Young Vampires In France

An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

www.ellorascave.com

Young Vampires in France ISBN # 1-4199-0643-7 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Young Vampires in France Copyright© 2006 Mardi Ballou Edited by Nicholas Conrad. Cover art by Willo. Electronic book Publication: May 2006

This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 443103502. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

Warning: The following material contains graphic sexual content meant for mature readers. This book has been rated E–rotic by a minimum of three independent reviewers. Ellora’s Cave Publishing offers three levels of Romantica™ reading entertainment: S (S-ensuous), E (Erotic), and X (X-treme). S-ensuous love scenes are explicit and leave nothing to the imagination. E-rotic love scenes are explicit, leave nothing to the imagination, and are high in volume per the overall word count. In addition, some E-rated titles might contain fantasy material that some readers find objectionable, such as bondage, submission, same sex encounters, forced seductions, and so forth. E-rated titles are the most graphic titles we carry; it is common, for instance, for an author to use words such as “fucking”, “cock”, “pussy”, and such within their work of literature. X-treme titles differ from E-rated titles only in plot premise and storyline execution. Unlike E-rated titles, stories designated with the letter X tend to contain controversial subject matter not for the faint of heart.

YOUNG VAMPIRES IN FRANCE Mardi Ballou

Trademarks Acknowledgement The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: Rolex: Rolex Watch USA, Inc. Versace: Gianni Versace S.P.A. Corporation Italy

Young Vampires in France

Chapter One All appeared beautiful and prosperous, calm and peaceful in the Comte du Montnoir’s three-hundred-room Château, deep in the heart of France’s Loire Valley. But, as Monique de la Chauve-Souris knew only too well, appearances could be deceiving. “My precious one,” the Comte whispered. “At last I have you here.” He drew her closer. A fire roared in the great hearth of the main salon. Multitudes of candles flickered, casting shadows across the great room. A violin concerto played softly in the background, and blood-red roses wept their fragrance into the air. Monique drew back from this man she was falling in love with—the man she lived to destroy. How in the world would she manage to get through one more night of playing the dangerous game she’d undertaken? Just one more night, and she could make her escape to Paris. One more night of pretending to herself that she was faking her ecstasy and orgasm when he buried his amazing cock in her and drank deeply of her essence. One more night of acting as if his noble blood thrilled her no more than any common man’s. Defenseless here, stuck in the provinces far from Paris, Monique was beginning to question her very raison d’être. “But we have been together these many nights,” she protested playfully. Every moment of guarding her heart from the dark-eyed, dark-haired, drop-dead gorgeous descendant of a most ancient, noble line lay etched on what was left of her soul. Could there ever be another man whose features were as exquisitely formed as the Comte’s? After him, all other men would look crude. “Mais oui, ma petite. For me each night with you is like the first.” He kissed her hand, and she shivered at his touch. She needed to get her armor back in place and keep it there, or all she’d accomplished would come crashing down. As easy to fool as all the other men, the simpletons I’ve walked on to get to you. Monique shuddered from the effort of banishing all softness and keeping her cruel edge. She had to remember her cynical persona, the self who managed to disdain this devastatingly seductive man with his distinctive manner, his innate, effortless elegance, the way he shook her world in bed. The man who’d long epitomized amorous glamour for their kind—and was now focused on her. His record of conquests put him in the ranks of Don Juan and Casanova. In fact, some might believe he’d surpassed the legendary lovers of the past and set a new standard… He combined these attributes with a tendresse, a gentleness that almost took her breath away—a gentleness, she was sure, he kept hidden from the rest of the world. It was this tendresse that would defeat her, if she let it.

5

Mardi Ballou

Not just a player despite his numerous conquests, the area in which the Comte really shone was the acquisition of wealth. And for Monique, acquiring wealth and all that it could purchase was the topmost goal—especially when that wealth could determine who lived and who died. So-called “love” registered in negative numbers on the scale Monique carried around in her heart. But in the deepest recesses of that bitter organ, a place she didn’t choose to visit often or even admit to having, Monique realized that the Comte was getting to her. If she allowed this to happen, he would foil her plans—and she couldn’t let that happen. “You will say yes.” His dark eyes fervent, he gazed at her. Monique fluttered her lashes. He expected a response to his question, and she’d lost the thread. Merde. Shit. Monique couldn’t afford to miss cues if she expected to achieve victory. Say “yes” to what? Though she hoped it was another advantageous business arrangement, she doubted it. No matter how much she tried, she hadn’t yet been able to convince the Comte that business was a suitable topic for their more intimate moments. Filled with self-contempt at the need for craven behavior, she licked her lips and whispered, “Tell me your words again, mon amour. Repeat for me the words of your heart.” A flicker of something, perhaps skepticism or doubt, flashed in his eyes. For a moment, Monique feared that her mask had slipped and he would see who she really was. Were he to confront her, what would she do? A glimmer of suspicion that she’d begun to respect him—maybe even care for him—wormed its way to her consciousness. She beat it back harshly. She saw the light of understanding fade from his face. “I want you to be my partner in life in addition to the affairs of business.” He held her hands and watched her closely, as if he’d drink her down with his eyes. “Join with me from now until the end of time. You have captured my heart, my being, as no one else ever has or ever could. Say yes.” Monique forced herself to respond as a woman in love would to his words, the vampire version of a marriage proposal. She’d been so single-minded about pursuing her goals for so long, she felt lost in her own deceptions. Now that she was close enough to victory to taste it, she couldn’t allow her feelings—or the truth—to trip her up. There. He’d done it. He’d offered himself and all he was to Monique de la ChauveSouris. His Monique of the Bat. In all the centuries of his existence, no one had ever affected him like this astonishing female. Like a punch aimed at his gut, she kept him on a constant edge, always guessing at what lay beneath her polished exterior. She was beautiful, yes, stylish, effortlessly elegant. But, most of all, her soul called out to his. Contrary to the belief that vampires didn’t have souls, Monique reminded him his still existed. At his deepest level, he understood her—and he knew she understood him. They were two of a kind. Though this mutual understanding sometimes appeared

6

Young Vampires in France

veiled and hidden, it joined them. His heart beat with nervousness, excitement, anticipation—and maybe just a hint of doubt as he awaited her response. As if there could be any question of what she would say. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of women over the years would have thrown themselves weeping to their knees in gratitude for such a proposal. But Monique sat there coolly. Looking almost bored. Hesitating—to what end? “Ah, you know, this is not a simple matter.” Her voice—so deep, husky, sexy— lent each word appeal. He traced the contours of her lovely face and felt the same electricity touching her always produced. “You are not a simple woman. But with you I become a simple man.” She lowered her lids over her startlingly green eyes. “You, simple?” She laughed dryly. “I think not.” He had to kiss her, feel her lips tremble beneath his, feel the beat of her heart. Monique’s crimson lips parted before the onslaught of his tongue. He intended to possess her fully tonight and, for the first time he’d ever allowed it, to be hers completely. This urge for complete unity motivated his proposal. Their bodies had come together often, yes, but tonight was unique because he’d offered all of himself to her at last. As her tongue joined his in a duel for mastery, the Comte yielded something precious to her. He loved that Monique concealed her softness beneath a surface hardness. The angular tilt of her small, perfect breasts pressed against him. The jut of her chin. Her black hair, streaked with henna, styled into spikes sharp enough to pierce him. Those spikes deceived. He discovered their silkiness only when he touched them— after which Monique poked him hard with her manicured nails, lacquered scarlet, as a reminder not to mess her hair. He adored her cool image—and the passion he knew lay beneath. He buried his tongue in her mouth for a long, slow caress. When he was near her like this, she remembered the rich taste of chocolate from her short life as a mortal. She’d tasted the rich dark sweet only once a year, at the Noël celebration for the children of the poor. How she’d savored her little bit of chocolate, completely hers for the moment, just as the Comte was now. To her then the taste and aroma of chocolate symbolized comfort, love. All that she hungered for. Now Monique wanted to linger over this grown-up chocolate, but she couldn’t lose herself in the seductive sensations. Knowing how it would heat him up, she pressed her breasts against his chest and let her nipples graze across his firmness. With gratification she felt the hammering of his heart echo in her. His arms tightened, and, with all the restraint she could muster, she intertwined herself with him. He moaned. As soon as Monique laid her cool hand on the back of his neck, she felt him jump to a higher level of attention. His penis proudly sprang erect, tenting the fly of his Versace slacks. Lately, under her tutelage, the Comte had grown even more stylish than before.

7

Mardi Ballou

He’d always dressed in the most elegant, classic modes. Since she’d come into his life, she’d shown him how to incorporate his elegance into the height of modern fashion trends. After all, her sense of style had been what first enticed him, gave her entrée to his inner circle. Truth be told, he was far easier to work with than any other man she’d ever met. He wore his clothes like a model for the glossy men’s magazines. He never failed to turn heads, but that had been true even before she’d introduced him to the newest in masculine haute couture. She moved her hand from the back of his waist to his erection, skimming her fingers and the tips of her nails over the large bump pointing up at her. “Comme ça, oui,” he moaned. He arched his hips upward to press himself harder into her hand, and she teased him with her fingertips, increasing the pressure, then decreasing it. She savored her power in this manipulation of his body. His responsiveness excited her and she willed herself to focus on the control it gave her— and to ignore the arousal that threatened to engulf her senses. “I must have you,” he whispered. Monique saw the gleam of his fangs through his partially open lips. Ah yes, now he was fully engaged. She felt her control begin to slip in a dangerous way. Well, no reason she couldn’t enjoy herself, a little voice whispered in her head. After all, even as practiced as she was in the arts of seduction, there came the inevitable release of control—before the delicious release of climax. As long as she didn’t let herself lose focus for too long, she would be all right. “And I you,” she whispered back. She savored the feel of his cock against the lifeline of her palm, the throb and pulse and heat of him. Her pussy had become quite wet and she squeezed her legs together to try to contain her growing excitement. In addition to all his other attractions, the Comte did have a most impressive cock. Quite thick, long and, on the whole, beyond satisfactory. If she were a woman to be completely seduced, he’d have triumphed over her. But she knew how to safeguard her spirit while she indulged. He scooped her up in his well-muscled arms and cradled her to him. Powerful and elegant, with his jet-black hair and his piercing eyes that ranged from steel to ebony in color depending on his mood, he was the embodiment of masculine strength and handsomeness. Monique, always completely aware of her movements and the effect they had on him, lay her head down in the warmth under the Comte’s chin and held on tight as he spirited her off to his bedroom. With infinite tenderness and care, the Comte laid Monique down on his huge bed. He gazed at her for a moment before he neatly but quickly removed his garments. He wanted to undress Monique, to savor every nuance of the process. But the moment he touched her, she brushed his hands aside and flung off her black cashmere sweater and leather slacks.

8

Young Vampires in France

Mon dieu! Her luscious body, glowing like an incandescent light in the darkness of his room, sparked the atmosphere with crackling energy. His cock throbbed with ravenous desire, and he longed to plunge into her. “Hurry,” Monique urged. “I am cold.” “I will warm you.” The advantages of the ancestral Château. Though the Comte had modernized the Château numerous times, it was impossible to banish completely the drafts in rooms such as this. Drafts which drew lovers ever closer in the most delicious intimacy. He stretched out next to her on the fine-spun linen sheets and feasted his eyes on her gorgeous body. Monique shivered and pulled the duvet over her. He wouldn’t let her hide her charms from him. With a growl, he slid under the duvet and drew her close. His cock wedged against her firm, flat stomach, and he savored the feel of her sharp nipples digging into the hard planes of his chest. Monique slid one ice-cold foot along the inside of his leg, and the Comte nearly jumped to the twenty-foot-high ceiling. “You really are cold,” he muttered. “I told you.” He massaged her frozen feet until they thawed. “Now I am going to taste you everywhere. Then I am going to make love to you all night and drink deeply of you. And, right before dawn, you will make me the happiest man in the world by saying yes.” Monique turned away. He respected her sense of privacy, her fierce independence and her ability to act aloof even at their most intimate moments. But he would penetrate her shields and get to her tonight. With her now warm feet planted solidly on his legs, the Comte tenderly kissed Monique. At first, he brushed her lips lightly. But despite his iron self-control, he’d waited too long to remain so gentle now. Driven by need, he kissed her more deeply, nipping at her luscious lips, drawing a minuscule drop of blood that he licked with infinite care and exquisite pleasure. His tongue played with her lips, and the tension built within him until his fangs throbbed for more and his compulsion to feed nearly drowned him in a tide of red hunger. He prided himself on being a civilized man, one who had mastered his basic instincts and needs. He pushed back the tide, reminding himself he would feed, and gloriously, but not yet. Only at the precise moment when Monique pulled him to her, bared her neck for the ecstasy à deux and surrendered her magnificent iciness to his consuming warmth would he assuage his raging appetite. She licked him under his neck, and he shivered at the rasp of her fangs. She wanted him too, as much as he wanted her, and the realization nearly took his breath away. “Pas encore,” he whispered, telling her to hold off though every cell of his being cried out for satisfaction.

9

Mardi Ballou

Drawing on all his reserves of strength, he slowly rocked against her, savoring the delicious friction of her silken skin on his cock. Wherever she touched him, his skin heated in response. He wanted to make love to her with his entire being, with all he was or could ever be. He challenged himself to move with superhuman slowness, an exercise in the patience he valued but possessed little of. Her breasts mocked him, challenged him to claim each. He engulfed one nipple with his mouth, licking, sucking, nibbling. At the touch of his tongue on the pebbled flesh, he felt the surge of her response to him, and his cock extended toward her. Ah, he could devour her with total pleasure. As he moved his mouth, she made little mewling sounds, her head turning from side to side, her eyes gleaming emerald fire. He alternated between her breasts, kissing one while he fondled the other. Would that he could spend a whole night savoring these delights. But she jammed his thigh between her legs and rubbed there with her hot, wet pussy. Her clit throbbed against his thigh, spurring him on with searing bursts of fire. The Comte could no longer tarry, not when his woman needed him, not when he’d die if he didn’t have her. As gently as he could, but rough with haste and need, he pushed her onto her back. As they moved together, she clung to his thigh like she would never let go. Ah, she passionately wanted him, and tonight she was finally lowering her veil enough to let him see. He could no longer resist. When he extricated his thigh from between her legs, she sighed and arched her hips. She needed to be filled there. He fingered her pale pink folds, his thumb stroking her clit while he dipped his fingers into her hot opening. “Mmm.” Monique, eyes now closed, licked her lips and thrust her hips. Oh yes, she was ready for him—and he, past ready for her, couldn’t wait another moment. His cock huge, he plunged deep into her and lost himself in pleasure. Her heat and warmth surrounded him, drawing him farther in. “You are incredible, mon amour. Amazing. Without peer,” he whispered. Monique clutched his ass, holding him tight against her as she arched her hips sinuously up and down and drew him to her most intimate core. “And you, mon amour. Never before have I been with a man who—” He cut off her words with a kiss. Her hot, wet pussy swallowed his cock, and, gritting his teeth, he forced himself to continue moving slowly. She gripped him, exercising the muscles of her tight sheath so that she caressed him all along his shaft. He felt himself pulse and, unbelievably, grow harder and larger yet within her. Intense delectation took hold of him, swirling out from his cock to every part of him. Only with her, only with her did he experience the icy-hot peak of perfection. No longer could he wait to complete their joining. “I must take you into me,” he whispered. He tongued her neck and, releasing a knot of tension he didn’t realize he held, sank his fangs into her and quivered. With his whole being poised at the edge of ecstasy, he began to drink.

10

Young Vampires in France

Her rich, dark blood filled his mouth, rode wild through his veins, threw him into a whole new universe of sensation. With his hard cock dancing attendance in her feminine core and his fangs drawing her essence into him, the Comte’s brain and heart expanded into new realms of light and joy. Through the haze of his ecstatic ride, the Comte felt Monique’s hands push him away and, far too soon, draw him back to the reality of limits. “But you will suck me dry if you don’t stop,” she protested. With a groan, he pulled back to the single frenzy of their intimate coupling. “My turn.” She pierced his neck with her fangs and drank greedily, hungrily. When she paused, he still wanted to give her more. The pull of her mouth on him nearly sufficed to take him back to the high he’d experienced in feeding from her. Knowing that he fed her, that his essence now mingled with hers everywhere in her body, set him afire. And then she lifted her head, his blood dripping down her chin as she howled out her climax. She vibrated from head to toe with the force of her release, and the Comte had no choice but to join her. With a shout of victory, he pumped into her in waves of passion. Now he possessed her outside and in. And she possessed him. On a scale of one to ten, Monique rated her orgasm—combined, naturellement, with the feeding—at a six point four. Maybe six point five. She would not award him a higher score with her eyes. But in the secret place in her heart where she didn’t keep score, Monique knew no number could measure his impact on her. She swallowed hard and wished she could bury the emotions that threatened her with their power and intensity. Now, when she was so close to the victory over the Comte she’d worked so long and hard to accomplish, she could not let her traitorous feelings for him overpower her head—and heart. If she allowed her tendresse, her muddleheaded weakness, for him to take root, he’d win. She could not lose sight of all she’d lost, all that had fueled her hunger for revenge since her days as a mortal. No matter what the cost, she had to steel herself not to love this man, not to let him get to her on any level. Exerting all her willpower, she manipulated her habitual armor back into place. Afterward, in the glow of their lovemaking, she wanted nothing more than to doze a bit before she returned to her hotel room—or so she insisted. If she were free to follow her desires… Though the Comte kept insisting that she stay at the Château, dieux, he had one hundred seventy-three guest bedrooms that would be more than adequate to house her coffin, Monique insisted on staying in her own quarters. Not only did this help her maintain her independence, it also added to her aura of mystery and distance. Of course, her real preference, at least what she told him, would have been for the Comte to come to Paris, where she felt herself on sure ground. After all, he possessed a perfectly lovely residence there, and she had her own home, so she wouldn’t need to go to the inconvenience and expense of a hotel room. But recently, the Comte had begun spending more and more time at the Château in Orléans, in the Loire Valley, some two

11

Mardi Ballou

hours by car from Paris. And he’d been rather adamant the month before about her coming down for their business negotiations. Negotiations that had turned to a fullblown affair they’d been hovering at the edges of for the previous year. They’d made love numerous times every night since she’d arrived on his doorstep two weeks before. He appeared captivated, fully devoted to her—precisely the way she wanted him. Monique had gone into the affair very intentionally to advance her business and personal interests with the Comte. Her main goal was to move up from her original position as his lowly consultant for style and fashion to undisputed chief of his business empire. This included the import and export of fine foods and wines, the manufacture of a well-respected line of kitchenware and marketing connections through a consortium of boutiques and fine department stores throughout Europe. Of course, the Comte also owned a chain of blood banks and related services. After this interlude in the countryside, torture for an urbanite like Monique, she’d almost succeeded in achieving her goal—maximum power. Once she managed to convince the Comte to reveal two more “confidential” arrangements, she’d leave the Loire Valley—and him—forever. She couldn’t allow herself a moment of weakness or lack of resolve in her relentless drive forward. But she’d accomplished enough for one night. She tried to slip into her doze, but tonight he felt like talking. Merde. Maybe if she ignored him, he’d go away. He didn’t. Instead, he persisted in trying to get her attention. Lying next to her on the pillows, he murmured, “Monique. Please stay here with me for the rest of the night. And then for the day to follow.” He stroked her arms and entwined his legs around hers. Now that she’d fed and permitted herself her climax, Monique was more than ready to return to her quarters. She needed to get back there for her computer, her fax and her phones. She’d promised herself she’d catch up with email and read two business reports before she turned in at dawn. But tonight the Comte wasn’t letting go of her easily. For once, he hadn’t fallen into the deep sleep that sex most often culminated in for him. And her heart kept insisting that she take this night and stay with him. With a wrench in her heart, she closed her ears to these dangerous words. “I’m afraid that’s not possible. In fact,” she yawned and stretched, “I really should leave now. I have so much work to catch up on back at the hotel.” He made a sour face. “Work? Pah! Can’t you take a whole night off for once?” She shrugged. “That is easy for you to say because you’ve been so successful. As for me, I have yet to build my fortune. Which means I cannot afford to be a slacker, taking whole nights off.” “But you have forever to build your fortune. Just say the word, and I will be more than pleased to help you—either to advance in my organization or to start off in your business ventures. But, I know. You’re so damnably independent. You want to do it all yourself, not accept that anyone can make your life easier for you.” 12

Young Vampires in France

She bristled at his patronizing attitude. That was good, helped her remain focused. Oh, he was going help her all right. Or rather, she was going to help herself to everything she wanted. But she wasn’t yet ready to reveal her full hand to him. So for now she still had to walk a fine balance, to keep him on a string while she set everything up. She sat up and held the luxurious top sheet around her. The Comte took for granted being able to afford such fine linens and a household staff to care for everything. Monique took nothing for granted. Though she’d have much preferred to sleep between such fine sheets all the time, for now she had to live with the ones she could afford. Trying to look regretful, she shook her head. “You know that discipline is my highest value.” He took her chin in his hand and looked deeply at her. “You have many times over proven yourself to be supremely disciplined. But, chérie, moving from that bland, undistinguished hotel to the Château would not damage your reputation or interfere with your regime.” “I disagree,” she stated. She drew away from the Comte, swung herself out of the bed, picked up her clothes and ran to the bath. Thank goodness part of the Comte’s modernization of the Château had been the installation of luxurious bathrooms—each complete with a bidet—in every bedroom. When the day came for her to assume ownership of the Château, she’d appreciate the bathrooms already being there. Naturellement, she’d allow the Comte to keep a bedroom suite for his personal use—at a very low rent. The other thing she’d do would be to upgrade the heating system. Of course, once she had to pay the fuel bills, maybe she’d rethink this… The night was fleeting. Maybe she’d allowed herself to get a bit too carried away during the intercourse. At the rate she was going, she’d scarcely have time to read her email, never mind the reports. She threw on her clothes, refreshed her hair and left the bathroom. She’d say a quick good night to the Comte, and she’d be gone. He did not want her to leave. Not tonight, not ever. He still lay in the bed, nude, when Monique, fully dressed, came over to take her leave. As he didn’t get up, she sat down at the edge of the bed. He scooted over to where she perched. “I must go now. Shall we meet at the same time tomorrow night?” She appeared ready to jump up and skitter out. “No.” She looked at him in surprise. “No?” she echoed. “You have other plans tomorrow evening?” He shook his head. “No, as in I don’t want you to leave.”

13

Mardi Ballou

She tossed her head with a look of disgust, scorn, that set off warning bells he chose to ignore. “We’ve talked this to death. I told you I must work tonight, and I don’t have much time to complete my tasks before dawn.” He sat against the massive oak headboard. “I’ve a castle full of faithful servants, several cars. I’ll send someone to retrieve everything you need from the hotel. Move you in right now. Even settle your account there.” “Impossible. I have stated my intentions and reasons for what I do. I would ask that you respect me in this and cease from trying to distract me.” She stood up. He rose. “You haven’t responded to my proposal.” He looked at her steadily— wanted to swallow her up with his eyes, to keep her with him always. Monique’s face remained devoid of expression. “But I have. I told you before that a commitment such as you ask requires too large a decision for an instant response. Now, please. Let me go.” The warning bells got louder, though he’d never doubted her ultimate acceptance. He’d felt her only reason for maintaining her distance and her separate abode was to convince him to commit and propose. Yet far from leaping at his offer, she coolly told him she’d have to think. Had any woman before ever had to think about saying yes to him for anything? But, he admitted to himself, this was no ordinary woman. She was, he had no doubt, his life mate. His destined one. His intended. The one he’d waited centuries for. No, something was very wrong here. If anything, she’d become more aloof despite the growing intensity of their physical bond. Unless… He thought he understood. “Monique, mon amour, no need any longer for games, for artifice of any kind between us.” She appeared bemused. Did she really not understand what he was saying? “But I’m not—” He moved closer to her, and she backed away. “But surely you are. You are playing what the Americans call ‘hard to get’. No longer necessary. Move into my Château, my life. Let us be together and stop wasting our time with foolish games. Come back to the bed with me, stay. What’s mine will be yours.” “It already is, you fool.” She drew farther back and her face contorted into a harshness that distorted her beauty into something ugly, hard and unforgiving as granite. For the briefest of moments, he thought Monique was still playacting. But this time, he listened to his gut—and the cautions he’d pushed away before. “What the hell are you talking about?” He couldn’t recognize the stiff woman who’d suddenly replaced his beloved Monique.

14

Young Vampires in France

She looked heavenward and flung her hands out in a gesture of disgust. “I’ve already helped myself to almost everything of yours that I want. And I mean to have the rest too,” she hissed. “All that will be left to you is what I reject.” “Have you gone mad? Monique, what has happened to you? What are you ranting about?” The warning bells had turned into a chorus of laughing hyenas. “You want to understand?” Her voice sounded raw with menace. She stalked over to the desk and pointed to a sheaf of papers. “Read over what you’ve been signing these past few nights. Pay special attention to the papers that grant me control of nearly every part of your business and personal empire.” She looked around the room. “I can’t wait to get my hands on this Château and bring in my own decorators.” He threw back his head and laughed, waiting for her to join him in the joke. “This is about redecorating? Feel free, order what you’d like.” His gesture took in the space around them, but he’d gladly extend his offer to the whole Château. Before his eyes, she seemed to turn into a block of ice. “I’m leaving.” “Monique, I’m serious. Explain at once.” He still hung on to a fragile glimmer of hope that disaster wasn’t looming. She snorted with derision. “You will understand shortly. Now, I really will take my leave of you. There’s only one paper left for you to sign, one that is not crucial. If you will do me the courtesy of signing the paper promptly, we can discuss the parameters of your future. Probably in a conference phone call with my attorney.” “I’m not signing anything more.” “Whatever. And now, as the Americans say, I’m out of here.” Pausing only to stow the papers they’d worked on together that night into her attaché case, she swept out of the room. His pants half on, some still-operational fraction of the Comte’s brain went into high alert. He stopped himself from racing after Monique. He had to see for himself what she was talking about. Cursing loudly, he crossed to the desk where he’d haphazardly stowed copies of all the papers he and Monique had reviewed and, damn it, signed, the past few nights. Resolved to figure out what the hell just happened, he began to read. Merde. Why had she let him get to her so? Monique stormed out of the Château feeling furious with herself for revealing so much before she absolutely had to. Still, she essentially had all she needed to proceed with her plans. As she drove through the country roads to the small hotel—a former abbey—where she was staying, Monique began to calm down. Staying in the abbey helped to ground her, keep her balanced. She sometimes thought how odd her preference would seem to those who thought her kind feared and avoided abbeys and churches. For her, the opposite was the truth. In the peace of the abbey, Monique felt most in touch with her

15

Mardi Ballou

dear sister, Josette, who’d spent the happiest moments of her brief life surrounded by the symbols of her faith. Monique’s equilibrium began to return as she drove from the Château. Maybe she hadn’t messed up quite so badly after all, she thought as she sped to her hotel in the nearby village of Chaumont-sur-Charonne. Though her heart was always in Paris, and she was a city dweller through and through, she couldn’t deny the charm of the countryside around her. Monique beat back a twinge of regret at what she was doing to the Comte. After all, some might argue that he was innocent of all she held against him. They might say her family’s poverty wasn’t his fault—and they’d be right. That she attributed to her absent father and the mother whose life had early sunk into despair. It wasn’t his fault that she’d vowed to do all in her power to banish the emotional scars of her early deprivations. But the death of Josette—the worst pain of her early years—that was his fault. And that was why he’d pay for everything. Monique shivered and her spine stiffened. Revenge for the loss of Josette spurred Monique on. It was the Comte’s supposed charity clinic that turned Monique away when she’d come there in search of lifesaving aid and medicines for her beloved little sister… And for that crime, he deserved whatever Monique did to him and worse. She could never inflict enough damage on him to make him feel her loss, the cold cruel pain caused by Josette’s death. The statue of Jeanne d’Arc that Monique visited here in Orléans brought back memories of the little one, who’d so adored this heroine of French history. Poor little Josette, so weak and ill for all of her short life, had been thrilled by the stories of Jeanne’s exploits and had treasured a small, tattered image of the young woman who’d been burned to death as a witch. Though Monique bit back the admission, the Comte made her quiver with pleasure when they made love, when he fed from her, even when he whispered tender words. And yes, she came with him—crashing orgasms more intense than she’d ever experienced before. But if she continued to let such thoughts take root in her mind, she’d never be able to go through with her plans. Besides which, now that she’d revealed her true goals to the Comte, she’d better wrap up her affairs in this godforsaken province and return to Paris with all due haste. She’d completed the first and most important phase of her master plan, convincing him to grant her authority over most of his empire. All that remained was to see to some final details. To accomplish the last bit, she’d have to assert her power over the other top principals in the Comte’s various enterprises. Thank the universe that they had the intelligence and taste to remain in Paris.

