Chapter Four
Forbidden things have a secret charm. Publius Cornelius Tacitus
"Michael." He'd fallen asleep on the couch, and Selene felt a stab of guilt over the lines of worry that marked his face even in rest. She hadn't meant for him to be ostracized, but David's words had tightened her already-strained nerves to the breaking point, and she'd been ready to snap at the next moving thing that crossed her path, Michael or otherwise. Reaching out a hand to shake him awake, Selene paused, feeling uncharacteristically hesitant.
You're developing a talent for belittling your allies, she chastised herself, and sat on the couch beside him, hoping the shifting of weight would wake him instead. When he didn't, she brushed a hand lightly over his forehead. Michael tensed at the contact and sat up so fast Selene had to jump back, his breath coming hard and fast. His eyes were black when he met her gaze a moment later.
"Jesus Christ." The look of fear on his face nearly made her sick, and Selene had made the shift back into pure business-mode by the time his eyes turned their natural blue again.
"It's nearly eleven," she said shortly, standing up.
"P.M.?" Michael ran a hand through errant strands of hair, still catching his breath.
"You've slept far too long," said Selene, breezing back toward the bedroom. "They'll be expecting us at the banquet in about an hour."
"Sorry," said Michael, rubbing at one eye. "I had this…this dream." For a moment his eyes looked haunted, and Selene suppressed a shudder. That feeling was a little too close for comfort still.
"Get dressed," she said shortly, and made for the bedroom again.
"Wait."
When she turned back, Michael was on his feet, still looking disoriented. "Yes?"
"What are we gonna do about clothes?"
"In the closet," said Selene, pausing to watch his reaction.
"The closet? How did they get there?" Michael shook his head slowly, looking disconcertingly like a dog. "They weren't there last night."
"I've no idea," said Selene. "But they're there now."
He watched after her as she closed the door to the room claimed as her own. He could hear the faint sounds of her moving within. Figuring he had best get dressed as well, he went to the other bedroom and looked around for the closet. Spotting it in the side wall, he walked over and dejectedly pulled open the door. An array of blues and blacks and reds and purples met his eyes. On closer inspection, he found a nice blue silk shirt, probably the one meant for him to wear that night. He removed it from the metal hanger and threw it onto the bed. A pair of stylish black slacks was thrown to join it.
Michael gazed at the clothes on the mattress. He didn't like the idea that they had just miraculously appeared there while he and Selene had been sleeping. It was unsettling. As he picked up the pants, he heard a muffled curse from the room beside his. He resisted the urge to call out to her, instead gathering up a belt and shoes and getting dressed.
A good thirty minutes later, there was a knock on his closed door. "Michael?" Selene called. "Are you ready? We need to go."
"Yeah," he replied quickly, giving himself a last look in the mirror. He had combed out his hair, using water to smooth it so it wouldn't be flying out in all directions. The skin on his face and arms had been scrubbed with soap and water as well, giving it a healthy reddish hue. He shrugged. The blue shirt brightened his eyes. He briefly wondered if Selene would notice.
"Michael?" she asked again, still at the door.
Michael startled back to reality. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm coming." The sight that met him when he opened the door was one he was least expecting.
"Holy shit." Fighting the urge to slap a hand over his mouth, Michael was suddenly transported back to the insecurity of junior high school and his first few experiences with girls. The dress was skintight, backless, and featured a clasping open front which displayed not only cleavage, but a line of tight muscle all the way down to her navel. And it was black, of course. "I mean, uh, you look great."
"Let's go." Her voice was the same, clipped tone that he was used to, but she made no move to leave, instead running her eyes over him in a way that he imagined mirrored his own curious gaze. When she finally did turn, he noticed that the skirt was slit on the side, nearly up to her hip. And she had some sort of antique-looking silver clip in her hair, holding the mess of black waves up off her neck. The glint of a dagger in a leg sheath made him shiver as she started to walk. Michael felt like he ought to take her arm, or in some other way offer to escort her, but he couldn't seem to get his muscles to work.
"Are you all right?"
He blinked as her question reached his ears. "Fine."
