Christian (Vampires in America: The Vampire Wars Book 10) Page 5

  Natalie had been watching him for a while, waiting for him to turn, wondering if this was the ice cream-lickable Christian Duvall that MariAnn had been going on about. Though she wouldn’t have expected him to be blond, even it was a dark blond. She’d been admiring the breadth of his shoulders in the elegant suit, and his really nice butt. But despite MariAnn’s gushing assessment still ringing in her ears, she wasn’t prepared for the impact of that smile, or the spark of intellect in those deep blue eyes.

  She blinked, trying not to let him see how he affected her, working so hard at it that it was a moment before she realized he hadn’t disputed the tall and delicious part of her description. Vampire ego, there was nothing like it in the world. Although, in this case, she had to admit he had a point. The tall wasn’t in any question. Christian Duvall—because who else could he be?—was three or four inches over six feet. And the delicious part was just as obvious.

  But he wasn’t the ice cream kind of delicious. He was too huge, too hard, with those big shoulders beneath a dark gray suit that had to be custom-tailored to fit his broad chest as well as it did. A square jaw, sensuous lips, and dark blond hair just long enough that it would hang in his navy blue eyes when he was on top of her, muscles flexing as he pumped . . . oh dear God.

  Okay, so maybe MariAnn had a point.

  Natalie whipped her computer glasses off and fought against the desire to put a hand to her hair, to make sure it was properly brushed. Nothing she could do about it, if it wasn’t.

  “I’m sorry, that was rude,” she said, hoping he wouldn’t notice the flush spreading down her neck and across her chest. Wishing she’d worn something with a higher neckline, but really, how could she have known? “Can I help you?”

  The smile spread across his face, slow and easy, turning incredibly handsome into something . . . just fucking amazing.

  “Christian Duvall,” he said smoothly, and held out his hand, as if offering her a handshake.

  Natalie responded automatically, and his huge hand dwarfed her slender fingers.

  “We spoke on the phone,” he added.

  Natalie found her voice. “We did,” she confirmed. “I’m Natalie Gaudet.”

  He shifted her hand in his grip, and lifted it to his mouth, touching the back of her hand to his lips, his eyes never leaving hers. “Natalie,” he repeated, and her fragile wits scattered all over again. Okay, so he was uncommonly handsome, and she loved the way he said her name. NAH-tah-lee. And, yes, his accent was beautiful—even to someone brought up with the lyrical rhythms of Cajun country. Still, it wasn’t as if good-looking men were hard to find around here. Maybe it was the way he was looking at her, as if he’d found an exotic treasure that he’d been searching for, and never expected to find sitting outside Anthony’s office.

  “Is Lord Anthony in his office, Natalie?” he asked, and she knew she’d been staring.

  “Yes, of course. I’ll just—”

  She spun as a whoosh of sound announced the opening of Anthony’s inner office doors.

  “Leave her alone.”

  Natalie gasped at the abrupt warning in Anthony’s rough voice, but Christian barely reacted. He straightened to his full height, his fingers slowly releasing their grip on hers, even as his thumb stroked the back of her hand. He gave her a quick wink, then swung easily around to face Anthony.

  “Lord Anthony,” he acknowledged, not seeming at all ruffled by the vampire lord’s sudden appearance, or unfriendly tone.

  “Your appointment is with me, Duvall, not my cousin,” Anthony growled.

  Natalie blinked in surprise. Cousin? What the hell? Sure, Anthony claimed some distant relationship to her family, but he’d never called her “cousin” before.

  He was certainly hostile to Christian, though. She wondered about that, and whether Christian would take offense. Vamps were a volatile lot, and she’d seen them come to blows for less. But these two vampires were scary powerful, and she didn’t relish being around if they got into it.

  She needn’t have worried, however. Christian took Anthony’s mood in stride, quirking a quizzical eyebrow in her direction—maybe at the mood, or maybe because Anthony had called her “cousin.” Christian’s eyes posed the question he obviously didn’t want to ask.

