Chapter Twenty

An hour later, we were still tangled up in his sheets. I pillowed my head on his chest, listening to the sluggish pull of his heartbeat. "I went to Madame Laveau's again." I mumbled, brushing my cheek against his skin. "There aren't a lot of local places you can get vervain—although I guess it's possible someone could have ordered online, or gone somewhere else, but my gut—"

His hand thread through my hair, tilting my head back so he could study my face. "You found something." Charlemagne murmured, his fingers scratching lightly at my scalp, sending tingles across my skin. "What is it, Abigail?"

I bit my lower lip, allowing myself to relax a little under his capable hand. "That girl, the first one who died, Gemma? She bought vervain, ash, some silver, and stuff from Madame's." I mumbled. "Maybe that's a coincidence, but maybe it isn't. Maybe she knew a vampire was hunting her, or—needed her to make a very specific purchase for them." I tilted my shoulder. "I was thinking—"

His brow rose. "Should I be worried about your newfound interest in playing detective?" Charlemagne murmured, "It is dangerous."

"You're the one being poisoned." I pointed out. "And it was daylight, so unless there was another dhampir running around, I was perfectly fine."

I opened my mouth to continue when he shifted his head to kiss the tip of my nose and then my mouth. "Need I remind you all of these young women favored you?" He murmured, meeting my gaze.

"No." I frowned. I'd never forget it as long as I lived. "Charlemagne." I held his gaze, earnestly hoping he'd understand. "I want to protect you just as much as you want to protect me."

His hand stilled in my hair as his features softened. "Abigail." He said softly. "I could not love you more for the sentiment, but I am more durable. Allow me to take care of you. Here, now, forever."

My heart throbbed against my ribs. Forever. It was nearly an impossible concept to fathom. Could he even understand what it meant? Time passed differently for us. It was the difference between sand in an hourglass and an analog clock. I only had now. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe a few years after that. Ephemeral and fleeting. Our options were limited. Either I Turned, or in a few years when I started to wrinkle, he left. "You say that to all the girls." I mumbled, trying to press humor into the moment, diffuse the growing bubble of doubt in the pit of my stomach.

"Non. Only to you." Charlemagne murmured, studying my eyes. "It frightens you."

"Can you hear that in my heartbeat?"

"I can see it in your face." He said, tilting his head to kiss my forehead. "Let us not speak of forever then. Not yet. I want to enjoy you." He sighed, shutting his eyes. "Ca va?"

I swallowed hard. If I'd been a little braver, I would have pressed, but I wasn't. I didn't. Almost losing him had left me raw. I didn't want to ruin a single moment. Or wallow in questions. "Okay." I mumbled, snuggling closer to him and bringing my hand up to touch his chest.

A sluggish heartbeat of silence, his hand returned to scratching at my scalp. "What were you thinking, mapetite enquêteur?" He asked softly."Something nags at you."

I dropped my gaze, absently tracing his skin with my index finger. "If I had to think of a person who was close enough to poison you and didn't like me all that much," I bit my lower lip. "Marcus might come to mind." I mumbled, briefly shutting my eyes. I had to put it out there. He really didn't like me.

Charlemagne tensed beneath me. "Non." He said, a full sentence. "I know Marcus has not put his best face forward, but Abigail," My name in his mouth dragged my eyes up to his face again. "He is my friend. He would not hurt me. He would not hurt you if it meant hurting me."

"Are you sure?" I blurted out, heart knocking against my breastbone. "He really hates me, Char."

"He doesn't hate you, mon coeur. He worries." He swept his gaze over my face, considering. "He thinks I have become a fool for you. That our relationship has left me open to uncalculated danger."

I pushed myself up and twisted around to face him. "But why?" I asked, my brows bending, aware of the whine creeping into my voice. "What did I do?"

Charlemagne's brows bent as he reached out to slip his fingers through the ends of my hair. "My Maker was not a kind man." He said slowly, shifting his gaze away from my face. "He was a monster who bred other monsters. When Marcus and I met, I had much less control, and a violent appetite. I made enemies. The Council among them. Without his guidance, or his input, I would not be here, nor would I be alive." He murmured. "I have been safe here. Not completely, but relatively. Our novel opens me up to the eyes of the world, old friends and older enemies. He worries."

My throat tightened as he spoke. No wonder Marcus hated me. "Why would you do that?" I whispered, voice wavering. "Why would you—?" I shook my head. "Charley, why didn't you tell me?"

"It was my decision to make, Abigail. My consequences to face." He said, shifting up on his elbows. "I do not regret it. Not when it brought me closer to you."

