Chapter Twenty-Three

I came back to consciousness with the scent of roses in my nose. Charlemagne. He'd found me, he'd saved me— Floating up from a black sea, the room spun as my lids fluttered. Disoriented, my head throbbed in time to my heart, but I felt...okay. Better off than I probably should have been.

"Abby?"

"Hmm? Miranda?" I croaked, forcing my eyes to open a slit again. I rolled them around the room. It wasn't Fortuna, but it wasn't home either. It was blanketed in roses. Bright, blood red roses. I tried to swallow, but my throat was dry and achy, tears burned my eyes as they finally shifted to my sister. She was sitting in the chair closest to my bed, hair wild and unkempt, still in her pajamas.

"What happened?" I managed, starting to shift around in my bed when she stood, holding up her hands for me to stay still.

"Don't move around too much, you have a concussion. You've been out for over a day." She said, crossing the short distance to my bed to grip the railing. "You're at Saint Joe's. One of the groundskeepers at the Tulane Cemetery found you out cold and bleeding near one of their mausoleums." Miranda's dark eyes searched my face. "What happened? Did Ch—what happened?"

Dread coiled in my stomach. "Have you seen him? Have you seen Charlemagne?" I asked, struggling to sit up again when her hand on my shoulder forced me back down.

"No. I haven't seen him, but he sent the flowers." Miranda bit her lower lip. "Did he hurt you?"

I blinked at her, dislodging tears down the sides of my face. "No." My throat spasmed as I tried to swallow. "No, he saved me. I— I have to find him, I have to talk to him—"

"Monsieur DiBaptiste is currently indisposed at the moment." My eyes rolled towards the door as Valentine filled the doorway. I hadn't even heard it open. Tonight, he was dressed in a crushed red velvet suit and crisp white dress shirt. His strawberry blonde curls were loose around his face. The devil pretending to be a cherub. "May we speak?" He glanced at my sister. "Alone?"

Miranda's hands clenched around the railing of my bed. "No, I don't know who you are, but no fu—"

"It's okay." I untangled one of my hands from the sheets to pat her fingers. "I'll be okay." I said, meeting her gaze. "We'll talk after, I promise."

She swept her gaze over my face, her jaw setting. "I want to hear everything." She grumbled, squeezing my fingers and eyeing Valentine as she slipped out of the room.

My eyes shifted to him. "Where is he?" I asked softly. "What... what happened?"

Valentine studied my face as he wandered towards my bed, moving with practiced human slowness. "He's attending a tribunal in Alexandria. The Council will keep him for a few days." He settled on the edge of my bed, tendrils of power inking out of his skin now that he was close enough to touch. "I need to hear it from you, now. What happened?"

I swallowed hard, this time there was no one to stop me when I managed to sit up. I gripped the guardrail, waiting for the dizziness to pass before I focused on him. I told him everything. Starting from the last night I saw him to waking up here in the hospital. I lowered myself back to my pillow when I was done, exhaustion tugging at me. "What happened to them? Those women?"

He considered me before answering. "Bianca Santorini is in the custody of the Council. The other two are dead." He murmured.

I winced, and briefly shut my eyes, the memory of a scream echoed through my aching skull. "You were wrong." I mumbled, opening them again. "Charlemagne was innocent."

Valentine pressed his lips together in a mirthless smile. "No." He said, shaking his head. "He was not directly responsible for the murders of those girls, but he was, and is, far from innocent." He said, holding my gaze. "He is a careless man. He strung those women along, threw them away when he was done with them. That is who he is. Five women are dead, Miss Braden. Because of him."

It'd been three days since I'd seen my vampire. Three days to think. To sit in what had happened to me. To us. I went home. I told my sister everything. I cried. I cried until I was empty. Exhausted. I didn't know what to do with this feeling. A pressing, inevitable heartache. When the sun set on another lonely night, I drove to Fortuna. I needed to get the things I'd left behind. I needed to get Frank.

I needed to see if my vampire had come home yet.