Selene raised her chin as she looked away and reached to open the main door. Mark was standing in the hallway, dressed in simple black finery. Michael wondered how long he had been standing there, but didn't think it right to ask.
The other vampire gave them both a wide smile. "If you'll follow me, I'll take you to the ballroom." His eyes lingered a moment longer on Selene. "This way."
The halls themselves seemed exactly as they had the night before. The building itself was a maze, everything turning back into itself or branching off in separate directions. Every door and carpet and decorative table looked exactly the same as the last. Michael could feel his tension rising as his sense of awareness was thrown off with every turn. As much for himself as for her, he reached out and put his hand on the small of Selene's back. She glanced at him, mildly surprised.
Before long, the sound of voices rose. A large doorway loomed before them, arching up to the ceiling. The molding was flowered with ornate designs, dizzying in their numbers and size. Through the arch was a huge ballroom. The floor was laid in a dazzling checkered pattern of marble and obsidian, spanning hundreds of feet from one end of the room to the other, spotted near the wall by tall black columns. Windows lined the walls themselves, opened to let in the cool night air.
A stage was set at the far end, and set upon this stage was the main table. It was empty. The other tables placed the length of the room, though, were almost all full. Michael had never seen so many vampires in one place. His muscles tensed in sudden fear.
Mark escorted them to one of the tables set near a wall. "Food will be served shortly." He gave a polite nod and left them.
As soon as he was gone, Michael turned to Selene. "Food?" he whispered worriedly. "I-I thought -"
Selene glanced at him with a look akin to pity. "Vampires can live on blood alone," she told him, "but some of us do not give up on our old lives easily. Food does not poison us."
"But -"
She cut him off again. "I know you can't eat it, Michael." She placed a hand on his arm. "I won't eat either. I gave up the luxury a long time ago." Her lips twitched in a kind of smile. "Don't worry."
"Why can't I…?" He trailed off, completely confused once again.
Selene shook her head, the gesture saying she either didn't know or didn't want to talk about it just then. She turned away, gazing about the room until she found who she was looking for. With a slight wave of her hand, Mark reappeared at her side. "Yes?"
"Would you please inform whoever is in charge of serving that neither Michael nor I care for any food?" She fixed her eyes upon him, making it impossible to say no. Mark gave a quick nod and left the ballroom to do as she had asked.
Before either of them was able to say another word, a hush fell over the large crowd. Eyes turned to the old stage, where a group was slowly walking up the steps to the table. The party consisted of two women, a blonde in red and a brunette in gold, and three men, all dressed similar to Michael save one. This vampire was dressed completely in silk, a belt of gold wrapped around his thin waist. Rings of the same adorned his fingers, a shining stud shone from his left ear. A plait of long blonde hair fell down his back. It was this man that spoke.
"Could I have your attention, please?" His voice poured through the room like honey. It was intoxicating. "First of all, I would like to welcome the newest additions to our coven. I'm sure they will enjoy their new lives here with us." He nodded toward Selene and Michael. Scattered applause broke the chilled silence. "Second, I would like to congratulate Christina and Hector on their recent betrothal." This time excited whispers broke out through the large group. The man redirected the attention with a glamorous sweep of his hand. "Let the feast begin!"
"Here comes trouble," muttered Michael, and Selene turned to see David hovering over her shoulder. She took a quick breath, attempting to hide her discomfort at the ease with which he'd snuck up on her. Normally she could sense another being from several feet away, vampire or otherwise. Upon closer inspection, she could see the group from the stage threading its way through the tables as well, partially hidden in the dim light. Trouble is right.
"Lovely to see you again," said Selene flatly, not giving David the chance to speak. Now tell us what's going on or get the hell out of here. Her fingers itched for the poorly concealed dagger resting against her thigh, more of an intimidation than an actual defense. Little good it would do her in an entire roomful of equally skilled combatants.
"Lovely would not be my choice of word," said David, smooth and full of ice. "But let's not quibble over semantics. His Eminence wishes to speak to you personally."