  “Mr. Duvall just arrived, my lord,” she said. Christian might be willing to ignore Anthony’s bad mood, but she wasn’t. “He’s just—”

  “I see what he’s doing, Natalie. Come in, Duvall. Let’s get this over with.” Anthony spun on his heel and stomped back into his office, not even pretending to offer a welcome.

  Natalie frowned after him, but Christian didn’t seem to care. He offered her a half grin, and, placing one hand over his heart, he murmured, “ma belle,” before following Anthony. But then he turned at the last moment and said, “Oh, Natalie, my lieutenant was waylaid on the way in. I expect him to join us momentarily. Would you ask him to wait here for me?”

  “Of course,” she assured him.

  “His name is Marc Forest,” he told her, then got that wicked gleam in his eyes again. “Tall, dark, and delicious.”

  Natalie blushed hotly as he took two steps back in her direction, and produced a business card from the inside pocket of his jacket. She took the card and glanced at it, before looking up to find him regarding her intently.

  “In case you need me. For any reason,” he added, meeting her eyes with that intense gaze. Then he turned and continued into Anthony’s office, closing the doors quietly behind him. It wasn’t until she heard the firm click of the door closing, and the barely discernible rumble of the two vampires’ voices that she was able to draw a full breath.

  “Good lord,” she muttered. “That should be illegal.”

  MariAnn hurried into the office at that moment, and Natalie stared. She’d obviously changed not just her blouse, but her entire outfit, right down to her shoes. The dry cleaning explained away the outfit, but where’d she get the shoes?

  “What’s illegal?” MariAnn asked. She rushed over to her desk, and pulled a mirror from her drawer the minute she sat down.

  “Nothing,” Natalie said. “Muttering to myself. If you’re going to be here, I’m running down to the ladies’ room.”

  “Sure.”

  “Oh, and there’s a vampire by the name of Marc Forest, who should be showing up any minute. He’s supposed to wait here for Christian Duvall.”

  MariAnn looked away from her mirror long enough to scowl attractively in Nat’s direction. “Who is he?”

  “I’m not sure. I think he works with Christian, though.”

  “Oh.” She shrugged. “Okay.”

  “I’ll be back in a few.”

  “Okay.”

  Natalie was smiling to herself as she hurried away from Anthony’s office. MariAnn was going to be so pissed when she discovered that the target of her primping was already in with Anthony. Nat moved to one side of the hallway as yet another big, attractive vampire strolled by. About the same size as Christian, actually, but with short, dark hair and brown eyes. He grinned flirtatiously as he walked past, and she glanced back to see him turn at the door to Anthony’s office. Tall, dark, and delicious. Christian was right.

  She smiled privately, and continued down the hall, considering the unusual circumstance of Christian having a lieutenant. She wouldn’t have thought regular vampires had lieutenants. But then, he was obviously European—his accent said he was French—so maybe he was a lord over there somewhere. And that was an unhappy thought, because the North American vampires were all banding together against the Europeans. She wasn’t exactly in on the strategic planning sessions, but she wasn’t deaf, dumb, and blind, either. She sat right outside Anthony’s office, and conversations didn’t always begin or end behind closed doors.

  Fortunately, none of that was her concern. She was a
lone human female. The doings of powerful vampires had nothing to do with her. She was only here because of Anthony, who’d blackmailed her into coming to Houston the same way he’d been blackmailing her family for generations. He claimed to be related on her mother’s side, some distant ancestor who’d kept track of, and protected, his wide and branching descendants over the years.

  The truth was that no one in her family knew if he was a relative or not. That he’d been around forever was definitely true, as was the fact that anyone who disappointed him tended to vanish without warning or trace.