***** In revulsion and self-disgust, the Comte sat at his desk and read the papers he’d so blindly signed. To think, he’d fooled himself into believing that the woman actually was falling in love with him. He sprang up and began to pace. He hadn’t done anything this

16

Young Vampires in France

idiotic in centuries and would have considered himself long past the point where anyone could bamboozle him like this. The hyena chorus in his head laughed louder. Like a village rube, he’d taken Monique at her word rather than reading what she’d brought. He who’d previously read every word, comma and period of any document he’d put his name to. But this time… After all, his most trusted counselor had drawn up the papers, which the Comte had intended to sign to establish Monique as his top confidential assistant for affairs. But now that he read the fine print he’d so cavalierly waved off before, to his fury and horror, he saw he’d named Monique as controlling officer. How could he have let this happen? As the cold light of reality flashed around him and he ordered the hyenas to shut up, the Comte forced himself to remember his recent interactions with Monique. During the brief intervals between their lovemaking episodes, she’d insisted on dealing with business. He’d wanted to minimize any mundane intrusion on their romantic interludes. When he began to examine the papers, she wiggled her derrière and winked at him, urged him to resume more pleasurable pursuits. And he’d fallen for that like some horny lovesick schoolboy. He smacked himself on the forehead. Life mate, indeed. Treacherous betrayer was more like it, he realized with dread and foreboding. Well, Monique wouldn’t get away with her scheme. Fortunately, she’d shown her hand before she could do any real damage. Now that he knew what was afoot, he would stop her, crush her like an annoying bug. In the few hours remaining before dawn, he would start to formulate a plan to render her harmless. Harmless. Hardly that. The hollow sound of his own laugh echoed the emptiness in his heart. She’d already inflicted soul-deep damage that would take a long time to heal. He scoffed at himself, at the way she’d conned him. Then, realizing that he didn’t have the luxury of time to waste, he pushed away his regrets and got to work. This was a dangerous woman. He’d stop her, though. Taking into account how she’d managed to manipulate him, he realized he could not accomplish this mission alone. But he couldn’t rely now on his usual inner circle. For one thing, he no longer knew whom he could completely trust. It would appear that Monique had corrupted some of his most trusted intimates such as his counselor, a man whose firm he’d worked with for three centuries. No. For this situation, he must look beyond his usual horizons. Within moments, his San Francisco cohorts sprang to mind. Lynette Loring and Darlene DeMars, the young Americans whom he’d transformed several decades ago here in this Château. Lynette and Darlene, who’d faced a crisis recently, had come through magnificently with the help of their new partners, Nicholas LaStrada and Jon Torrance. The Comte allowed himself a brief smile at the thought of Nicholas and Jon, whom he’d transformed on his last trip to California. Remembering how strong he’d been then, the Comte knew he would once again be victorious. He checked his gold Rolex. With the nine-hour time difference between France and San Francisco, his best means of

17

Mardi Ballou

communication would be email. He sat down to his computer and began to type. Within moments, he’d sent the message he hoped would bring them to his side. In the meantime, he had to act. During the remaining hours of the night, the Comte dug deeper into the morass. Were he not the one Monique had so successfully conned, he’d almost admire her. After all, there was something magnificent about any wellexecuted plan, even one of such a criminal nature, contrived by such a brilliant mind. The Comte resolved not only to foil Monique’s plans but to see her crushed. When he got through with her, she would rue the day she conceived of such a dastardly plot against him. Gathering up his papers, he hunkered down to his computer to lay out the strategies for his counterattack. When the Americans arrived, and he was sure that they would, he wanted to have a preliminary plan ready. Resolved to prevail, he made his way to his coffin just before dawn.

***** The dream came to her again, soon after she’d slipped into her post-dawn slumber. Dream—or day nightmare. Monique stirred restlessly, wishing to wipe away the images that haunted her. But there it was again, haunting her, hounding her, as it would throughout eternity. Nothing more than she deserved. It had been just a few years into the twentieth century, a time when women still wore long dresses, horses drew most of the carriages that transported people and world wars loomed beyond any imaginable horizons. Her sister, little Josette, lay in her poor excuse for a bed, shivering with cold. The child, ten years younger than Monique, was eight. But she was so tiny, she looked only five. Their mother lay in her usual alcoholinduced stupor, oblivious to the needs of her children. Monique had early learned to fend for herself. An older brother was long gone. As for fathers, Monique had never known her own. She’d learned the art of self-defense warding off the unwelcome attentions of the man who’d sired Josette. Despite the child’s unfortunate parentage, Monique adored her. Josette was the reason why Monique had never been able to bring herself to leave their mother and the hovel they shared to make a better life for herself. Josette’s fragile health became apparent soon after her birth. Monique—not their mother, but Monique, herself still a child—took charge of Josette, taking her from charity clinic to charity clinic in an effort to get help. It was Monique who learned the devastating diagnosis, the heart problems that threatened and would ultimately end Josette’s existence. Monique found the means to keep the child clothed and nourished, to buy the medicines that helped extend her days. For her sister, Monique would rummage in the trash of wealthy Parisians in search of discarded items she could clean up and sell. She ran errands for shopkeepers. When all else failed, much as she despised having to do so, she stole. Monique closed her eyes and saw Josette again, her small pale face and big eyes watching her, begging for help, expressing her distress. Josette, so delicate, so sweet and innocent. Josette, who returned Monique’s adoration tenfold. Josette, holding out her

18

Young Vampires in France

little hands to Monique, her eyes filled with longing… Monique had been unable to find sufficient work to support them. Though she gave Josette all there was to eat in the house, suffering from intense hunger pangs as a result, she could see that the child lay sleepless, hungry, weaker every day…

19

Mardi Ballou

Chapter Two Jon Torrance woke up hungry. Now that spring was upon them, the days were getting longer and the nights shorter, and he felt like he could never feed, fuck or get enough work done to keep him satisfied. With a great appetite for all three, he bounded out of his coffin, stretched and quickly determined that feeding had to come first. Hearing movement from the other coffin in the bedroom he shared with Darlene DeMars, he paused. Jon prided himself on all he’d taught Darlene, who used to sleep in footed pink flannel pajamas before they met. Clad only in a dog collar and nipple clamps, Darlene gracefully rose. So did Jon’s cock. Hmmm. Maybe a little action before feeding… After all, it was springtime, when a young man’s fancy and all that… “Mmm.” He came up behind Darlene and tenderly nuzzled her neck above the dog collar. She felt warm and smelled like vanilla spice musk. At his touch, he felt her heart begin to beat faster, and he sensed her blood starting to speed through her veins. He took a little nibble, sucked a little blood. Just an appetizer for now, to take the edge off that particular hunger. Darlene moaned and swayed in his arms. Her butt pressed back against his hard cock, giving him goose bumps of pleasure. No time now to set up an elaborate scene or get out any toys. He wanted her hard, fast and primitive—no props, no games. He licked his fingers then ran them down the crack between her cheeks and felt the pucker of her opening there. He inserted one finger, wiggled in the tight space, felt Darlene push back against him. She wanted more. So did he. He put a second finger in, and Darlene bucked her hips forward, enticing him to continue on. Yes. He yanked out his fingers, wedged his cock at the opening of her wet-for-him pussy, and thrust his hips forward just enough to give her a taste. “How’s this for a wake-up call?” he panted. “You’re so big and I’m so small,” she whimpered provocatively. “Are you going to put that whole big thing into little me?” “Will you never learn that you’re not to ask questions?” Even when he was so turned on he could barely see straight, he wouldn’t let her forget who was master. He withdrew his cock and spanked her once, twice. “Ooh,” she gasped, wiggling her butt. That was it. He had to get all the way inside her. Completely. Let her hot, tight sheath surround him with the pleasure he could never get enough of—not that he didn’t keep trying. Jon ordered her to bend from the waist so her full, fleshy ass came right up to meet him. There she stood, luscious and hot and all his. He grabbed her

20

Young Vampires in France

hips, spread her cream from her pussy to her ass, crammed the whole length of his throbbing cock up her ass and gave himself up to the sensation. Warm and soft, caressing him. He dug his hands into her cheeks and savored the feel of the blood coursing through her veins beneath his fingers. Much as he wanted to stay where he was all night, he had to move. Had to feel every bit of her with his cock, that most sensitive of explorers. As fantastic as just plain contact was, movement raised the level of sensuality to nearly unbearable. Jon clutched Darlene with all his might, not wanting to slip away and cut short a moment of their ecstasy. When he’d met Darlene, she’d been a stranger to ass fucking and so many other practices he happily introduced her to. Now she seemed to crave the variety as much as he did. “Oh, Jon,” Darlene breathed. She rotated her hips, moving her tender flesh in one direction, than another as he pistoned himself back and forth with all the control he could muster. He’d never admit to her how much she challenged his keeping control, but deep inside he recognized this truth. Darlene DeMars got to him on more levels than he knew he had. Stop, stop, slow down. He didn’t want this pleasure to end, not so soon. He froze, raising Darlene up so he could nibble on her luscious back. He wanted to feed more, but he would extend the pleasure by postponing the fuller feed. Instead, he licked the skin between Darlene’s shoulder blades, tickling her with his tongue, biting her in teasing little motions, not letting his fangs get near enough to break the skin. Darlene held the wall with one hand and had the other buried in her mound. From the way she was moving, Jon could tell how she was playing with herself, fingering her folds, teasing her clit. The ways he’d taught her and some new ones she came up with on her own. Such a good student. She turned him on like no one else ever had. The visual of her fingers playing her folds nearly had him coming. The way her fingers would move in and out of her pussy, becoming slick with her juices. He bit back a groan. She gave another spin and his balls clenched. If he didn’t watch out, she’d have him coming in no time. He lifted a hand and smacked her ass again. She turned around and leered, her fangs gleaming. Jon could feel just how her fangs would plunge into him, injecting him with a whole new level of sensation unlike any other. He’d come and then she’d suck from him and he’d reach an even higher level of sensation, like coming again—only better. Darlene squeezed her cheeks tight, and the movement proved too much for him to bear. With a curse and a shout, Jon exploded deep into her in waves of release. Even when his cock began to recede, Jon didn’t want to let go. But Darlene scooted her hips up just enough to evict him. When he was out, she straightened up and turned around. “My turn,” she whispered and licked her lips. In one fluid movement, she wedged his thigh between her legs, getting him half erect again. Then moving to the rhythm she favored, she rubbed her hot, wet pussy back and forth, back and forth. Her plump folds caressed his leg as she plunged her fangs into his neck and drank deeply. 21

Mardi Ballou

Still in thrall at his own orgasm, Jon surprised himself with his capacity for more pleasure. The erotic feel of Darlene’s pussy on his leg competed with the rapture of her fangs in him, his blood flowing into her. Darlene appeared completely enchanted, rubbing his thigh with her clit in rhythm to her sucking. When she shuddered to her climax, he was right there with her, ready to howl. Energized with their loving, Darlene and Jon made their way down to their newly remodeled offices. Since the men had moved in, they’d all banded together to upgrade the formerly decrepit mansion where the two women had been living. Darlene and Lynette were completing edits on their latest Veronica Vampira novel. Jon was trying to solve one last little kink before his work on the video vampera was complete. It was a refinement on his recently invented vampera, a type of camera that could photograph vampires. Once the video vampera hit the market and vampires everywhere would be able to show up in videos, Jon’s fortune—their fortune—would be assured. Or even more assured. The household was quite prosperous already, all four of them making money hand over fist with their various enterprises. Life was good. Jon read over some his notes about the video vampera and felt confident he could finish work on it tonight. Just a minor adjustment to be made. But before he turned to his invention, he’d check email. Darlene, he knew, saved her email for the end of the night. She claimed it was less of a distraction that way. But he was no more patient with the Internet than anything else. The first message required instant attention. As soon as Jon finished reading a most astonishing note from the Comte, the man who’d transformed them all, he buzzed Darlene on their intercom. When she arrived in his office—good thing she was such an excellent natural sub that she instantly obeyed all his commands—he leered suggestively. “So, baby, how’d you like to go France?” Darlene wrinkled her brow. “‘Go to France’? Don’t think I’ve heard of that one. What’s it code for? New kind of whip?” She thought for a moment. “Something really kinky involving a fleur-de-lis-shaped clamp?” Impressed with her inventiveness, he raised an eyebrow. “No. I mean going to France, the country in western Europe. As in getting on a plane and flying east. Though I’d like to hear more about your fleur-de-lis idea.” “Do you mean just you and me for a vacation on our own?” He shook his head. “No, all four of us. You, me, Nick and Lynette.” A rare frown wrinkled her brow. “I don’t know if it’s the best time for a vacation. Lynette and I have a lot of work to do before we send this novel in, and our deadline’s looming. And I thought you were at a crucial stage with the video vampera.” She paused for a moment to think. “Exactly why would you want to go to France now?” “The country of Paris—the most romantic city in the world. Moonlight on the Seine. Why even hesitate?”

22

Young Vampires in France

She held her hands to her heart and sighed. “Jon, what a great idea. Romantic Paris. Strolls in the Latin Quarter. The Eiffel Tower. I never knew you…” He was kind of enjoying her sentimental gushing when she stopped in mid-thought, looked at the computer and narrowed her eyes. “Why would you suddenly think of a trip to France? Did you just get a message from the Comte?” He nodded, surprised that she’d figured out his motives so quickly. Darlene frowned. “I hope it’s not some more nonsense about that committee of his nominating us for a prize we don’t want.” It seemed Darlene would never get over the time an elite vampire group in France nominated her and Lynette to be named most dull and boring vampires—a stigma that would have stayed with them for two hundred years. The Comte had rushed over from France with the nomination—and his demand that she and Lynette shape up and not cause him, their mentor, eternal shame. Fortunately, the two women had been able to convince the committee their lives were far too exciting for them to qualify for this dubious award. In the course of disqualifying themselves, Darlene and Lynette had met Jon and Nick. Jon grinned at the thought of how much excitement he continued to bring to Darlene’s life. He snorted and rose. “You can’t still think anyone would consider you dull and boring. Not with me around.” “And Nick,” Darlene added. “Lynette and I were nominated for the awful award together. She reminded him of a Girl Scout, with her notions of fair play and level playing fields. Remembering their earlier lovemaking and anticipating more tonight with some new toys, Jon amended that thought. She didn’t always remind him of a Girl Scout. Or maybe she just reminded him of a very kinky Girl Scout. Hmm, that could be an interesting scene. They’d get her a uniform and some cookie boxes… Darlene came around his desk to look at the screen, but Jon had already switched it off. “Come on, Jon. Give. What does the Comte want? Why is he inviting us now?” He traced the contours of her face and relished watching Darlene shiver. Later, he’d have her shaking so hard, people might suspect a mini-earthquake. “Don’t you know that curiosity killed the cat?” She wiggled provocatively. “I believe in living dangerously, as you well know.” She licked her lips and Jon’s cock twitched. Even after more than a year together, Darlene could still do that—get to him in ways he’d never imagined possible. Especially since he’d become a vampire too… He just had to make sure she never really knew how easily and how much. He growled. “I’ve got something brand new just for you.” He pressed his cock against her, and Darlene grabbed on to his ass and squeezed. “I’ve got something for you too. Later. But first, tell me what the Comte said.” She shouted out the last words, breaking into laughter and racing away from him.

23

Mardi Ballou

Jon’s balls tightened and his fangs vibrated. Yeah, he’d show her again later. But business first. “He needs us to go there, help him straighten out some mess he’s gotten into.” Darlene looked like he’d splashed her with a bucket of cold water in the midst of heated lovemaking. “He’s in a mess? The Comte? That sure doesn’t sound like him. What kind of mess?” “Something involving a woman named Monique, I forget the last name.” “Monique de la Chauve-Souris?” Darlene’s voice rose and she made a face like she’d just swallowed blood with a vinegar chaser. Jon nodded. “That sounds about right.” “Crashing cockroaches!” Darlene swore. “You know her?” Jon noted with surprise the angry expression on Darlene’s face. Since his lady love probably had the mildest disposition of any being, human or otherwise, Jon had ever known, he figured this Monique de la Chauve-Souris must be major bad news. “We’ve met briefly,” Darlene uttered through clenched teeth. “Once was more than enough. I actually hoped I’d never have to encounter her again.” “What did she do?” Darlene shook her head. “Too much to go into right now. But remind me when we have some time, and I’ll give you all the gory details.” Yeah, he’d never seen Darlene so vehement. Despite himself, Jon was intrigued. “Well, we’ve got to tell Lynette and Nick immediately. They’re watching his new Buffy DVD. Lynette says it gives her good ideas for Veronica Vampira.” “Let’s let them watch. We can do other things.” Darlene’s mouth formed a grim straight line. “This is urgent. If the Comte is asking us to come, he must be in dire straits. If Monique de la Chauve-Souris is involved, that makes everything worse.” Looking determined, she strode from the room. Jon followed her to the living room where Lynette and Nick were making out on the couch like two teenagers.

***** Though she willed the dream to stop before it unfolded to its inevitable conclusion, Monique felt as powerless now as she had during Josette’s last days. Josette was growing thinner and weaker moment by moment, unable to leave her bed. On her last day, Josette begged Monique to carry her one final time to pray in her beloved Notre Dame, the large, magnificent cathedral that so dwarfed the tiny invalid. Josette said she felt enclosed in the warm hug of a beautiful lady there. Monique would have done anything to bring a moment’s peace and comfort to the child.

24

Young Vampires in France

On that fateful day, unbeknownst to both Monique and Josette, they would each be looking at the rays of sunlight through the magnificent stain-glassed rosette windows for the last time. At her sister’s plea, Monique stayed with her there until way past nightfall. Desperate to keep her sister with her, Monique consented to the courtship of a mysterious silvery man. Once or twice before, when she and Josette had been there after twilight, he’d approached her to speak, but she’d turned away. After all, Monique was no stranger to the whispered offers of men who promised her money if only she would perform one act or another with them. Until now, she’d managed not to sink to accepting. Now she knew she would have to agree to any means of saving her sister. Darkness clung to this man like a cape. Long silver hair, tied back off his face. Gleaming silver eyes that threatened to swallow her up. Still, she would have ignored his whispered invitation if not for Josette. He captured Monique’s attention with promises that he knew the true secret of eternal life. Hearing these words, Monique felt a glimmer of hope. She asked the man to wait for her. After she rushed through the dark streets to carry Josette home and settle her in her bed, Monique hastened back to the cathedral for the fateful rendezvous. As promised he was waiting for her in the shadows. With a long, slim finger, he motioned her to follow him to the catacombs far below the watchful gargoyles and the splendor of the stained glass. Monique scarcely hesitated as she prepared to embrace the stranger and his secrets of eternal life, all for Josette. When he touched her, Monique shivered. At that moment, she couldn’t have said what was greater—her fear or her anticipation of what this man would do to her. “What is your name?” she whispered. He ran a finger down to her small breast, and the bite of his talon-like nail set off delicious tremors she felt deep in the pit of her belly. The silence lasted so long, Monique began to doubt that he would reply. She couldn’t have said why she wanted to know his name. “I am called Christophe,” he replied at last. Christophe. An ordinary name for a man who seemed far from ordinary. “And you, my pet? What is your name?” “Monique.” “Monique. Yes, I like that. It suits you.” He traced her face with the tips of his fingers. “But I have waited long enough. Now I must have you.” Monique was trembling so hard, she could scarcely stand. Her heart was hammering, as if she’d run up and down all the steps in the cathedral without pausing for breath. Though she felt shamed by her weakness, Christophe didn’t seem to mind at all when she leaned against him for support. He held her firmly to him as his mouth took possession of hers in a fierce kiss. With his lips on hers, Monique awoke to new perceptions, new possibilities beyond anything she’d ever known. Unfamiliar sensations whirled through her, leaving a trail of fire and ice, making her yearn for

25

Mardi Ballou

something beyond her imagination. Christophe was strong and hard in all the places where his body met hers. Especially she felt his hardness where he pressed into her belly, and she experienced the most bewildering pang of hunger for him. She longed to be closer to him, to join with him, to become one with him. “You are magnificent,” Christophe sighed. He licked the tender skin of her throat with his tongue, and Monique wanted him to lick her everywhere, even in her most secret places. At the same time, she felt shamed by this desire. Could it be right to feel this way, to want to do such things with this man? But before she could make sense of the chaos within her, she felt the prick of something sharp penetrate her. A momentary pain as his long, sharp teeth bit into the skin of her neck yielded to intense pleasure, and Monique heard herself gasp as starlight and moonglow wound around her and through her. Christophe was sucking her into himself, where she wanted to be, one with him in this and every way. Abruptly, he drew away from her. “Christophe,” she protested. “Do not leave me.” “Ma petite,” he growled. “You must drink now from me.” He bit into his wrist and held it, bleeding, to her mouth. At first, Monique didn’t understand. Though she had a moment’s revulsion, his dark red blood called out to her. Still she held back. “What? Why?” she asked in fevered confusion. “Drink,” he commanded, “or you will die.” Monique could not risk dying. After all, Josette’s fate depended on her. She opened her mouth and fastened on to Christophe’s wrist. To her surprise, she not only managed to suck Christophe’s blood, she quickly began to take great swallows—as if she’d been waiting forever to do just this. Along with his blood, Monique drank in the secrets Christophe had promised her. And then everything went black. The moment she opened her eyes, Monique wondered how much time had gone by since she’d left Josette’s bedside. Fearing that she’d tarried too long, she begged Christophe to rush home with her and take Josette in his arms for the magical embrace. Without saying a word, he followed her. But by the time they arrived at Josette’s bedside, the tiny child lay lifeless—still warm, but beyond any redemption Monique and Christophe could give her. Monique felt the world crash down around her. The child had died alone, bereft of any possible last touch of comfort. Now Monique was trapped forever with her memories, her regrets and her new hungers. If only she’d brought Josette to Christophe, let Josette precede her into their new life… If only she’d been wiser before she left her. Thoughts of the pleasure she’d known in Christophe’s embrace whipped Monique with insupportable guilt. Lashing out in fury, she dismissed Christophe, who’d turned her too late. Christophe’s beautiful mouth twisted with contempt. “The child is gone, but you now have immortal life. There is much for you to learn. I’m willing to teach you, but only if you stop acting hysterical.”

26

Young Vampires in France

Still reeling from her loss, Monique could not think past knowing she found the sight of Christophe—who’d failed her—unbearable. “I’d rather die than look to you for anything more.” He cocked a perfect eyebrow and cupped her chin in his hand, forcing her to look up and meet his gaze. “If I really wanted to stay, nothing you could do would stop me. But hysteria bores me.” He swept out of her hovel, leaving Monique alone with her sister’s lifeless body. Monique wept long beyond her body’s capacity to produce tears. When there was nothing left, Monique took an oath sealed in the blood that now sustained her. From that moment, she would rely on no one but herself. Then, holding her sister’s stiffening little body in her aching arms, Monique made a sacred vow to Josette. No child would ever again die because poverty kept her from receiving medical treatment. Monique would dedicate her eternity to amassing the wealth to care for any future Josettes. And to seeking vengeance for the injustice to her precious Josette—the grinding poverty, the lack of care, the punishing hunger. Righting these wrongs was the only way Monique could continue to exist without Josette. As she made those first plans, Monique stumbled, quite by accident, on the name of the consortium that controlled charity medical care in the city. All under the directorship of Laurence de Cormignac, the Comte du Montnoir. His name burned a hole in the empty space that had once housed her heart. And as surely as she knew her own name, Monique knew that one day she would bring the Comte down to the dust. And raise Josette up.

***** The Comte was in trouble. All because of that…that creature. Darlene had never before taken such an instant dislike to anyone as she had to Monique de la ChauveSouris. The Comte had introduced Monique to them as his “assistant”, the one who was going to whip Lynette and her into stylish shape. Thank goodness Darlene and her best friend had been able to convince him to send Monique packing. But now it appeared they hadn’t sent her far enough away. “Lynette, Nick,” she called out, warning them that she’d be coming into the room momentarily. Sometimes she still felt like her friends were reliving their high school days, the way those two made out on the couch. It wasn’t as if they didn’t have a room. Actually several. And Nick’s cottage, where the couple occasionally spent time. Just like Darlene and Jon liked to hang out in his old condo for some extra privacy. But there was something about necking and petting on the living room couch that evidently turned both Lynette and Nick on. They sprang apart just as the DVD came to an end. Lynette tried to straighten her hair, her clothes. Nick’s full lips glowed, as did his eyes. “Guys, you won’t believe this.” Darlene wanted to be sure she had their full attention before she dropped her bombshell. 27

Mardi Ballou

“What is it?” Lynette asked. “We need to go to France. Immediately. The Comte just emailed Jon and said he’s got troubles. And guess who’s smack in the middle of them?” “Not—” Lynette said, looking wary. Darlene nodded. “The very one. Monique de la Chauve-Souris got her hooks into him, and now, well, he needs us to bail him out of some disaster.” She could have said much more, but sometimes brevity was the most effective tool. She sensed Jon behind her. “Do we know specifics about this disaster?” Nick asked. “You know, much as I admire the Comte, I’m aware of a tendency he has to be…overdramatic.” Jon nodded vigorously. Darlene and Lynette glared at the men. “He may have a taste and flair for drama,” Lynette said. “But that doesn’t mean there’s nothing wrong.” “He’s never before asked us to drop everything and go there,” Darlene added. “You remember how, last year, when he was worried, he came here. Twice.” Nick and Jon looked at each other. “We sure do,” they chorused. Lynette said, “There’s no discussion needed here. He calls us, we drop everything and go. Case closed.” Nick held up his hand. “Look, I’m as fond of France as anyone, especially Paris. But we have to know what we’re doing before we just fly off. Speaking of which, where does he want us to meet him, in Paris or at the Château?” “Good question.” Darlene turned to Jon. “Did he say?” “Yes. The Château in the Loire Valley,” Jon responded. “Orléans, right?” “Yes. Orléans.” “It will take us longer to get there than to Paris.” Nick had traveled the most of the four. “The Château was where we first met the Comte,” Darlene pointed out. Her memory skipped back to the time when she and Lynette, young Americans who’d gotten lost during their first big adventure abroad, burst into the Comte’s retreat. It was at the Château that, one magical night, they’d both been transformed… “No time now for an excursion down memory lane,” Lynette snapped. “We have to arrange the trip immediately. Nick, do you think we can get flights tonight?” She frowned. “We have to manage our flying with the time zones in mind.” He looked skeptical. “I think we’re lucky if we can book flights by tomorrow night. And what about our coffins? Do we need to ship them?” He thought for a moment. “Do we need to arrange to fly in them so we don’t have to worry about the time of day we land?” Lynette waved her hand. “The Comte has enough coffins at the Château to sleep an army.” “Maybe we should just fly on our own power,” Jon said.

28

Young Vampires in France

“France is a long way off,” Darlene pointed out. But even as she raised this argument, Darlene knew that Jon was right. No way could they make reasonable arrangements to reach the Comte quickly using public transportation. “I agree. Flying on our own makes the most sense.” Nick looked at the others. “How long do you need to get ready?” “Just pack a few things. The Comte really can meet most of our needs at the Château.” Lynette looked anxious to get going. Jon thought for a moment. “This will be a great chance for me to show the Comte what I’ve been doing with the video vampera. It’s almost ready to be unveiled. I just need to get my prototype and notes together and make a small adjustment. Won’t take more than fifteen minutes.” Agreeing to meet in half an hour, they scattered to pack. “Don’t forget that new thing you promised to show me,” Darlene reminded Jon. “I won’t.” He winked. “And you said you have something new for me too.” She didn’t really, but she wasn’t going to let him know that. Preserve an air of mystery in your relationship—advice for the heroine of their novel, Veronica Vampira, and for herself. Forty-five minutes later, the four friends became one large cloud of mist, rose and headed east.

***** When Monique awoke the next night, she climbed out of her coffin and prepared, almost on automatic pilot, to perform the painstaking toilette that she considered necessary for being with the Comte. She’d always prided herself on taking special care of her appearance, but for the Comte, she needed to attend to the small details that made all the difference. He not only noticed everything about her, he appreciated everything. But then she stopped herself when her thought processes awoke and she remembered all that had transpired the night before. She’d burned bridges. With a pang which she quickly swallowed back, she realized that she couldn’t see him again. If she did, he would probably try to talk her out of her plans—if he didn’t have her arrested for fraud or on some other charge. As muddleheaded as he made her feel, she might even let him convince her to stop her campaign. She couldn’t allow that for anything, even the feelings she’d started to feel for him. The feelings she would have to bury quickly, before they buried her and made her start to act stupid. Tonight it behooved her to return to Paris, where she’d be able to put her schemes into immediate motion. By the time the Comte gathered his scattered thoughts and his strength to mount a counterattack, her victory would be so deeply entrenched as to render her untouchable. As she stood beneath the shower spray and shampooed, she remembered the feel of his fingers running through her hair. She’d slapped his hands and chided him, warning

29

Mardi Ballou

him to stop destroying her coiffure. But secretly, she’d loved it when he played with her, when he mussed her. He had such strong hands, such warmth. And he’d let her see how much he wanted to please her. A powerful weapon to place in her hands. She grimaced. Tonight she’d have to feed before she drove back home. No Comte to provide her with elegant service and the finest blood in crystal goblets. No Comte to feed from or to feed from her… She shrugged. She’d spoken to him of her devotion to discipline. Now she had to regain her usual rigor. No sense in getting rusty. A bit of the hunt would restore her form for the upcoming Parisian adventure. Toweling her hair, she spotted the hotel phone lighting up to indicate a message. Who would be calling her here? When she pressed the correct buttons, the Comte’s voice streamed out of the receiver. “You are always welcome at the Château. Please come back tonight so that we can talk about what’s happened. Just talk, if that’s what you want. I am sure that we can come to a satisfactory arrangement for the difficulties between us.” Monique frowned at the phone. Why did he have to complicate the situation by making her this offer? She wanted to ignore his words, pretend she hadn’t heard the message. His words warmed her heart, threatened to melt the ice around her. And she couldn’t allow that to happen. Summoning all her strength, she erased the tape and quickly packed up her room. Then she could no longer ignore her hunger and thirst. She had to feed promptly and sufficiently to see her through her trip and the day to come. After she took nourishment she would bid farewell to this place. Odd how, during this last interlude with the Comte, she’d come to associate her hunger for sustenance with her desire for sex. Perhaps because she and the Comte always fed off each other when they made love. Her pussy tingled at the memory of how she felt with him inside her, sucking her blood, loving her. How she felt to be so filled and to suck his blood. Such intense pleasure, both ways. Well, she certainly had to feed, even without any possibility of sex. She needed to keep her strength up as she began to work her plan with the Comte’s cronies. She suspected it would be far easier to remain in control of her emotions in this phase of her plan than it had been with the Comte. Despite what she’d said to him, she wouldn’t redecorate the Château. She would sell it as is, let the new owners worry about changing it. But she’d make sure that whoever bought it would always let the Comte have his room there. On that sentimental note, she headed off for the hunt.