Michael's eyes flicked around nervously; he clearly had no idea how to act in such a situation. Selene caught his gaze for a moment, then shrugged. She didn't either, but she wasn't about to let him know it. She'd never had occasion to visit the New World coven, the war taking up all her attentions, but even so, things were not as she had expected to find them. Selene gave an almost imperceptible nod of acknowledgement as the entourage arrived from the stage; she knew she was likely expected to babble on about being honored, but that was decidedly not her style.
"Hello." The blonde vampire knelt to kiss Selene's hands, the rings on his long fingers glinting in the light. She cast her eyes away, decidedly unimpressed.
"Hello," parroted Selene, keeping her eyes on the smooth black tabletop.
"You look stunning tonight," said the vampire, ghosting a finger over her chin to make her look back up. Selene clenched her hands into fists, suppressing the instinct to draw her dagger. "And that accent of yours is absolutely charming. What a pleasure to have you here."
"I don't recognize you," said Selene boldly. She caught the blonde vampire's eye for the first time, and thought she detected a hint of uncertainty there. "But then I never knew Amelia very well either. Pity."
"Ah, yes," said the vampire, an edge slipping into his voice. "You were Viktor's—issue." His lip curled in obvious distaste at this last. Shaking himself, the vampire rose elegantly and crossed to Michael's side of the table, eyeing him like fresh meat. "And what do we have here?"
"It's an honor to meet you," said Michael, sounding very uncomfortable. You've learned the groveling thing rather fast, thought Selene, watching in distaste as the blonde man took Michael's hands as well, examining them with a cold detachment.
"And what might you be?" asked the vampire, his voice nearly dripping with condescension.
"I'm…I, uh, I'm Selene's—" He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Michael. I'm Michael."
"Yes, Michael. But I asked what you are."
"He's a Corvinus," Selene interrupted pointedly, hoping this strange leader would make the connection. "He saved my life."
A cloud passed over the blond man's face. Slowly, he got to his feet, nodding to David. Selene let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding, and the growing black at the rims of Michael's eyes slowly abated.
"Enjoy your evening." And with that, he was gone.
Selene motioned for Michael to lean across the table so they could talk without being heard, but Mark instantly appeared at his elbow, his head bobbing like an eager puppy.
"Can I, uh, get you anything now?" He had a very large tray of pastries balanced precariously on one hand, and was staring raptly at Selene, oblivious to the raucous from the next table over, as several vampires attempted to get his attention.
"Thank you," said Selene quickly, "but I believe Michael and I would like to retire now. We're still tired from the trip."
"Right," said Michael hurriedly. "You know, first night—day—in a new place and all. Didn't sleep very well."
Mark's face filled instantly with concern. He practically dropped the tray of pastries in the middle of their table, and the noise from the next one over grew louder in dismay. "Of course. Of course you need your rest. May I show you back to your room, then?"
"If you're willing to risk getting killed by that table."
"Oh!" yelped Mark. "Oh, of course." He scooped the tray of pastries back up, deposited them on the nearby table, and was back in a flash. He offered his arm to Selene, and she took it lightly, shrugging at Michael. Mark looked like his face might crack open, he was grinning so wide.
The trip back to their room seemed to take a fraction of the time they'd spent getting to the banquet hall, and Selene wondered whether the place really was as full of twists and turns as it appeared. Mark broke away from her as they reached the door, gave a quick bow, and darted away, looking dazed.
"That was—" said Michael, and Selene put up a hand for silence as she slid her card through the door and pulled it open. She froze as the table caught her eye; someone had placed a tray with two dark wine glasses of blood on it. Apparently their disinclination to eat at the banquet had been duly noted. But how the hell did they get in here? Obviously, someone else had a key. Someone very good.
Michael fell back onto the couch, sighing heavily and running a hand restlessly through his hair. The front of his shirt had come unlaced somewhere along the line, and he was breathing hard. He'd been treated terribly, and Selene felt an uncommon swell of sympathy at his forlorn look.
"Jesus Christ," he muttered. "That was unreal. Are they always like that?" Please say no, begged the helpless look in his eyes.
