Hungers of the Heart Read online

  She hurried down the hail and upstairs to her own room to change into fresh clothes.

  She couldn’t believe how good his kiss had felt. And while she was tempted to tell herself that she wouldn’t have reacted like that if she hadn’t still been on the edge of sleep, she wasn’t so sure.

  In her six years with Armand, she’d experienced a great deal of physical pleasure. He’d brought her to orgasm more times than she could count, but even when she was in the throes of ecstasy, there had al­ways been a. . . taint. A knowledge deep inside her, somewhere that he couldn’t reach, that the pleasure was false, nothing but a product of his glamour. And always there was the knowledge of how she’d feel afterward, when his glamour no longer clouded her mind.

  As she dried her hair and pulled it into a ponytail at the nape of her neck, she wondered if there was any reason she should continue to resist Drake’s charms. What would be the harm in sleeping with him? Yes, she’d have to leave him, and yes, it would hurt more if she let herself get more attached. But maybe it would be worth it.

  Once upon a time, she’d had the illusion that she would never sleep with a man she didn’t love. It had seemed like such a romantic idea, that her body would only go where her heart directed. But Armand had long ago shattered the illusion.

  Maybe making love with Drake, feeling pleasure that wasn’t tainted, would erase some of the scars the Seigneur had put on her soul.

  She smiled ruefully at her reflection in the mirror. Or maybe she had no such lofty goals but just wanted to get laid. Either way, she would be a fool not to take advantage of the situation the Seigneur had put her in. No, a long-term love affair with Drake was not among her options. But there was no reason in the world she couldn’t enjoy a hot, short-term fling.

  All she had to do now was convince him he wanted the same thing. Considering how hungrily he’d stared at her this morning, she suspected that might not be much of a challenge.

  ***

  WHEN DRAKE DESCENDED to the first floor, he dis­covered that the Seigneur and his entourage had taken over the receiving room. Armand had appropriated Gabriel’s chair, with Charles sitting at his right hand, and his other two vampires occupying the seats Drake had set out for Eric and Harry. The mortals milled around, looking smug and arrogant. Jez and the Guardians stood clumped together in one corner, being ignored by the delegation. Jez had objected to Drake sitting in Gabriel’s chair; she must be nearly out of her mind to see Armand in it.

  Drake heaved a mental sigh. There was no doubt the Seigneur meant this as a challenge. Were he not so badly outmatched, Drake would have known ex­actly how to handle it. As it was, he feared anything he said or did would only make the situation worse. Still, his own Guardians might lose what respect they had for him if he didn’t at least voice an objection.

  Hating this role, he crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the Seigneur~ who looked poised to pounce.

  “I see you’ve made yourself at home,” he said mildly.

  The Seigneur smiled at him, and his look was coldly calculating. “The chair was unoccupied when I entered. I find it is quite comfortable.”

  Drake shook his head. “I’m not going to start a war over a chair,” he said, and thought the Seigneur looked disappointed.

  “A wise decision,” Armand said, his smile even colder. The look in his eyes suggested Gabriel might not be the only Baltimore vampire he hoped to kill before returning to France.

  There was no question in Drake’s mind that the Seigneur was seething with jealousy. If the situation weren’t so grave, Drake would have laughed at the absurdity of it. After all, it was the Seigneur himself who’d pushed Faith into his bed.

  Drake returned the Seigneur’s shark like smile. “Faith should be down shortly. She was in the shower when I left her.”

  Armand showed no sign of the barb hitting home besides a slight tightening at the corners of his eyes. But it was enough, and the Seigneur knew it. All con­versation in the room halted, and everyone seemed to hold their breath.

  Drake’s nerves buzzed, his senses sharpening as he became aware of the scent that surrounded him, the scent of mortal men. Men he was certain were not innocents.

  His conscious mind pulled back on the reins, try­ing to control the beast. Getting into a pissing contest with the Seigneur when the hunger clawed at the edges of his control wasn’t the wisest idea he’d ever had. Too late now, however.