I stared at him. It was incredibly romantic, and incredibly stupid. After decades, centuries, of his solitude, he'd let me open his world. He was a monster who bred other monsters. I had so many questions. About him, about his Maker. His enemies. "You didn't—"

"I wanted to." Charlemagne said softly, sitting up fully to slip his fingers through my hair, cradling the back of my head as he brought me to him, resting his forehead against mine. "Say what you will, but it pleased you when Monsieur Hoffman took on our little project. We ate mint chocolate chip ice cream on the windowsill of that little room you used to keep on Rue Carlyle the night we left his office, contract signed. Souviens-toi?"

Heat prickled against the back of my eyelids as I shut my eyes and pressed my forehead into his. "I remember." I sniffed. It was one of the happiest moments of my life. "But I would give it all away, never write another sentence about you, if it meant you were safe." I forced my eyes open to look at him up close. "You're more important to me."

Charlemagne opened his eyes to meet mine. "I wish you could understand what you do to me." He sighed, tilting my head back to kiss me gently. "It is done. I would do it again and again, my love." He said, kissing my bottom lip. "I will hear no more of it."

My eyes flickered around in his. He was right, the book was out there, and right now, I didn't want to argue with him. "You got any ideas who could be behind all this?"

"Some." He admitted, going on when I opened my mouth. "None that I'm willing to share. I have already talked to the Deveraux Brothers, they are hunting the streets for me."

I pressed my lips together, shoulders slumping, but I didn't press. "What about Valentine? Should we tell him what we know now?"

Charlemagne tilted his shoulder, "It would make no difference. Valentine will not care one way or another. If he can find a reason to end me, he will. He will need definitive proof of my innocence." He said, stealing another kiss off me before I could speak. "Let me take care of it, Abigail. I have gotten myself out of worse, you know this."

I did, but it didn't stop the worry gnawing at me. It didn't banish the raw memory of him ready to walk into the sunlight, or the bathtub full of blood. I swallowed hard. "I hate this, you know?"

"I know." He said, gentling his tone and tilting his chin to kiss my forehead. "Come. I want to have dinner with you." He murmured. "We will make love again, then spend the evening here, and we will work on our book, ca va?"

I bopped my head in a nod. "That sounds nice." I mumbled, dropping my shoulders. "I want to enjoy you too." I said softly, despite the gnawing ache in my stomach. "Kiss me?"

Charlemagne dipped his chin to kiss me deeply, scattering my thoughts to the wind. It was another half hour before we actually dressed and made our way downstairs. Marcus appeared at the bottom of the staircase, dressed impeccably in a charcoal gray suit and waistcoat, his dark hair slicked back from his forehead. His eyes skirted past me before they settled on Charlemagne. "It's good to see you up and walking around, my friend."

Charlemagne squeezed my fingers, as if to say voir? "Merci, it is good to be up and walking around." He said, as we descended the last step. "Abigail and I are going to have dinner. Would you like to join us?"

I blinked up at him, eyes widening slightly before I could stop myself. "Um," I blinked again, why not? Maybe if it was just the three of us, Marcus and I could get to know each other. Maybe I'd be less suspicious of him. Maybe. "Right. That'd be nice." I said, putting just a little too much enthusiasm in my voice. It sounded forced even to me.

Marcus eyed me briefly before shifting his gaze back to Charlemagne. "If you'd like to hunt, I am available." He murmured. "Actually, there are a few things I think we should discuss. The Samhain Ball, for instance. I think it's important we still host one."

"Non." Charlemagne murmured. Full sentence. "I have no desire to host or be party to any balls, circuses, dinners, or anything else to do with vampires, vampire councils, or vampire nonsense." He tilted his shoulders. "I am done early this year. I will spend Samhain with my beloved, unless we should find the perpetrator responsible for trying to hurt us, and then I will devote a good portion of my time to making them wish they never existed." He flashed a grin. "You're welcome to stay, of course."

Marcus stared, affecting the longsuffering look of someone used to dealing with Charlemagne's moods. "You can't be serious." He muttered, his tone falling flat. "Charlemagne, you have responsibilities. If we continue as we usually do, it will go a long way with easing things over with the Council and Master Valentine—"

"I don't care to ease things over right now, Marcus." He said, arching one brow higher. "You cannot persuade me on this." He murmured, the words carrying weight as he held Marcus's gaze.

Jaw tightening, Marcus held his gaze. "If you do not wish to heed my advice, or my warnings, then I see no reason for my presence here." He said, folding his hands behind his back.

A shadow passed over Charlemagne's features, darkening his eyes. "Being my friend is reason enough. Stay. Have dinner. Just be near." He muttered, crossing the distance between them without letting go of my hand. "I love this girl, Marcus, get to know her."

Marcus's gazed darkened, hardened like pieces of green glass. "I am your friend, and that is reason enough for me to go." He shifted back on his heel. "I wish you well." He glanced at me. "You know where to find me when you come to your senses." He said and was gone.

As far as last lines went, that one stung.