Quietly, Cosmo spoke. “I’ve seen her, Lucien. I’ve smelled her. I like her. She’s fascinating. She’s funny. She’s different. But,” he paused before finishing, “she’s not worth war.”
“You haven’t tasted her,” Lucien returned decisively.
Cosmo’s head cocked to the side, intrigued despite himself. “She’s that good?”
“Better.”
Cosmo’s brows went up before he muttered, “Jesus.” Then he continued in a low voice, “Did you f**k her?”
“Not yet.”
“You intend to?”
“Absolutely.”
“Christ, Lucien –”
Lucien lost patience. “If I remember correctly there was many a night, for seven years, you left her mother and went direct with me to A Feast. Not to feed, to f**k, the way you wanted to f**k Lydia. If I remember correctly, for seven years, you wanted Lydia in a way you couldn’t have her because the Agreement said you couldn’t. It nearly drove you mad. You had to release her before you wanted just to end the torment. Do you remember?” Lucien demanded.
“I remember,” Cosmo answered, his jaw clenching.
“That is not going to happen to me,” Lucien stated. “I want Leah, all of Leah, and I’ll damn well have her. I’m tired of these ancient, absurd edicts ruling my life, your life, Stephanie’s life. We’re vampires for f**k’s sake and everything that is our essence has been stripped away. No more. I’m taking it back. If they try to punish me, I’ll fight.”
Cosmo’s face again lost all expression. Because the time might come where he’d need allies, and Cosmo would be an excellent one, not to mention he was a trusted friend, Lucien continued to explain.
“It’s been over five hundred years since I caught a scent as extraordinary as Leah’s.”
Understanding lit in Cosmo’s eyes.
“Maggie,” Cosmo muttered.
It took an extreme effort of will, even after all of these years, for Lucien not to flinch at her name.
He ignored his friend’s muttering and carried on, “I caught Leah’s scent twenty years ago. I should have had her then. I should have been able to take what I wanted. But I had to wait. Twenty years, Cosmo. I’ve lost twenty years. Or, more to the point, she’s aged twenty years and I’ve lost that. My time has come, as has Leah’s, and there will be no barriers, no boundaries, no f**king laws that tell me I cannot do what I wish.”
“You intend to tame her,” Cosmo surmised.
“I’ve already started,” Lucien announced.
Cosmo hesitation was brief before he sighed and shook his head. “I suppose there will be those who’ll champion you.”
“I’d like you to be one of them.”
Cosmo went still, his face remaining blank, before he asked softly, “You doubted I would?”
Lucien didn’t answer.
Still speaking softly, Cosmo said, “I’d burn for you Lucien. I’ve proved that before.”
“You have,” Lucien agreed.
They locked eyes for long moments before Cosmo broke their silent renewed vow of allegiance by saying, “She’ll not be easily tamed.”
For the first time since seeing his friend, Lucien smiled. “This is very true.”
Cosmo smiled back. “How was she last night?”
“Untamable.”
Cosmo threw his head back and laughed.
Thus ended their tense conversation.
Lucien turned into the driveway of the home he’d purchased for Leah three months before, just weeks after she’d ended her last relationship.
He’d broken his own practice and searched for it himself. He gave Sally his requirements and attended the viewings personally, twenty of them, before he found what he wanted to provide for Leah. Then he’d hired a team of decorators to fit it to his exacting specifications.
When he’d met Edwina there just days before to give her the keys to her new home and place of employment, she’d been stunned at what she saw.
Edwina had been housekeeper to his acting concubines for forty years. She knew Lucien had a reputation for being particularly generous with them. He kept them well while they serviced him and left them well when he’d released them. All vampires did the same but, either miserly or unable financially, they didn’t do it as Lucien did because he was not miserly and he was far from financially unable.
But a six-bedroom mansion on a fifteen acre plot was beyond even Lucien’s pale.
He hit the garage door opener on his visor and slid his sleek black Porsche Turbo next to the equally sleek, black Cayenne he’d purchased for Leah.
Edwina, likely curious at hearing his car pull in the garage, met him by the kitchen door, her face startled.
“Lucien,” she breathed.
“Edwina,” he replied in greeting, not pausing but moving beyond her.
“You’re here,” she noted unnecessarily.
He stopped in order to ask where Leah was as he had no desire to go in search of her and turned back to Edwina. “Yes, I am. Where’s Leah?”
He watched her eyes go round before she blurted, “She’s not ready for another feeding! And you can’t be ready for another one either.”
Lucien’s gaze leveled on hers and he watched the color run from her face.
“Sorry. I’m so sorry,” she mumbled, looking away.
“Where’s Leah?” Lucien repeated with ill-concealed impatience.
“In her room.”
Lucien turned immediately toward the stairs.
“Lucien!” Edwina called and with reluctance Lucien turned back. “She’s…” She paused, her face still ashen, her fear fragrancing the room.
“She’s what?” Lucien asked when she did not carry on.
Her body twitched then she continued, “She’s…” and she stopped again.
“Edwina,” Lucien’s voice was a dangerous hiss.
“She’s in a…a…” he watched her swallow before she finished, “she’s in a mood.”
Leah was in a mood. This was excellent news.
Slowly, Lucien grinned. Edwina gawked.
Lucien turned back to the stairs.
As Edwina said, Leah was in her bedroom though he knew this since he heard her heart beating and smelled her scent the moment he entered the downstairs hall.
When he walked through the door he saw her sitting on the chaise, her back to its arm, her legs bent in front of her. She was wearing faded jeans, a pale pink camisole and a lightweight pale green cardigan. Her feet were bare but her toes were polished a new color. Last night it was a sheer pink, tonight it was a bright fuchsia, evidencing the fact that she obviously disobeyed his command to rest and instead gave herself a pedicure. Her long, layered blonde hair fell around her shoulders in soft flips, the tendrils at her neck curving in, framing the graceful line of her throat in an invitation she likely didn’t know she was giving but one he savored.