  “You look. . . tense, monsieur’ the Seigneur said. “Is something wrong?” His tone was one of polite in­quiry, but the expression in his eyes was far from po­lite. In fact, Drake suspected he knew exactly what was wrong and hoped to goad Drake into losing his precious control.

  Drake breathed deeply. He wasn’t going to give Armand the satisfaction of winning a battle of wills. lie would keep control of himself if it killed him.

  His eyes flicked to the cluster of mortals served the Seigneur four men who all had the look hired muscle. Not that the Seigneur needed muse. They had to be used to the presence of vampires, they must have sensed the tension in the air. All f looked uneasy, and the scent of fear hovered about them.

  “It’s past my dinnertime,” Drake said, still looking at the mortals. “I was wondering if you’d be willing to share your livestock.”

  The scent -of fear sharpened, though one of mortals went red in the face with outrage.

  Drake turned his most charming smile on Seigneur. “I assume you brought them so you would have to insult the Master of Baltimore by hunting in territory.”

  The fear was almost overpowering now, and Drake made no attempt to stop his fangs from descending. He sincerely doubted the Seigneur had brought the mortals as food, but he’d certainly planted that in their minds.

  The tension eased when Faith entered the room. Her nostrils flared briefly, and she gave the mortals puzzled look. Then the Seigneur held out his hand her.

  Very pointedly not looking at Drake, she cross~ the room to the Seigneur and allowed him to pull hi down onto his lap. Her face had turned into an in passive mask, and if she minded sitting on his like a child, she didn’t show it.

  This little demonstration of his power over Faith seemed to restore the Seigneur’s good humor, and his smile lost some of its frost. “My mortals are under my protection as much as my vampires,” he said. “I’m afraid you’ll have to find your meal elsewhere.”

  Drake doubted the mortals were much relieved, but Armand seemed disinclined to reassure them more than he already had.

  “After two nights in your fair city,” the Seigneur said, “I already find myself longing for my own home. And I suspect you are equally anxious to see me gone.”

  That was certainly the truth.

  “We have so far allowed ourselves to be distracted from bur purpose.” the Seigneur continued. “All of us wish to see Brigitte returned to the loving arms of her mother. I propose that we put aside our differ­ences and work together to make that happen.”

  Since their major differences were that Drake sus­pected the delegation planned to kill Gabriel, and Ar­mand suspected Gabriel had teamed up with Brigitte against him, Drake wasn’t sure how exactly they could manage to put them aside. However, he could hardly say he objected to the idea of getting Brigitte out of the city, as far away from him and the Guardians as possible.

  “I’m happy to help,” he said, “though as we all know, Brigitte has other plans.”

  He told Armand about his encounter with Brigitte and Henri yesterday, but wasn’t surprised to be met with skepticism.

  “That makes a very nice cover story,” Armand said. “Plausible, even. However, I have only your word that any of this happened. The murderer could just as easily be your supposedly absent master.”

  Drake nodded. “Yes, that’s exactly what she and Henri predicted you’d say. I’m sure she’ll be most gratified to be proven right.” The Seigneur’s eyes flashed with anger, but Drake continued before ten­sions could escalate. “Do you have a proposal for how we
can capture Brigitte?”

  For a moment, the Seigneur looked as if he was tempted to pick a fight. Then the fire in his eyes faded.

  “Charles and I are both old enough to distinguish between vampire auras. We know Henri is about two hundred and fifty years old, and we sincerely doubt there is another vampire of his age anywhere near your master’s territory.”

  Drake nodded, though he supposed it depended on one’s definition of “anywhere near.” The Master of Washington was of approximately that age and was far closer than either Gabriel or Drake preferred. Un­fortunately, the Master of Washington also had an impressive flock of fledglings and was too dangerous a foe for Gabriel and his Guardians to take on.

  “We will divide into two search parties,” the Seigneur continued. “I will head one, Charles the other. We will search for Henri’s psychic signature. If we can find Henri, we will find Brigitte.”

  Drake would have liked to find fault with the plan, but with nothing else to go on, it seemed a reasona1

  one. Henri had said he and his mistress planned

  take out one member of the entourage each night. They had to be nearby to hope to manage it.

