Chas’s mouth tightened and he settled on disgust. He’d not fall prey to that sort of lure. He’d never allow himself to be used thus, to lose mastery over himself. He recalled the fury he’d summoned when he dragged her up against the wall last night and threatened to kill her. He would. If she ever turned those lulling, coaxing, burning eyes on him, he wouldn’t hesitate to do it.
He slid off the mattress, one of those rare people who hardly felt the effects of over-imbibing. There was a dull, gentle pounding in the back of his head, but other than that, and the need for a drink of water, he felt as he normally did in the morning. Although—it really was much too early to be up and about for a gentleman; normally one didn’t see the light of the sun before noon.
Yet, despite the early hour and the large amounts of wine and ale he’d consumed, Chas’s head was clear. He remembered everything from the evening before—including the way he’d had to fairly thrust Narcise away after getting so close to her in that moment of fury. Too close.
Especially when, after the surprise, her eyes had narrowed a in interest and admiration.
He used the chamber pot—which was the cause for his early rousing—and then the water in the basin to wash his face and rinse his mouth of the vestiges of stale drink. Then he turned back to the bed.
The shift Narcise had taken to wearing as a nightrail gapped away from her throat and shoulders, exposing delicate collarbones and the shadow of other delights deeper still.
Chas pivoted away, opting for the chair to finish his slumber. He remembered full well the feel of her body pressed against his when he shoved her against the wall, his face close to hers.
That had almost been his undoing…she was justthere, in front of him. He’d even had a handful of her clothing, his fingers curling into the flesh above her breasts just before she shoved him away. His caution was just that much dulled by the drink, and the knowledge of what she’d been doing in the chamber with that servant boy still lingered in the back of his mind. His imagination filled in the details of what had gone on before he interrupted…what would have happened if he had not.
And as much as he’d attempted to drink himself into oblivion, he was fully aware of his body’s response to her, his attraction to and curiosity about her.
Why did she have to be avampir?
The pounding in his head had become stronger and he abandoned the idea of slumping in the chair and trying to sleep there. He’d fallen into…onto…the bed before she had last night, and she obviously had no qualms about sleeping next to him, and so why should he be concerned?
He climbed back into his place on the mattress, noting that the blankets were still warm from where he’d lay moments earlier, but that her hand had crept away from her cheek and now lay just beneath his pillow.
All thoughts of sleep fled as he settled down next to her, his face very close to hers—but yet distant enough that he could focus on her features. A soft, warm scent filtered from her hair and skin and he found it difficult to dismiss.
He foundherimpossible to dismiss.
The sun seemed to be taking her time rising today, and the chamber continued to be filled with indistinct shapes except in a rectangular patch beneath the window. But Chas could somehow make out the fringe of Narcise’s dark lashes and the little accent line at the corner of her mouth. And he noticed, for the first time, a tiny beauty mark at the corner of her left eye.
Before he could stop himself, he reached and settled his hand, open, onto the cascade of hair falling over her shoulder. Slowly, he traced its smooth sheen along her head and over her shoulder and arm, lightly, lightly…hardly more than a feather touch. Her warmth seeped from beneath the silkiness into his palm, and although she gave a little tremor in her sleep, she didn’t waken.
Chas touched her again, sliding his fingers around a coil of hair that had fallen in front of her shoulder and hung like a corkscrew. Curling it around his finger, he rubbed the lock between two finger pads, then let it fall back against her bosom.
His heart had begun to swell and pound all that much harder, for he knew she couldn’t enthrall him while she was sleeping. Which meant that what he felt—that deep tug, that insistent pull of attraction—was real. And it was strong.
He just hoped to God it wouldn’t destroy him, for he didn’t think there was any way to turn back.
She felt the same simmering attraction; he’d seen it when he interrupted her feeding on that youthful servant yesterday. She’d had the boy, but wantedhim. Chas.
It was in her eyes when she saw him walking through the door.
A little pang twisted his belly. Yes, she wanted him, but he could never allow her to take from him as she’d done with the footman. He wouldn’t lose that control, he wouldn’t ever slip into that maelstrom of hunger and need that he’d experienced at Rubey’s…that night where he was out of his mind with pleasure, with the need to have his blood freed, sopped up, drawn….
Chas swallowed the thick lump in his throat. Even now, a month later, the shame and humiliation made him ill. How could he have become so base, so depraved as to allow a servant of the devil to control him?
But here was another temptation…a greater one. Narcise was beyond beautiful…she was also intelligent and brave. And she’d stayed with him when he was dying.
For God’s sake, she’d even violated him…but to save his life.
What a turn-about that was for a Dracule.
A deep little tremor went through him and he closed his eyes.No. Not her.
And yet…he could not keep from touching her. It was as if a magnet drew his hand, his fingers, his attention to her.
It wasn’t until he brushed a swath of hair back from her temple and cheek that Narcise stirred. She opened her eyes, and as soon as they focused, sleepiness fled. They flashed wide with surprise and then apprehension as she started with a slight jolt…and then her expression shifted just as quickly into confusion.
His heart pounded and desire shivered in his belly.
