Angels' Flight(11)

What would Monique Beaumont look like after a century of vampirism?

Ashwini’s lips pursed in a silent whistle. Given that it took decades for most vampires to reach Monique’s level of physical perfection, the woman might just put the angels to shame. But right now, as she brushed her hair, it was a very human smile that flirted with those lush red lips. Nothing about her screamed “captive.”

That fit with what Nazarach had said about Callan treating her well until Antoine was out of the equation. As if the thought had conjured him up, the door opened to reveal the vampire in question, his blunt masculinity at odds with the sky blue and cream décor of what was clearly a woman’s bou-doir.

“Callie,” Monique said, her tone husky with reproach. “It’s getting tedious to be confined to this room.”

Locking the door behind himself, Callan leaned back against it, arms crossed, as Monique shifted around on her stool—to display the sleek length of one slender thigh. The gesture was sexual, but it was the look in the woman’s eyes that interested Ashwini. Predatory…?but also aroused?

Feeling like a voyeur, she continued to watch as Monique ran her hand down her thigh. “Has my father agreed to your ransom?”

Callan’s eyes locked on Monique’s fingers where she touched herself with slow, hypnotic strokes. “I haven’t asked for a ransom.”

Monique pouted, all sex and a sweet, dark hunger. “Are you planning to kill me, Callie?”





5


“You’re not that good, Monique, so stop with the seduction act.” Hard words, but his voice had dropped, his face tight with strain.

Getting up off the stool, the beautiful vampire crossed the thick cream-colored carpet. “Liar. I’m very good. I had Jean for a mentor.” Putting her hands flat on Callan’s wide chest, she rose on tiptoe. “And you’re quite luscious.”

Callan held her back with a hand fisted in golden hair that screamed Monique’s immortality. “Try leading me around by the cock, Monique, and you’ll find your hand hacked off.”

Monique’s lips seem to grow even fuller at the threat, her nipples beading against the satin. “Take me.” She rubbed herself sensually against him. “It’ll be the best choice you ever make.”

“I’m fully capable of having sex with you,” Callan whispered against her throat, “then burning you to true death.”

“I’d be more useful to you alive.” Trembling visibly, Monique ran her hands up to cup Callan’s face. “I hate Simone. She takes Grandfather’s attention away from me.”

“Are you saying you’ll betray Antoine to get at Simone?”

“I’m saying we could work out a mutual agreement.” Her nails were perfect ovals against Callan’s skin. “You get rid of Simone for me, become my consort and my grandfather’s right-hand man. The old transitioning to the new.”

Callan’s jaw hardened. “Sorry, sweetheart. I’m not playing second fiddle to anyone—least of all a vicious brat who’d sell out her own family.”

Ashwini saw the flash of surprise in Monique’s eyes the instant before Callan kissed her. Hearing the other woman moan in the back of her throat, Ashwini decided she’d seen more than enough to form a conclusion, though what that conclusion might be, she had no idea. Two wrong turns later, she found herself back in her bathroom. Jumping out of the vent, she replaced the cover, then got into the shower and scrubbed herself until her skin stung.

When she walked out into the bedroom, dressed in jeans and a tee, she wasn’t surprised to see Perida waiting for her. “We got worried when you didn’t answer the door,” the vampire said.

Ashwini held out a hand, palm up. “Earplugs. Hate getting water in my ears.” Rubbing at her hair with a towel, she looked at the woman questioningly. “Where’s Janvier?”

“Walking in the gardens.”

Ashwini threw the towel over a chair. “I think I might join him.” She felt Perida’s eyes on her all the way to the roses where she’d spied Janvier. “You won’t believe what I saw,” she said, wondering if Monique and Callan were even now locked in that embrace powered by equal amounts of lust, ambition, and loathing.

“Try me.”

She did, had the satisfaction of seeing his eyes widen. “Think Callan still intends to go through with his plan of wiping out Antoine, then getting rid of Monique?” she asked.

“If he wants to seize power in Atlanta,” Janvier said with the icy pragmatism of an almost-immortal, “he’ll have to eliminate Jean, Frédéric, and the others, too.”

Ashwini thought of the ruthlessness she’d seen in Callan’s expression as he spoke to the Beaumont vampire. “He’s capable of it. But, no matter what he says, he’s also susceptible to Monique.”

“There’s a chance Monique won’t want to be rescued,” Janvier pointed out, “not if she thinks she can get Callan ’round to her way of thinking.”

“Doesn’t matter. Nazarach wants her.” And not even the most ambitious young vampire would dare gainsay their sire. Angels had torture down to a fine art—and those screams locked in the walls of his home told her Nazarach was better at it than most. “You’d think,” she murmured, “that Monique would’ve had better sense than to ask to be Made after seeing the life Antoine and Jean lead.”