  What would happen after they found Brigitte was another thing entirely. Could they actually capture her, even if they found her? Would she hold the Guardians personally responsible and betray Gabriel’s location to the delegation for spite? Or would she say nothing whatsoever, leaving Gabriel to die slowly of starva­tion?

  Drake shook off the questions. There were no an­swers for them, not now. And so he would put off worrying about them until Brigitte was captured.

  10

  CHARLES DIDN’T FEEL at all himself as he hunted Henri through the streets of Baltimore, a ragtag team of lesser vampires in his wake. The Seigneur had as­signed Jacques, his second-oldest fledgling, to Charles, along with Drake and Eric, taking Faith, Harry, and his youngest fledgling, Louis, with him. The mortals and Jezebel had remained at the house. Charles had questioned the wisdom of leaving Lily without better protection—despite Drake’s claim that Brigitte would not harm her—but Armand had silenced him with one cold look.

  In a custom holster under his jacket, Charles car­ried the tranquilizer gun he was to use on Brigitte if he found her. He had his master’s permission to kill Henri outright, which he would be glad to do. But he couldn’t help wondering whether splitting up was a good decision. Brigitte was powerful, and far from stupid. It seemed the chances of the hunters becom­ing the hunted were distressingly good.

  He tried to shake off the disloyal thought, concen­trating instead on reaching out with his psychic senses. But there were no vampires nearby except those in his party. At least, not that he could sense. Brigitte could be practically on top of them and he’d never know.

  A cloud of depression hovered around him. This mission was. doomed. Brigitte had had the upper hand from the beginning, and Charles saw no reason to think that would change. And even if the mission succeeded...

  They would go home to France as soon as possi­ble. Armand would immediately send Lily back to the boarding school where she spent most of the year. And considering the threat the Seigneur had is­sued last night, Charles would be best off trying to forget the girl existed. She belonged to the Seigneur as surely as Faith did. And while Armand might never take the girl to bed himself, he wasn’t about to let Charles do so, either. After having served Ar­mand loyally for more than six hundred years, didn’t Charles deserve better than to be treated like some kind of dirty old man?

  He didn’t want to, but he couldn’t help calling to mind the image of Lily in that dressing room, her skin so smooth and white and tempting. He swallowed hard and tried to calm the sudden surge in his pulse.

  If she was tempting now, he told himself, she would he equally or more so when she turned eighteen, or even twenty-one. And maybe by then Charles would be able to soften his friend’s stance.

  But mortals were so fragile. Armand might keep the girl as safe as he possibly could, but accidents happened. Cars crashed, innocent bystanders were killed in acts of senseless violence. Wouldn’t it be better for everyone if she became a vampire sooner rather than later? For her own protection, of course.

  “Any sign of Henri yet?” Drake asked, shaking Charles out of his meandering thoughts.

  “Nothing yet,” he said, feeling like he was drag­ging himself back from a thousand miles away. Thinking about his future was pointless. Either he would be forced to betray Armand, or he would be forced to give up on Lily—and there was nothing he could do to control the outcome.

  Drake grunted and gave him something of an odd look. Perhaps Charles had looked as distracted as he’d felt. if only they could find Brigitte and Henri! Or if only Brigitte and Henri! Or if only they could find them. At least then the torturous wait would be over. The un­certainty of it all was worse than anything. No reality would be as dreadful as the possibilities he imagined for himself.

  He reached out with his senses, hoping against hope to feel Henri, but there was nothing. Brigitte and Henri would prolong this game for their own amusement. Listening to Drake recount Brigitte plans to kill them all, one at a time, drawing out the game, had chilled him to the marrow. Yes, it was possible Armand was right and Drake had been making the whole thing up. But Charles couldn’t convince himself that was the case, couldn’t shake his sense of doom. How he wished they could just go home!

  And then an idea emerged from the depths of his psyche. An idea of how he could take control of his own fate and make their hellish exile end sooner. He tried his best to bury the idea back in the depths of his mind, but now that it had sprung to life, it refused to die.