***** It had been tricky timing their flight so that they would arrive at the Château after dark, but the four Californians managed. By the time they arrived at the portals of the Château, they were exhausted, hungry, thirsty and in a great rush to have their physical

30

Young Vampires in France

needs met. A servant ushered them into the salon where the Comte sat, staring into the fire. The moment they saw him, they knew that whatever energy the flight cost them was well worth it. Darlene bit her lip to keep from rushing to his aid. It wasn’t that he looked any less gorgeous or impeccable than usual, dressed like he was ready for an elegant soirée with society’s elite. But there was something about the look in his eyes. No gleam, no flash. Something flat. “Thank you for coming.” He appeared grave, and his voice had a faraway, almost tinny sound to it. “Do you think we could ignore your call, ever?” Darlene indicated her companions. “We hope that we can help.” The Comte shook his head. “I don’t know if anyone can. But I am not prepared to lose. Ach, where are my manners? I offer you the hospitality of the Château after your long journey. I will summon the servants to see to your immediate needs.” Darlene saw Jon and Nick looking around, trying to get their bearings. She well remembered the night she and Lynette stumbled on the Château, arriving there when they got lost during their college graduation trip to France. The Château had been then and was still overwhelming. Magnificent. The proper setting for the aristocratic Comte who’d transformed two naïve girls into vampires. But now was not the time for indulging in nostalgia. Not when the Comte needed their help. “All this belongs to the Comte?” Jon whispered to her. “All this and more.” Jon looked impressed, which Darlene knew didn’t happen easily. The Comte signaled that they should sit on the massive sofas before his great hearth. “Just twenty-four hours ago, I was here with her.” His voice caught. “This last day has been hell.” “We must look forward now, Monsieur le Comte,” Darlene said softly. She hated hearing such pain and longing in his voice. Though she’d sometimes found the Comte a bit demanding, even unreasonable, she’d never wanted to see him brought so low as she saw him tonight. “We should get started right away on dealing with the situation.” “Of course.” He lifted his chin and opened his arms in an expansive gesture. “But, before that, mes amis, would you prefer refreshments or to be shown to your rooms to freshen up?” Jon spoke up. “Refreshments first, please.” The other three quickly chimed in. Darlene smiled gratefully at Jon for speaking up so quickly and clearly. Their flight had left them all ravenous. “Of course. Tell Jacques your preference. We have a fine vintage of B negative tonight, but, if that’s not to your taste, Jacques can supply whatever you desire.” “The B negative sounds great,” Jon said. They all agreed. And Jacques, a small dark man wearing elegant livery, headed off in the direction of the Comte’s kitchen.

31

Mardi Ballou

“Tell us, please, what has happened?” Darlene asked. The Comte scowled. “It will wait until we’ve had our first drink.” Jacques returned within moments carrying a polished ebony tray with five crystal goblets of rich red blood. They toasted each other and drank. Darlene savored the taste of her drink, so much more delicious than the blood they got back home. She wondered why that was but didn’t have too much time to ponder her question. Clearly they couldn’t continue to delay learning of the Comte’s situation. The Comte stood so near the fire that the flickering flames lit his face with bursts of red and orange. Darlene had always thought of the Comte as mature, sophisticated. But tonight he looked…used. He shook his head sadly. “I have been the worst kind of fool.” Darlene believed in thinking the best of her fellow creatures, in giving them the benefit of the doubt. But her generosity of spirit stopped short when it came to Monique de la Chauve-Souris. Darlene could throttle the other woman for whatever she’d done to the Comte. Jon furrowed his brow. “I don’t understand. Exactly what has she done?” The Comte snorted. “She convinced me to reveal the operations of my enterprises so that she knows almost as much about each as I do.” “Why did you let her?” Lynette asked. “After all, you told us she was only your consultant for current fashion and culture. That sounded like a fairly low-level position.” “Why indeed? Eh bien. Monique began as my consultant and rapidly showed herself to be unusually capable in the most complex of matters.” He thought for a moment. “I increased her responsibility in the business, and I became involved with her on the most intimate level. This was against all my prior practice. But with Monique I felt I’d found someone worth breaking my rules for.” “That’s always dangerous,” Jon muttered. Darlene glared at him and was about to say something when the Comte continued. “She was to be my partner and protégée in all aspects of my life and work. I had the papers drawn up and she, the vixen, was more than happy to pick up in Paris and hand-deliver them here.” He thought for several moments. “I trusted her fully. Without reservation. But it appears that my trust was misplaced. She evidently subverted my attorneys. To think, after all the years I have dealt with them. All the business we have done together. Nothing remains.” “What do you mean she subverted your attorneys?” Darlene asked. He laughed without humor. “The papers. I had my attorneys draw up papers for our partnership—mine with Monique. Partnership, hah. Letting the little minx seduce me, I foolishly signed the papers without attentively reviewing them. Never before have I done anything so reckless, but this time, I allowed her to distract me…” “The papers were other than what you’d expected?” Lynette asked.

32

Young Vampires in France

“Ah, oui. I thought I was making her a very junior confidential associate in my business—and a greater partner in my life. Instead, I have signed over control of almost everything to her.” The Comte now sank to the raised stones before his hearth and put his head in his hands. “No way she’s going to get away with that,” Jon declared. “We will go after her and get those papers out of her clutches. One way or another.” “Knowing her, she’s probably already filed them with the appropriate office,” the Comte said. “And made several hundred copies.” “There has to be a way to stop her!” Jon insisted. He stood up. “We need to start planning tonight. The sooner we go after her, the sooner we will straighten this out. And get her the hell out of your life, Monsieur le Comte.” The Comte nodded sadly. “Ah yes, indeed. I know you are right. My head knows this has to happen. My heart is another matter.”

33

Mardi Ballou

Chapter Three Monique expected to feel a sense of relief when she arrived at her flat on the tiny rue de la Nuit—little more than an alley—in the vingtième arrondissement, the twentieth district of Paris. Though hardly the most chic or exciting section of Paris, the vingtième was near the Père-Lachaise Cemetery. Here lay little Josette, her grave marked by the tiny stone that had been all Monique could afford at the time of her death. Though Monique could now easily afford to replace the stone with a grander one, she kept the original one because she felt it linked her more closely with Josette. Once or twice a week, Monique would visit this grave and commune with Josette’s spirit, hoping for a response, some contact. She’d never yet gotten what she so craved. Monique should have been filled with positive energy and optimism. After all, she’d come back home with the first phase of her operation a resounding success. On her own turf, she thought she’d finally feel fully in possession of the powers she’d taken from the Comte. But, to her consternation, Monique felt a strange sense of loss, almost like what the Americans called “the blues”. She remembered a song that had been popular several decades before, “Love is Blue”. She didn’t want to feel blue, green or any color. She didn’t want to feel anything at all. Having feelings was too dangerous, too weakening. If she’d not got caught up in her emotions when Josette was so ill, perhaps she could have saved her. Certainly Monique could not be suffering an attack of sadness or the blues on account of the Comte. She wouldn’t permit herself this. Monique shook off her ennui. Work would be her salvation. She had to get her plan in gear to ensure its success. Though she’d managed to blindside the Comte until now, he’d surely pull himself together quickly and plan a defense. After all, he hadn’t gotten to his position of power by letting people defeat him. She didn’t want to succumb to the error of underestimating him. First on her agenda would be to contact Henri du Soutien, the head of La Marque Industries, Ltd. This group was responsible for the manufacture of the Montnoir Atelier cookware products in France, which netted the Comte millions in profit each year. Damage to this business would hurt the Comte financially and detract from his reputation in the business community, thus putting a serious kink in his empire. Henri du Soutien had never married, but he had both a fiancée and a mistress. His fiancée, Yvette LaPorte, his partner in a betrothal that had so far lasted for more than fourteen years while the two of them explored their attitudes toward commitment, divided her time between her two major loves—her horses and her dogs. Next on Monique’s agenda would be Pierre Mains de Chair, Henri’s general second-in-command. Pierre was a jolly bald man of fifty who supervised the Comte’s

34

Young Vampires in France

philanthropies. Occupying these positions, Pierre Mains de Chair cultivated the public image of a pillar of society—a family man devoted to the values of home and hearth. Monique, whose principal strategy was to identify each subject’s weakness and exploit it, studied her file and chewed her lip. Pillars of society were often easy targets to undermine and remove as obstacles unless their lives were totally beyond reproach. Monique knew Pierre Mains de la Chair’s wasn’t. Actually, she didn’t need to rely on the file to inform her about her subject. Accompanying the Comte on business matters, she’d met Pierre Mains de Chair on several occasions. A mortal, he always appeared fascinated with vampire culture and, most especially, with Monique. Company gossip labeled him a womanizer. According to her notes he had a wife, Clothilde, who was a most successful physicist. Two children in boarding school in Switzerland. His mistress, who called herself Dominique Dure—surely no one’s real last name was “Hard”—owned a boutique of fashions geared to the BDSM crowd. Hmm. More and more fascinating. Pierre’s interests would do little to enhance his public image as a devoted family man committed to building a “moral” society. She could indulge herself in a bit of fun knocking Monsieur Mains de Chair off his pedestal. She detested hypocrites—and hated having to take that role herself. But to avenge Josette… She was about to move on when she noticed a part of the file she’d previously overlooked. Realizing the importance of details in any enterprise, Monique began to read and was nearly shocked by the piece of information she’d almost overlooked. Pierre Mains de Chair was one of a long line of a family who’d been involved in the Comte’s enterprises for years. His ancestors had been the ones in charge of the Hôpital et Médecine Charités de Compassion, the very group that had failed her when she’d begged them to save Josette. Coldness came over her as she wondered if the Mains de Chair family had indeed been in charge when Josette needed them. She would need to discover exactly when they became involved with the Hôpital. Of course she’d known Pierre Mains de Chair’s current position with the charities, but she didn’t realize his family had long held this position. These days, this group was more involved in medical care in the poor countries of Africa and Asia than in France. The question was, were they meeting the needs of those who looked to them any better now than they had when Josette needed them? Monique made a note to herself to investigate. If the charity was as big a fraud now as it had been then, she’d redouble her efforts to make the Comte and Pierre Mains de Chair pay. If they were doing a creditable job now, she might temper her vengeance. But, no matter what, there would be retribution for Josette. Finally, the third member of the triumvirate. Françoise Aurore, the only woman who’d ever resisted the Comte completely and could thus stand up to him when needed. Of course Monique and everyone else knew that Françoise’s tastes ran in other directions. She’d never been subtle about her attraction to Monique, who’d never reciprocated those feelings.

35

Mardi Ballou

Monique grimaced with distaste at the thought of having to get these people on her side as she continued her campaign to bring down the Comte. But by the time she had her way, no young girl or boy would ever die, as little Josette had done, for lack of necessary medical treatment. The Comte and all those who’d grown rich in his business would live to see their profits diverted to charity—and their names reviled for their greed. A little voice within her, the same one that hinted the path to happiness lay in the Comte’s arms, whispered that perhaps the Comte wasn’t guilty as charged. Perhaps the charity’s failure came from reasons other than his criminal greed. Monique tried to fob the voice off by saying she would research the question, but the voice would not be completely stilled.

***** “We’ll have to go to Paris,” Jon said. “After all, that’s where Monique has gone. It’s the most direct way to stop her.” Like the brash young American, the Comte wanted to confront the enemy head-on. But with Monique, the Comte realized, they’d need to combine subtlety and a nuanced approach, reserving the direct confrontation for a later time in their enterprise. His heart contracted at the need to have to think up such strategies against his Monique. His Monique. No, definitely not his Monique, no matter how much he’d managed to fool himself into thinking she was. But his newfound understanding did little to assuage the pain around his heart when he thought of never again touching her, never again having her in his arms, in his bed. His cock pulsed almost as hard as his heart. “I can’t go to Paris immediately,” he said. “Not until I arrange matters here.” Darlene and Lynette looked at him with true concern. “We certainly don’t want you to depart from the Château until you feel satisfied that you’re leaving everything in the most suitable shape,” Darlene assured him. He hated having to put off the inevitable—his admission of failure, his embarrassment before his colleagues and, worst of all, the ultimate confrontation with Monique. At the thought of her, he straightened up and willed his heart to harden. It was time, past time, really, to face bitter reality. “I shall be ready to go in short order.” “No sense heading off to Paris before we have a plan,” Nick said. “And it seems like we don’t have one yet.” “But taking the time to formulate a plan would give Monique an even greater head start than she already has,” Jon said. The Comte winced. “You are both correct in your assessment of this situation.” He realized how much work he’d need to do, how many records and pieces of contact

36

Young Vampires in France

information he’d need to compile, before he could seize control of his own business. And he stated so. “But isn’t all this information in your computer files?” Jon asked. The possibility of Monique’s further perfidy occurred to all of them simultaneously. “You don’t think she would have wiped out—” Nick started. “I wouldn’t put anything past her,” Lynette snapped. Darlene vigorously nodded her agreement. “Oh surely she wouldn’t have—” The Comte hoped against all rationality to have this shred of decency to cling to. “Only one way to be sure. Where is your main computer?” Jon asked. The Comte noted the gleam in his eye at the prospect of a technological interlude. “Eh bien.” When and how would Monique have been able to sabotage his records? His mind skittered to his post-coital dozes, and he winced again. He led the foursome through the corridors to the elevator leading down to the office suite he’d had constructed in the space his dungeons had occupied for close to eight centuries. In the dark bowels of the Château, he’d been able to work secure from the threat of sunshine during the many nights when he became engrossed and missed his dawn curfew. Here he’d installed the most state-of-the-art technological wonders to form the administrative hub of his empire. Yes, he’d told Monique of this place, even shown it to her briefly as part of a complete tour of the Château—at her request. But surely she wouldn’t have been able to tap into the system, let alone cause any major mischief here. In a short time, they’d retrieve what they needed and be able to head off to Paris. When his four friends entered the office behind him, they paused for a moment on the threshold and looked around. Jon whistled. “Impressive.” He and Nick walked around the office, noting each piece of machinery and commenting in low voices. “Monsieur le Comte,” Darlene breathed. “We never dreamed you had such cuttingedge equipment down here.” He accepted the praise with a Gallic shrug of modesty. “A mere bagatelle for a man of business these days.” “I’d love to spend some time checking out this equipment,” Jon said. “But right now, priority one is getting the data we need and then heading for Paris. If you’ll show us how to access the data…” The whir of the machinery as he turned it on revived the Comte’s confidence. He felt like the conductor of an orchestra composed of a full range of instruments of power. He’d carefully arranged his programs with a series of codes… The Comte watched in silence when he opened the first of his most highly confidential files and found it blank. By the time he’d opened the fifth with the same results, the Comte conceded that he wouldn’t be able to retrieve anything. He

37

Mardi Ballou

experienced a trickle of fear. Perhaps she really would destroy him as thoroughly as she’d wiped out his files. Fear. The worst of all possible emotions for a man. A crippling paralysis. Now that he was beginning to realize the parameters of Monique’s betrayal, the Comte resolved to shake off any impediment to the needed action, the pursuit and destruction of Monique de la Chauve-Souris. Summoning every iota of his strength and will, the Comte announced the obvious to the assembled. “My computer records here are worthless.” Lynette breathed in hard. “Surely there are backups?” He shook his head. “They are gone also. Evidently, she was quite thorough in wiping out my records.” Jon mumbled something under his breath. The Comte straightened up to his full height. Despite what she’d done, the Comte would not hear Monique disparaged. He glared at Jon, who looked back at him with pursed lips and a quizzical expression on his face. “Do you have the necessary information elsewhere in the Château?” Darlene asked. The Comte shrugged. “Of course. Everything exists in other files, hard copy.” “Well, what are we waiting for?” Jon asked. “Let’s get them and then get on the road.” The Comte held up his hands. “Not so fast. The records are scattered, stored in different places.” “How long will they take to gather?” Jon asked. “One night, perhaps two,” the Comte said. “We can’t wait that long,” Jon said. The others agreed. “But it will take even longer if I must gather these records alone,” the Comte said. “Makes sense for us to split up,” Nick said. “How about if Jon and I go to Paris and Lynette and Darlene stay behind to help the Comte get his files together?” “One or two nights with all five of us working,” the Comte said. “Oh. Then maybe just one will go up to Paris. You or me, Jon? I’ve been to Paris often in the past and know the place,” Nick said. “I haven’t been there much,” Jon said. “But I was planning to go there with the video vampera to see some marketing guys. And I might be able to put it to practical use against Monique. I figure she’s up to something I can catch her doing.” “Kill two birds with one stone, so to speak,” Nick said. “Okay by me if you head up to Paris tonight. We’ll join you as soon as we have everything we need from here. What do you all think?” The others agreed to this plan, though Darlene looked less than thrilled.

38

Young Vampires in France

Though Darlene could see the wisdom of Jon going to Paris while the rest of them took care of business at the Château, she wished she could find a good reason why he shouldn’t go alone. He’d never seen Monique de la Chauve-Souris. As much as Darlene despised the woman, she had to admit that certain men might find her charming, even irresistible. Certainly the Comte, who’d previously been known as a legendary heartbreaker, behaved like he was smitten. Darlene gritted her teeth and tried to talk sense into herself. It wasn’t that she distrusted Jon—not exactly. But she remembered how experienced Jon had been with other women before they met. Even though he’d been faithful to her from the first, Darlene admitted to herself that she didn’t feel completely secure about her man. After all, she might have smartened up her wardrobe since meeting Jon, and she went out of her way to please him, but she’d never had to face any real competition before. And Monique de la Chauve-Souris sure seemed like competition. Added to which would be their meeting up in Paris, the so-called city of love. Jon had even described it as “romantic”, not a word he used much. Darlene shook her head to banish the nasty suspicions taking up residence there. What if Lynette were the one having to bid farewell to Nick in this situation? What advice would she give her friend? Surely she’d tell her to think positively, to believe in her man and the solidity of their relationship. Wouldn’t she? And why the heck couldn’t Nick be the one to go? While she was thinking about these matters, Darlene wasn’t listening to the others’ plans. “If you go tonight, you’ll be able to get started right away tomorrow night,” Nick said to Jon. Jon gazed at Darlene, scorching her with the heat of his desire. “I had plans for the rest of the night,” he said so softly that only Darlene could hear him. From the expression in his eyes, Darlene could tell the direction of his plans. Hadn’t he made a point of bringing some special new toys with him? Her pussy throbbed, and she wanted to bury her fangs deep in his neck for the nourishment only he could give her. “After all, this is our first night in an authentic French Château.” Jon’s gaze never left Darlene. He sure was doing everything short of screwing her on the floor to demonstrate his loyalty and caring. It behooved her to appear strong, to vanquish all her doubts. Heck, she needed to be strong. “The first of many nights,” she said in a strong, clear voice that might have fooled the Comte and Nick but not Jon and Lynette. These two, who knew her so well, would understand how much effort she was putting into acting cool and calm. “When this is over and we’ve dealt with Monique—” Jon said, his eyes pleading with her to stay strong.

39

Mardi Ballou

“The Château will be yours for your own very special retreat,” the Comte promised them all. “Anytime you want. But come, the night is fleeting, and there is much to do. First, Jon, let me provide you with a brief list of contacts in Paris as well as suggestions for where to begin your search for Monique…” The Comte’s voice dipped when he said her name. “And then we shall see you on your way.” “I’d like a few moments alone with Darlene before I leave.” “Of course.” The others left the room. Jon held her to him and she felt him grow hard when she pressed her body against him, imprinting him with the feel of her breasts, her feminine softness, and her strength. He growled into her ear, thrusting his hips against her so she could feel the force of his erection. She knew he wanted to leave her knowing that he wanted to love her now, to take her warmth with him. She wished it could be enough. Darlene held her head up high. She’d helped prepare her man for his voyage and put her heart and soul into saying good-bye to him. Jon was looking at her in a different way than she’d ever seen before. “Darlene, you don’t want me to go, do you?” She stiffened. “No,” she admitted. “But I thought our top priority for being here is to help the Comte.” “It is.” “Makes sense for me to go to Paris tonight to make that happen.” His voice had grown quite soft. She refrained from wringing her hands. “I know. I’m just being kind of… We haven’t been apart since…” He shook his head, then cupped her chin. His gaze seared her. “I’ll miss you, too. I’ll be counting the moments until we’re together.” Her heart melted at these, the most tender words he’d said since he’d confessed he loved her. He kissed her, his lips and tongue making promises that warmed her aching heart. But all too soon, he had to leave. Au revoir, as the Comte said, not adieu. Goodbye, not farewell. It was only with difficulty that he pulled away from her. Part of him wished that he could take her with him. He’d grown so accustomed to feeling the comfort of her body close to his—she’d become essential to him on more levels than he’d usually admit. But he knew that taking Darlene would only slow him down, distract him from the job at hand. And maybe, just the littlest bit, he savored going off alone for the quest. After all, Jon was on his way to Paris, a city he’d never spent much time in, in pursuit of a mysterious female who’d managed to tie his hero, the Comte, into metaphorical knots. Totally committed as Jon was to Darlene, he couldn’t help but experience a frisson of excitement at the prospect of Paris and at finally meeting the 40

Young Vampires in France

legendary Monique de la Chauve-Souris. Not that he’d ever let anything happen that would hurt Darlene. No way he’d ever risk their relationship. After all, a man didn’t tempt fate by screwing around once he’d met his soul mate. As he flew through the air for a second time that night, this time in solid form, Jon expected to feel fatigue. After all, he’d just arrived from San Francisco. But instead, he experienced an adrenaline surge that nearly took his breath away. Though he was usually high-energy, now he felt like he was electric, buzzing along on a mix of excitement and nervousness that he hadn’t known since the day he’d become a vampire. When he had felt the first rush of the Comte’s blood in his veins, he’d thought he’d entered the big leagues. But now, heading to Paris on the heels of Monique de la Chauve-Souris made all he’d experienced before appear trivial. In addition to being the advance guard to find Monique and neutralize her, or worse, Jon was also en route to the culmination of all his work on the video vampera. He’d make his mark on international vampire society before reuniting with Darlene. His whole body grew rigid from a state of arousal unlike any he’d ever known before. While he continued to whirl through space, Jon savored the sensations of soaring over the earth. The pleasure he felt turned sexual, and he began to ache for release. If only he had Darlene with him now, he’d bring the two of them to a whole new form of ecstasy based on his new surge of power. His cock began to throb with an urgency he’d never known before transformation. Soaring high on the winds that sustained his flight, he yanked down his zipper, spread his legs and put his hand between them. His cock was so hard, he could have cut diamonds with it. The notion made him smile. Cripes, he hadn’t jerked off since he couldn’t remember when. Not his method of choice as a response to overwhelming arousal, but a hard-on like this had to go somewhere. He conjured Darlene in his mind, seeing how her eyes would light up at the sight and feel of his cock. “All for you, baby,” he moaned, imagining her large, soft lips sucking him into her sexy warm mouth. She’d graze the sensitive skin around the head of his cock with her teeth, stroking him there with her fangs, exerting just enough pressure to make him tingle and grow ever harder. As he fingered his cock, he imagined Darlene’s tongue playing with him there. She had an amazingly long tongue that could fold and tease… He increased the pressure on his cock and pressed against his powerful hand, his flying fingers. He groaned, climbing higher in his excitement, needing more than his hand could provide. Of course. He jammed his other hand under his pants, separated the cheeks of his ass and rode his fingers in sync with the fingers stroking his cock. He remembered reading about a guy who could suck himself off and felt equally turned on and disgusted at the thought. He was also far too inflexible to try to assume such a position.

41

Mardi Ballou

Instead, with his thumb he began to play with the opening of his ass. Mmm, the pressure there plumped up his cock and heightened the tension in his balls. Yeah, he wanted this come to be with Darlene, but he couldn’t wait for them to be together. He snaked the thumb into the hole of his ass, feeling its weight press the cloth of his silk boxers into him. Darlene had the most amazing ass. Round and plump, with her puckered little hole so responsive to him. He pictured her ass there with him. He loved to lick her there, hear her little gasps of pleasure as she wiggled against his mouth. He’d take a few nibbles of the tender flesh, which quickly grew red. He wanted to bury himself in her ass, let her hot darkness surround him. He treasured that first moment when he hovered at the entrance, feeling her pulse around him. He’d play with her pussy, the throbbing nub of her clitoris, her fragrant moistness, her generous warmth. When Darlene came, she put her whole heart and body into intense climaxes that took his breath away. If she knew how strongly she’d captivated him, she’d know how much power she could exercise over him. And he could never let that happen. Ever. But in his imagination, he was free to let go and lose control. Now with his thumb in his ass and his fingers rubbing his crack, with his other hand stroking and prodding his screaming cock, Jon fucked Darlene completely, plunging his cock into her again and again and again while his fingers played with her pussy. Darlene would contract her muscles, fore and aft, massaging him with her magic touch. Most of all, she’d whisper to him. Tell him words of love. Also say things like “Fuck me harder, big boy”, which, he knew, challenged her. His Darlene, who acted like a Sunday school teacher when it came to using what she called “cuss words.” For him, she overcame those scruples to whisper and scream the words that turned him on. Jon began to contract and quiver in what he knew would be a monumental climax. Shivering slightly when the cold air hit his hot cock, he let it all go. He called out “Darlene!” stretching her name to five syllables, repeating her name again and again while a stream of ejaculate flew from his cock. As he pumped out the last of his cum, Jon looked down at his first sight of the lights of Paris.

***** It had seemed like a good idea, storing paper records for his various enterprises in different places—unlike his computer records, which had been concentrated in one vulnerable location. The four remaining at the Château had to separate to cover the storage areas with the most efficiency. They’d scan the principal records into the computer and then print out the basics they’d need. Once they realized exactly how much work lay ahead, they realized they’d be fortunate to complete it all in two nights.

42

Young Vampires in France

The Comte began to wonder what Monique’s motives were. He pondered possibilities as he went through the records. Could an enemy have persuaded Monique to betray him? After all, a man didn’t exist for so long and involve himself in so many enterprises without making enemies. But what could anyone else tempt Monique with that would top what he’d offered her? The Comte knew his personal wealth and power eclipsed the fortunes of most men and vampires. He realized from the beginning that Monique craved both money and power. Initially he’d been both intrigued and repelled by her directness. As he got to know Monique better, the Comte realized that under the superficial façade, she was a complex, fascinating woman. He felt happy to play along with her act. After all, when it came to being able to offer her both money and power, he had few true competitors. All she’d have had to do was say the word, and he’d have offered her everything. But now that she revealed layers of herself beyond the depths he’d first seen, Monique continued to intrigue him even when he wanted to throttle her. So what in bloody hell really motivated her? This mystery gnawed at him.

