As she imagined their conversation, she tried not to think about the fact that Giordan would scent her the moment he approached. Her presence was everywhere on Chas, and Giordan would know not only that she was near, but he'd immediately understand the nature of their relationship.
Would he even care?
As Narcise continued to trace the boundaries of the room, avoiding the narrow strips of fading sunlight from between awkwardly fitting shutters, she found herself wondering just what was, precisely, the nature of her relationship with Chas.
Not that Dracule had relationships like mortals did. After all, eternity was a very long time. Marriage was futile-at least with a mortal, who'd die long before the Dracule would, not to mention grow old and shriveled while the vampir remained ever young. And female Dracule, at least, didn't seem able to procreate-at least not in the way their mortal female counterparts did.
And as for love... Narcise had come to realize that love was a mortal concept. A mortal curse. Dracule didn't truly love, because to love meant to place someone before oneself. And a vampir simply did not do that. Ever. If one even thought about doing such a thing, Lucifer burned and blazed through the pulsing coils on one's back and influenced those actions back to where they should be: to self. Of course, a Dracule was all about passion and lust and pleasure, and if one happened to give it during the time one was also receiving, then so be it.
Therefore, what had been between her and Giordan couldn't have been love. Not at all.
For more than three weeks, she and Chas had been together as partners in their escape from Cezar and lovers since that morning he'd kissed her. And since the day Chas had told her he had feelings for her, and how much he loathed the fact that he did, the bond between them had been strengthening.
Not simply a bond of passion and lust, but a layer of respect and blossoming affection. She trusted him, she wanted to be with him, she enjoyed his body. Yet, Narcise was under no impression that she loved Chas.
She sensed that she could just as easily awaken one night and realize she wouldn't truly miss him in her life. That if he left, she would be sad, but not...destroyed.
Perhaps that was because she'd come to realize one disturbing thing about Chas: he hated-perhaps even feared-her Draculean tendencies, and he loathed himself for being attracted to a vampir.
It was as if he were at war within himself: he wanted her to bite him, to feed on him...but he hated himself when he responded to such titillation.
Yet, he cared for her. Deeply. He brought her little gifts-flowers, lace, hair combs. Even an ivory busk, which fit into the vertical pocket of her corset, down between her br**sts. No more than two fingers wide, as thin as a knife blade and about as long as her hand, it was beautifully carved with more flowers, and leafy vines, and a sun radiating bold rays.
"Because I know how much you miss the sun," he'd said when she looked at it, smoothing her fingers over the delicate design. "You can keep it near your heart."
She had. She'd slipped it into the little pocket of her corset and even now, she pressed her hand there, between her br**sts, and felt the sturdy little placket there.
Then she heard the pounding of hurried, ascending footsteps and then the hasty scuff as feet reached the top, and Narcise froze, waiting. If Giordan had somehow come back with him, or-
The door to the chamber opened sharply and her heart surged into her throat as she looked at the blur of a figure rushing in. When she scented and recognized Chas, his hair dark and wild, his face tense and angry, she went even colder. What had Giordan said? What had they done?
"I'm leaving," he said, throwing clothing into his pack, hardly giving her more than a brief look. "For London. It's Voss. He's abducted Angelica."
If Chas was unsettled about being with a vampir himself, he was even more rigid and terrified about his sisters being abducted or otherwise seduced by a Dracule. He well knew the violence and terror that could be inflicted by one of them.
If one were to be honest, Narcise must admit that she had had more than a few pangs of envy that these three mortal women had a brother who loved them so much and was so concerned for their safety that he would risk his own life to keep them safe. And, apparently, Chas would leave the side of his lover when one of them was in danger-even if said lover was in grave danger herself.
"London?" she repeated, a variety of thoughts shooting through her brain. "But that's the first place Cezar will look for me. For us," she added.
"It certainly is, but I have to go, Narcise." Chas stopped and looked up at her. "I've made arrangements for you to stay here. You'll be safe, and Cale will take you on to Wales while Corvindale and I find Voss...."
But Narcise hadn't heard anything after the words Cale will take you. Her brain simply froze, her stomach plummeted and she felt dizzy. Nauseated.
I can't see him again. I can't.
The memories flooded back, the glimpses of sleek, muscled shoulders by firelight, her brother's face rising behind them, lips peeled back in pleasure and pain...the scents of depravity and the raging in his eyes. Do you have any idea what I've done for you?
She swallowed hard, gave her head a little shake. No. By the Fates, no.
"I'll come with you," she said quickly.
Chas stopped his packing and looked at her sharply. "But you don't want to go to London. It's too dangerous."
"You'll protect me," she said, smiling with a bit of seduction. Not too much. "I don't want to be away from you, Chas." She dropped her voice low, trying to keep the panic out. "You got us out of France, you've outwitted Cezar every step of the way...and London is your own city. You'll be even sharper and smarter there. As well, I'd like to meet your sisters. And Dimitri again."
His face eased just a bit. "I confess, I would rather you come with me. But I didn't think you'd want to take the chance."
"London is a big city," she replied, relief sweeping her. "There are, I'm certain, many places to hide. Aside of that, Cezar wouldn't expect us to go there, and hide in plain sight."
Chas nodded. "Then pack up. I'll send word to Cale that his services to take you to Wales won't be necessary."
"I'm certain the man didn't wish to be bothered with such a task anyway," she said, turning to stuff her own belongings-such as they were-into a different satchel.
If she'd hoped for a reply, some sort of indication regarding Giordan's feelings toward her, she didn't receive one, for Chas had already left the chamber.
Forcing herself to breathe normally, she closed her eyes for a moment and thanked the Fates-or whoever-that had helped her avoid what would have been an untenable situation.