  ***

  DRAKE HAD A sneaking suspicion they were on a fool’s errand. He believed Charles was capable of sensing Henri. And he even believed the tranquilizer could take down Henri or even Brigitte. What he didn’t believe was that Brigitte or her fledgling would allow it to happen. if her psychic radar was anywhere near as good as Gabriel’s, she’d “see” them coming long before they reached her, and that would be the end of that. It would be far more effective to set a trap, but the Seigneur had not been open to suggestion.

  Charles came to a halt so suddenly Drake almost humped into him.

  “What is it?” he asked as Jacques and Eric stared warily into the shadows.

  Charles’s eyes lost focus for a second, then bright­ened. “I’ve got him!” he said, pulling the gum from Is holster inside his jacket. “Up ahead. Come on!” lie gestured for them to follow, then started running down the street.

  “Hold on a moment!” Drake protested, but Charles ignored him. Jacques followed obediently behind, bi Eric looked at Drake first.

  “Damn fool,” Drake muttered, shaking his head, then hurrying in pursuit with Eric at his heels.

  “This is a bad idea,” Eric agreed, but kept pa with Drake.

  This was the most they’d spoken to each other since the incident the night before. Drake didn’t for moment imagine the puppy had forgiven him, but least he wasn’t being actively hostile.

  Up ahead, Charles and Jacques turned a corner. Drake quickened his pace from a jog to an all-out run. He careened around the corner with Eric right on his tail...

  …and the next thing he knew, he was sitting the front steps of a house with Eric seated beside h~ His head swam in. confusion, and he blinked rapidly.

  “What the hell just happened?” Eric asked, voicing Drake’s own question.

  Drake rose to his feet, his head feeling thick an muddy with the aftereffects of glamour. “Whatever was,” he said grimly, “it wasn’t good.” He rubbed his eyes, but his wits were returning to him rapidly.

  He and Eric caught sight of Charles at the time. The older vampire was sitting on the sidewalk between a pair of stoops, his back resting against brick wall behind him. And lying beside him, w his head on Charles’s lap, was Jacques, his twisted at an angle that was all wrong.

  “Shit,” Eric muttered, and walked over t
o squat be­side Armand’s dead fledgling.

  Charles looked pale and shell-shocked, barely seeming to notice when Drake and Eric approached.

  “What happened?” Drake asked, though he had a good idea he knew.

  Charles swallowed hard and shook his head. “I don’t know. Jacques and I ran around the corner, and then He shook his head again. “Then everything just went blank. When I came to. . .“ He looked down at Jacques’s body.

  “Jesus!” Eric said. “I’ve never felt anything like that before. And if she can do that to you,” he contin­ued, pointing at Charles, “then how the hell are we supposed to capture her?”

  Charles seemed to be in a state of shock and didn’t answer. Eric’s eyes were too wide, and Drake real­ized how little experience the fledgling actually had with vampires. At least hostile ones. No doubt this was the first time he’d experienced glamour of this magnitude.

  “She’s powerful and dangerous,” Drake said, again trying for the soothing croon that Eli did so well, “but she’s not invincible.” -

  Something sparked in Eric’s eyes as he glared at I )rake. “Oh yeah? What the hell could we have done I she’d decided to kill us all just now?”

  Once again, the beast within Drake stirred, the hunger making his temper more brittle than usual. He managed to stifle the sharp responses that came to mind, though.

  “She has no interest in killing us,” he reminded Eric. “It’s the delegation she’s after.”

  “Yeah, for now:’ Eric said. “But the bitch is Who knows what she’ll do next?”

  Drake gave him a marrow-freezing glare. have a panic attack on me. We can’t afford it.”

  The command had the expected effect, an fear drained from Eric’s eyes, replaced by outrage. He opened his mouth as if to respond, but Drake continued to glare, he thought better of it.

  Charles’s cell phone rang, and he turned a shade paler. Sweat beaded his brow and upper lip, Drake could smell his fear in the air. His Adam’s apple bobbed, as he swallowed hard, but he answered the phone. He listened for a moment, then said,” Seigneur,” and closed the phone. He stood up, lifting the dead fledgling easily and slinging him over shoulder in a fireman’s carry. “The Seigneur wishes us to return to the house.”