***** Darlene missed Jon. She was grateful to be busy with work to keep her mind occupied while he was away. With her imagination running overtime, she pictured him taking the female population of Paris by storm. Crashing cockroaches, she’d be better off reserving her imagination for her work on the Veronica Vampira stories and focusing on the task at hand. She pulled out an ancient-looking file that contained many papers hand-lettered in the illegible calligraphy that was European writing. According to what she could make of the papers, they dated from the early part of the twentieth century. Seemed that the Comte had been dabbling in medicine back then. She didn’t think he had any current involvement in the medical field and had a giggle at the image of the Comte with a stethoscope around his neck, his cape fanning out behind him while his fangs dominated his smile. He’d probably scare patients into good health. Were these records relevant to the matter at hand? They were from so long ago. Darlene was about to set them aside when she shivered. As she’d learned many times, shivers and quivers were one of the ways her instincts signaled her to pay attention. There might be something in the file that she couldn’t afford to overlook. Despite the need to work quickly, she decided it would be worthwhile to spend a few minutes skimming the file to get the gist of its contents. She sat down on the floor among the piles of papers yet to be examined and began to read. Once she grew comfortable with the script, she found the information fascinating. Turned out the Comte had long funded charity clinics to serve the most indigent Parisians. But it appeared that the doctor he put in charge of the program had embezzled funds with the help of a confederate. They managed the clinics like theaters, producing 43

Mardi Ballou

dramas that hoodwinked the Comte into believing they were operating the charity according to his guidelines. However, they didn’t fool him for long. When the Comte realized what was happening, he took matters into his own hands. After meting out suitable punishment to the criminals, he’d turned the charity over to the administration of his most trusted colleagues, a family long involved in his business interests… “Find anything?” Lynette asked her. Startled by the interruption, Darlene jumped. “Yeah, I did. How about you?” Lynette frowned. “Not much of real value. I’ve gone through all the records I was supposed to, so I came to see if I could give you a hand. You know it will be dawn soon.” Darlene shook her head. “Wow. The night’s really flown. I got so engrossed reading here…” “What have you got?” Darlene handed her the file. “Could you imagine the Comte involved in charity clinics?” Lynette rolled her eyes. “You’re kidding, right?” “No.” She held up the paper she’d been reading. “Starting two centuries ago. He organized and funded several clinics to bring medical care to the poor people in Paris.” Lynette laughed. “Now I know you’re joking.” She looked around. “The Comte is the prime example of charity beginning at home. As in, he keeps it all for himself.” “Not according to this. Sounds like he wanted to give a lot to the poor but some crooks tripped him up.” Lynette shrugged. “I suppose he’s old enough to have experienced everything. Though for him, those clinics sound very far out. When did you say the files are from?” “The beginning of the nineteenth century.” “Talk about ancient history. Darlene, you’re probably wasting your time. I’m sure they’re irrelevant. Why don’t you put them down and call it a night?” Darlene’s little warning voice piped up. “I don’t know, Lynette. My gut tells me there’s something here.” “Your gut is probably complaining that you’re hungry and dawn’s coming. Put those papers aside. Join me and Nick for a snack. It’s been a long night. And we won’t be done ‘til tomorrow night, so pack it in.” Darlene’s tummy rumbled right then. Maybe Lynette was right after all. Suddenly exhausted from the events of the past two nights and missing Jon, Darlene decided to go along with her friend. She hated to leave the records, which fascinated her. Well, maybe she’d have some time before heading back home to read the rest of the file. But for now, she’d try to put it out of her mind and get some rest.

44

Young Vampires in France

Chapter Four The next night, Jon jolted awake in a bedroom of the Comte’s magnificent residence. By the time he’d arrived in Paris the night before, he figured his smartest move was to find the Comte’s place and settle in for the coming day. Now, to begin his first real night in Paris, he drank a thermos of blood—not spectacular but sufficient to get him going—and flew above the city for an overview. Paris was everything Jon had ever imagined it would be—and more. What a fascinating, gorgeous city. But Jon wasn’t one to be satisfied with being a tourist anywhere. He vowed to get to know the city like a native in the course of dealing with Monique de la Chauve-Souris and establishing himself as the developer of the video vampera. Jon realized he had to stay focused on his mission. But he hoped that he and Darlene would have the chance to experience the city together before they had to return home. Maybe they’d be able to get some new toys and take advantage of the Comte’s offer of his Château—or, even better, his Paris residence. At the Château, the group had decided it would be wisest for Jon to meet with the three leading principals of the Comte’s business empire before trying to divert Monique from her campaign of mayhem. Forewarned was forearmed, after all. First on his list was Henri du Soutien. Jon tried to reach du Soutien by phone. All he got on the landline phones and the mobiles was the same tinny mechanical voicemail message. He dialed the Comte’s number and explained the situation. “So where would you suggest I should start looking for our man?” Jon asked in conclusion. “If you have not been able to reach him, you might try two different places. One is the Maison de Rendezvous, which is a bar on the rue d’Amsterdam. The other is the restaurant Café Noir in the Hôtel des Anciens Amis, rue…” Jon scratched the names into the little notebook he’d taken to carrying. “And if he’s not at either of those places?” The Comte laughed, a rusty, dry sound. “If he’s not at either of those places, then he’s probably out of our reach for the night. In which case, I would suggest that you move to the next person on our list. But call me when you’ve checked both places to let me know what’s going on.” Jon consulted the map the Comte had given him. The rue d’Amsterdam turned out to be a relatively short street not far from the Gare St. Lazare, one of the principal stations of the highly vaunted Parisian subway—or Métro—system. Though Jon could have continued flying, he decided to take the Métro and thus begin his acquaintance

45

Mardi Ballou

with Paris. He was not disappointed. In a short time, he found himself at his destination. The Maison de Rendezvous was a small seedy bar, crowded with business types who appeared to be conspicuously slumming. A two-piece combo, saxophone and piano, played jazz that no one seemed to pay any attention to. There were more men than women crowding around the bar, talking, laughing occasionally, drinking and smoking. Most of the men wore expensive business attire and seemed as interested in pursuing the next deal as they were the next drink or company for the night. Some of the women wore smart business suits, while others looked to be hookers. Of course Jon had been around enough to know that hookers might wear suits and businesswomen might dress like whores—all for a night’s diversion. He studied a photo of Henri du Soutien from the Comte’s file and examined the faces of the men around the bar. After two sweeps of the room, Jon concluded that his man was not there. Off to the Café Noir. To get to the Hôtel des Anciens Amis, Jon had to go from the Right Bank—Rive Droite—to the Left Bank—Rive Gauche. The Seine River divided the city into its two main areas. He’d always remembered hearing that the Left Bank was the trendier part of Paris, the place where the Sorbonne, France’s most famous university, attracted students and scholars from around the world. He’d actually found the Right Bank pretty exciting too, so he couldn’t wait to see what new attractions awaited him once he crossed the Seine. The hotel was not too far from the Tour Eiffel—the Eiffel Tower—the quintessential symbol of Paris and just the type of tourist mecca Jon would usually bypass. To his surprise and disappointment, he found the streets around the Hôtel des Anciens Amis to be classy and staid, not at all bohemian or cutting-edge. Well, his current mission did not include the discovery of the Paris he’d always wanted to get to know. He focused on his target. At half past nine on a weekday night, the Café Noir was packed with lively diners and the sounds and smells of a popular restaurant. Servers scurried by, carrying platters that filled the air with tantalizing aromas. Jon almost regretted how narrow his diet had become. Though he could eat or drink anything, his subsequent disappointment in the vapid tastes of food and drink outweighed any fleeting satisfaction. After a quick survey, he realized that he was dressed far too casually for this crowd. Though his slacks and shirt would have worked in most California restaurants, here he was surrounded by men who patronized fine tailors and dressed accordingly. “May I help Monsieur?” a tuxedoed middle-aged man, probably the maître d’, asked in heavily accented English. Jon, surprised that the maître d’ had so quickly and accurately sized him up as an English speaker, turned to him and smiled. Not a scary smile, but the man must have sensed something because he immediately backed off. “I’m here to meet friends who

46

Young Vampires in France

are already dining,” Jon said in a low voice. No menace in it, just enough clarity of intention to redirect the man’s attention. “Eh bien. You will let me know if you cannot find them, if I or my staff can be of any assistance.” The maitre d’ practically bowed. Jon nodded and pushed on among the tables. Fortunately by now he’d memorized Henri du Soutien’s facial features. Jon quickly eliminated the men he saw and began to wonder if he hadn’t hit another dead end. And then, at one of the last tables, he spotted his quarry. Henri du Soutien was not dining alone tonight. Judging from the back view, his companion appeared elegant and tall. Though she wore an expensively cut top of black cashmere—Jon couldn’t tell if this was a dress or a shirt of some type—her hair, black, spiky and highlighted with henna streaks, belonged to someone probably younger and hipper than du Soutien. Henri appeared completely engrossed by whatever she was saying. From his dossier, Jon knew that du Soutien’s companion was neither his fiancée, a blonde, nor his mistress, a redhead. Unless either woman had gone in for a radical change of hair color and style. Jon’s interest rose. Henri du Soutien must be quite a man if he was taking on a third woman. Of course, finding him in this situation might well work out in Jon’s favor. Henri would probably be most anxious to keep his new arrangement secret. Therefore, he’d be receptive to Jon’s spiel and to helping the Comte—all, of course, in exchange for Jon’s willingness to use discretion. As Jon crossed to join the twosome, the woman turned around and locked eyes with him. For a moment, he froze. He was still not accustomed to meeting with other vampires in public. He had no idea who this woman was, but all his senses kicked into high alert for danger. His gut told him that he’d just encountered Monique de la Chauve-Souris, and that she was already far ahead of him.

***** Monique was pleased with the reception Henri du Soutien accorded her when she first approached him at his office. She’d expected that they’d talk there, or maybe he’d suggest a bar. But he insisted on taking her to dine. The Café Noir. A far from shabby choice. Thankfully, he was too self-absorbed to notice how she pushed food around her plate. They hadn’t yet gotten down to business. She opened her mouth to start, then shut up when she felt the rub of a foot on the inside of her calf, working its way up to her thigh. Though her first reaction was to clamp her hand down, hard, around the wandering foot, she steeled herself to remain calm. Not to overreact. After all, she was out to discredit him. If he thought her sexually receptive and let down his guard, her job might become very easy.

47

Mardi Ballou

But as he wriggled his toes on the tender flesh of her inner thigh, Monique bit her lip. Henri grinned at her and waggled his brows. “It’s not often such a charming lady joins me for a business discussion over dinner. I’m glad that you are here with me.” Monique looked at him through half-lidded eyes, trying her best to project both an air of sophistication and enthrallment—and just enough aloofness to keep him on edge. “It’s not often that one has an opportunity to meet with such an important man of affairs,” she purred. “And there is much I want to discuss with you.” He leered at her. “I am at your disposal.” She knew he wasn’t, that he expected the reverse to be true. Fine. The evening was going just the way she’d wanted, though his foot action repelled her. But then her hackles rose at the approach of a new disturbance in the air around her. She sensed another presence nearby, one that could challenge her quite seriously. Moving with great subtlety, she turned around and locked eyes with an amazingly handsome and virile vampire, one whom she’d never before met. Tall, well-built, obviously accustomed to pleasing women. Thick hair the color of chestnuts threatened to spill into eyes so dark they were nearly the blue-black of a midnight sky. A face saved from perfection by a small scar over his full, sensuous lips. Her body went into a full involuntary shudder before she could get herself under control. She’d responded instinctually to the presence of a like creature, which Henri misinterpreted as a reaction to him. Though she didn’t want to promise what she wasn’t ever going to deliver to this man, she’d had to stoop to foul means in the pursuit of her very fair goal before and knew it could happen again. She might be able to use his attraction to her as a means of getting the information she wanted. Henri, with a knowing look in his eye, promptly reapplied his foot, and Monique squirmed to get into a more comfortable position. The vampire continued moving toward them and stopped at their table as if he should have been expected. Not sure why this man had come to them, Monique suspected his being there was no accident or coincidence. Could he possibly have come from the Comte? If so, the Comte had gotten his head together far faster than she’d expected. Not a good sign. On the other hand, Monique was not one to wilt before a challenge. “Excuse me for interrupting,” the man, who kept his eyes locked on her companion, said in English. “Are you Henri du Soutien?” “I am.” Henri looked puzzled. The vampire sat down uninvited. “Monsieur le Comte du Montnoir has sent me on most urgent business.” Just as Monique suspected. She recoiled slightly, but not enough to dislodge Henri’s foot. Henri du Soutien frowned. “But what is this? What urgent business could Monsieur le Comte have that would justify such an intrusion upon my private dinner?”

48

Young Vampires in France

Monique bit back a smirk. With Henri taking the lead, she might not have to do much to neutralize the danger the new vampire presented. “It’s very urgent, sir. And I’ve come a long way to deliver the Comte’s message.” Henri grew even more red-faced and pressed his foot harder, this time hitting pay dirt. Monique nearly reeled from the painful assault on her clit, but she knew that her non-reaction at this time was critical. Let Henri get rid of the vampire. She’d have tonight to divert him from foot play to the kind of information exchange she wanted. “That may very well be,” Henri said. “However, we here in France, even Monsieur le Comte, know it is the custom in your country to disregard the basic rules of civilization. Namely that there is a separation between the business life and the rituals of good living, such as a fine dinner with a charming companion. To enjoy our meal and our company is sacred. Whatever message you have for me from the Comte can surely wait until tomorrow morning, when I am in my office and can receive you properly, Monsieur—” “Torrance. Jon Torrance.” The vampire held out his hand in typical American fashion. Henri, looking guarded, took his hand for what appeared to be a most halfhearted shake. “I apologize again for my abruptness. I wouldn’t interfere with your dinner if it weren’t a case of the utmost urgency. Waiting ‘til tomorrow morning will be too late.” Despite the potential damage he could do to her mission, Monique found herself admiring how Jon Torrance conducted himself. Henri, on the other hand, didn’t share this opinion. “I repeat. Nothing is of such urgency. The Comte will not only understand why I’ve turned you away, he will, in fact, agree with my doing so. Now, I ask you politely to leave my companion and me in peace so that we can resume our dinner. First thing tomorrow, you may speak to my secretary to make an appointment.” Jon Torrance bristled, and Monique could feel the heat of his anger rise. Evidently he had a temper. In this situation, she was sure his strong feelings would work against him. “Tomorrow will be too late,” he hissed. Monique could almost see steam, a combination of anger and arousal, start to emanate from Henri. His foot dug into her pussy. “If Monsieur does not leave immediately, I shall have no recourse but to summon security and have you escorted from the restaurant in a most humiliating fashion. Do not force me to resort to such barbarity.” Jon started to say something, then muttered under his breath instead. He rose and looked from one to the other of them. “I will inform the Comte of your refusal to listen to his urgent message. Despite what you say, I am sure he will take your refusal very badly.” He paused a moment as if to see whether the other man would listen. Henri, his chin jutting out at a determined angle, glared at Jon. Without a word, the vampire turned on his heel and stalked off. “I am so sorry,” Henri said, his voice quite low. “I hope that this boor’s intrusion has not ruined the dinner for you. I see you have not eaten much.” He pressed his foot 49

Mardi Ballou

deeper against her pussy, and Monique squirmed, trying to dislodge the prodding toes. This evidently inspired Henri to try harder. Monique gritted her teeth. Aside from Jon Torrance’s arrival, everything was going fine. She fluttered her lashes. “Oh, sometimes when my mind and spirit are otherwise occupied, I lose my appetite for food, delicious as it is.” More eyelash batting. Henri, who interpreted what she said the way he wanted to, smiled wolfishly. “Perhaps, now that the mood of our dinner has been so rudely disrupted, it would be better to go somewhere more…intimate.” He exhaled the last word. “A quiet place where we can talk without interruption would be ideal,” she whispered. It was just a short matter to get the check and leave for Henri’s pied-à-terre, the flat he told her he kept for just such intimate tête-à-têtes. Jon couldn’t fuckin’ believe it. Now that he’d had a good chance to assess the scene he’d walked into, he felt convinced that Monique de la Chauve-Souris was indeed the man’s dinner date. Henri du Soutien clearly thought with his prick, if he thought at all. Monique de la Chauve-Souris would have him pussy-whipped in no time, pounding another nail into the coffin for the Comte. If all the Comte’s inner circle were as easy marks as Henri du Soutien, the Comte really was in deep shit. Once outside the hotel, Jon drew out his mobile to call the Château and tell them what happened. The Comte answered. “Have you located Henri du Soutien?” “Oh yeah.” Jon proceeded to give the condensed version of what happened. “I see. Tell me, what did his companion look like? Was she incredibly beautiful and sophisticated, with spiky black hair streaked with henna and green eyes a man could drown in?” Jeez, the Comte had it bad. “I don’t know about the incredibly beautiful part, but the hair and eyes sound right.” Suspicion completely confirmed. “Monique, Monique, Monique,” the Comte muttered. “Well, clearly the situation is bad, but we cannot give up. Where are they now?” “They’re still in the restaurant.” “Probably they will not stay much longer. Jon, whatever you do, you must not lose sight of them. Follow them wherever they go. Do you have the video vampera with you?” “Yes.” “Then use it to record what you see happening between them. If need be, we will use your videos as evidence against Monique.” “Will do.” “And stay in touch.” The Comte was about to disconnect. “Is Darlene there?”

50

Young Vampires in France

“Ah yes, right here.” The next voice Jon heard was Darlene’s. “So how’s Paris?” “Haven’t had much of a chance to look around,” Jon said. “Wish you were here.” His heart clenched and he meant the words from a deeper level than he’d ever have expected. “I miss you too,” Darlene whispered. “We’ll be there soon.” “Can’t wait.” “I love you, Jon.” He mumbled a response and hung up. After which he said, “I love you, Darlene.” Damn. Here he was looking down at the Comte for having it so bad for Monique, and he was at least as caught up with Darlene. What would he ever do if Darlene did to him the things Monique was doing to the Comte? His nails dug into his fists at the thought of what he’d do to any man who came between him and his woman. Just then he heard Henri du Soutien and Monique coming out of the restaurant. All his senses sprang to full alert. He’d have to follow them and figure out what to do next. No time now to daydream about Darlene. Henri hailed a cab, a wise move considering how much alcohol he’d consumed. Of course, being immortal, Monique didn’t worry about accidents, though they could be messy inconveniences. “It’s just a short drive now to my flat. I am so glad you are going there with me.” He put his arm around Monique and rubbed his whiskery cheek against hers. Monique allowed herself to think for one moment about the Comte and how she wished she were with him, warm and safe in his arms—wished she could forget her mission and not be stuck in a cab with this repulsive man. But then she forcefully banished this image. Tonight she had to focus on getting the information she wanted from this man—repulsive or not. “I am pleased to have this chance to spend time talking with you in an intimate setting.” She managed to say the words in a husky voice that probably convinced Henri she also wanted what he did. He put his hand to her cheek and turned her mouth roughly to his. In moments his lips landed on hers like a helicopter at a disaster scene. After rubbing her lips with his for a second or so, he began to batter her mouth with his tongue. Mon dieu. He smelled and tasted like a brewery run amok. The fumes nearly sufficed to knock her into a state of unconsciousness. She almost wished she were one to faint. But she needed to keep her faculties alert. Henri ground his teeth, which were in dire need of modern dentistry, against Monique’s mouth and teeth. She shuddered, making sure to keep her fangs retracted. Hungry as she might be, she didn’t want to have the kind of contact with Henri that a feed entailed.

51

Mardi Ballou

As he groped her, Monique felt both triumph and a sick sense of disgust, more with herself than with him. If she didn’t stop him soon, he’d lead her into a totally unwanted intimacy. She had to turn the situation so that she got what she wanted from him without having to compromise herself much more. Jon hadn’t been able to catch his own taxi. After a quick assessment, he decided the most expedient way to keep Monique and Henri in view would be to hitch a ride on top of their cab. Cloaked in invisibility and the dark night, he hoped not to attract much notice this way. Lying prone on the roof, he exercised his X-ray senses to see and hear what was going on. The two of them were evidently getting quite cozy in the cab. He pulled out his video vampera and opted for the X-ray vision feature there. Unfortunately, he couldn’t record what they said. But he figured the visuals would be of use. He hoped he’d never have to show the videos to the Comte. Henri du Soutien was only cheating on his fiancée and mistress. He couldn’t know what Monique meant to the Comte—or could he? But as for Monique, well, if she hadn’t already stomped across the Comte’s heart, what she was doing now would complete the job. The taxi ride to Henri’s flat did not take long. Expedient as this means of travel had been, Jon hoped he could find other ways to navigate the streets of Paris. Henri, who definitely looked several sheets to the wind and, despite his inebriation, had an erection that nearly popped out of his pants, paid the driver. Then, half leaning on Monique, he led her to the entrance of his building. Jon thought about the best way to get into the building. Though he knew vampires were supposed to wait for an invitation before entering places, he’d never been big on following rules. Luckily, he found some cracks in the windows. He actually arrived at Henri’s flat at the same time as the couple. Henri’s pied-à-terre turned out to be a penthouse filled with lots of chrome and modern furniture. “Will you join me in a champagne toast—to us?” Henri proposed, popping the cork of an expensive-looking bottle. “Just a little.” Monique looked coy. Jon couldn’t believe Henri was going to drink any more. The guy was already so potted he could barely stand on his own two feet. Jon remembered, from his mortal days, excessive booze would turn any guy’s erection into mush. But Henri didn’t seem worried and showed no signs of flagging. Henri drained two flutes of champagne and didn’t appear to notice that Monique’s glass remained full. “I am so pleased that you came into my life tonight,” he said. “I cannot wait to show you just how much you please me.” He gazed deep into her eyes, and Jon, turning on the video vampera, felt his gag reflex kick in. “I have been waiting a long time to see you.” Monique returned Henri’s gaze.

52

Young Vampires in France

Henri put down his glass and took her hand in his. “Let the wait be over,” he growled. Pulling her behind him, he led her through the flat. “Here we are at last.” He indicated a bedroom dominated by a huge bed and many mirrors. Despite his work on cameras and, subsequently, on vamperas, Jon had never gone in for any voyeuristic activity. Watching Henri set up a scene with Monique revolted him. Maybe under some conditions he’d find being a voyeur sexy, but he hated how hurt the Comte would feel if he knew what was happening here. He also hated that his video vampera might end up contributing to the Comte’s misery. Nonetheless, he felt obliged and determined to record what he saw. Fortunately, the action began to change. Jon was gratified to see that Monique drew back. “I’d like to freshen up a bit.” “Of course,” Henri said. “Please. There is the bath. You may avail yourself of the bidet and the rest, as you see fit.” Flashing a tiny smile at Henri, Monique scurried into the bath and closed the door. Henri stripped and got under the black silk covers of the bed. His erection tented the sheets and he lay looking content. A bidet. Jon had thought about having one installed back in his condo, which he still held on to despite living in the mansion, but had never gotten around to it. But now he found the idea of one so appealing, he mentally put it at the top of his to-do list for when they returned home. He pictured Darlene straddling the bidet, letting the water shower her beautiful pussy…and his cock surged. The rush of water would caress her plump pink pussy folds, bringing that quirky little half-smile to her mouth, the glazed, dreamy look to her eyes. Yeah. Then, realizing how distracted he’d been, Jon returned his attention to the bedroom scene just in time to see Monique come out of the bathroom fully dressed. Senses completely alert, he pressed the start button on the video vampera.

***** Henri sat up slightly, leaning against the pillows. Monique would have had to be blind to miss seeing his erection. “But my dear, why haven’t you put on one of the negligées in the bath? Surely you would be more comfortable in one of them than in your clothes?” Monique frowned fussily. “I do not feel good wearing the clothes of others. Surely you understand?” “Of course.” Henri looked confused. “Nor do I enjoy sharing a lover with others.” Henri laughed. “But we are all people of the world, n’est-ce pas? This is the way it is. With a shortage of good men, women have to realize they must share. Come here, my pet. There is plenty for you.” He patted his cock.

53

Mardi Ballou

Monique nearly gagged. This clown thought himself a good man? He wasn’t fit to polish the shoes of the Comte. She shook her head. When would she get over this reflex to think about the Comte, to long for him? “You do know that the Comte is my lover.” Henri leered at her. “You are the one who came to me, after all,” he said smugly. “From this I understand that he must not satisfy you completely. Satisfying a woman’s needs can be a most complex undertaking.” Monique clenched her fists, wanting nothing better than to punch Henri de Soutien’s arrogant mouth. But that would serve no purpose other than filling a momentary lust for violence. “Come to me. You will not leave my bed disappointed.” “All that will satisfy me now is to learn the combination to your safe where you keep the company’s records.” “What?” Henri sat up. “This is a joke, yes?” “I am completely serious. I am assuming control of the Comte’s business affairs immediately. I will have this information sooner or later. If you tell me now, you’ll save me time.” Monique advanced toward Henri’s bed and flashed him her now descended fangs. He backed up against his headboard. “But clearly you are insane. I’ll give you no such information. Leave now.” “Not without the information.” Monique had no intention of feeding off Henri, but she wasn’t averse to scaring him. “I would never betray the Comte by telling you what you ask.” Monique laughed. “But betraying him by fucking me wouldn’t faze you at all, would it?” She leaned close to him and let her hot breath fan his face. She knew he was moments away from doing whatever she wanted. And then Henri de Soutien fainted dead away. Merde. She tried to shake him, but he was out cold. Monique heard a rustle from a corner of the room, and she whirled to face it.

54

Young Vampires in France

Chapter Five “She appears to be at least one step ahead of us at every pass,” the Comte said. He and the others gathered in his main office to assess where they were and to plan further strategy. “More than one,” Lynette grumpily agreed. The Comte glared at her for a moment. That one always had such a smart mouth. He hated it, especially when she was right, which certainly appeared to be the case now. “Well,” Nick asked, “what’s left to do here? Do we have much more, or should we leave for Paris tonight?” “There’s a bit more to do here, but I must commend you all for how well you’ve gotten control of the situation,” the Comte said. “We shall be able to set off for Paris first thing tomorrow night.” Darlene blushed. “Great. I hate to think of Jon all alone in Paris, trying to cope with that woman.” The Comte suspected that Darlene felt uncomfortable with the current situation for more reasons than she shared with them. He himself felt less than at ease with the notion of the dashing Jon going in pursuit of Monique. Merde. Why couldn’t he face reality and stop thinking of her in a romantic way? She’d proven in a hundred ways that whatever he’d thought was between them had been an illusion. On the other hand, what Darlene and Jon had together was still very much alive. He hoped his disaster didn’t ruin their relationship. Nick, who’d turned out to have quite a genius for organization, reiterated their agenda, making sure to check off each item completed and highlight each that remained undone. “Looks like once we get together the file on Françoise Aurore, we’ll be set to go.” The Comte shook his head. “I’m not too concerned about Françoise.” “Why not?” Lynette asked. “Monique and Françoise cannot tolerate and do not trust each other. In this case, I envy Françoise her keen judgment of character. I’m sure that Françoise would be suspicious of any approach Monique would make to her.” Darlene shook her head. “With all due respect, Monsieur le Comte, I think the greatest danger is underestimating Monique.” He looked at her. Maybe that’s what he’d been doing all along. In fact, he’d probably underestimated them all, including Darlene, who’d just come up with such a

55

Mardi Ballou

sharp insight. “Perhaps you are right. Let’s make sure our dossier on Françoise Aurore is complete before we head off to Paris.” Nick and the others promised to do so. “Monsieur le Comte, we can finish up what’s needed. Why don’t you take the rest of the night off? After all, you’ve been working so hard. And there’s not much left.” Were they patronizing him? Mon dieu, he must be what they would call “losing it” for them to speak to him like this. He was about to protest when he realized how very bone tired he felt. Monique de la Chauve-Souris had gotten to him in a way no one else had in centuries. Too bad for him. No, too bad for her.

***** Monique looked coolly at Jon Torrance. “What is that?” She nodded to the instrument in his hands. “This is a video vampera, and right now it contains some very interesting footage of you and Henri du Soutien.” She made a lunge to grab the thing, but his reflexes were even faster than hers. “Don’t even think it.” He bared his teeth at her, and she could see the tips of his fangs gleam. She assessed the situation for a moment, then shrugged. “I am not sure why you feel a need to spy on me or use that thing,” she pointed to the video vampera, “but none of it makes any difference.” She began to walk away and he followed. When they were both on the street, he said, “I think you know exactly why I’m here. And you also realize that I’m going to stick to you like glue ‘til I have what I want.” She whirled on him. “You do not know what you’re meddling in. I’d prefer to have you leave me alone, but you’re not going to deter me from my mission.” “Which is what?” “Do you really care?” He seemed to think about this. “I’ll listen to your side of the story. I know there are always at least two.” “Eh bien. But I’m tired of walking, and I’ll be damned before I’ll have you in my flat. So let’s find a bar somewhere to sit and talk.” “Sounds good.” Though she had little hope of turning Jon into an ally, maybe she could at least neutralize him. They walked a bit in silence ‘til they found a likely looking place. A small bar, dark, with few patrons at this hour, somewhere they could talk without being bothered, without attracting any particular attention.

56

Young Vampires in France

They both got glasses of red wine which neither touched. “What do you know about the Comte?” Monique asked. “He’s the one who transformed all of us. My lady, Darlene, her best friend, Lynette, Nick, who’s Lynette’s guy, and me. I admire the Comte in many ways, think he’s a real special guy all around. He has so much to teach us.” Monique pursed her lips. “He’s been around a long time.” “Yeah, but that’s a source for respect for our kind. So what is it you have against him?” She weighed how much to tell him. After all, she didn’t know this man from Adam. And if she revealed everything to him, she could leave herself vulnerable, a position she despised. Better to be careful, to manage how much information she accorded him. She could always tell him more later, but she couldn’t take back things once she’d said them. “You know he has many enterprises and has been in business for a long time.” “True. That’s another of the reasons why I admire him so much. I’ve dabbled in business myself, know how much work and skill it takes to succeed like he has.” Jon cast a look at his video vampera. Monique realized that asking about it would be a good way to learn more about him, to find a chink in his armor. “Tell me more about this amazing gadget.” Jon smiled. For a moment, Monique suspected that he saw through her ploy. But then he appeared to go for it. “This,” he said, holding it up, “is an advanced video vampera. Inspired by the Comte. Working in connection with others in the field, I’ve been able to develop this baby, which expands our photographic capabilities into the world of video with special attachments to include a vampire’s unique skills. Like an X-ray lens that mimics our vision. One of my goals here in Paris is to set up the means to manufacture and market this invention widely.” Despite herself, Monique felt impressed. “And you say you took videos of me tonight?” Jon nodded. “You playing your game with Henri du Soutien. What the hell was that about?” Dangerous territory, this. She needed to think fast. “Let’s just say that I expect Monsieur du Soutien can be instrumental in helping me to meet some of my own business goals.” He furrowed his brow and looked at her with a cynical frown. “What are you talking about?” he asked, his voice pitched quite low. “Sure looked like funny business to me.” She blushed. Funny? Hardly. “I proposed to Monsieur du Soutien that we meet to discuss a project I had in mind. He wanted to have dinner, which was acceptable to me. But then he began to drink too much. I think this is why he misinterpreted my intentions and went rather outside the bounds of accepted business practice.”

