldness crept into his words, the monstrous dissatisfaction which poisoned his passion for her as much as it poisoned his passion for LaCroix. “We were untouched by age, yet struggled within the grip of change.”
“You struggled.” She laughed softly, mocking him, releasing him. “I did not.”
“I know. You outgrew and abandoned me.” Nick touched her chin. “You left me with LaCroix, who would never let me abandon him. Tell me, what did you think would happen?”
“You’d discover something new in each other without me around.” She rubbed herself against his hand. “One night you’d discover me once more. We’d rejuvenate each other.”
“It took Erica to rejuvenate us.” He took her gloved fingers in his, kissed them. “Tell me, was Anne Foley another attempt at rejuvenation?”
She raised her blue eyes to his, all sadness gone. “She reminded you of me, didn’t she?”
“Was she?” He remained very still, holding her hand.
“Anne Foley was a little too exciting for crunching numbers so she stopped being my accountant.” Janette shrugged, feeling a twinge of regret. “A woman has a right to choose her own doom. Or do such rights play no part in your new morality?”
“If we content ourselves with one mortal lifetime, there’s no need for rejuvenation.” Not that mortals didn’t always want more. It was the one fear he couldn’t banish, putting his faith in someone he hoped would help him regain his mortality.
“Is that right?” Janette made the words a provocative challenge. “Are you sure you’re not trying to rejuvenate us with your mortal doctor?”
Her words were like being drenched with a bucket of cold water even while he sweated.
If he closed his eyes, he’d see Raphael’s bloodlness corpse lying in the bed. A moment when he, Nicholas, had been too much the lover.
It was only too easy to imagine Natalie Lambert in his place. Which she would be if he got careless.
If he got careless, there would be only one way to save her.
“No.” Nicholas closed his eyes, unsure what he was denying. “She’s just a friend. She’s helping me to become mortal.”
“Is she?” Janette raised an eyebrow. “Give into your hunger for her just once and it’s all over.”
***
Bloodless and beautiful, Raphael had become in death one of the works of art he tried to create in life.
“The artist becomes a work of art.”
Of course LaCroix couldn’t resist commenting on it. Couldn’t resist coming up behind Nicholas and putting his arms around him, chuckling against his skin.
His master never could resist the humor in tragedy even when Nicholas didn’t feel like laughing.
Especially when Nicholas didn’t feel like laughing.
***
“When you give in, will you use her to rejuvenate us?” Janette whispered against his mouth. “Or will you leave her the way you left Raphael? A mystery or an object lesson for your mortals about the perils of passion?”
“No.” Nick moved away, brushing her lips as he did. “That will never happen.”
Janette caught his face in her gloved hands, forced him to look at her. “No one can lie to himself like you can, Nicolas. Anne, for all her reckless enthusiasm was more honest. As was Erica.”
“And Sophia?” The question came out as a challenge, making Nick aware of something he wasn’t sure he wanted to face.
He was jealous. He’d been jealous the first time he saw the Baroness with Janette. Jealous of Janette for being able to save the lady when he couldn’t. Jealous of the Baroness for being able to start anew at Janette’s side, free of the disatisfaction which ate at him.
Disatisfaction found Sophia Yorgen centuries later. Nick may have shown mercy toward her, but he’d been merciless about mocking her about what she’d given up.
Perhaps he’d seen too much of himself in Sophia Yorgen, desperately trying to help mortals with disastrous effects.
Janette may have seen herself in Sophia as well. This may have been why her compassion overcame her passion, allowing her to bring the other woman across.
Whatever she saw in his face made Janette smile. A slow, sly smile.
“It may have been compassion.” She lowered her eyelashes. “Or it may simply be I have, as you say in the modern parlance, a type?”
Nicholas de Brabant was far too old for blushes. Otherwise he might have.
Instead he simply grinned.