Selene gave him an understanding glance. "You'll get used to it," she said quietly. He looked away, staring at the wall. "We're cold by nature, Michael," she continued in way of easing his frustration. "It's hard to get beyond that with any vampire."
It was an admission he hadn't ever expected to hear her make, and, spoken aloud at last, the words sent a thrill through him. Not daring to make a sound and break the spell, Michael got to his feet, moving to stand just in front of her, close enough that he could smell the subtle scent of soap on her. Her eyes flickered over his face, shocking him as always with the intensity of emotion there.
"Guess I should count myself lucky then," said Michael at last, as she leaned in, silently granting him permission to kiss her. Her lips were cold against his, a chilling reminder of his new life. He shuddered. Selene pressed herself against him, and Michael caught his breath at the sensation of silk sliding against his bare skin. She worked her hands slowly up his back to tangle in his hair, and he got the sudden impression that she was enjoying torturing him.
"Jesus," said Michael again, enjoying the way the corners of her lips quirked upward in the barest hint of a smile. She brought long fingers up to his throat, effortlessly working the lacing all the way free. The shirt flapped loose about his shoulders, but Selene made no motion to further remove it, brushing her lips over his collarbone instead.
For one incoherent moment, Michael found himself lost in her gaze, seeing not the meticulously competent warrior he was used to, but the lost young woman he'd glimpsed in that disembodied moment floating above the pier.
Michael, look at me. Please.
You don't want me to talk.
"I can take it," he heard himself say softly. "What you don't want me to see. I can take it."
Very slowly, Selene took his hands and placed them on her waist, her eyes demanding his touch because he knew her tongue could not. Silently, Michael leaned in again, giving her a very human kiss and bringing his fingers to the clasp at the back of her neck. The dress was as pliant as it looked, and slid to the floor in a whisper of fabric. He turned to the dagger next, waiting for her nearly imperceptible nod before taking the blade and placing it on the table.
"You've got all my weapons now," said Selene, looking strange in the soft light. "You saw everything."
Her voice was so quiet Michael wondered for a moment if he might have imagined the words, but the fear in her eyes confirmed what he'd heard. Brushing his hands over her bare shoulder blades, he drew her in against his body, enjoying the shared strength of their embrace. Selene turned her head against his shoulder, her hair tickling Michael's chin. For a moment he was nearly afraid to breathe, realizing by the pounding of her heart against his chest that she must feel equally vulnerable.
We're cold by nature, Michael. It's hard to get beyond that with any vampire.
At last Selene pulled away, lacing her fingers through his and pulling him toward the bedroom. Michael sucked in another breath, feeling strangely that she was ushering him into her territory. Another momentary wave of sadness washed over him as he wondered whether he'd ever feel totally comfortable with Selene as a lover.
Kicking the door shut out of habit, Selene slid her hands under the hem of his shirt, running them all the way up his chest beneath the silk. Michael gasped in a breath and took hold of her wrists, stepping away and working the shirt over his head, disposing of his pants a moment later. Selene caught him by the shoulders, returning her attention to his chest, moving her fingers over his heart as though looking for the invisible scars.
"I could see your heart," she managed at last, and Michael wondered whether she knew she was speaking aloud. "It was in shreds."
Kissing her again, Michael pushed her gently back onto the bed, climbing up beside her and covering her body with his own. Selene drew in a breath, emotions breaking past her eyes and into the rest of her face, taking him back to the pier yet again. Michael winced. If he was having memories this vivid, he didn't want to think what she must be seeing. Her hands on his hips pulled him from his reverie; her grasp was cool against his skin, guiding him down. He gasped at the contact, surprised and nearly floored by the intensity of his own emotion.
Moving against her, Michael found himself back at the pier, floating bodiless and filled with agonizing love. Closing his eyes, he saw Selene cradling his bloodied head, her long fingers working through torn strands of blond hair. He saw the tears mingling with drops of water from her own hair, cutting harsh lines in the grime on her face. He buried his face in her shoulder, coming back into himself with a harsh jolt as they reached the breaking point together.
"Michael," she murmured in a voice that was totally alien, "I love you."