57

Mardi Ballou

Jon didn’t appear to be buying what Monique was selling. “Au contraire. I don’t think he misinterpreted anything. You practically handed him an invitation that said, ‘Seduce me. Please.’ Then when he expected you to deliver in bed, you tried to extort business information from him.” Monique would not let herself blush again. “That is your misinterpretation of what you came upon uninvited.” Jon shook his head and laughed derisively. “And here I thought you were going to be square with me, but that was my mistake. Whatever you might have against the Comte, and though I’ll grant you that anybody that successful is bound to have stepped hard on someone’s toes along the way, the guy’s always come across as honest to me. Sometimes too honest when it comes to telling people truths they might not want to hear. As for me, one thing I can’t stand is a liar.” He started to rise. Monique was tempted to tell him to stop. Maybe she would be able to be honest with this man, to tell him everything in a way she’d never done before with anyone else. In a way, it would be such a relief to share some of her pain with another being. The weight of her secret campaign and her old loss dragged her down at times. But she had to remain focused on her goal and couldn’t allow herself the weakness of confession now. So she’d continue in her lonely pursuit of her goal. Though she hadn’t found out what she wanted to from Henri du Soutien, victory still appeared to be within reach. The thing was—why did she feel so conflicted? Despite all she’d done to drown her tendresse for the Comte, she found it growing day by day. Like a little fire one tries to smother only to discover sparks have flown to ten different places and grown to flames. She opened her mouth to say words that would stop Jon from leaving, but then she changed her mind. It would be much simpler if he just went. If she didn’t tell him the truth, she wouldn’t have to worry about having trusted the wrong person—again.

***** As soon as he found himself out on the deserted street, Jon could have kicked himself. What was it about him and his friggin’ temper that caused him to act first and think later? He could have sworn that Monique was on the brink of opening up to him, telling him what was motivating her to try to destroy the Comte. Or at least telling him something he could use to piece together the puzzle of her behavior. So why did he blow it by walking out? Though forewarned about Monique, he found her more dangerous and more interesting—perhaps the two were the same—than he’d expected. He could easily see why Darlene and Lynette detested the woman so much, and why the Comte, a very smart man, could have fallen for her. Jon would need to show some of that same intelligence in his future encounters with Monique, or he’d be worthless to help the Comte.

58

Young Vampires in France

But on the night-quiet dark street, Jon realized his temper caused him to do more than cut short his talk with Monique. In his mad dash, he’d left the video vampera in the bar. Of all the fuckin’ stupid things to do. The video vampera he’d been using was the only model he’d brought with him to Paris, the one he intended to show around. And now he’d left it in a bar with a woman who was out to get his friend—and, by extension, him. Dumb. Colossally, stupendously dumb. The thought of all the harm that could come to his fragile invention nearly made him sick. Or what if someone who knew enough to steal his research got his hands on the prototype? On the other hand, Monique, who didn’t have much technological know-how, could find lots of damaging things to do with the instrument. He promised himself this would be his last screw-up. He had to do something about controlling his temper. But first he needed to get the video vampera safe in his hands. He raced back into the bar to retrieve it. So should he have been surprised that neither Monique nor the video vampera were in the bar when he got to their table? All he found were their two untouched glasses of red wine and the tip he’d thrown down. Crap. Now he had to get his head together and think. Obviously Monique had taken the video vampera. Well, he’d just have to get it back. Tonight. He consulted his notes for her address and then took a deep breath and headed off. Monique couldn’t believe the nerve of Jon, who’d just walked out on her. Men didn’t leave her—she was always the one who left them. She was so flustered by his move, she almost didn’t notice Jon’s big mistake. When he made his dramatic exit, he forgot his great invention. When Monique realized what a gift he’d left her, she grabbed the video vampera and held it to her. What a triumph! The implications of her find rushed through her mind. The benefits it provided her far exceeded the mere possession of the video of her and Henri du Soutien together. Now she had a weapon she hadn’t even foreseen, one she would exploit fully as soon as she figured out how. But unless she misread Jon, he’d be hot on the trail promptly. First she’d need to hide the video vampera away. Clutching the vampera to her, she hurried to her flat. When she got there, she looked carefully around to make sure no one had followed her. The deserted street appeared to hold no secrets. Still not daring to relax, she let herself into her building and climbed the stairs to her flat. She quickly unlocked her front door and let herself in. Still no sign of Jon or anyone else. Monique couldn’t believe how smoothly this was going. But she had to choose the perfect hiding place for her find. Fortunately her flat was old, with many nooks that would be adequate. Feeling pressured, Monique mentally took inventory of all the best places. She’d just managed to tuck the vampera away and had poured herself a cup of B positive when she heard a dreadful hammering on her door. “Who is it?” As if she didn’t know.

59

Mardi Ballou

“Jon Torrance.” “I’m sorry, monsieur. It is quite late and I am not prepared to entertain company.” He slammed the door so hard, she expected to see it in splinters. “Open this fucking door now, or I’ll break it down!” “Monsieur, please calm yourself. You are disturbing the neighbors. They will call the gens d’armes, the police. Or perhaps I shall call them myself. I hear they are not so happy about foreigners these days…” “I’m counting to three and then I’ll bust the door down. Let’s see how your police feel about their citizens stealing other people’s property.” Though she disagreed with his harsh accusation, she couldn’t debate the word choice while he bludgeoned her door. With a sigh, she opened the door, nearly causing Jon to overbalance and fall at her feet. “Very well, monsieur. If you insist. Come in. We can discuss why you think I have your property.” Eyeing him coolly, Monique led the way to her front room. She indicated that Jon should sit on her black leather couch. She sat back down on a wooden chair and picked up her drink. She pointedly didn’t offer him any refreshment. “You know, monsieur, it will soon be dawn. I hope you have made arrangements for where you will stay while you are in Paris.” His eyes bored into hers. If Monique were a weaker type, she’d have shrunk before the onslaught of his glare. “I’m not leaving here without that video vampera.” From the set of his mouth and teeth, Monique could tell he was deadly serious. She licked her lips. If she weren’t battling her love for the Comte, she might have found Jon attractive. In addition to his being hot, there was something dangerous about him, a hint of controlled menace right below the surface. But she couldn’t let herself be distracted. The silence between them grew. Monique let it stretch a bit too long before she responded. “Why do you suppose it’s here?” “I know it’s here. I’d only left that fucking bar two seconds before I returned for it. Both you and the video vampera were gone already, and the place had been almost entirely empty.” She shrugged. “Almost. But not entirely. The barkeep could have taken it.” “But we both know he didn’t,” Jon said, biting out his words. “I demand that you give it to me right now, or you’ll be sorrier than you can imagine.” A smile played on her lips. “Threatening me, are you?” She knew Jon Torrance was very intelligent, a formidable enemy. She hoped his anger would dilute the force of his intellect so that she could defeat him. Jon couldn’t believe how she was stonewalling him, like he was some naïve idiot who’d believe her wide-eyed innocent act. She’d taken the damn video vampera and

60

Young Vampires in France

squirreled it away somewhere in this flat. He’d get it out of her if he had to turn the damned place upside down and— What? What could he possibly do to her that would have any real effect? And why, when he knew how manipulative and slippery she was, did he let her get to him? Jon broke out in a cold sweat at the thought of his brainless behavior. He’d always prided himself on his self-control—and his expertise in dealing with difficult people. “I don’t know what kind of sick game you’re playing or what you think you’ll accomplish, but that video vampera is mine. You found it. Now it’s time to return it to me.” She shrugged again and finished her drink. She rose and yawned elaborately. “I’m sorry, monsieur. But I have had a very long and difficult night. It’s nearly dawn, and I’m afraid I must ask you to leave.” He jolted up and folded his arms in front of his chest. “I’m not going anywhere without my property. If you don’t give it to me by the time I count to five, I’m going to start looking for it. And lady, I don’t care if I have to pull apart every last millimeter of this fire trap. I’m going to find it and leave with it.” Unbelievably, all she did was bat her eyelashes and yawn again. She pointed to the window. “I understand that you are only recently arrived in Paris, so you do not understand the rhythm of days and nights here. I will tell you. In about ten minutes, dawn will be in full progress. I shudder to think of your fate if you have not secured a place for the daylight hours.” Shit. She probably wasn’t lying this time. He had a list of recommended places to spend the daylight hours if he couldn’t get over to the Comte’s Paris residence, but Jon had no idea where any of those were in relation to where he was now. “Looks like I’ll have to spend the day here,” Jon muttered. “Ah, you are to be my guest. How fortunate for you that, despite your hostility to me, I have accommodations to offer you. How very generous of me in view of your rather distressing behavior.” Fuck. Was he going to be obliged to her? Well, it certainly wasn’t in the cards for him to expire now. Not with so much at stake. Cursing himself and her, he accepted. She led him into a small room where a plain pine coffin that looked full of splinters lay wedged almost wall to wall. “You will be safe here today.” She opened the coffin, which had only the thinnest of pads lining the bottom. “Safe, though these are perhaps not the most luxurious of accommodations.” He was damned if he’d thank her. Grunting, he climbed into the coffin and pulled the lid shut. After he heard Monique leave, he counted several more beats before he lifted the lid of the coffin. She had him at a disadvantage because he was on alien turf. But he wasn’t about to let her strip him of his advantages over her. And one of them was his tech expertise. She probably figured losing him the following night would be a piece of cake. Well, he wasn’t going to let it be that easy. He tiptoed away from his coffin and glided over 61

Mardi Ballou

the floors. All appeared to be quiet. He’d seen where Monique stowed her purse. True to form, she kept her mobile phone in it. He figured that she wouldn’t go anywhere without either. He opened the purse and took out the mobile. In moments, he’d attached a tracking device. All he’d have to do was consult his own phone to keep track of her. For further insurance, he added a second device to a pocket in her purse. And a third to the lining of her leather jacket. Satisfied that he’d have no trouble knowing exactly where she went, he raced back to the coffin and wedged himself inside. Dawn was about to burst upon the world. As sleep began to claim Jon, he wondered where Monique spent her days. He pictured her in a posh, silk and satin lined coffin, elegant like her. And then he thought about Darlene—like him, facing their second day apart. With a pang, he realized how much he missed her—viscerally and in every other way. He missed the way every emotion she experienced blazed like neon lights on her beautiful face. He missed her honesty, her strange oaths, her generous spirit and, most of all, he missed the way she made him feel. As happened still when he just thought of her, his cock rose fully into the hard-on that had been lurking on the horizon all night. Succumbing to more hand action than he’d known since the ninth grade, he squeezed his cock. Grappling with an erection in the confines of this narrow, cheap wooden box was almost enough to remove the pleasure from the act. With no wiggle room, he had to restrict his movements to subtle shifts of his ass and hips, rely more on touching the pressure points just right. Thank the universe for imagination and for his talent to summon up a perfect image of Darlene. Hell, he was even able to recall how her fingers felt on him, the scrape of her fingernails, her fangs… Even after all their time together, Darlene never lost her eagerness to please him. Despite all her experience, she retained a touch of naiveté, of open innocence, that captivated him. Much as he growled that he wanted her to change, to become sophisticated, deep down inside he hoped she’d always hold on to the qualities that had grabbed him from the first. Talk about grabbing. He went into high gear, his hand pistoning up and down his aching shaft. Cripes, his cock and balls were close to exploding. If he didn’t watch out, he’d bust the lid right off this cheap box. The image was just too much. In moments, he was spraying the lid with the cum he wanted to be releasing deep inside Darlene.

***** Disturbed by how much differently the day had ended up going than what she’d planned, Monique suspected sleep would come only with difficulty. Even though Jon was already down and wouldn’t catch her, Monique resisted the urge to take a last look at the video vampera, secure in its hiding place. She needed to keep her mind blank so he didn’t read from her thoughts where she’d hidden his invention. And, of course, she

62

Young Vampires in France

didn’t want to reveal anything of her plans or thoughts to him until she was convinced that doing so would benefit her. For the day’s rest, she’d given Jon her first coffin, the poor pine box that had been all she could allow herself when she became undead. She knew he’d be in for a rough day, his tall frame cramped in such narrow quarters. Too bad. As an uninvited guest, he was fortunate she could accommodate him at all. Though she did have more comfortable accommodations for invited guests, she figured that making his stay as miserable as possible would most advance her campaign. These days she slept on a soft bed of silk and velvet in a polished ebony coffin, one in keeping with all her hard work and success. She sighed as she stretched out. Though she’d never before shared her coffin with any companion, one day soon she might invite a special lover to share the space with her. Thoughts of the Comte rose unbidden in her mind and, try as she might to force them away, they lingered and grew stronger, making sleep even more elusive than she’d feared. Despite everything that she was planning to do to the Comte, she ached for his touch, the feel of his lips on hers. The merest contact between them turned her on in ways she’d never have predicted. A fingertip, the brush of his lips, the rasp of his fang—each unleashed a flood of sensation that she was hard-pressed to control. Suppressing a moan, she fingered her already wet folds, thrumming her aching clit with her thumb and letting the physical pleasure sweep her away. The Comte. The Comte. Her own touch could no longer pleasure her the way his did. If she wanted any release tonight, she would have to conjure him up, to invite him to share this most intimate space with her. Why could she not banish him from her mind just now when all she wanted was some uncomplicated play to unwind her tension before her rest? But, even here in the luxurious confines of her favorite coffin, the Comte wouldn’t leave her alone. Or, rather, she couldn’t close him off. He’d persisted in his pursuit of her since the moment they met, wended his way into her heart and her dreams. So yes, all right, she gave up. She’d let down her guard just enough to allow his image to stay with her as she played with herself before sleeping. What harm could it do—as long as she kept her mind clear? He’d never know that his face rose before her when she closed her legs over her hand and pretended to be surrounding his cock that was erect for her—only for her. Her nipples tingled at the remembered sensation of his tongue and teeth licking her, nibbling, murmuring soft words of love so in contrast with his hard sophistication. He could never know how deeply he’d penetrated her reserves, her layers of defense. She touched her breasts, imagining his long fingers sweeping over them. The merest thought of him sufficed to harden her nipples, but she licked her index finger, swiped it over her breast in imitation of his tongue and sighed. Though her own fingers well knew exactly how and where to touch her, nothing could make her feel the way he did. The Comte. What was he doing now? Was he thinking of her? Did he hate her, or was there still a little love for her left in his heart despite all? She craved for him to be there with her, to enthrall her with his strength, to truly be her master in every way. She 63

Mardi Ballou

shuddered as she imagined him taking charge of her, binding her so that she could not make the slightest move without his express permission. In his strong arms she would put down the burden of her past and at last be free. What was it about him that so captured her mind and heart? His power, of course, was the greatest aphrodisiac. But his power coupled with his tendresse blew her mind. And when he made love with her, his cock hard and throbbing with passion, giving her enormous pleasure beyond anything she’d ever experienced in anyone else’s arms… With her eyes closed she imagined his cock, every ridge and vein she’d come to know, the skin that grew purple with his arousal. She closed her legs tight around her own hand, wishing that she could be intimately entwined with him at this moment of approaching climax. And then she bit her lip hard to keep from crying out as her pussy pulsed in a rapid, thrilling release totally dedicated to him. His face was the last picture in her mind as, her hand still locked between her legs, she fell into a deep sleep.

***** In the moments before dawn, Darlene, Nick and Lynette gathered together in the Comte’s office to compare notes. To everyone’s relief, it looked as if they were ready to go up to Paris the following night. The Comte suspected that no one was more anxious for this than Darlene—and himself. “Let’s call Jon to see where he is and what he’s managed to accomplish,” Darlene said. “Good idea. Also, we need to arrange where we’ll meet.” With Darlene, Nick and Lynette listening in, the Comte dialed Jon’s mobile number. Jon didn’t answer, and the Comte left a voicemail message. “I hope he’s all right, that he’s found a place to hunker down for the day. You know he’s unfamiliar with Paris.” Anxiety furrowed deep lines between Darlene’s brows. “Yes, but Jon is most resourceful. I’m sure he’s found an excellent place, even if he couldn’t return to my residence,” the Comte said. Lynette shook her head. “Yeah, Jon’s like a cat. With nine lives. Or more like nine hundred. He’ll land on his feet no matter where he ends up.” Nick nodded. “He took a list of at least fifty places where he could crash, no problem.” Darlene looked uncertain, and the Comte wanted to reassure her. “I will turn on the mobile tracker so we will know exactly where he is.” He didn’t want to add that if Jon were indeed in trouble, there was precious little they could do at this late hour. He’d never been one for pessimism. “Sounds good,” Darlene said, but she still looked worried. The Comte activated the device, which whirred and beeped for several moments and then quickly homed in on Jon. In moments an address appeared on the screen, easy for all to see. But as soon as he saw where Jon was planning to spend the day, the

64

Young Vampires in France

Comte regretted his bit of detective work. He toyed with the thought of hiding the tracker away, but he realized that any such action would only worsen a delicate situation. Lynette looked impatient. “Well, spit it out, Monsieur le Comte. Where is Jon?” “He’s at 75 rue de la Nuit.” The Comte sighed. “That’s where Monique de la Chauveouris has her flat.” He cautioned himself not to jump to any conclusions about Jon evidently having not only located Monique but insinuated himself into her flat at this intimate time of the vampire’s day. Difficult as it was for him not to imagine the worst, he could tell, looking at Darlene, that whatever she was picturing was ten times more horrible.

65

Mardi Ballou

Chapter Six The next night Monique sprang awake primed for action. She’d let Jon’s unexpected appearance and her own unfortunate weakness for the Comte interfere with her thinking the night before. Tonight she would be clearheaded when she turned her attentions to Pierre Mains de Chair, the Comte’s second-in-command. Monique reviewed her notes about Mains de Chair, though she’d already memorized all the essential information. A mortal in his early fifties, Mains de Chair supervised the Comte’s philanthropic network. Mains de Chair considered his public image as a family man a crucial component of his ability to be successful. She was going to meet Pierre at a jazz club. It seemed that neither his wife nor his mistress shared Pierre’s passion for jazz. Monique had told Pierre that the Comte wanted her to convey some information so confidential that he trusted no one but a personal messenger like her to deliver it. They both decided the jazz club would be the perfect venue to furnish them the necessary privacy. Monique was determined to soldier on with her mission without Jon dogging her footsteps. But the man was nothing if not persistent. Though not thrilled at the prospect of leaving him alone in her flat, she decided to sneak out. She wouldn’t even pause to feed. She knew a superb little vampire bar that was right on her way to the club where she’d stop. She rushed through her toilette, hurriedly applying makeup and moussing her hair. Opting for leather tonight, she pulled on black kid slacks and a matching jacket over her black cashmere turtleneck. She stepped into her black stilettos, and she was on her way. A quick glance at Jon’s small niche assured her he was still asleep. It would probably take him an hour to extricate himself from the small coffin and get the kinks out. Biting her lip to keep from laughing at the image, Monique flew from the flat.

***** The moment after Jon opened his eyes, he checked his mobile for feedback from Monique’s tracking devices—and smiled big. She evidently had the purse, the mobile, and the jacket he’d managed to wire. Yes! Jon couldn’t wait to see the look on her face when he showed up wherever she was racing off to. But before he got to experience that particular pleasure, he’d have to find his video vampera. He’d meant what he said to Monique. No way in hell was he going to leave her flat without it. Jon rose, showered and dressed quickly. He needed to feed and toyed with the idea of a quick trip out to the street. Paris offered a panorama of possibilities he’d have wait to explore.

66

Young Vampires in France

He thought of Darlene with a pang. Yet another night he’d risen without having her close by. His cock throbbed. Yeah, they’d usually start the night with a quickie before their first meal. By the time he got back with her, he’d be horny as hell. Talk about a quickie. The way he felt right now, he’d probably come the moment he saw her, which should happen later that night. According to a message on his mobile, everyone back at the Château had tried to contact him last night. Well, they’d meet up tonight and get everything squared away. And then he’d get her away from the crowd and show his lady how much he loved her all night. Yeah, she had that effect on him. And no, he’d better not let her know it. Maintaining a vampire woman as his sub kept him on the edge all the time, which was just where he wanted them both to be. Jon slipped into Monique’s kitchen and figured he’d help himself. Though not wellstocked, the fridge contained several beakers of blood with meticulous labels. He’d have liked to indulge in the AB negative, but he figured he shouldn’t overstep his hostess’s dubious hospitality. A beaker of A positive would set him up for the night. Jon guzzled the cold red liquid down and started to reach for a second. Damn, with no sex, his other appetites flared. But then he paused. His slight hunger pangs would keep his senses at a sharp peak. He’d feed more after he found the video vampera and could follow Monique.

***** Darlene both dreaded and couldn’t wait for the moment when she and Jon would be reunited. Knowing that he’d spent the day in Monique’s flat—alone?—had kept Darlene up all day. Now she had dark circles under her eyes. Jon would look at her and instantly understand how she felt. She never managed to hide her feelings from him. Would he even care? Maybe he’d already decided to leave her for Monique. How would Jon break up with her? She shivered, hearing in her mind his voice, colder than icicles. How could he betray both her and the Comte? How could the two of them? Not that Monique would care who she hurt. But Jon… Tough as the exterior he showed to the world, she knew that deep inside he had a deep and wonderful capacity for tenderness. Or at least she’d allowed herself to believe that he cared. Feeling like a martyr off to be sacrificed, Darlene finished dressing and climbed into the Comte’s van. He’d decided driving up to Paris would give them the most flexibility. Unfortunately, it would take lots longer than flying. But if Jon really was leaving her, she had all the time in the world for whatever would come next. Once they were in the van, Nick suggested that they contact Jon to tell him they were on their way. Darlene’s heart hammered at the prospect of hearing Jon’s voice. Fingers trembling, she took the mobile from the Comte. Thank goodness Jon picked up on the first ring. “We’re leaving the Château now,” Darlene said. 67

Mardi Ballou

“Great! Then you’ll be here in a few hours.” Jon lowered his voice to the pitch that made the pit of her belly roil and raised goose bumps. “I can’t wait to see you and be with you.” Hmmph. He sounded sincere. “Where are you now?” Darlene held her breath ‘til he replied. He paused for what seemed like a very long moment. “I’m at Monique’s flat,” he said at last. Relieved that he’d told the truth—she’d never known him to lie before, so she couldn’t say why she’d feared he would—and distressed that he was still at that woman’s flat, Darlene tried to come up with a cool response. She failed. “Why are you there?” she blurted out. Crashing cockroaches. He’d know exactly how upset she was. Jon hesitated again. Every moment without a response magnified Darlene’s distress. “Jon, did you hear me?” “Yeah. Look, it’s kind of complicated.” Rotting rats! Complicated did not sound good. “Please tell me.” She might as well hear the worst, get used to it before she saw Jon in the flesh. Before she saw him and Monique together. Determined not to weep, she sniffed hard. “I was hoping not to have to.” Darlene nearly dropped the phone to the floor. Worse than she’d suspected. He definitely was hiding something. Her heart sank to her ankles. “Jon, maybe telling me will help.” She clutched the phone so hard, her hand turned even whiter than usual. She felt the hard plastic begin to give, and she realized she’d break the darn thing if she didn’t lighten up. “Okay. Without going into too much detail, I’ll give you the outlines of the current situation. To make a long story short, because of a stupid mistake I made, Monique got her hands on the video vampera. She’s hidden it somewhere in her flat. And I’m determined to get it back before I leave.” The evil conniver had his video vampera? Was that all that was wrong? Darlene nearly wept with relief. But then she realized she was far from out of the woods. How had Monique gotten her hands on the video vampera? Normally, Jon wouldn’t let his invention out of his sight. The thought of someone else getting her hands on it and hiding it away from him… Perhaps in the transports of some amazing sex act, Monique had managed to pull it away from him and hide it somewhere on her person… Damn. Darlene was going into all sorts of mental conniptions and she was back to using curse words. “Is Monique there with you now?” she asked hoarsely. “No. She left. But I have her wired, so I know exactly where she is.” These didn’t sound like words of romance. On the other hand, Jon had all sorts of ways of wiring women, some of them amazingly erotic. Darlene blushed. “That’s good,” she said inanely.

68

Young Vampires in France

“I really do have to find the video vampera. Darlene, if you were a woman like Monique, where would you hide a vampera?” Darlene took the phone away from her ear and scowled at it. What the flying f—no, she wasn’t going to say it or even think it. But what did he mean with a question like that? She asked him, pronto. “What I meant is, if you were sneaky and manipulative like Monique. Which you clearly are not. But I don’t have a clue as to where to search. This place has so many possible hidey-holes, it could take me all night to find the video vampera. And I have a strong feeling I’d do much better to follow Monique and see what mischief she’s up to out there.” Feeling somewhat mollified, Darlene thought about his question for a moment. But she didn’t know Monique’s flat, and really didn’t even know the woman—only that she disliked her and that she was trying to hurt the Comte. Her and Monique both being female didn’t give them nearly enough in common for Darlene to attempt a response. Lynette would probably have a better understanding of how the mind of a sneaky, manipulative woman would work. The Comte was the only one among them who’d ever been in Monique’s flat. “I don’t know. I’ll ask the others what they think.” Lynette said she’d hide anything of value either in the hamper of dirty clothes or at the back of her sock drawer. “I can’t believe I just told all you that. Now I’ll have to think up other hiding places.” “Not to worry,” Nick said. “Neither of those is especially inspired.” She mock-smacked him. He caught her hand and kissed it, and Lynette giggled. Darlene was so not in the mood to witness their usual lovey-dovey behavior, and she expected the Comte wasn’t either. He appeared focused on his driving. Darlene repeated the question. He thought for a moment. “When Monique first came to work for me, before I foolishly contravened my usual defenses, I had an investigator thoroughly check out every detail of her life and her home. Though much remained hidden, he did unearth some fascinating information about her. There’s a false wall in the back of Monique’s bedroom closet. If Jon raises the small picture of a rose, he will find a gold button. If he presses that, the wall slides away to indicate a small space. I am positive Monique hides whatever she most wants to guard there. Even her heart,” he added in a dry voice. Darlene’s own heart went out to him. She repeated the Comte’s directions for Jon who repeated them back to her. “Sounds pretty straightforward. I’m going there now to get the video vampera. Then I’ll be able to head out after Monique.” “Sounds like a plan.” Darlene could sense how eager Jon was to go after his quarry—on both counts. “I’ll see you soon,” he said. “And baby, I can’t wait.”

69

Mardi Ballou

“Neither can I.” Darlene hoped that her misgivings were just the foolish doubts of an insecure woman. But she wouldn’t feel sure until she and Jon were really together, and she could look into his eyes.

***** Pierre Mains de Chair was waiting when Monique arrived at the jazz club. He rose from the small table where he had a burning cigarette and a glass of red wine. “I’m so glad that you suggested our meeting,” Pierre whispered. Even so, several patrons turned around and shushed them. He made a hand gesture to indicate that they should settle down. He and Monique listened to the end of the song in progress, then took advantage of the musicians’ break to greet each other. “I want to refresh my drink. Would you like wine or something else, Monique?” Pierre flagged down a waiter. Monique said she’d have the same as Pierre. He placed the order and then turned to her. “I thought this would be a good place for us to talk, but perhaps I was wrong. The music lovers appear especially ferocious tonight.” Monique shrugged. “Can’t blame them, I suppose.” “Though I find tonight’s band a bit of a disappointment. Of course, I’ve been to New Orleans, heard the jazz there. I’m sorry to say that what we have here pales in comparison.” “New Orleans,” Monique said dreamily. “I’d love to go there someday.” “I’m sure it’s a city where you would find much to admire.” He looked at her slyly. “Perhaps one day we’ll be able to go there together. I would surely love to explore its delights with a woman like you on my arm.” She made note of how freely this supposed family man invited a woman other than his wife to travel with him. They toasted each other. Pierre nearly drained his glass, Monique barely touched hers. “I understand that people of your persuasion find New Orleans most sympathique.” “So I’ve heard,” Monique supposed as the Comte’s second-in-command, Pierre would have to be privy about information such as the Comte’s nature and, by extension, her own. But Monique did not relish that a man she scarcely knew could know so much about her. “You fascinate me,” Pierre said. “I’ve often thought about joining you and my friend, the Comte. To become one like you. Though it may already be too late for me. It might have been better for me to have made the great leap while I still had my hair and a physique to be proud of.” He patted his bald head and his large stomach. Monique made a noncommittal sound. There was nothing about Pierre that would entice her to transform him. And current vampire thinking was to limit future members of their community to only the most desirable specimens, which Pierre clearly was not. “I’m sure if the Comte thought it would be to your advantage or benefit the enterprises you oversee, he’d be the first to invite you to join us,” Monique said.

70

Young Vampires in France

“Especially the latter. But you said you had some very important confidential matter that the Comte wanted you to present to me under the most hush-hush of circumstances. Are you ready to tell me what this is?” Monique was more than ready to begin her talk—better to start before she lost her nerve or Pierre’s warm welcome wore thin—but just then the music began again. “I think this is our signal to leave.” He took her hand and led her out into the night.