  Unfortunately, Anthony had somehow discovered Natalie’s profession, and “offered” her a job. She hadn’t wanted to move so far away from her family outside New Orleans, but she wasn’t willing to risk their safety on Anthony’s mood either. So, she accepted his offer. As it turned out, the work was fascinating, and, while she missed her family, moving away from them hadn’t been all bad. For the first time in her life, she was truly on her own, without the interference of her father and two older brothers, all of whom considered it their sacred duty to scrutinize every aspect of her life. Especially if that life involved contact with a male, no matter how innocent.

  It was a pain in the ass and, Natalie was certain, the main reason she was still single and unattached at the ripe old age of twenty-five. Of course, the fact that she was an egghead with a genius IQ hadn’t helped. Nor had living in the small Bayou town where she’d grown up, or the fact that she’d been skipped ahead a couple of years and so was younger than anyone in her high school class. College had been a little better, but her football star brother had been at Tulane at the same time, and he’d seemingly taken it as his personal mission to keep her a virgin forever. She loved both her brothers dearly, but they drove her to distraction sometimes. They were both big and dangerous men, just like her father, which meant she’d never had so much as a serious boyfriend. It wasn’t until grad school that she’d even managed to lose her virginity, and that had been more a matter of determination than attraction.

  Of course, she’d been in Houston on her own for nearly two years now, and she still hadn’t met the man of her dreams. But what she did have was a level of freedom she’d never known before. And she had met plenty of dreamy men. Like Christian Duvall, with his beautiful eyes and wicked smile, and those broad shoulders that filled out a suit so very nicely.

  Whoa. Full stop. She couldn’t be attracted to a vampire. That wasn’t anywhere in her life plan. Besides, vampires didn’t date. Especially not the ones like Christian, who probably crooked his finger and women came running. And now he’d crooked his finger at her. And why not? She was pretty enough, and she looked especially good today in her dove gray skirt and black silk blouse, and especially her gray patent Louboutin pumps. French designer shoes. French vampire. He should appreciate those, right?

  Damn it. She was turning into MariAnn. She had to stop thinking about Christian. Where were her brothers when she needed them?

  THE SCENT OF Natalie’s fragrance followed Christian as he strolled into Anthony’s office. Subtle, feminine, but with just a touch of spice. Just like Natalie herself. She was a lovely temptation with her auburn hair falling loose over her shoulders, her silk blouse and figure-hugging skirt showing off her long, smooth legs. She’d been flustered by him, and he had a feeling Natalie didn’t fluster easily. He wasn’t in Houston to hook up with anyone, but that didn’t meant he couldn’t. He wouldn’t mind a taste of Natalie. And he was a man who usually got what he wanted.

  What he wanted most, however, was to rule the South. And tonight, he intended to start down that path. Unfortunately, the vampire lord now giving him a very unfriendly look from across the room was the necessary first step.

  Anthony was old. Very, very old. Maybe even older than Raphael, which only proved that age wasn’t everything when it came to a vampire’s power. The years could build on a vampire’s strength by enhancing his skills and teaching him new tricks. But his essential power, the thing that determined much of who he would be for the rest of his existence, was set in stone on the night he woke as a vampire for the very first time. And there was nothing he, or she, could do to change that.

  So while Anthony was certainly powerful, he wasn’t as powerful as Christian. And they both knew it. That probably accounted for some of the hostility the vampire lord was aiming his way, even though Christian was being very careful to contain his power, to avoid a direct challenge. He had no desire to fight Anthony; the Southern lord had already abdicated the territory and presented no threat.

  But that didn’t mean Christian was going to roll over for him either.

  “Lord Anthony,” he said politely. “Thank you for seeing me.”

  Anthony’s expression never changed. He tugged on the vest of his three-piece suit, in what was probably a habitual gesture, then walked over behind his desk, as if trying to put a barrier between them. And a huge barrier it was, too. The desk was big enough to seat six, much less one average-sized vampire lord. But then, the entire office was as overdone as the reception area had been. The desk and visitors’ chairs filled half of the room, with the other half containing a conversation grouping of a sofa and two chairs, all done in elegant fabrics and wooden curves, with colorful Tiffany-style lamps on delicate end tables. The walls were covered with the same kind of self-congratulatory photos of Anthony shaking hands with important people, and where there wasn’t a photo, there was a certificate or award, all bearing Anthony’s name.