I'd had a real fear that the gates wouldn't open for me this time, but they did. I knew he wasn't home when the door didn't spring open for me. It was locked, but I'd been given a key. The air was still. Shadows creeping in every corner. Charlemagne hadn't been home in days. It didn't seem like anyone had. "Frank?" I called, hearing the waver in my own voice as it echoed back to me. "We're going home,"

I hurried up the stairs. Ready to pack and be done with the entire thing. Slipping into Charlemagne's bedroom, I paused to inhale the scent of him. Of us. My throat tightened, and tears burned along my waterline. I tilted my head back against the door to swallow a sob before I started packing. I just needed to get my things and my cat and go home.

I threw everything into my duffel bag, haphazard and careless. It just had to fit. I didn't care. There were a few times I thought about crawling into bed and waiting him out, but I couldn't. I didn't know how long I'd have to wait, and I didn't know how much longer I could spend just sitting in the wake of us. Thinking. Thinking about the crypt. And Gemma. And those women. And that faltering moment when he'd slipped his blood into my mouth and all I'd wanted was more.

My breath hitched. I didn't want to think anymore. I wanted to go home. I finished packing and went in search of Frank. I found him in the kitchen lazing by an overfilled bowl of cat food. "Time to go home, Mr. Langella."

"Abigail."

I sucked in a sharp breath and shut my eyes. "Charley?" I mumbled, afraid to turn and find only a trick of the light, or worse, the monster from the crypt.

"I'm here, mon coeur." His presence was warm at my back, the very tips of his fingers grazed my hip. "When you weren't home, I had hoped you would be here."

Blinking tears from my eyes, I swallowed hard. He'd come looking for me first. The thought made my heart want to soar, but was I allowed to feel that way? Should I be relieved? "I... I was getting some of my things. I had to come back for Frank." I said softly, not turning to face him yet, my eyes flickered towards our smudged reflections in the smooth metal surface of his fridge.

His reflection tilted his head. His eyes were heavy on my skin. "I wanted to come back to you sooner. Non, truthfully, I did not want to leave you at all." Charlemagne raised a hand to touch the ends of my hair. "Are you well?"

I nodded my head. "I'm fine. A concussion, but that was all." I sniffed.

"Will you look at me?"

Biting my lower lip, I placed my duffel on the floor, hesitating more than once before I finally turned to face him. I stared at the crisp edge of his collared shirt. He wore a navy blue blazer and slacks, hair loose around his shoulders. When I finally looked up into his face, his eyes were bruised, but they were cobalt. So beautiful he could break your heart if you let him.

Seemed there was a part of me determined to let him.

Our eyes met. There was a moment of suspended silence. And then he kissed me. It was gentle. A tentative question. I pressed up on my toes to lean into him. A very foolish answer. Rumbling low in his throat, Charlemagne threaded his fingers through my hair, deepening our kiss into something that set me alight. Woke up my nerve endings. Shed light into the dark corners.

Even in all of my overthinking, I had missed him. More than I wanted to admit to either of us. I wound my arms around his neck, and he pulled me in closer until I was pressed against the hard planes of his body. I made a sweet, little noise when he slid his tongue into my mouth. Heat pooled low in my belly, a sharp, cruel ache formed between my legs. Charlemagne grasped my hips, walking me back to the kitchen island before he lifted me onto the ledge. He draped my legs over his hips, pressing forward until I could feel his hardening length against the core of my body, through the denim of my jeans.

I dragged my fingers out of his hair, curling them against his jacket, starting to tug. His fingers were at the hem of my shirt, slipping beneath it to touch my heated skin. Mewling, I sucked eagerly at his tongue, the phantom taste of blood sending a ripple of desire through me. More. Terror followed, and I jerked back, dropping my head back to catch my breath. "Wait, wait, wait,"

Charlemagne growled and buried his face against my exposed neck, his lips and teeth trailing along the curve of my throat. "What's wrong, mon coeur?"

My heart thudded in my chest, my skin was flushed. It would be so easy to say nothing. To let him devour me right here in his kitchen. "We need to talk." I mumbled, slipping my fingers through his hair, I framed his face with my hands as I lifted my head. "Just talk to me for a second."

He nuzzled into me, his forehead bumping gently against mine. "You may come to regret that. You know I could talk forever." He teased, opening his eyes to look at me up close. "Your heart is fluttering like a frightened bird. What's wrong?"