***** Jon would have suspected a false wall or false floor, especially in an old flat like Monique’s, but he knew finding it would have taken hours. Time he didn’t have. So he was especially grateful for the Comte’s advice—assuming the Comte was reading Monique correctly, which Jon thought he was. Despite the current situation, he couldn’t help thinking the Comte and Monique were a very well-matched couple. Too bad the Comte was the only one of the pair who appeared to believe that. Though Monique seemed to wear similar clothes all the time, Jon found her closet quite full of diverse garments. To his surprise, she owned some clothes that were not black. A few more colorful shirts and slacks filled the small closet where black, of course, dominated. He had to remove several garments from the rod before he could have a clear shot at the wall the Comte described. He wondered for a moment how the Comte had gotten this information. He couldn’t imagine the elegant man clawing his way through a woman’s closet. In fact, he couldn’t see the Comte ever coming to this humble flat. Jon was careful to pull the clothes neatly off the rod. He laid them down on the divan on one wall of Monique’s bedroom. Many vampires had actual beds in their bedrooms—Darlene said she enjoyed white sales, he wasn’t altogether sure what motivated other vampires—and Monique did too. Plus the divan and a huge, gorgeous coffin. Remembering the narrow pine box she’d consigned him to the night before, Jon nearly succumbed to a touch of vengeance, like hurling her clothes onto the floor. If for some reason, however, she got back to the flat before he was able to flash the video vampera in front of her, he didn’t want her to suspect he’d gotten into her hiding place and liberated it, so he refrained. Lucky he had that vampiric X-ray vision. The picture of the rose was small and nearly hidden in the darkest recess of the closet. But he located it, lifted it and pushed the button. In moments, he was able to slide part of the wall over another section. An opening about two feet wide gave him access to a rectangular space filled with shelves, each of which was filled with various objects. He didn’t spot the video vampera at first. Though he tried to remain focused on grabbing it and heading off, he couldn’t resist taking a few moments to explore the various treasures Monique deemed to keep hidden from prying eyes.

71

Mardi Ballou

The first he picked up was an old photo in sepia tones, framed in ivory ceramic with pale pink roses down the sides and across the bottom. It was a portrait of a very young girl, a beautiful girl, with large sad eyes and the most serious look on her face. Could it have been Monique? He shivered. Since people didn’t age much once they became vampires, Monique would eternally be the young beauty she’d been when she was transformed. But the girl in this photo, who did resemble Monique, was only a child, maybe six or seven at most. Like Monique, she had gleaming thick black hair. Monique wore hers short and spiky. This girl’s was long and gently curled in an old-fashioned style. Like Monique, her face was heart-shaped, and she had big, light eyes framed with long lashes. But unlike Monique, this girl had a sickly air about her. Even with the sepia tones coloring the picture, Jon could see how pale she looked. She had an air of desperation about her, as if every breath required great effort. Though he didn’t know Monique well, he couldn’t believe she’d ever have been so ill, so frail. Jon strongly sensed that this little girl was doomed to die at an early age, that she would never have reached the age Monique appeared to have been when she was transformed. Who could this child be? Jon couldn’t help wondering. And he was sure Darlene, such a romantic, would swoon over the frame and some of the other artifacts in Monique’s closet. Sensing that time was fleeting, Jon tore himself away from the portrait—he wondered if the Comte knew about it and knew who was pictured—and searched for the video vampera. He must have pulled everything off the shelves and was about to give up when a glint of chrome caught his eye. Phew. With almost overwhelming relief, he pulled out the video vampera and practically kissed it. Never again would he let this baby out of his sight—not after all his hard work to get it to where it was. Now that he had the video vampera, he was tempted to bolt. But he really didn’t want to piss Monique off any more than she would be once she knew he’d found it. And the portrait made him feel almost sorry for her, because his gut told him that whatever story went with the portrait would be sad. He carefully replaced Monique’s things and slid the wall back into place. Then, with his video vampera firmly in hand, he checked Monique’s location and tried to figure out how the hell to get to where she was from where he was right now.

***** Monique had no idea how receptive Pierre would be to her ideas. After all, he and the Comte were very close. But, nothing ventured, nothing gained. “It’s such a lovely evening, perhaps we should go for a stroll in the park,” Pierre suggested, guiding Monique with a firm hand at the small of her back.

72

Young Vampires in France

“That sounds agreeable. We could always sit down on a bench to talk.” Spring was just coming into full bloom and it seemed that many Parisians, tired after a long winter, found the park an attractive setting for a spot of diversion. Some people wore casual clothes, others appeared still to be dressed for their offices or shops. People walked in pairs, talking, smoking, laughing. Monique, entranced by the pulsing humanity around her, felt charmed. It wasn’t often she allowed herself such an indulgence as an hour for a stroll in the park. “This exercise is all fine for the young, but I’m quite ready to deposit myself on a bench now and let the others pass by,” Pierre said. “This one looks good.” “Very well.” “So Monique, tell me what has brought you up here from the Château.” But just then a noise distracted her. She turned to the patch of lawn to her left. What first caught her eye was the glint of a green bottle, which now appeared empty of wine. Next to it stood a large wicker basket, closed on one side, open on the other. The debris of a meal—a chin of bread, part of a sausage, a small piece of apple tart—lay scattered on the edge of a blanket. Oblivious to them were a young man and woman, locked in an embrace that consumed them from head to foot. He held her to him, his mouth locked onto hers. She had her jean-clad legs clasped tight around him, and Monique could detect the sliding motion of her groin across his. A quick glance to the side indicated that Pierre had spotted the couple as well. A small grin on his face indicated his interest. He reached into his pocket and drew out a pair of spectacles. “For night vision,” he whispered to Monique. Then he reached for a cigarette. Monique shook her head, and he politely refrained from lighting up. But he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes from the young couple. Monique figured she might as well wait to get his full attention rather than compete for it. Not to mention that there was something about young lovers in spring in Paris that was too appealing to resist. In her imagination, Monique named the young lovers. The girl was Claudette and the man Marcel. Perfect. Marcel now moved his hips in time to Claudette’s, and Monique felt her pussy grow moist. Suddenly it was herself and the Comte she was watching. Marcel removed his lips from Claudette’s to fasten them on her breast, kissing her, biting her through the cotton of her shirt, and Monique shivered. What frustration clothes could be. Monique remembered her frenzy to be free of them when the Comte stood ready to take her. Evidently Marcel and Claudette agreed, for, inspired by his nuzzling, she opened her shirt to reveal bare breasts beneath. Good for you, Claudette! No encumbrance of the bra to halt the progress of love. Marcel lowered his dark head to her firm, pert breasts, and began to suckle greedily, noisily, licking her nipples, slurping at the dark, generous areolas as Claudette buried her face in his hair.

73

Mardi Ballou

Monique’s own nipples tingled and tightened. She swallowed hard, as she let herself imagine that she and the Comte were stretched together on the blanket among the debris of a picnic, poised on a consummation they both yearned for. But even as Claudette nuzzled and Marcel licked Monique realized something else was going on. Claudette had her hands behind her instead of around Marcel. What could this be? Perhaps a little bondage? Monique peeked over into the shadows behind Claudette—and spotted a third person. Another man, whom Claudette was touching also. This man Monique would name Olivier. Dieux. Claudette was having a picnic indeed. Monique’s pussy began to contract in frustrated excitement, and she wished she had a way to relieve the arousal now beginning to assert itself rather insistently in her lower belly. If only the Comte could come to her right now, put all else behind them but the sheer sensation of how the two of them in each other’s arms. In light of such arousing activity before them, she could scarcely dare to look at the actual companion at her side. But a quick glance convinced her that he’d gotten so caught up in the scene, he scarcely remembered she was there with him. Marcel drew off his own shirt. Ah oui, a beautiful man, though he could not compare with the Comte. Would Olivier be able to compete in this arena? Marcel had the rippling muscles of an athlete, with lovely firm flesh that Monique longed to bite into. Her fangs descended, and she experienced the hunger that would push her to feed, soon. For now only her eyes could feast to satisfaction. Olivier pulled off his shirt as well. And yes, graced with the firm olive flesh of a Mediterranean youth, he was indeed in Marcel’s league. Monique felt assured that Claudette would be well served by both her lovers. If only Monique could be assured of any satisfaction for herself this night. But now was Claudette’s turn. Marcel rolled onto his back and made quick work of pulling off his shoes and pants. While he did so, Olivier gently divested Claudette and himself of the same garments. Marcel, still on his back, sported a long, thick shaft. A quick glance informed Monique that Olivier’s proud cock more than equaled Marcel’s. Claudette opened her legs, and Marcel lowered his face to the thick curly hair of her mound. Monique’s sharp vision allowed her to see exactly how Marcel tasted Claudette’s pussy, eagerly tonguing her clit and her moist pink folds with gourmet gusto. Olivier provided the same delightful service from behind, licking Claudette’s crack with his long tongue. Monique almost groaned at the memory of the Comte feasting on her pussy, tonguing her ass, driving her mad with his fingers and his mouth. And only he could bring her to the fullest heights of ecstasy from lovemaking and feeding. Whatever Claudette was experiencing surely couldn’t compare to Monique’s pleasure in the Comte’s embrace.

74

Young Vampires in France

The only reason for Monique to be jealous was because Claudette could be with her lovers and she, Monique, couldn’t be with hers. Never again. The realization struck her with melancholy and a sudden comprehension of loss. Marcel murmured something and Claudette nodded vigorously. And then, his cock pulsing at the opening of her pussy, he entered her. At just the same moment, Olivier entered her from behind. Both men had the most amazing butts. Each was like a statue, perfectly proportioned. Monique watched in fascination as both men rocked their hips and moved their asses rhythmically, hypnotically, back and forth. Marcel moved his cock in and out of Claudette’s pussy, and Claudette, when she wasn’t kissing him, panted out her response. The three were a tangle of arms and legs, moving together like a wellfavored beast. Monique nearly cried out with the remembered pleasure of the Comte intimately joined to her. Unlike these three, she would never want to have another being share their closest moments. It was as if the Comte had ruined her for every other sort of being with a man—or men. When Claudette reached her orgasm, far too soon for the spectators, her scream filled the night. She came with shrieks of joy and triumph. The two men quickly joined her in a raucous chorus of climax and release. And then all collapsed together in a tangle of sated humanity. Monique wondered if this kind of satisfaction had become one more of her sacrifices in pursuit of her goals. Was she on the verge of achieving justice for Josette—or was she only fooling herself? Self-doubt, her biggest enemy, began to sound ever louder in her head. To be able to lose oneself in uncomplicated pleasure as these three had just done, oblivious to all but their own desires… When the threesome had recovered, they rose and, in the rapidly cooling evening, dressed. Claudette tidied up the food, picked up the basket, and kissed each man goodbye. She then walked off by herself. To Monique’s shock, the two men hugged and then shared a deep, passionate kiss. Marcel possessively ran his hands over Olivier’s butt. The two men, so rivetingly gorgeous that she couldn’t look away from an even more intimate moment than they’d shared with Claudette, joined in a second deep, passionate kiss. Then Marcel, smiling in invitation, came over to the bench where Monique and Pierre sat staring. Monique, too enthralled to be embarrassed about being caught acting the voyeur, wondered what in hell he would do. She didn’t have to wait long to find out. Marcel took out his wallet, extracted a business card and, with a wink, handed it to her. “If you liked what you saw, we could arrange to meet you here, in this friendly area of the park, or another venue of your choice. For you, Mademoiselle, the rate would be most reasonable.” For once, Monique was at a loss for words. And then, to her even greater amazement, Marcel turned to Pierre. “I didn’t know you would be our audience tonight, boss. I hope you are pleased.” Pierre nodded and clapped his hands. “Excellent work, boys. And I like the way you try to drum up more trade, though my guest will probably not avail herself of your services.” Marcel nodded, shook hands with Pierre and walked away arm in arm with his partner. 75

Mardi Ballou

Still in shock, Monique read the card. Jean et Jacques. Fantaisies, Sans Limites. No limits to the fantasies they offered. With a phone number, fax number and email address. Also a pager. Monique turned her attention to Pierre. Time for business. “A delightful spring evening show,” Pierre answered. He lit a cigarette and didn’t ask Monique’s opinion. “But why did that man call you boss?” He grinned at her. “Because he works for me. He and his partner and many others. Great business—we help people fill all their fantasies. You wouldn’t believe how large our clientele has grown.” “But how does this fit in with your public image—” Before she could finish his sentence, he cleared his throat and rose. “Monique, don’t pretend such naivete with me. I know you better than that.” “What do you mean?” He shrugged. “Such silly questions about public image. As if you actually believe such nonsense.” Of course, she didn’t believe it, but many people gave credence to such images. She tried again to formulate a question, but he cut her off. “With all due respect, Monique, I must excuse myself.” “What? Why?” He winked suggestively. “To be honest, after a spectacle like this, I find myself inspired for a visit to my mistress.” Before she could say another word, he kissed her hand and headed off. Monique, feeling like the wind had just been knocked out of her, sat back on the bench. Well, maybe her initial plans for the night were shot, but she’d gotten some valuable information to use against Pierre Mains de Chair. Exposure of his business sideline would demolish any pretense he could mount of being a “family man”. She wondered what the Comte would do if he found out—or did he know? Why couldn’t she banish him once and for all from her head—and her heart? She felt at loose ends, a dangerous situation. But before she could formulate what to do next, she saw Jon Torrance striding toward her. She frowned as she realized that she had to get her wits about her, fast. Jon looked angry and threatening. How the hell had he known how to find her? What did he want from her now? And what did he have clutched in his hands?

76

Young Vampires in France

Chapter Seven The foursome driving in from Orléans arrived at the Comte’s Paris residence in record time. The Comte, now fully determined to vanquish Monique and annihilate any feelings he might ever have had for her, felt empowered when he returned to his true home base. How foolish he’d been, nearly burying himself in the countryside in his Château and expecting to carry on his business as fully as always. How could he have dreamed of doing so when he was so far removed from his center of power? The house, a ten-bedroom mansion in the classy huitième arrondissement—the eighth district—just a stone’s throw from the Champs-Elysées, dazzled Lynette, Darlene and Nick. The residence, serviced by a full staff as efficient as the Château’s, was more than ready for them when they arrived. Good. The Comte took enormous pleasure in seeing to it that his friends were settled quickly and comfortably into magnificent rooms. “Jon will be staying here with you, of course.” The Comte indicated to Darlene the huge chamber she and her love would share. He could tell that Darlene had lost none of her concern about Jon’s whereabouts. Well, the Comte felt confident that Darlene’s anxiety would vanish when she and Jon were reunited. On the other hand, the only resolution for him and Monique was the total destruction of one or the other. And he was not the one who would go down in the end. Yeah, Darlene thought, the Comte’s residence was magnificent, the room that she and Jon would be sharing breathtaking. Better than any five- or more-star hotel. None of which mattered a hill of beans until Jon was here with her. Three seconds after she’d dropped her things in her room and freshened up, Darlene was on the phone to Jon. “We’re here, at the Comte’s residence. Jon, you’ve got to see this place. Come on over now.” “Darlene, you know I’ve been there already. And I really want to catch up with you.” His voice kept breaking up over what sounded like a really bad connection. “You can’t imagine how much I’ve missed you. But I’m hot on Monique’s trail right now— with my video vampera in hand. If I stop, I may lose a really important chance to solve all our problems.” “Maybe I can help. Why don’t you tell me where you are? I’ll come to you. They say two heads are better than one.” “I don’t think that’s the case here. Your arrival might just delay success.” She didn’t like the sound of that. “I really want to be with you.” “Me too.” “Then tell me where you are.” 77

Mardi Ballou

“Sorry, I don’t think that’s a good idea. But I promise, I’ll be with you as soon as possible.” “It can’t be soon enough for me,” Darlene said into the phone. But the connection had already quit. Despite her resolve to be strong, Darlene felt her eyes well up with tears. Shoot. She was acting just like Veronica Vampira, the heroine of the books she and Lynette wrote, before they’d reformed her and brought her into the twenty-first century. But Darlene couldn’t help it. With Jon once again postponing the time they’d come together, she felt cold and disconnected. Empty. And right now, it wasn’t even like the old days, when she could go and confide in Lynette, who’d tell her to quit groaning and get her act together. Now that Lynette was with Nick all the time, it was hard for Darlene to barge in on her for girl talk. Even though they would be too polite to just dismiss her, Darlene didn’t feel comfortable talking to both of them. But Lynette and Nick were like Siamese twins who seemed to hurt if you tried to separate them. As for the Comte, well, he sure had his hands full with his own problems. Cripes, everything he was going through made Darlene’s concerns look tiny in comparison. After all, hadn’t Monique not only broken his heart but also set out to ruin him financially and every other known way? So the Comte would have little sympathy to offer Darlene. Not to mention, the Comte didn’t have any reason to believe there was anything wrong about Jon’s continuing absence. And Darlene sure didn’t want to bring up the possibility that Jon and Monique… No, that was the last thing the Comte needed to hear at a time like this. She just had to get her head elsewhere. Pronto. Just because Darlene considered Monique a contemptible scumbag worthy of the lowest of acts didn’t mean it was actually true. Then she remembered that the Comte had an illuminated map of Paris in his office, one connected to the tracking device Jon carried. She would get the Comte to show her how to find Jon’s exact location on the map. She also hoped the device Jon carried was working. It would be typical for tech to fail just when she needed it most. She took a deep breath and reminded herself to be optimistic. The device would give her the information she needed. Once she knew exactly where he was, she’d go there. After all, where was it written that she had to obey Jon in life the way she did when they played? A smile began to form on her lips as she walked to the office.

***** Jon finished his most unsatisfactory conversation with Darlene and caught up with Monique just as a red-faced, fiftyish man who looked flushed and somewhat disheveled kissed her hand and took off. Cripes. This was probably Pierre Mains de Chair, the Comte’s second-in-command. Jon raised his video vampera and got what footage he could, but he doubted that anyone would be able to conclude anything damaging to Monique from the scene. He wished he hadn’t lost the time necessary to warn Darlene

78

Young Vampires in France

off joining him. He knew he’d have a lot to make up to her, but he couldn’t afford to let his thoughts go there now. “What were you doing with that man?” he demanded the moment he got within Monique’s range. She looked him up and down with the withering disdain she might have had for a protozoan or some other creature low on the evolutionary scale. Without responding, she rose and began walking away. Jon was not accustomed to having to chase a woman to get a response to a perfectly ordinary question. Or for any other reason. He refused to appear to exert himself. Nonetheless, he felt grateful for the vampiric speed that enabled him to keep up with her. When he was next to her, he put his hand on her shoulder and forced her to turn around. Monique’s face contorted, and she looked like a cat who was about to spit. “Take your hand off me now!” Jon eased the pressure on her shoulder slightly. “I asked you a perfectly civil question.” “You have a strange notion of civil.” Monique’s perfect brows drew together. “I will give you to the count of three before I summon the aid of one of the gens d’armes to have you unhand me.” Not wanting to attract any attention, Jon pulled back. He’d about had it with this woman. If it weren’t for the Comte’s special regard for her, he’d let her feel the brunt of his temper. As he suspected, the moment he let go of her, she continued walking on. “I let go of you. Now answer my question.” “Your question? What right do you have to interrogate me about anything?” “None. But if you want me to stop dogging your footsteps, you’ll tell me what I need to know.” She looked disgusted. Despite her words, Jon got the sense Monique was getting a perverse sense of pleasure from the games they found themselves involved in. “Are you threatening me?” “I wouldn’t call it that. You can call it what you want. But I will know why you were with the second of the Comte’s top men. What is it you’re trying to accomplish by meeting his key colleagues behind his back?” “You do know that in this country it is illegal to, how do you say it? Stalk. That’s the word. To stalk a person.” She kept on walking briskly. “Considering that neither of us are ordinary people, I’m not terribly concerned.” Jon broke into a grin despite himself. Despite the gravity of the Comte’s situation, the absurdity of Monique’s behavior struck him as funny. Yeah, he knew all about his weird sense of humor.

79

Mardi Ballou

She stopped, turned, looked at him, and laughed. Jon was gratified to see her fangs gleam in the moonlight. So the iron maiden wasn’t totally in control of herself after all. “Touché.” “Just answer my question, and I’ll leave you alone for the night.” Unless whatever she replied led to more questions. She shrugged. “Very well. There’s a café just a few steps away. Why don’t we sit down and finish this infernal conversation.” They ordered glasses of red wine which would buy them an interlude at a sidewalk table. “Why were you with Pierre Mains de Chair tonight?” She rolled her eyes. “He is an old friend.” “He appeared very flustered when he left you. What happened between you to make him so agitated?” Monique favored him with a mysterious half-smile and lowered her lashes. “None of your business.” “The way he looked, one would assume you and he shared a…carnal experience?” Jon asked. “Carnal? Mon dieu. You sound like a provincial schoolmaster interrogating a student.” Which was actually a game he and Darlene had tried a while back, with great success. Jon grinned at the memory, then forced himself to return to the present. “Don’t try to distract me.” She sat back in her chair and crossed one leg over the other, watching him watching her. “I see you have the video vampera.” She nodded to the instrument. “That means you searched my house, disrupting my things without my permission.” Jon suppressed a squirm of discomfort. As passionate as he was about his own privacy, he despised being caught in a breach of someone else’s—even Monique’s. But he sensed that showing any remorse would make him seem appear weak in her eyes, and he needed to hang tough with her or she’d use him like the most abject of doormats. Not to mention, she didn’t seem as angry about his search as he’d have assumed she’d get. “I told you I wouldn’t leave your place without the video vampera, my property which you chose to hide away. You didn’t leave me any other options.” “In France, a creature’s home is her castle. I expected you to respect the unwritten laws of hospitality, not to ransack my things. How did you manage to find it, by the way?” Like he’d ever answer that question. “Who is the little girl in the sepia picture frame? The one dressed in old-fashioned clothes. Was that you?” As soon as Jon had asked the question, he saw Monique blanch to the color of the damask covering their table. For once, she’d lost her cool. This made him all the more determined to get an answer to the question.

80

Young Vampires in France

He was about to press the point again when Darlene sat down, totally uninvited, at their table. Much as he loved her, he could have throttled her for showing up right then. Monique couldn’t believe that Jon had not only found Josette’s picture but had the nerve to ask her about it. Hard as she’d worked for years to school her features not to reveal her feelings, she was hard-pressed at this moment to keep her face under control. She did not want Jon or Darlene to suspect how strongly his mention of the picture affected her. For now, she managed to parry the question and say nothing. “Fancy running into the two of you here,” Darlene said, as if it were her custom to walk alone on this street at night. Mon dieu, the woman was a colossally inept liar. Though she knew perfectly well who Darlene was, remembering her from their brief encounter in San Francisco the year before, Monique feigned ignorance. “Do you know this woman?” she asked Jon. Her voice dripped with disdain. Darlene scowled at her. “We met last year in San Francisco, and you know it.” Her voice came in icy puffs. Monique furrowed her brow. “Let me think. Last year. San Francisco. Hmm. I never forget a face or a name, so I’m sure if we met I will remember.” “Darlene DeMars,” she spat out. “Darlene DeMars,” Monique repeated. “Wait. It was you and another woman, Lyn… Lynette, something or other.” She snapped her fingers. “Yes, now it all comes back. You two were the women the Comte wanted me to work with, to try to impart to you a sense of style.” She looked Darlene over and shook her head dismissively. “A formidable task. Of course, given the time limits and the enormity of the job, we decided it was impossible—even for me—to help you out of your hopeless mire.” Monique crunched her face into a mask of faux sympathy. Jon appeared to be biting his lip not to laugh, and Monique suspected that Darlene’s clenched fists would soon be raised and aimed at her. “Evidently your memory is as defective as your manners.” Darlene breathed hard. “Lynette and I threw you out of our house. We have zero tolerance for rudeness. But it looks like we didn’t throw you hard or far enough.” Monique surveyed her manicure and suppressed a small yawn. “Since you are both Americans and friends of Monsieur le Comte, am I to assume that you know each other?” She looked from Jon to Darlene and back again. Darlene started to say something, but Jon cut her off. “We are here together for the Comte.” Darlene turned to him and glared. “You were going to answer my questions,” Jon said to Monique. “Oh was I?” Monique countered. “Well, now that Mademoiselle DeMars is here, it would appear our conversation must come to a close.”

81

Mardi Ballou

Monique rose. “It’s been most pleasant.” She took Jon’s hand and held it for a beat too long. “Alas, I must bid you both bonsoir.” Avoiding the temptation to say anything more, Monique made a grand exit.

***** Darlene’s head was spinning, and it wasn’t just from her excitement at being with Jon again. She couldn’t believe it. That Monique creature was as bitchy as she’d been back in San Francisco. Even worse. Darlene bit back tears of frustration. And what was she to make of Jon’s impersonal-sounding words? The fact that he did not acknowledge their special relationship, or even that they were a couple and had been for close to a year. What was that all about? Was he ashamed of identifying himself as Darlene’s lover? Had he pretended to Monique that he was single? Darlene alternated between being ready to fight for him versus giving up and just handing Jon over to Monique. She watched him watch Monique leave. For a moment, she was afraid Jon would follow Monique and abandon her at the cafe. Then Jon looked at her. “That wasn’t the best time for you to arrive.” “What do you mean by that?” He shrugged. “I was asking her some important questions. Would have gotten the answers out of her if you hadn’t interrupted us just then.” Not at all the welcome she’d been hoping for. Of course she was used to Jon acting angry with her as part of their scenes, but this was a whole different feeling. It almost reminded her of the time they nearly broke up, before Jon had been transformed—the unhappiest time of their whole relationship. “Was that all there was to it, or did I interrupt much more?” Darlene’s lips quivered as she asked the uncomfortable question. Jon’s brows came together over his beautiful eyes, which now looked nearly opaque. “What do you mean?” In for a penny, in for a pound. “Was there more between you and Monique than the questions you were asking that didn’t get answers?” Her voice kind of squeaked at the end. Jon bit his lip. “Don’t you know better than that?” What was it she saw in his eyes? Certainly not anger. If she were talking about one of the romantic heroes in a Veronica Vampira book, she’d describe that look as tender, caring. More tender and caring than she’d ever have imagined Jon capable of looking. “Jon, I haven’t known what to think. When it was impossible to reach you and we found out you’d been staying at Monique’s flat…” He stroked the side of her face. “Where I thought of you every moment.” “You did?” 82

Young Vampires in France

He kissed her fingertips, setting off a wave of desire that nearly made her knees buckle. “Why don’t I get you home and show you exactly how much I’ve missed you?” “Lead on.”

***** Unlike the two San Francisco women who had indeed thrown her out of their house, Monique had never had a girlfriend. She’d had a sister, far too briefly. But never a friend. She supposed that other women found her to be too much competition and resented her. As Monique let herself into her flat, a quiver of loneliness went through her. Having seen the loyalty and caring that the Comte, Darlene and Jon felt for each other, she experienced an envy bordering on jealousy. Yes, she’d known passion with many men, but never such caring—though she could have with the Comte. She winced at the thought of his tendresse, which she’d pushed away with both hands. But how could she respond to this kind of gentleness, that she equated with weakness and distraction from her goal? What, after all, could she know of caring? She’d never experienced anything of that nature. Her mother had been worthless— beneath worthless. Josette had been wonderful. But Monique had lost her dear little sister despite all her devotion and dedication to keeping her alive. After that, Monique’s only relationship with other women had been as a fierce competitor for men’s favors. As for men, they’d always wanted something from her. Usually sex, but sometimes simply the prestige of being seen with her on their arm. She’d considered that it would just be more of the same when she got close with the Comte, by far the most powerful and important of her conquests to date. Always underlying everything for her were the twin motivations—justice for Josette, and, in her memory, aid for the poorest, weakest children. Once Monique realized how important vanquishing the Comte was for both her causes, her path was set. But she couldn’t have predicted how completely the Comte would penetrate her woman’s heart and lay claim to her sentiments. Her foolish heart, the weak link that could destroy all she’d worked so hard for over so many years. At the deepest level of her consciousness, she knew exactly who and what she wanted tonight. If the Comte were here, holding her, she’d have a struggle holding on to her commitment to his destruction. Tonight, she would open herself up to him, let his words and caresses sweep over her and possess her completely. Fortunately for her, he wasn’t going to be anywhere near her, threatening the strength of her purpose with his big strong hands, his long, hard cock, his hungry fangs. Instead, she would spend the remaining hours of the night reviewing her paperwork, adjusting her plans yet again. And if the loneliness got to be too much for her, she would use her vibrator to take the edge off her frustration—alas, in a most bloodless way.

