To Vanquish Darkness (Le Sombre #1)

Chapter 24

24

1836 NORTHERN NORMANDY, FRANCE

" I 'm sorry," she whispered as Theo stepped back to lock the handle. "I wasn't thinking."

Theo pinched the bridge of his nose. "You don't seem to grasp?—"

"I do. I grasp it. The danger you've talked about."

"And yet I found you in the parlor. I found you alone on the roof."

Amalie swallowed hard. She didn’t need to mention the meeting with Marx outside her window. “I said I was sorry.”

Her hands were shaking. In the hall she'd blurted out those words, but now that Theo was there in front of her, she wasn't sure she'd been thinking clearly.

Her blood hummed under her skin. She knew what it felt like when his fangs pierced her skin. When his body was pressed up against her.

It was his glamour. What she’d offered was purely rational. Theo needed to feed. They'd already established that he could drink her blood without harming her, so how could she allow him to prey on another person? How could she allow another human to die when it would cost her nothing? It didn't matter how much she hated him. She could endure anything to save a life, couldn’t she?

Theo met her eyes, his hands resting on his hips. His eyes flicked to her throat, and Amalie's skin tingled. She was instantly back in her bedroom, frozen as his fingers moved her hair from her cheek, as his lips brushed her skin, and all justifications dissolved behind a flare of carnal curiosity.

I didn’t drink. What would it feel like if he did? She clenched her jaw at the slow ache of longing. The sudden pang of desire.

An image of him hunting in the shadows, of choosing his prey, flashed through her head, and Amalie felt something primal rear its head. The idea of his mouth on someone else's neck sent a flash of ice down her spine.

Shame swirled in her gut. This was practical. A kindness. She didn’t want this.

"I can’t be gentle. You need to be sure." Theo's eyes locked onto hers. Had her thoughts been written all over her face? There was hunger in his eyes. Desperation.

She could turn back. Retract her offer. Instead, Amalie nodded toward the door to the hall. "Is it safe here?"

"Follow me." He strode across the room and opened a narrow door.

Blood rushed to her middle as Amalie slipped inside. Once she’d snuck into the back room of the abbey with Oliver Bland when they were supposed to be polishing the columns of the chapel. He’d shoved his hands up her shirt, and she finally worked up the courage to slip her tongue into his mouth. When he flipped her skirt over her hips, she thought she’d die from the ache between her thighs.

That had been nothing.

Her thoughts scattered like seeds in the wind as darkness enveloped her. Amalie threw up her hands as her head knocked against the wooden hangers hooked to a solid beam stretching from one side of the closet to the other.

Theo pushed them to the side and moved in next to her, closing the door behind him. They were plunged into complete darkness, and Amalie stilled as Theo’s arm grazed her shoulder. She worked to steady her breath.

This was smart. Practical.

"We're behind two heavy doors. I don't think it would be possible for anyone to catch the scent of you unless we made a mess of it," Theo whispered.

Her eyes nearly rolled back in her head from his voice as it rumbled through her skin, her muscles, and bones. "Mmhmm." It came out more like a whimper than a response. Theo reached out a hand, and his fingers brushed her forearm, then moved up to wrap over her shoulder.

Amalie cleared her throat. "Just do it. You don't have to ease me into this."

Theo’s hand froze. "No woman has ever uttered those words."

Jealousy flared within her. He’d been alive for two thousand years. Why did it matter? Why did she care if he was thinking of the endless throng of women he’d used in the past? "You had no problem before,” she snapped.

Theo grunted. “This won’t only be a bite.”

His hand shifted, sending a pulse of energy down her arm. The rest of her body might as well have faded from existence. She couldn’t feel anything besides his fingers wrapping over her shoulder. “You said you couldn’t be gentle. Have you changed your mind?”

"Stop talking, please." Theo's lips grazed her temple, and Amalie had no trouble shutting her mouth. She was on fire. Her heart pounded in her chest, loud enough she was sure Theo could hear it.

Hate him. She needed to?—

His fingers traced a feather-light path down her neck. "Leaving a mark here will be too conspicuous. Other vampires will notice," he murmured, his breath hot against her skin.

“They didn’t notice earlier.”

“You’re nearly healed, and this time there may be bruising. Do you prefer wearing a scarf for another week?” Theo brushed her hair back from her cheek. Since the moment they’d stepped into the closet, his hands hadn’t left her skin.

He was doing research. Hunting for a strong pulse. It wasn’t that he wanted to touch her.

Still, Amalie couldn’t control her quick breaths or flushed cheeks. She’d checked the mark on her neck earlier. It was healing well. She’d always recovered quickly. Now she understood why.

“What are you suggesting?” Her voice was hoarse.

Theo’s breath stuttered, his hand still resting over her collarbone. He swallowed hard. "There are other options for strong blood flow.” His fingers slid under the edge of her blouse, pulling it over her shoulder. He slid two fingers under her arm. “Here. Still visible depending on the situation, or . . .” He cleared his throat. “The inner thigh. Much less noticeable."

Amalie’s skin tingled. This was practical, nothing more. It was wise to hide the marks, especially in a place filled with vampires who would notice if she was still walking around the castle after Theo fed.

Her arm would suffice. But the thought of lowering her trousers. Of watching him drop to his knees. Of feeling his hands on her knees as her leg butterflied away from her. Of feeling his hot breath against her sensitive skin.

She was curious. About so many things.

"Arm,” she rasped. “I’ve never had a dressing maid and I don’t plan on stripping down in front of your friends. Nobody will see it.”

Theo’s fingers trembled as Amalie pulled up the fabric of her shirt, exposing the bare skin of her stomach and her bralette. Maybe she should’ve been willing to wear a corset. It was dark enough, even as her eyes adjusted, she couldn’t even make out a vague silhouette of Theo’s head.

That meant he couldn’t see anything either. A slight pang of disappointment hit her gut.

She pulled one arm out of its sleeve, offering it to him. Amalie held her breath as he ran slow fingers over the tender flesh of her underarm.

Then his other hand was on her hip, pressing her back against the closet wall. “This may help. To steady yourself.”

She leaned her head back, her pulse fluttering wildly at her throat. “If I fall?—”

“You won’t fall.” Theo’s hand still clasped her hip, and his chest pressed up against her as he lifted her arm over her head. She forced her lungs to expand, willing her heart to settle.

Could he feel this?

Theo’s hand settled on the crook of her elbow as he dropped his head. Of course he could. Her face grew hot. She closed her eyes as her pulse grew frantic.

“It’s been so long,” Theo whispered against her skin, so soft she wasn’t sure she’d heard the words.

Then his grip tightened, his whole body tensed, and something flared within her. A sharp burst that flashed behind her eyes. She sucked air through her teeth and grasped his upper arm with her opposite hand as Theo's fangs broke her flesh.