I studied his eyes, darkened with desire until there was only a thin, blue ring around them. I could still remember how they looked, black and sunken into his skull. "What brought you back to me? In the crypt a few nights ago, what did it?" I asked softly.

Charlemagne raised his hands to slip them through my hair. "Je t'aime, Je t'aime, Je t'aime." He murmured. "I heard you and I knew you."

My throat tightened to a pinprick, tears blurred his features together. "I was so scared." I whispered.

"So, was I." He admitted softly, tilting his chin to kiss my forehead and linger there. "I thought I was going to lose you, Abigail. I was terrified."

"I don't know if we should do this anymore." I breathed out, heart thudding in the back of my mouth. "Be together."

"We love each other."

"Is that enough?"

"It is everything."

I opened my eyes to look at him again. "Three girls are dead because of us, Char." My voice wavered, tears slid down my cheeks. "Because we want to be together."

"Those girls are dead because of Bianca." Charlemagne murmured, his gaze shifting around in mine. "Don't take what's hers onto yourself, my love, mon coeur. She killed them because she is a jealous, pitiful creature. Leave her, Abigail. She is the past now, be with me."

I dropped my hands to grip the counter, a tremor moving through my fingers, all the way up into my jaw. "I just... I don't know if I can right now." I mumbled.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying... I'm saying I need to go home. I need to think."

"For how long?"

"I don't know."

Charlemagne's jaw tightened before he exhaled. "As you wish." He murmured, holding my gaze. "As long as you like, but not forever, Abigail."

"Not forever." I agreed, reaching up to wipe the back of my face on my sleeve.

He was suddenly on the other side of the kitchen, a thousand miles away. "I will not watch you leave." Charlemagne said, meeting my gaze briefly before he was gone.

I cried the entire way home. If I'd made the right decision, I couldn't tell. My heart ached and broke around the edges. We loved each other. How long would it last? How long before my heart was just another in his collection? Was it better or worse to just cut my losses now? If I chose to be with him, would I deserve whatever fleeting happiness we might have while Gemma and her dark haired sisters were dead? What would my life be like if I never saw him again?

The thought filled me with breathless terror. My grip on the steering wheel tightened. A world without Charlemagne seemed unbearable. I'd almost lost him. How could there be some part of me even considering giving him up voluntarily? I had hit my head pretty hard. I knew my fears weren't baseless, but you can only live in your fear for so long.

You can't love a lion into a housecat, but what was wrong with the lion? He might kill you, but so could a drunk driver, or a bus. Exhaustion nagged at me as I pulled into my driveway. I needed to sleep and look at everything in the light of day. Call Miranda. Definitely call Miranda. But I didn't think Charlemagne would have to wait forever before he got his answers.

I grabbed my duffel bag and Frank's cat carrier and carried them towards my front door. I'd just gotten them inside and had started to shut the door when the porch light caught him. My heart lifted at the sight of him. "You wanted to make sure I got home?" I sniffed, finally shutting the door behind me with a soft click.

"Of course." Charlemagne stood from my couch, his face schooled into something unreadable. "And I have something to say to you." He murmured.

Biting my lower lip, I took a wandering step towards him. "What is it?"

"I've changed my mind." Charlemagne said, his cobalt blue eyes bright in the dark as he stalked the distance between us slowly. "You do not need to think, Abigail. You need me. I told you, you are mine now. Mine forever." He rumbled, his voice sending a shiver down my back as he stood above me. "I will let you set the pace for our courtship, but I will not allow you to abandon it. You make poor decisions under pressure, mon coeur, and now you do not have to. Ca va?"

My lips parted in a gape. I was equal parts delighted and infuriated. "I make poor decisions!" I was seconds from stomping my foot. "You arrogant— brat of a vampire!"

His brows bent over his darkening eyes. "I will take my leave of you now, you maddening, little creature." He grumbled, starting to take a step back when I curled my fingers in his shirt. He paused to meet my gaze, waiting.

"Stay." I said softly, tugging him closer. Scared, or not, I wanted to be close to him. Time would tell if it was wrong, or not, but that was later. This was now. "Let's fight about it tomorrow."

"Tomorrow." Charlemagne promised, bending his head to brush his nose along mine before he kissed me, before he set me alight.