83

Mardi Ballou

***** Jon sensed Darlene’s mood and knew it would be easy to say the words that would convince her she had nothing to worry about from Monique de la Chauve-Souris or any other female in the universe. But Jon wasn’t one to resort to words. Not when, as far as he was concerned, actions spoke so much louder and clearer. Though he hadn’t yet had the chance to sample any of the toys and other goodies Paris had to offer—and he was sure he’d be going home with a treasure chest full—he’d brought some new playthings from home. And he couldn’t wait to try several of them out with Darlene. After some intense fun and games, they’d make love ‘til dawn forced them to call it a night and get some much-needed rest. In addition to enjoying himself on many levels, Jon hoped their lovemaking would convince Darlene to lighten up. Now that he took the time to really look around, Jon could really appreciate the magnificence of the Comte’s residence. When he’d spent his first night in Paris here, Jon had been too much on overload to pay much attention to his surroundings. Their room was all he could have wished for. Or it would be, once he set up a few extra features. To Jon’s delight, the Comte had even installed a full array of special mirrors, sensitive to the image of vampires. “I told you not to follow me, but you didn’t listen.” Jon said this in a tone Darlene would recognize as signaling that playtime had just begun. “You know how I feel when you disobey.” Jon set his features into a grim mask of displeasure. Darlene pouted, jutting out her full bottom lip so temptingly that Jon wanted to take a nibble. Only not yet. His cock, hugely aroused, sprang to its ready position. Tonight, satisfaction would be his. “I am so sorry, Master,” she said, her voice soft and abject. She hung her head. He hoped she was wearing those special crotchless panties he’d bought her. Well, if she wasn’t, that would be one more reason to use the special new whip he’d brought along… He glared at her. “Talk is cheap. I want to be sure that you’ve learned a lesson this time and won’t disobey again.” She kept her eyes downcast. “Take off those clothes. I want to look at you.” Darlene quickly stripped down to her underpants and was about to pull them down, when Jon unfurled the new whip and struck her once on the left buttock. She looked up, startled. “But Master, you said I should take off my clothes…” “I want to see your underpants first. Open your legs.” She did so. He shook his head in disdain. He’d been very clear. She was to wear the crotchless panties. He wanted to know she was walking around Paris with the breeze caressing her cunt. He raised his whip again and came down, hard. To his gratification, Darlene flinched. “What happened to the panties I wanted you to wear?” She bit her lip now. “I’m sorry, Master. I forgot.”

84

Young Vampires in France

She forgot. How dare she treat his explicit order as so trivial and unimportant as to forget to comply? “You forgot?” he thundered. Two more passes with the whip, which made a most satisfying snap through the air. “You know I’ll have to teach you to remember what I order,” he hissed. Darlene, looking like the soul of wounded innocence, nodded. “Over on that bed with you,” he commanded. When Darlene got on the old-style bed with its iron head and foot boards and lay down on her back, he ordered her to turn over onto her belly. Darlene promptly complied. She moaned and, from the dreamy expression on her face, Jon knew her pussy had grown quite wet. Making careful measurements in his head, Jon decided the new leather straps he’d had custom-made would fill the bill. In no time, he had her tied down spread-eagle, her luscious ass glowing like a centerpiece in the middle of the mattress. “Now you know what I’m going to do, don’t you?” “What, Master?” He smacked her. “No questions ‘til I give you permission. Now a bad girl like you needs a special lesson. Which means a spanking you won’t forget. On your knees.” Only after Darlene struggled was she able to comply deliciously. Jon had tied the bands to the exact right degree of tightness. Excellent. Just what he wanted. After three tries, Darlene finally managed to get up on her knees and stick her butt out at just the right angle. Jon struck her ten more times. Her ass grew deliciously red, welts raised after each landing of the whip. He wanted to hit her more, but his own need had grown too large to ignore. He flung aside the whip, threw down his pants, and licked the crack between her crimson cheeks. The blood was pulsing so hard to her butt, he couldn’t resist taking a nibble. The wanton thrust her crack up to him and broke down the remaining remnant of his reserves. His fangs fully descended, he lay down on top of her and buried his cock in her ass at the same time his fangs grazed the delicate skin at the nape of her chin. Oh, sweet universe. There was no one like his woman, not in any country, not in any world. Her hot blood flowed tantalizingly just under her ivory skin as her tight sheath surrounded his cock and welcomed him home. He could hear Darlene moaning and feel her grind her pussy against the mattress. He wedged his hand under her pussy and then raised his fingers to play with her in her most vulnerable spot. She was so wet for him, letting him know how much she wanted him exactly where he was. She opened to him, front and back, and Jon let himself sink into her. Ever familiar and yet ever new. Soon he would release her from the bonds and they’d be face-to-face. He’d drink his fill, and she would do the same. He would never tire of loving this woman, exploring all the ways for them to be together. Darlene contracted her muscles, fore and aft, squeezing to give him pleasure as she took some for herself. When he moved his finger away from her clit, she chased after 85

Mardi Ballou

him, mashing it against him and gasping out her sensual delight. As he pistoned in and out of her, keeping a steady rhythm, she moved her head side to side, thrashing with the emotion of the tide that swept them both up. Darlene wiggled her butt from side to side, surprising Jon with the friction from a different angle. His balls contracted, and he felt the cum rise in him. With a great shout and shudder, he came high inside her, feeling himself spurt out his essence ‘til he was drained. Darlene surrounded his hand with her pussy, thrusting herself against him with a shriek that signified her climax. He collapsed on her for a moment. But drained as he felt, he wanted to kiss her. Now that the lesson was over, he needed to share his tenderness. He kissed his way down her back, taking special care to lovingly lick the welts and stripes that decorated her ass in shades of red. When he lay down to face Darlene, her fangs were gleaming. “I’m so hungry for you,” she moaned. He lifted his chin and prepared for the mutual ecstasy of her feed.

***** For once, the Comte wished his senses were not so sharp. Despite the excellent construction of the house, he could hear the sounds of his guests busily fucking each other in their rooms—the last thing he needed right now. Of course, if it were just a simple fuck he was after, he could easily come by that. After all, his personal files bulged with names, addresses and phone numbers of willing partners. Many of them he’d already been to bed with, while some had been listed for future delectation—before he’d connected with Monique. And if he didn’t want to go to the bother of actually having some social intercourse before the sexual kind, he could easily summon any of the multitude of whores busily plying their trade throughout Paris. He sighed. Life had been so simple when a satisfying fuck lay just a phone call or, for that matter, a fax away. Those were the days before Monique de la Chauve-Souris had staked a claim to his heart and his life and complicated everything beyond recognition. Now his needs and demands had become very specialized. Only one woman could satisfy him. He’d never before been in this situation. The heights of ecstasy when they’d been together—and the pits of despair, where he now languished. He’d planned a night of work, of catching up. Work was always a reliable distraction. He’d even planned to meet with Henri du Soutien to begin what would evidently be a challenging campaign of damage control. But he couldn’t keep his mind focused anywhere it should be. Instead, he had the image of Monique before him and he couldn’t banish her. After hearing a guest climax loudly in several languages, some not known to man or vampire, the Comte sprang to his feet. “Merde!” A man had his limits. Muttering

86

Young Vampires in France

curses, he grabbed his cape and, neglecting to tell anyone where he was going, made his escape.

87

Mardi Ballou

Chapter Eight Though he knew it was complete and utter idiocy, insanity on the most fundamental level, the Comte found himself at the door of Monique de la ChauveSouris. After wandering the streets and alleys of Paris, seeing the crowds and the solitary people of the night—why go there, of all places? If he had a shred of self-regard, of intelligence, he should make his feet turn around and hasten him elsewhere, to lose himself in a more hospitable place. But he couldn’t leave. Not when he was so close to her. He could sense her, feel her, behind the closed door of her flat. What was wrong with him that he should remain so in tune with, not to mention enthralled by, this woman? What more did she have to do to him before he burst free? He should go elsewhere. Anywhere else. Forget Monique and find himself a whore, fuck the daylights out of her, get rid of the desires that served as an excuse for why he’d come to her flat. But first he had to hear the harsh words of her perfidy from her lips when she stood before him, exposed to his eyes, his ears, all his senses. Furious with himself, unable to stop himself, he raised his fist and knocked on her door. He expected that maybe she’d ignore the summons, pretend not be home, though he well knew she was there. But after he’d knocked three times, the door began to open. There she stood—magnificent as ever and twice as haughty. “You just open the door to anyone,” he growled. “I knew it was you.” She stood in the doorway, blocking the path into the flat. “Why are you here?” Her voice sounded soft and almost vulnerable to him. Or was that just his imagination? “I’ve just returned to Paris.” Brilliant reason. “I had to see you.” Merde. Even worse. To his amazement, she stood aside and beckoned him into her flat. Wordlessly, she took his cape and hung it on the coat rack near the door. When they were both seated, far apart, in her sitting room, he repeated his words. “I had to see you.” She looked at him, but her eyes gave away nothing. “Why?” “Because I can’t believe the things you said. I can’t believe that you hate me the way you said, that you are going to do the things to me you threatened.” “Have you ever known me to lie?” “No. Nor have I ever known you to plot against your friends or try to destroy them.”

88

Young Vampires in France

She looked at him. “There are many things about me that you don’t understand, that you couldn’t.” “Tell me. I want to know you, especially the things I’ve been blind to. Open up my eyes.” She shook her head and laughed dryly. “You don’t ask for much, do you?” “Nor do you. We have that in common, don’t we?” She shook her head again. “Alas, we have precious little in common. You and I are so different, we could come from different worlds.” “I have invited you into mine. I thought you would accept. But if your world is so different, invite me in. Let me see this world of yours.” “Too little, too late.” She rose, and he thought she would tell him to leave now. Instead, to his greater confusion as well as to his delight, she held her hand out to him. “Come. I’ll show you a little of my world. My bedroom. One with the ordinary sheets I can afford, not the fine linens we always made love on in your residences.” Mon dieu. Could this be it, that he’d never deigned to come to her place, always had her come to his? But, after all, he was able to afford accommodations much finer than she could. He’d thought she preferred sharing his vastly more luxurious accommodations. But maybe he’d been wrong about this, as he had, evidently, about so much more. Could it all really be so simple? “Is this what you wanted all along? Why didn’t you just say so?” “No, my dear. I also prefer your fine linens, which is why I never invited you here as you’ve invited yourself. And when I have succeeded, I will have even finer linens than you do. Something better always exists, no?” “No.” She shrugged off his response. “You will come to my bed and we will have a fuck for old times’ sake. And because things are about to become very ugly between us, this will be our farewell fuck.” He didn’t want this to be farewell—quite the contrary. Though he’d thought he’d been around long enough to know everything, she’d taught him a tough lesson—so he knew this woman was poison. After tonight, he’d have to devote all his energy into destroying her. As for tonight, his cock, oblivious to the harsh truth about Monique, was already hard. Determined to focus on what could very well be the last time they made love, he followed Monique to her boudoir for what was, amazingly, his first time ever in that chamber. Maybe if she hadn’t felt so lonely, maybe if she hadn’t watched the high-energy sex in the park, Monique would have had the strength of character to turn the Comte away from her door. Certainly the subject of lovemaking, her vaunted farewell fuck, wouldn’t have come up if she hadn’t brought it up. So she had no one to blame but herself, or perhaps the spring night.

89

Mardi Ballou

Or perhaps it was because he looked so handsome, debonair and sad standing on her doorstep. And now here he was, in her ordinary bedroom. The best she could afford, yes, but a poor facsimile of what he had in all his homes. But once she saw him there, there was no way she’d let him leave. Not until she had her way with him. She wanted to get her fill of him, in her pussy and with her fangs. This would surely be the last time. She wanted it to be memorable. She suspected it would be a long time, if ever, until a man who make her feel the way the Comte did came along again. “I want you to undress me,” she whispered. He gave her a half-smile, one she would treasure forever. “Of course.” Did she imagine it, or were his fingers trembling as he took hold of her sweater and drew it over her head? She knew her black lace bra hid little. That’s why she liked it. “Shall we linger, or do you want me to undress you quickly?” His voice quivered on the last words, so Monique knew his preference. Normally, she’d prefer to string out the strip. But tonight, her need was probably every bit as great as his. “Quickly.” He swallowed hard. Then, his fingers moving smoothly and deftly, he unhooked the bra and slid it from her breasts. With the rush of cool air and his hungry gaze on her, Monique’s nipples pebbled into two sharp points, the focus for the moment of her desire for his touch. He licked his lips and she could almost feel how his tongue would caress her. “Taste me,” she ordered, suddenly incapable of postponing the desired contact for even another moment. She held her breath when he drew back. For too long a beat, he looked at her. She could see the desire emanating off him. He had to want her as much as she wanted him, so why was he hesitating? What game had he decided to play? Or, had he taken her measure and decided he’d had enough? Much as she might have deserved his contempt, she would expire if he didn’t take her, now. “Please,” she whispered. Something seemed to break within him, perhaps within them both. With a howl that sent shivers down her spine, he scooped her up in his arms, and Monique resumed her breath. Whatever punishment she’d face from this man had been averted for the moment. She thrust her breasts to him and, at last, he clamped his full, sensuous lips around her nipple. Ahh, yes. Exactly there. Monique writhed in his arms with complete abandon as his questing tongue awakened all her senses like lightning striking home. He engulfed first one breast than the other, licking, sucking as if he’d devour her, and Monique moaned her response. If only she could freeze this moment in time, become a statue in the arms of a statue of the Comte, with his mouth eternally on her breast. But other needs cried out for their attention. He laid her down on the bed and made short work of removing her shoes, her pants, and the tiny silk scrap of her panties. Now her voracious mound, with her carefully trimmed black hair providing a tease of cover, 90

Young Vampires in France

lay exposed to him. But the Comte was losing no time. In moments, he was undressed, looming above her on the bed. “I’ve wanted you for so long, my love.” He covered her with his body and took immediate possession of her mouth, drawing her into a kiss of complete surrender. Monique, who still entertained the fleeting illusion that she could make love with him and stay in control, felt herself melt as the reality of his being there with her penetrated all her senses. It hadn’t been so long since she’d felt his lips on hers, his tongue and teeth exploring her, that she could possibly have forgotten. But her memory proved a weak ally for the remembered sensation paled before the reality of their intimate union. Though she’d been the initiator of this lovemaking, the Comte had seized control of all that would happen between them—and this she craved with her body, her heart, her soul. The silly niggle of her pride—her material poverty, his vast wealth—exploded into nothing like a balloon blown too full of air. No, her aristocratic lover didn’t seem put out at all by the lack of fine linens and the ordinary surroundings—didn’t pay it the slightest attention. The deep pleasure Monique had before attributed to the luxury he surrounded her with came only from him, not the thread count of the sheets they lay on. This understanding hit Monique with the force of a whirlwind. But she didn’t want this realization. She didn’t want to know that the sense of deep, lovely warmth and glorious sensation came from this man, no matter the circumstances around their being together. Except that his kiss, the look in his eyes, the touch of his fingers, lips, and tongue—all swept her away. Monique struggled to gather her errant thoughts. She absolutely had to stop thinking like this or he’d win the victory before the final battle. All she’d cede to him was a pleasurable fuck. How dare he demand more from her? She’d long ago learned to ignore her heart and wasn’t about to forget that vital lesson now. Memory served him poorly after all. Perhaps he’d become too complacent with her, not paying enough attention to how magical it was to make love with Monique. She was beautiful, of course. But many women were beautiful. Only she had captured his heart. He had to focus on the moment. She wanted the pleasure of the moment, that’s what she claimed. But in his heart, he realized she was giving him one more chance— that all was still not lost. He’d landed in a joust to win his lady love, just like any medieval knight on the quest of his lifetime. Only for this joust, he must engage with the lady love herself. From just her kiss, he knew with no question that she still wanted him—perhaps more than ever. Or perhaps, after the agony of the past few nights, he’d become much more aware of her emotions. Had she ever before responded so completely to his kiss, drawing him into a deeper and deeper place, opening herself to him in total surrender?

91

Mardi Ballou

With a woman like Monique, any notion of surrender proved stunning—but he felt this with every cell of his being. Her lips greeted him, exposing her tongue and teeth, every nuance of how she tasted and smelled. Every moment brought him to a higher and higher pitch of excitement and arousal. Had he ever before been so hard, so ready to love a woman with his entire body and essence? He could not remember experiencing anything comparable in all of his long existence. She thrust her breasts, two miracles of loveliness, at him with hungry abandon. At the merest tickle of his tongue and feather of breath, her lovely pink nipples stiffened, fierce with longing. He rubbed his face against her hardness. Her fangs gleamed, probably a mirror of his. He hungered for a mutual, shared feed—and knew instinctively that she did too. This she confirmed when she drew him to her and opened her lips. He cocked his head to the side, and she sprang to him, clamping her lips around his jugular as her teeth punctured him. Her sucking nearly brought him to his climax, which was a hair trigger away. But he intended to last far longer, to taste fully of her, to possess her in every way before he finally allowed himself his release. She drank hungrily, crazily, and he savored every moment of contact. When she at last raised her head from his neck, his blood gleamed from her fangs and she smiled at him in lazy satisfaction. “My turn,” he reminded her, far more coolly than he felt. She raised her neck to him and he claimed his place with his fangs. Her blood flowed into him like a stream of heated desire, both satisfying him and arousing him. Though he did not want to end this form of ecstasy, he knew his desire was infinite and Monique’s body finite. When he’d drunk enough to placate his hunger for the moment, he raised his head and howled. She clamped her hands around his waist and flipped them both over so that he was on his back. For the moment, he’d let himself enjoy the way she took charge—confirmed when she lowered her head and took his cock into her mouth. Incroyable. Beyond belief. She’d rarely taken him into her mouth, but now she sucked him with a fervor that had him seeing stars. She caressed his balls with her fingers while she licked, sucked and nibbled his shaft. Then she tongued his balls, with a nip here and there, while she stroked his throbbing shaft. He’d have sworn the woman had five tongues and twenty fingers. It took all his self-mastery not to come in her mouth. But the promise of her beautiful, hot pussy around his cock motivated him to keep from exploding as she played her sensuous game, surrounding his cock and balls with her hot breath, and touch, the textures of her tongue, lips and teeth, and play of her fingers. “I must come into you,” he said when he’d far exceeded the point of no return. “I thought you’d never ask,” the vixen crowed. The Comte knew she’d been gearing her attentions to making him admit his need. Confident that she knew her illusion of mastery was false, he continued to act as if she’d seduced him. A triumphant

92

Young Vampires in France

grin lighting up her face, Monique straddled his hips and slid her pussy lips over the head of his cock—and he nearly gave it all up. “Mon dieu,” she sighed. And then she slid on down his shaft and whooped like an American cowgirl at a rodeo. He found himself writhing and bucking his hips up into her as he gave himself up to the unbearable ecstasy of having her engulf him. Moist heat caressed his shaft as she struggled to slow down his movements, to match her rhythm. “You are luscious,” he whispered. She exhaled hard, slowing down her rapid breaths. He caressed her hips and massaged the tender skin between her mound and her thighs—which met with a grunt of approval. She played with his nipples, fingering them, bending over to tongue them. “Your nipples get just as hard as mine.” This observation appeared to please her, judging from the smile on her luscious lips. “But my cock gets harder than everything else,” he growled, thrusting deeper into her to illustrate the point. They both found this hilarious and shared a laugh. Touching her belly when she laughed, feeling the response start deep below her navel, fascinated him. Where, he wondered briefly, did her other responses originate? “Hold my ass,” she ordered. Never one to deny a lady in bed, especially the one he loved, he clamped his fingers onto her firm, tight cheeks. The crack between them beckoned to him. He slid his fingers along the crack, pausing when he got to the rosebud of her anal opening. As she responded to his pressure, he decided to up the ante. He stuck his fingers into his mouth and got them quite wet. Then he began to slide them more playfully along the crack. She continued to press back against him, so he put his index finger into her hole and began to play. She wiggled her ass and invited his finger deeper in. A second finger was also welcome. Hmm. Previously she’d turned off at any mention of anal play. Now she seemed to welcome it. Something to explore in their future lovemaking. If there was to be any future for them. He let the reality of the situation between them intrude for a moment, and he almost lost the beat. Could she possibly mean this to be their final time together? How could she think to end what they had between them? But now was not the time for such questions, which would only serve to distract him from this glorious moment. After all, he had the chance to demonstrate to her— again—how amazing, how beyond the expected they were together. How unique their bond was. Lovemaking of this intensity came about only once in a lifetime—no matter how many centuries that lifetime might last. Monique, even in her anger and her wrong-headedness, had to realize this. Once he got her to admit they belonged together, they would get to the bottom of whatever problem there might be. From there, they would build the future together. Surely Monique would have to agree.

93

Mardi Ballou

In the throes of her rising climax, Monique groaned and panted with single-minded intensity. She was moving wildly to maximize his penetration, both of her pussy and her ass. The way she clutched him now, in both places, he knew she was teetering on the edge of her release. Monique’s stunning beauty reached its pinnacle when she let herself go into a full orgasm such as was brewing now—and he was the only one who knew her like this. He could feel her begin to shudder. She claimed that her orgasms started in her toes and zoomed to the top of her head. Sometimes, she said, she feared one would blow her head off her shoulders. If she truly meant this to be their final lovemaking, let her try to walk away. She’d never before let herself be so uninhibited with him, bloody hell, nor with anyone else. So open and demanding about her desires. And, merde alors, he came through. Every aspect of their lovemaking brought her to a higher, deeper level of satisfaction than she’d ever imagined possible. From the moment their lips touched, it was all perfect. His blood in her felt like liquid light, magic that made her feel as if her whole body were laughing with joy. And then when he drank from her, she experienced not only the pleasure of him feeding, but the intimate connection as her blood mingled with his in his veins and brought him life. His cock in her was beyond words. With each move, she felt herself come to new life. Her pussy was so moist for him that she feared they would both slide off the bed. But he held on to her so tightly, with such mastery, that any such fears evaporated. His hands on her ass and his fingers in her quadrupled her pleasure as she climbed to the stars for her come. Thoughts of loneliness, the sadness she’d felt before he showed up at her door, vanished in the wonder of his arms. How would she push him out the door again? How was she going to make herself walk away from him? Conscious at every moment that this could be the final time they ever made love, the Comte wanted their embrace to last. Though he gave himself up to the sensations of their union, he kept a bit of himself in reserve—almost out of body, watching, greedily swallowing up every nuance of how they were together. But even for him, there came a limit. After watching and feeling Monique come with complete abandon, he could no longer wait. Uttering a cry that expressed what he couldn’t, the Comte came deep within his love. In the aftermath of their lovemaking, he lay with Monique. The two of them were so stunned and shaken, for once neither could talk—which was probably for the best. He greatly feared what she would say, and he didn’t relish what he needed to say.

94

Young Vampires in France

As much as he would have wanted to stay where he was forever, the Comte knew that wouldn’t work for either of them. Dawn was approaching and the room they shared so peacefully was far from lightproof. Though he hated doing it, he said, “Dawn is near. I want to stay here with you for the day’s rest.” Monique looked at him. “It’s too late to send you back home, isn’t it?” He shrugged. If she sent him out, he’d manage. But he’d so prefer not to have to. “I want to stay,” he repeated. “If I let you stay, you have to realize it doesn’t mean that anything’s changed between us. I want that to be perfectly clear.” She lay mere millimeters away from him, her breath warm on his face. How could she remain so intransigent? “I understand.” He didn’t, but those seemed to be the most reasonable, reassuring words he could give her at this time. “This is not the Château, you know.” Of course he knew this quite clearly. He wasn’t quite sure what her point was, but he figured she’d explain. “I have only two coffins. The one I sleep in, which is rather nice. And the plain pine box that was all I could afford at first. I keep it around for emergency purposes only. I’m sure you would find it quite an uncomfortable place to spend a day.” “It’s better than having to face sunlight.” She grimaced. “That’s where I made Jon Torrance spend the day. When he ended up here and it got close to dawn.” The Comte frowned. Though he knew Jon had been at the flat, he didn’t know the full story of why. For a shaky moment, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Had Jon betrayed him? Had Jon come after Monique with the intent of seducing her? The Comte knew that Darlene had some nasty suspicions. If Jon had come after Monique, then as much as he cared for the young man, whom he’d transformed himself just the year before, he’d have to see to his destruction. “Why was he here?” Might as well face the truth. Monique appeared to weigh her response. Did she realize how easily she could hurt him and destroy Jon Torrance? “He’d left his thing at the café where we talked, and I brought it home with me. He wanted to retrieve it.” “His thing? Oh, the video vampera. Is that what you mean?” “Yes. That thing.” She pursed her lips. He laughed. Yes, he could well imagine that Jon would not be able to let the video vampera be out of his possession for very long. Not after all the hard work he’d put into perfecting it. “I see.” Monique slipped off the bed. “If I invite you to spend the day with me in my coffin, do you promise you will leave at nightfall?” The Comte bit his lip to keep from uttering a triumphant shout. “Whatever you say.” He did his best to sound noncommittal. 95

Mardi Ballou

“And you will not infer anything beyond just normal hospitality from my letting you stay?” Monique was probably the least hospitable woman in France, perhaps in all of Europe. “I am pleased to stay here and accept your hospitality, however you see fit to exercise it.” “And you will not expect that this signals a continuance of our former relationship—or a cessation of hostilities?” “I repeat what I said earlier. I accept your invitation with all the caveats you wish to include.” “Very well then. You may spend the day with me in my coffin. Just for today.” “I’m honored.” He truly was. They both completed their toilettes. Though Monique’s facilities were far from posh, and though he had to wait his turn to use them, they were adequate. The Comte had become a wealthy man so long ago, perhaps he really had lost touch with the sort of reality Monique’s flat represented. Though not luxurious, it certainly more than sufficed. Her coffin was really quite charming, and almost large enough for the two of them to stretch out in comfortably. The Comte certainly didn’t mind being crowded in with her for the day. He’d gladly have been crowded in with her for much longer. When he’d arrived in Paris hours before, optimist that he was, he couldn’t have foreseen that the night would end with him and Monique locked in each other’s arms, sharing a coffin after mind-blowing sex. No. After mind-blowing, soul-shattering lovemaking. Trying to take her warning and not read too much into the night’s respite, he nonetheless permitted himself a hopeful thought for the future. If his first night back in Paris had brought him to where he was now, brought them to where they were, perhaps the story would have a happy ending after all. Holding this thought, he watched Monique fall asleep and then surrendered to his own need for rest.

***** When Monique awoke the next night and found herself in the Comte’s arms, the two of them pressed together within her ebony coffin, she at first thought she was dreaming. Her spontaneous feeling was one of joy, that somehow she’d been able to reunite with him on the most intimate of terms. Then, as layers of reality came to light, her elation plummeted and a nightmare replaced it. She couldn’t imagine the Comte away. The evidence of that smacked her in the face. He was there, still asleep. Moments before, she’d had her ass wedged against his crotch. She groaned. Memories of the previous night came flooding back. How could she have been so stupid?

96

Young Vampires in France

She staggered out of the coffin and began to think. How would she remove the Comte from her coffin—and her life? He began to stir. Good. She’d make short work of getting him out of her flat. “Monique.” Damn him. The Comte was the only man she knew who woke up totally alert. But then, the Comte had many characteristics that put him head and shoulders above all other men. Stop it, she warned herself. She could not afford to become sentimental about this man. Not about any man, but especially not about him. Any such weakness would destroy her, would ruin all her dreams. Forcing herself to sound as cold as she knew she had to, Monique rushed through her toilette and ignored the sounds he made arising. “Monique.” He called her name again. Nothing else, just her name. Assured that she looked perfect despite her rush, she turned in his direction. “Oh, you are still here.” “We both are.” He began to move toward her and Monique backed away. Not too much. She didn’t want him to think he intimidated her in any way. She moved just enough to indicate a fastidious desire for them not to touch. She drew herself to her full height and visualized herself as a haughty queen about to dismiss a lackey. “I expected that you would be gone by now.” He half smiled, and she fought back the desire to throw herself in his arms and stop all the turmoil between them. But habit won out. Rather than engage in any conversation that would give him a chance to extend their time together, she shrugged. “I have an appointment and must not be late. I must ask you to leave quickly.” She saw a flicker of pain in his eyes and clenched her fists to keep from reaching out to him. But the Comte recovered quickly. In a moment, she saw his face take on its usual arrogance. “Surely you will take time to feed before you leave.” “I’ll grab a bite on the way. It is most essential for me to be on time.” “Would you permit me to break my fast here before I leave? I’d prefer, of course, to share this repast with you. But if need be, I’ll dine alone.” “If you feel you must.” Monique pursed her lips, cloaking her words with the sparest touch of courtesy. “Thank you.” “But please leave immediately thereafter. And do me the courtesy of refraining from further visits.” He furrowed his brow. She could see that he’d tie her up in one of his endless arguments, if she let him. She wouldn’t. “I really must go now. I expect that you’ll be gone before I return.” Without another word, she turned on her heel and left the flat. Once outside the closed door, Monique gathered her breath. Despite the detour she’d just taken, she could still get back on track to accomplish her mission. Starting tonight, with her appointment with the dreaded Françoise Aurore. 97

Mardi Ballou

He couldn’t believe she refused to stay in the flat to share the first meal of the night with him. After a night of lovemaking and the intimacy of the shared coffin, surely he should have been able to convince her to return to him. Puzzling over this setback, the Comte helped himself to some of Monique’s meager blood supply. He frowned. Most vampires kept at least a week’s worth of blood on hand at all times. Monique had barely enough for a night. No wonder she’d scurried off to feed elsewhere. Well, he’d order a delivery, pronto. His mobile rang, and he answered immediately. Jon’s voice came from the other end. “Where are you?” the young American asked without preamble. “A long story, my friend.” “Oh, at Monique’s flat, are you?” The Comte stared at the phone. Was he really that transparent? “What can I do for you, Jon?” “I figured we should coordinate what we’re doing tonight. As in, do you need the video vampera?” The Comte remembered that Jon had an appointment with an expert in the manufacture and marketing of photographic equipment. This seemed to be the night for important meetings. “No. Go ahead.” “What are you planning?” “I’m meeting with Henri du Soutien. Time to begin damage control.” “Do you know who Monique’s going to see tonight?” The Comte hadn’t tried to guess. “No. Do you?” “I don’t know for sure, but my money’s on the third person in your power triumvirate. The only one she hasn’t gotten to yet.” “That would be Françoise Aurore. Hmm. Monique despises her.” “Be that as it may, my money’s on the two of them meeting tonight. Do you have the tracker?” The Comte felt in his pocket for the device. “Yes.” “Good. You can keep track of where she is. And, of course, contact me if you need any help.” “I’ll bear that in mind.” “Oh, and one more thing.” “Yes.”

