How To Marry A Werewolf (Claw & Courtship #1)(49)

Now comes the difficult part. “Isolde was three when the vampires tried to recruit me. The hives—” He paused, took a breath. “The hives in France, they don’t obey the same rules as here in England. They still don’t legally exist. Back then, they were barely tolerated, living on the fringes of society, preying on blood whores. They waved immortality in front of artists, much as they do here, but drones had no safety via patronage or indenture. Apparently, they’d been watching me, and they knew I had artistic skill. I refused, of course. I had Odette and Isolde to consider. Vampires don’t like to be refused.”

Channing sat down at that, abruptly, and looked at his hands, trying to get his words in order. It was too much to sit next to her, so he chose an armchair nearby instead.

Faith, bless her, said nothing, merely continued to watch him, curious and supportive and loving.

I hope that look does not change. Please don’t let it change.

“The war was in earnest and everything was in chaos. No one was watching the vampires. No one was hunting them anymore. The Templars were off killing mortals for a change. This one queen, well, she really wanted me, and so she took me. Right off the street when I was out trying to find bread. She kept me trapped in her rooms. Feeding off me, trying to get me to – you know – although that a man can refuse to do. It wasn’t very long. At least, I don’t think it was. A month, perhaps, maybe two. But it was long enough for Odette.”

He paused, worried about how best to say this worst bit.

“She waited for me, you see. Even though she’d lost all faith in me. Perhaps she thought I’d abandoned her and returned to England. Or perhaps she’d word that I was still in Paris, being kept by a vampire queen, and thought I’d volunteered. But she waited for me to return. So she could look me in the eyes when she jumped.”

Faith gasped and closed her own eyes. “I’m so sorry. It’s not your fault, it’s not—”

He interrupted her, slogging on. “She took Isolde with her. Right out the window and into the Seine. I wasn’t fast enough to stop her. I dove in after, but I never found them. I never found either of them. And Paris was burning.”

Faith looked at him with such sympathetic eyes. He knew she understood what held him back from her, from trusting a woman. She said the only thing she could. “It is not the same, but I do know what it is to lose a child.”

He nodded.

“What did you do?”

He gave a pained smile. “I left Paris for London, joined the Coldsteam Guards as a raw recruit – a fathead artist who’d never held a gun. I fought three wars, ended up in Iberia under the Fifth Coalition. Caught the eyes of the Alpha of the regiment’s allied pack. Lord Vulkasin thought I had such fire in my blood. He didn’t know I simply didn’t care about dying. He found out I used to sculpt. So, when the bullet came that should have killed me and it was a nighttime rush near to full moon, he offered me the bite. I took it. I thought letting go of most of my soul would make everything better for my heart. Turns out it simply makes everything harder.”

Her eyes were earnest on his face, willing him to go on.

“Werewolves, we may be undead, but we feel just as much. We love just as deeply, but it’s right there under our skin. It’s closer, more vibrant, lodged into flesh and bone rather than heart. It hurts, all the time, whatever you feel, even love, simply hurts. So, I gave it all up.”

Faith tilted her head. “You had another reason for taking the bite, didn’t you?”

How can she already know me so well, after so short an acquaintance?

He nodded. “Revenge. After the wars ended, I returned to Paris and killed the vampire queen who’d kidnapped me. It took some planning.” He gave what he knew was a toothy smile. “I allowed her to trap me, cage me, treat me like a dog. I bided my time for one small slip. Stupidly, she kept me in her inner chamber, where she slept. Her pet, she called me. I still” – he paused, shivering – “cannot bear to be called dog.”

Faith’s voice was soft and fervent. “I will never do so.”

He’d handed her a weapon and she’d turned it into a vow.

“She did slip one evening, as I knew she would. Full moon and she didn’t bar the cage properly. Foolish vampire. Deadly mistake, as it turned out. I ripped her head off. Not easy with a queen. They taste awful and their skin is quite tough.”

Faith looked pale but composed. “Go on.”

“The hive swarmed and went mad with bloodlust. They rampaged through Paris, killing hundreds. France abolished vampires as a result. I hadn’t thought of that, you see? I only thought of my revenge. I didn’t know what would happen. How awful they would be. How many innocents would die. But I’m also not sure I wouldn’t do it again.”

Her eyes showed no judgment.

“I went wild and loner after that. Lived as a wolf most nights, slept the days in caves in the deep forest. Took myself away from everything. I think, in some parts of Europe, they still tell stories of the white wolf after the war.”

“What happened? What brought you back?”

“Lyall.”

“Ah,” said Faith, “I think I understand.”

“He is special.”

“It is being a Beta?”

“In part. But there is something about him in particular. He’s old, very old. We say immortal, but we werewolves rarely see three hundred. Too much fighting – with each other, in armies, with the world. Lyall is, I think, closer to four, and so very calm.”