“That’s some of it.” But she didn’t offer to share any more of what she’d learned. “I should get dressed.”
“Would you like help?” I asked, dashing off a wicked grin.
But she wasn’t having it. “I’m still mad at you, so no.”
“Are you certain? I can be very persuasive.” I hooked a finger in the waistband of her pants.
“I’m afraid that area is off-limits until I decide.”
“Decide what?”
Thea looked me dead in the eye. “If you’re worth the trouble.”
I spent the next hour pacing the lower level. It was bad enough she knew the truth, but how much worse could it be after tonight? Why had I surrendered and allowed her to go? She wasn’t a familiar. As a pureblood heir, marrying her would cause a scandal. Our family had never fully recovered from the last one.
Fabric rustled near the stairs, and I turned to find Thea standing at the second-floor landing. She’d chosen tonight’s gown to go with the theme: the Salon du Rouge. The candy-apple-red silk twisted at the bodice, revealing the slight swell of her creamy breasts. A halter strap circled around her neck like a choker, and a silk rose was pinned to the side, over her delicately pulsing jugular. She might as well have worn her ‘Bite me’ shirt.
As she started down the stairs, her bare legs slipped through slits in the gown’s skirt. She was walking temptation.
I moved to the end of the stairs and waited. When she reached the final one, I extended my hand. “I think you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
Her eyes landed on the glove I wore, and she swept past me. “Don’t wait up.”
“Pet,” I said softly. “It’s not too late to change your mind.”
She whirled around to face me. Her sharp eyes swept down me, an unreadable expression on her face. “Just wish me luck.”
I caught her hand and spun her toward me. “You don’t need luck.”
“I don’t?”
“No one will doubt why you’re there.”
“Why?” she challenged me with wary eyes. “I’m not a vampire. I’m not a familiar. I have no place in your world.”
I brushed a kiss over her bright-crimson lips. “No, you aren’t those things,” I murmured. “You’re a queen, and a queen directs her own empire.”
Her mouth twisted a little, but she pulled away and tucked her velvet clutch under her arm. Her hips swayed as she walked to where Philippe was waiting with the car. He opened it for her, his eyes widening, but quickly looked away.
At least he was finally learning.
Thea paused and threw a look over her shoulder. “I’m a queen?”
I nodded, my mind already thinking of all the ways I would apologize to her later, starting with stripping her out of that dangerous dress she was wearing.
“I’ll be home by morning.”
“Pet,” I growled. “I would prefer–”
But she was already in the car. The queen had made her move.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
THEA
I wasn’t used to being angry. Not this type of angry, anyway. I was pissed when Mom’s cancer came back. I got mad whenever Olivia finished the milk but put the container back in the fridge. And more than once, I’d cursed Tanner’s name for not changing the toilet paper roll. Those were all Past Thea problems. Past Thea scraped together rent, held down two jobs, and went to school. In every way, Past Thea had it worse than me.
Except one.
Past Thea didn’t know about vampires. She never worried about blood-lust or ceremonial rites or how to walk in five-inch heels. And she definitely wasn’t in love with her temporary vampire boyfriend.
I kept hearing Jacqueline’s musical voice, a trace of a French accent wrapping around her words, as she asked me that question.
Are you in love with him?
Never mind that I hadn’t answered her. Never mind that it was apparently just to provoke a reaction. Never mind that I told myself I didn’t know yet.
Because it didn’t matter.
We couldn’t be together. I knew that now. There was no way I was enslaving myself to him for the rest of my life–even if mine would feel short in comparison. And there was no way I was staying a virgin and settling for only part of Julian.
Not that it was up to me anyway.
He needed to marry and produce baby vampires with some beautiful familiar. He might not want to, but sooner or later, he’d meet someone who held his attention. He’d find a woman to make his wife.
Would it be next week? Next month? Could he resist the Council for a whole year like he planned? And what the hell was I supposed to do? Staying meant falling harder for him. Part of me–the deluded part–hoped maybe I could catch myself before I tumbled head over heels. But going now was impossible. I’d taken a leave of absence from school. My mother would barely speak to me. I’d lost any chance at the Reed Fellowship. Carmen had even texted that the quartet had found a new cellist. Julian was the one who asked me to leave my life behind, but I was the one who lit it on fire in my hurry to join him.
That should have been a red flag.