  “Have a seat,” Anthony said in his unnaturally raspy voice. Christian knew this was the result of an injury from the vampire lord’s human life, before he was turned. An injury that the vampire symbiote didn’t see as important enough to fix, apparently.

  Christian swung his gaze back to Anthony, then moved to stand in front of one of the visitors’ chairs, where he waited politely for Anthony to sit first. The vampire lord scowled. He was as handsome as any other vampire—the symbiote had smoothed away any physical flaws long ago—but it couldn’t make him taller. Age and ancestry combined to make the Southern lord around five feet, seven or eight inches, which was considerably shorter than Christian. The height difference wouldn’t have mattered if Anthony had been the more powerful vampire of the two of them. But since he definitively was not, the height disparity only seemed to increase his dislike.

  Anthony narrowed his eyes at Christian. There was nothing friendly in that look. “Raphael called about you. It’s the only reason I agreed to see you,” he said. His accent was not unlike Natalie’s, but Anthony wasn’t Cajun. Or at least, he hadn’t started out that way. He was far too old. Christian suspected the lyrical accent was something adopted during the vampire lord’s long association with the Cajuns of New Orleans. Maybe to fit in better, or maybe just because he liked the way it sounded.

  Anthony sat abruptly, and Christian joined him, dropping onto one of the silk upholstered visitor chairs. He dipped his head in polite thanks, but didn’t comment on Anthony’s blunt statement. The situation was what it was. He couldn’t change that.

  “Raphael said the two of you reached a deal,” Anthony continued, not even trying to mask his bitterness. “But no one asked me about any deal, and I’m not part of it.”

  Christian met the other vampire’s flat stare with one of his own. He’d come here as a courtesy, to be civil. But fuck this.

  “I think we both know, Anthony,” he said conversationally, while intentionally leaving off the vampire’s lofty title, “that I don’t need your approval or your cooperation to get what I want. For that matter, I didn’t need Raphael’s agreement, either. But he, at least, was courteous enough to hear me out and, ultimately, wise enough to see the mutual benefit. Personal likes or dislikes don’t come into it. My arrangement with Raphael will save vampire lives.”

  “Maybe. Or maybe the fact that you’re barging in where you’re not welcome will cost them instead. My
people will fight you on this, Duvall. You’ve no right to this territory.”

  “I have the same right as any other vampire to enter the challenge. We keep what we can hold. It has always been thus.”

  “It has always been thus,” Anthony mimicked, his voice a nasally whine. “Listen to yourself. You don’t belong here, you pompous ass.”

  Christian wanted to jump across the desk, grab the scrawny little fucker, and show him exactly who belonged and who didn’t. If he killed Anthony here and now, he wouldn’t have to worry about any fucking challenge. He’d be Lord of the South by default. But then, he’d probably have to fight a slew of challenges anyway, since it was likely at least some of Anthony’s people would want revenge. And Raphael wouldn’t be pleased.

  He rose to his feet and plastered a pleasant smile on his face, but he didn’t bother to conceal his true feelings. Anthony reacted at once, jumping up and kicking the chair out of his way as he moved to put the wall at his back.

  It was hardly the reaction of a vampire lord who was confident in his power. And Christian’s smile turned smug. “I’ll take my leave, Anthony, and wish you luck upon your return to New Orleans.”

  The vampire lord’s dark eyes flared at the subtle warning in Christian’s words. It was a reminder that when Anthony surrendered the territory, and went back to being Master of the city of New Orleans, he would owe fealty to the next Lord of the South, whoever that was. Even Christian.

  If Anthony had disliked him before this little tête-à-tête, he thoroughly despised him now. And Christian knew he’d have to watch his back even more closely. He gave a mental shrug. It wasn’t what he’d hoped for from tonight’s meeting, but it wasn’t a complete surprise either.