Stakes & Stilettos - Michelle Rowen [71]
He stifled the feelings of panic that swelled in his chest. Stupid, he chastised himself. Stupid mistake. I let down my guard.
He kicked the door open.
“It cannot be.” She looked up at him, her eyes wide. “You… you are the Red Devil?”
“No.”
“But it says it right here.”
“You are mistaken.” He came at her and took the journal away from her. “It would be in your best interest to forget everything you have just read.”
He turned his back on her and went back to his room, silently fuming that he had been so careless. The job that evening had not gone as well as hoped. Hunters in the dozens had shown up at their compound. The vampires they had imprisoned there were long gone, since Thierry had freed them. But one hunter had gotten a glimpse of him, albeit a fleeting one while he wore his mask, and he had worried that he’d been followed back to the inn despite his best attempts to cover his tracks.
The evening had been tense, but now at just after midnight he might begin to feel more at ease if not for Elizabeth’s prying eyes.
She followed him. “I won’t tell a soul, Thierry.”
“There is nothing to tell.” The thought that she knew his secret ate at his gut like acid. She was an insipid, vain, and impossible woman. He tolerated her since she was married to his good friend, but that was as far as it went.
“The Red Devil,” she said as she came closer. “I have always wished to meet him.”
“Go to your room, Elizabeth.”
“Although, don’t you ever feel that all of the time you spend leading this double life could be used in other pursuits?”
“Other pursuits?”
“The Red Devil saves only whom he chooses. His actions are ultimately pointless. That is what he says.”
“What who says?”
“Nicolai. He believes the Red Devil, well, you, would be better off fading away. He believes your existence draws the hunters’ hatred and pursuit of vampires more than if you didn’t exist at all.”
His jaw tensed. “Nicolai is entitled to his opinion.”
“If it were me,” she said, “I would either want the glory of everyone knowing it was me or not bother doing it at all.”
“Then that is what separates us.”
“Have you considered quitting?”
He didn’t reply, since any reply would be an admission that he was what she believed. The truth was that he had considered quitting. As she said, his work was largely misunderstood. There were those who thought him a hero and those, such as Nicolai, who thought him a problem that made the hunters even more vicious.
“I am tired,” he said instead. “I wish to sleep.”
“You’re lonely.”
“I grow weary of this discussion, Elizabeth. Please return to your room.”
“I know what you desire.”
He would take her back to her room, push her inside, and lock the door. He might consider letting her out tomorrow morning. Possibly not.
“I do not desire you, Elizabeth.”
Her smile was steady on her face. “Perhaps not. But you desire something else. I know it.”
He looked down to see that she had a knife in her hand that she slowly drew over her forearm. The blood welled red against her white skin.
His body reacted to it.
He cursed inwardly. He had not consumed blood for a great many years. Veronique had explained rather explicitly that those of their age should be careful with blood intake. They could now exist without it entirely. Veronique had no problem with this, but for him it had become an issue.
Elizabeth was right. He did desire blood. It was a hot ache that began in his chest and spread through his entire body—a need that refused to be ignored.
“Here.” Elizabeth raised her arm toward him.
He pushed her away roughly. “Leave.”
Her expression darkened. “Drink from me or I will tell your secret to everyone I know.”
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.
His eyes narrowed. Why did she wish to bait him like this? Was she that bored? Did her love for Nicolai not exist when he was more than a hundred paces from her side?
Nicolai would be heartbroken to know the truth about his beloved wife.
“Taste me,” Elizabeth demanded, her voice going from seductive to shrill.
He felt his fangs