98

Young Vampires in France

“Last night, when I was looking for the video vampera, I came across a photograph that caught my eye. I haven’t been able to forget it. I have a feeling it holds a key to Monique’s mysterious secret—and her motives.” “A photograph? Of her?” “I’m not sure. Maybe you should look at it, see what you think.” Once again impressed with Jon’s intelligence, the Comte made his way to Monique’s hiding place. Though he didn’t approve of intruding on people’s privacy, this was a special case. When he had the photo in hand, he stared at it. Clearly this was not Monique, but someone who looked so much like her, she could be a close relative. Her mother? Sister? Perhaps Monique’s child? The Comte carefully replaced the photo. One day, he felt positive, he would know who the young girl was, and what her relationship to Monique had been. For the first time since Monique’s recent descent into bizarre behavior, the Comte began to see a possible end to the current impasse. The Comte knew he needed to think before asking Monique about the photo. But having seen it made him want to find her immediately. He turned on the tracking device Jon had given him and soon realized either it was malfunctioning or he really didn’t know how to use it. Exasperated, the Comte phoned Jon for further instructions. Jon wasn’t answering. The Comte sighed. He left Jon a message, telling him he was unable to track Monique after all and asking him to keep tabs on her whereabouts. And then, regretting his need to focus elsewhere, the Comte left for his appointment with Henri du Soutien.

99

Mardi Ballou

Chapter Nine Françoise Aurore, a large woman in her late thirties with blonde hair cut in a severe short hairstyle, sat at the table of the café, the stem of a wineglass in her right hand. Monique knew that Françoise drank only mineral water, no matter what sort of glass she drank it from. She had her right leg crossed over her left and was shaking it so hard, the table appeared to vibrate. Françoise was looking at her wristwatch and frowning. Monique realized that, despite all her efforts, she was indeed late for their meeting, and rushed to the other woman’s table. “I’m sorry. The traffic…” Monique began as she sank into a chair opposite Françoise. Françoise didn’t smile. “Yes. Well, one must allow for traffic. I was going to leave if you hadn’t arrived in another two minutes.” Monique favored the other woman with her most dazzling smile. “I’m so glad you didn’t.” Françoise raised a narrow eyebrow and looked at Monique inquiringly through unfashionable glasses. “What are you drinking?” “Red wine.” Françoise ordered a glass from a server who appeared at the table moments after Monique’s arrival. “So, Monique, what can I do for you?” Despite the frosty tone in her voice, Monique read the other woman’s interest in her eyes. Though Monique had no objection to lesbians, her own inclinations didn’t lie in that direction. Now Monique was going to walk the fine line of playing on Françoise’s interest in her without actually encouraging her. Merde. A very fine line. Monique had played this game with men, but never before with a woman. She found such behavior borderline despicable but felt backed into a corner. Since neither of her previous meetings with the Comte’s intimates had brought her what she wanted, she had to rely on what she could get from Françoise Aurore. The server put the wine in front of Monique. How she wished this were a glass of blood. As she’d told the Comte she’d do, Monique had stopped for a quick breakfast on her way—a carryout glass of O positive from Sang à Go-Go, a new vampire fast food chain. Just enough to get her going. Monique now felt the need for a heavy-duty drink. Wine, alas, did nothing for her. Nonetheless, she took a sip and forced herself not to make a face. The stuff tasted bitter.

100

Young Vampires in France

“Françoise,” she said, “what I have to tell you is very highly confidential. I’m afraid it might shock you.” Françoise smiled grimly. “Nothing shocks me anymore.” Monique raised her glass in a mock toast. “This very well might. You see, it has come to my attention that the Comte has been criminally misusing the assets of his vast empire in pursuit of expanding his own dominion—at the expense of his most trusted officers.” Françoise narrowed her eyes. “I don’t believe you. What proof have you of these allegations?” Monique lowered her lashes. “I’m afraid I must ask you to trust me. As you know, the Comte and I have been very close…” Françoise shrugged. “It is common knowledge that you have been the latest of his lovers.” Monique nodded. “Yes. I have had to go to such extreme measures to work my way into his most intimate confidences.” “Are you saying that you are not his willing lover?” Monique chose not to respond to this question. Let Françoise interpret this silence, hopefully in the direction Monique wanted her to. “You understand how these things are.” Françoise slightly inclined her head, not quite a nod. She watched Monique like a falcon. “Françoise, I very much need to know more about your exact role in the organization, and, especially, which records you have access to. That way I can help you guard against damage to your position and your assets.” Françoise snorted. “I find this concern on your part sudden.” “I have always cared about you, more than I could show.” Monique put her hand over Françoise’s as she might have with any friend. Surely this was an appropriate gesture between two women? Françoise drew her hand away. Monique looked at her in surprise. “Did I offend you? I didn’t mean to.” “Let’s see. You start by arriving late. You accuse the being I most respect in the world of dishonesty and coercion. Then you try to be dishonest with me by saying you care and, without invitation, touching me. To answer your question with more honesty than you’ve shown me, yes, you have offended me.” She rose. Monique began to follow. “Don’t bother,” Françoise said and started to walk away. Monique, baffled, followed. “But I am sorry.”

101

Mardi Ballou

Françoise turned. “And well you should be, but I don’t forgive you. I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I intend to contact the Comte immediately to tell him what you’re saying about him.” With that, Françoise strode off. Stunned, Monique stared after her. In a strange way, Monique felt a grudging respect for Françoise—in contrast to her previous contempt for the woman. Monique wished she had the luxury of making high-minded pronouncements, of claiming a high moral ground. Eventually, when she accomplished her goals, she would. But now she subsisted in the murky area of having to believe that noble ends justified even the nastiest means. Not having Françoise on her side would slow her down, but Monique had to see her mission through. Only then would Josette finally know peace, and would poor children be cared for as they needed. Monique had never before known such feelings of frustration. Though she’d managed to spend time alone with each of the top officers in the Comte’s business circle, she hadn’t advanced her plot an iota. Opportunities such as she’d had wouldn’t arise again quickly. Despite all her work, she’d accomplished almost nothing in the last stages of her campaign to blacken the Comte’s name in the eyes of his officers—and the world. Even worse, instead of feeling invigorated to pursue her goals, she was less and less sure of what she was doing. Would Josette, one of the sweetest, purest beings who’d ever existed, understand and approve all her sister was doing in her name? And what of her inability to banish her feelings for the Comte? What she needed most now was a chance to sort out those out-of-control feelings and rededicate herself to her quest. Why was she throwing away her chances to inflict major, lasting damage on the Comte when she was so close to victory? Even worse—why did the Comte’s face and image come up to haunt her every time she saw a beautiful sight, heard a lovely sound or thought about sex? Dieux, he was becoming a living chastity belt—one she didn’t need or want. More than anything, Monique wanted to be her usual self again. The woman who could enjoy sex with abandon with any partner she chose any night of the week. This exclusivity, a sexual loyalty to one man, rankled. It made her feel like some petite bourgeoise, hopelessly hung up in middle-class values. She did not want to be the faithful “little woman” who kept herself for one lover and rejected all the rest of the world. Feeling more discouraged than she’d allowed herself to feel in a long time, Monique headed home. She looked forward to a quiet night which she could devote to reassessing how to proceed. She walked quickly, as if to outstrip her phantoms. Unfortunately, she soon realized Jon Torrance had appeared out of nowhere and was again following her. She couldn’t shake him. Now she had to free herself not only of the Comte’s specter but also of his minions. If she could figure out a way to get her independent spirit back at the same time that she struck against the Comte and Jon, her double coup would set her back on track. But how?

102

Young Vampires in France

Jon was now striding next to her, saying something which she’d missed the beginning of. He clutched his video vampera as if he feared that any minute a troupe of marauding bandits would descend on them—or as if he suspected she would try to steal it from him. Monique narrowed her eyes. She hated being mistrusted, and right now Jon was radiating an aura of mistrust. Well, she regarded his suspicion as a challenge. She would have to teach Jon Torrance the lesson that distrusting a person would make her act badly. “Is the Comte still at my flat?” The wheels of her mind were spinning hard. “No, he had to leave. He also had a very important appointment tonight.” Hmm. Whom was he meeting with? “That was with the Minister for Paranormal Affairs, wasn’t it?” “No, it was with Henri—” Jon caught himself, but Monique had heard enough. The Comte had arranged to meet with Henri du Soutien. Merde. This meant he was already aware enough of her plan to take steps to defuse it. She’d never imagined that accomplishing her mission would be an easy task. From what Jon had just informed her, she realized how many new obstacles separated her from her goal—both external obstacles and the foolishness of her own heart. Well, it was past time to regain control of the situation.

***** One of the things Jon appreciated most about Darlene was her inability to be anything but open and honest. Monique de la Chauve-Souris was Darlene’s exact opposite in this. She reminded him of an iceberg, with ninety-eight percent of her identity submerged below the surface. After a year with Darlene, Jon found dealing with Monique trickier than trying to cross a minefield. Monique stopped walking, causing Jon to stop. “I understand from the Comte that you have some particular interests.” From any other woman, Jon would have regarded that statement as a come-on. From Monique, he figured it was the first salvo in the next battle of the war. Though the small rational part of his being said “Run!” Jon could never turn down a dare—or a blatant challenge. “I have lots of particular interests I share with my lady, Darlene. Which ones were you referring to?” She smirked. “It seems you collect whips and have even designed some.” “I do. Darlene and I share this interest.” He wasn’t for a second going to let Monique carry on this conversation without keeping Darlene’s name in it. “Interesting. I also have some unusual, imaginative bondage toys.” Her eyes twinkled. Jon nodded. “You seem very knowledgeable about my relationship with Darlene. I suppose the Comte must have spoken to you at length about us.” 103

Mardi Ballou

Monique didn’t miss a beat. “Perhaps you’d be interested in seeing some of my private collection. Though I fear it might not begin to rival yours, I have a few items that might catch your eye.” He wanted to ask exactly what game she was playing now, but realized he’d have to be delusional to expect a straight answer. Though he probably should have contacted the Comte to tell him something was up, he figured he could handle whatever Monique dished up himself. Convinced he’d learn something crucial if he pretended to go along with what she was setting up, he nodded. “As a collector, I’m always interested in seeing what other people have found.” “I would be most honored if you’d inspect my things, let me know if you think I’ve been wise in my choices or have selected poorly.” They picked up the pace as they walked toward her flat. “I’m just one guy who’s spent time on his own collection. But I don’t have a lot of time tonight. I’m supposed to meet Darlene in,” he looked at his watch, “one and a half hours. So I can take a quick look, tell you my impression. If there’s anything that requires more thorough consideration, I can return another time, with Darlene.” “Fair enough. It’s only a short walk now.” Her heart began to thrum with the excitement of being back on track to meet her goals.

***** The Comte hadn’t seen Henri du Soutien in several months and was shocked by how much his old friend seemed to have changed. Or perhaps there were things about him that the Comte had never paid much attention to before. Tonight, Henri appeared so nervous, he looked as if he’d jump out of his chair if a passerby so much as breathed on him. “Thank you for arriving early,” the Comte said. Henri had evidently already drunk a considerable amount. “It’s not often anymore that you request to meet face-to-face.” Henri raised his glass in toast to the Comte, who dismissed the server without ordering anything. “Not since you’ve buried yourself in the provinces and taken to running business via email and fax.” The Comte winced at the suggestion that he’d become lax in his control of his enterprises and at the mention of the Château, where he’d pictured himself spending time with Monique. Everything these days seemed to come back to her. “Not that I’m complaining,” Henri continued. “Good. Though of course if you have any complaints, we should deal with them now.” Henri smiled. “Nothing like that. If anything, we should exceed last year’s profits by a substantial margin. All the facts and figures are available back at the office. I can supply you with them any time you ask.”

104

Young Vampires in France

The Comte permitted himself an enigmatic half-smile. “I would expect no less.” Henri, in turn, bowed his head slightly. He upended his glass and drank deeply. The Comte knew that an unfortunate tendency toward alcohol abuse ran in the du Soutien family. With their intelligence and their talent for numbers, Henri and his relatives made themselves valuable to his enterprises despite this weakness. From the look on Henri’s face tonight, though, and the rate at which he put away his drink, the Comte suspected his friend was headed toward a major crisis. This meant perhaps he shouldn’t be quite so freely trusted to exercise power in the Montnoir empire. But these were matters to consider another time… Henri hiccupped. “So tell me, mon vieux, what can I do for you tonight?” “I must speak to you on a matter of the most confidential urgency.” “Of course.” Henri’s hand trembled and, until he brought it under control, the Comte feared he would spill his drink. “What is this matter?” The Comte steeled himself. “I understand that Monique de la Chauve-Souris has contacted you in an effort to involve you in a plot she’s hatching.” After letting that bombshell sit for a moment, the Comte planned to assure Henri that no trouble would befall him for having met with Monique. Of course, the Comte expected that Henri would not have committed to actually acting against him. But before the Comte could say his piece, Henri protested. “I know nothing about this.” For a moment, reality slid and disappeared into the shadows of the room. Had the Comte just heard his dear old friend deny the meeting—actually lie to him? “Are you saying that Monique has not tried to contact you? Or that she’s tried and you haven’t actually met?” Henri shrugged. “If she has tried to contact me, she has not succeeded. But we certainly have not met, and she’s told me of no schemes.” While the Comte struggled to sort out this blatant falsehood, his mobile phone vibrated in his pocket. He excused himself and went to the lobby to take the call. It was Darlene, who sounded hysterical. “What’s going on?” He hoped his calm voice would encourage Darlene to pull herself together. “An urgent text message on the mobile you left me. Something’s happened to Jon, and now he’s at Monique’s flat.” Darlene gulped in some air. “She said we should go there, and she’ll let us in. Please, we have to get there right away.” “Of course. Darlene, I don’t know what’s happened. But we can’t help Jon if you are out of control. Can you calm down?” “I don’t know, but I’ll try.” “Can you find your way to Monique’s flat? Or shall I pick you up first?” “I’ll get there.” “Very good. I can be there in half an hour.” “Me too.” He heard her sniffle. 105

Mardi Ballou

Damn. He’d wanted to settle things with Henri. Now he’d have to leave this matter hanging as he saw to the latest crisis, which his gut told him was just as specious as Henri’s behavior. In light of the other man’s lie, the Comte could conclude only one thing. Monique had gotten to Henri, and now she’d found a way to entice Darlene and him to come to her flat. Though he doubted that Jon was in serious trouble, he knew trying to convince Darlene they should stay away from Monique’s flat would be futile. He braced himself to enter a Monique-designed trap—and, much as he agonized to do it, to turn that trap on her.

106

Young Vampires in France

Chapter Ten Monique normally kept her small collection of BDSM paraphernalia tucked away. She now brought it out to the living room and excused herself to get them refreshments. Jon didn’t think she’d spent a great deal of energy or thought amassing the whips and handcuffs she showed him. After he checked each item, his attention wandered to the rest of the room. As Monique’s taste ran to sophisticated elegance, Jon was surprised to see seven miniature gargoyles displayed along the mantel of her unused fireplace. These cheap papier-mâché versions of the ugly creatures perched high outside the Notre Dame Cathedral typified the sort of tourist froufrou Monique should have scorned. But he should have learned, by now, not to make any assumptions about Monique. “From the look of your collection, I’d say you’re pretty much a novice. Am I wrong? How deeply involved are you in the Parisian scene?” Jon asked after he polished off the beaker of A negative Monique had served him in a heavy glass beer stein. “I consider myself much more of an observer than a participant. Though I’d like to change that.” Jon grunted noncommittally. The question he really wanted to ask was why she’d invited him to her flat and why she was spending so much time on a collection that didn’t appear significant to her. Despite her narcissism and her penchant for damage, he couldn’t believe she was seriously coming on to him. He also believed that she was as hung up on the Comte as the Comte was on her. Jon looked at his watch and started to rise. “Well, I really need to be heading back to the Comte’s residence. Thanks for the drink and the diversion.” Determined not to repeat his previous mistakes, he picked up the video vampera and crossed to the door. A slight furrow appeared between Monique’s perfectly arched brows. “Oh, why the rush? I thought, as long as you’re here and I’ve brought the display out, you might want to try out one or two of my toys. After all, I have things here that I’m sure you cannot find in San Francisco. Unique toys—the kind that are in such high demand here, they never leave Paris.” Jon had been around. And though he knew there were many permutations and possible variations on the standard equipment players used, he doubted he could ever come across anything that would blow his mind with its uniqueness. Still, he sensed an opening here that would enable him to penetrate Monique’s defenses and neutralize her before she completed her reign of terror. Besides which, her whole attitude angered him… No, he couldn’t walk away without knowing what was going on in her head. Rationally, he knew this woman intended to be dangerous to him—as part of her mission against the Comte. Hell, if she 107

Mardi Ballou

weren’t dangerous, the Comte wouldn’t be in the kind of deep shit that had brought them together. “What do you have in mind?” He kept his voice as cool and level as possible. “I really can stay only a short time,” he added. Let her show her hand quickly. Monique knew her “window of opportunity” would be extremely narrow. Jon was no fool. He was also a Dom. Even in the guise of curious newcomer, he wouldn’t let her or anyone else place him in a submissive position. If what she had in mind succeeded, she’d have found a wedge to breach the protective armor that cloaked the Comte’s most intimate circle. “I have a chastity belt.” Monique kept her eyes locked on Jon as she picked up her recent find, which she’d kept separate from the rest of her collection. Jon snorted. “I wouldn’t have considered chastity belts your style.” “Perhaps I need to change my style.” She ran her fingers over the harness-type device. “I couldn’t resist this one. It called out to me, perhaps because of the history it has been part of.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Really? What history?” She held up the device. “It dates from medieval times. The lord of a great castle locked up his young wife and departed for the wars. Never returned.” “And what did she do, once it became clear that she was stuck forever? Surely she, as a faithful wife, wouldn’t have tried to find a way around the chastity belt, at least until after her husband’s absence became clearly permanent.” Monique looked him straight in the eye. “According to the history that came with the belt, she and numerous lovers found inventive ways to circumvent the restraints. Of course, only once her husband’s demise was confirmed.” “Of course.” He studied the gadget for several moments. “Doesn’t look particularly old or tricky.” Jon appeared bored. “Are you suggesting the seller, what is the word, hoodwinked me?” She assumed a hurt, haughty look. “Far be it from me…” He shrugged. “You do realize this is aluminum. Not exactly medieval.” “So it’s a reproduction. But look at how the intricate mechanism. This has me intrigued.” She thought for a moment. “Perhaps I will try it on. Maybe the two of us will be able to figure out how it works.” “If you’re going to put that on, I should leave.” She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be like that. This is just about figuring out a toy.” Jon shook his head. “You figure it out and tell me the solution you come up with.” “But you overestimate me, my dear Jon. I am, alas, not very talented with mechanics. Unlike you.” She gazed at him for several moments. “And you have an extra tool.”

108

Young Vampires in France

He arched a brow. “I do?” “Yes,” she answered triumphantly. “The video vampera. You can use it to photograph me in the chastity belt from various angles. We can examine the images later to help us come up with a solution, if one has eluded us before.” He studied her hard, and she suspected he was going to turn her down, in which case she’d need to think of some other way to discredit him. After all, the Comte and Darlene should burst in on them soon. Monique braced herself as Jon began to speak. “Some other time, Monique. When we have more people around.” “I don’t see why we need anyone else here. I have the belt, you have the video vampera. It’s a matter of moments to get the information we need. For heaven’s sake, if you feel more comfortable about it, I’ll put the belt on the dress mannequin I have instead of modeling it.” Jon looked at his watch again. “All right, as long as it’s on a dummy. I’ll help you figure out this toy on one condition—if you’ll tell me what’s really going on.” “I’m not sure exactly what you mean by what’s going on…” He looked at his watch again. “I’ll explain completely while we figure out the belt.” Monique couldn’t allow herself to claim victory yet. Jon was clever. She’d have to keep up her guard. Smiling, Monique took the chastity belt into her bedroom. Despite what she’d promised Jon, she donned the belt herself. She counted on Jon’s surprise when he saw her to help her work her scheme. The cold metal would have chilled her but for the warmth of her imminent triumph. Once she had the contraption on, she threw on her thigh-length black silk robe and went back to the living room, where Jon, video vampera in hand, paced. Something was really out of whack. Jon suspected Monique was playing him. So he’d have remain hyper-alert as he picked her brain for the information he wanted to take back to the Comte. She quickly came back into the room with a very fine silk robe belted loosely around her waist. Looked like the only dummy in the room was him. So much for believing a woman who had a track record as a liar. The bulk of the chastity belt formed a ridge on the robe below Monique’s hips. “I think I’ve put it on correctly. But I can’t imagine any knight would be able to find a home for his sword without a considerable joust.” Monique slipped the robe off. She wore a black silk camisole over her pert breasts, the nipples stiff. The chastity belt fit her like a low-rider, revealing her flat, hard belly. Her navel winked at him. “You appear to have it fastened it right. Unfortunately, you fastened it around yourself and not the mannequin you promised.”

109

Mardi Ballou

Instead of responding to the accusation, she slowly whirled around to give him a global view. “Perhaps now would be a good time for you to photograph me from all angles.” Suddenly the door to the flat burst open. “What happened? Jon, what’s wrong?” Darlene was pale and panting. “We rushed here as soon as we got the message.” The Comte followed right behind Darlene. Jon put down the video vampera. Though nothing wrong had happened, he had a feeling convincing Darlene of that would not be simple. Shit. Double and triple shit. Why hadn’t he left the moment his gut had told him to? Then they all began to talk at once. “What’s going on here?” Darlene’s voice rang out above all the others. No one answered her. “Why did you two come?” Jon could have kicked himself for asking that question the minute it left his lips. “Are you all right?” The Comte appeared to be asking both him and Darlene the question at the same time. Monique, the only one not throwing out questions, assumed a haughty look, as if all of them were trespassers and the gens d’armes would be summoned. Darlene, who refused to meet Jon’s gaze, turned to the Comte. She folded her arms and her lower lip jutted out. The Comte looked at Monique. “Why did you send the message that Jon was hurt and needed our help?” He looked her up and down. “And why are you wearing that ridiculous chastity belt?” He drew off his cape and threw it over her, draping her in the rich black wool. Monique shrugged off the cape, which pooled at her feet. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” The Comte picked up the cape and held it around her. “Are you denying that you sent Darlene such a message?” “Eh bien. Perhaps a prankster has gotten hold of the mobile number.” She struggled to wriggle away from the Comte, but he held her tight. “Let go of me.” “Not on your life.” “I’m leaving,” Darlene muttered. And she did exactly that. Video vampera in hand, Jon followed.

***** Monique expected that the Comte would go after his friends and leave her, but he stayed exactly where he was, his arms enfolding her in his cape.

110

Young Vampires in France

“Surely you don’t intend to stand here all night keeping me imprisoned in this garment.” He pulled the cape from her and eyed her coldly. She started to shiver. Much as she wanted to hide her reaction from him, she couldn’t stop. Monique swallowed back an involuntary burst of desire. Though she didn’t appreciate the Comte’s covering her with this cape, she wanted his hands back on her, his body covering hers, his fangs plunged deep into her. She wanted to let him manipulate her until she begged him to penetrate her hungry pussy with his cock. But instead of confessing this, she drew her robe tight against her. Thank goodness for the chastity belt—even if it was a useless fake. If his nearness caused her to succumb to romantic foolishness, the belt would remind her not to give in. Although from the look on his face, she suspected that even a real chastity belt would do little to prevent him from doing whatever he intended to her. “What is your game, Monique?” he whispered with the force of a whip. “I do not play games,” she responded haughtily. “Whatever you think, I did not summon you. And you are not welcome in my flat. So please leave.” He narrowed his eyes. “Do you really believe I will leave just like that, with no explanation for this and all the bizarre things you are doing?” She sensed heat rising from him, in contrast to the icy glare of his eyes. She wanted to lose her own coldness in his heat, to feel his hot skin against hers. But this would undermine the small triumph she’d manage to eke out tonight. “I’ve asked you to go.” He stepped closer to her, and she could feel his magnetic warmth reach out to envelop her. “Is that what you really want?” Ah, there was the question. No, she wanted him to stay with her, to love away all her pain, but she couldn’t bring herself to respond. She hid her weakness for him behind a blank expression and stubborn silence. “I thought not.” His eyes flashed, flames in the ice, and Monique could have sworn she’d be reduced to ashes if she stood near him another moment. She began to move away, but he wouldn’t let her reduce the distance between them. Instead, he reached over and she expected, hoped, even, that he’d caress her shoulders. Trembling at his touch, Monique found herself startled when he pulled the black silk robe from her. “I repeat my question. What were you playing, wearing this so-called chastity belt and trying to entrap Jon Torrance into your game?” She shrugged. “We are two adults, more than free to play whatever it occurs to us. Or to pursue a scientific inquiry. But j’en ai plein le cul.” She tossed her head to strengthen the harsh expression of disgust. “Why are you questioning me instead of him? And why am I foolish enough to dignify your questions with responses? I’ll not say another word.” The Comte’s eyes began to gleam dangerously. “Oh, I expect that Jon’s answering his share of questions at this moment. He’ll probably be a great deal more forthcoming

111

Mardi Ballou

with the truth than you. And no, he’s not free to play, which I’m sure he made clear to you. As for you—” He looked away for a moment. In that one turning away, Monique felt a chill greater than any she’d known since Josette’s death. Though she’d staged tonight’s scene effectively and managed to deliver a blow to both Darlene, whom she didn’t mind hurting, and the Comte, whom she wanted to hurt over and over again until he screamed for mercy, things were not turning out the way she’d envisioned—or hoped for. “What exactly did you expect to accomplish with this—this ridiculous chastity belt?” Monique held her head up. “Exactly what I have,” she lied. Putain. Despite her distaste for liars, she found herself lying more and more often. Was it really necessary for her to descend to this level to accomplish her mission? “Ah. While you are answering questions—or, rather, dodging them, here’s another. Why did you rendezvous with Henri du Soutien the other night?” Monique’s eyelids fluttered. He’d blindsided her with this question, which distracted her. She’d expected to have more time to prepare a story about Henri du Soutien. “We had business to discuss.” The Comte nodded. “Yes, I am sure you did.” He put his hands on her arms, and for a wild moment, Monique suspected he would pull him to her. Then she would melt and lose whatever advantage she had at the moment. But he abruptly let go of her. “Well, you will get your wish. I am leaving now. And Monique, this time I’ve had enough. When I close the door behind me, it’s adieu forever.” Frozen pain shot from his eyes, but his mouth was set in a grim, hard line. She’d won. He was leaving, admitting defeat. Next time she saw him, her victory would be complete, as would be his downfall. So why was her heart twisting in agony? He strode from her and was at her door in two seconds. He put his hand on the knob. “Wait.” She couldn’t believe she’d said the word. Nor could she believe she’d run to him and thrown herself into his arms. Or that he, eyes blazing, pushed her away.

***** Darlene couldn’t believe it. Had she ever experienced such agony before? When she saw Jon with…with that woman. Monique had shamelessly stood practically naked, wearing only that stupid silver toy and a bit of silk that revealed more than it covered. “Darlene, wait!” Jon was right behind her, calling her, reaching out as he raced after her. She could usually never outwalk or outrun him. Tonight, though, fueled by her fury… But the fury wasn’t strong enough to keep her outdistancing him. Suddenly he was in front of her, looking frantic. Oh, she had to be strong and keep him away. This was too much. Him cheating on her, and with that…that… 112

Young Vampires in France

Jon’s hair was in his eyes, and those eyes… He appeared frenzied, not the usual calm, cool, collected Jon. Darlene wanted to take him in his arms, to comfort away the strange, lost look in his eyes. But she wouldn’t. She’d been a sucker for him long enough. “Darlene. You have to listen.” His voice cracked on the last word. Using all her vampiric skill, she glared at him. “I don’t have to do anything. I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to.” She kept walking. “Please, please listen.” That was better. Now he was asking instead of telling her, something he’d done little of in their relationship. Still, she had to admit she loved him being masterful. Stop that, she warned herself. She needed to be hard when she listened to him so that she could then brace herself to throw him out of her life. She whirled on him. “I’ll give you ten seconds to tell me why I should ever again listen to anything you have to say.” “Ten seconds?” “One, two—” He shook his head. “Darlene, this is too important. Please, come sit down with me. Let’s go to this café.” He gestured to a place near them. Darlene thought for a moment. “I really don’t want to. Right now I can’t think of any reason why I’d want to spend time with you.” Jon scowled. “I understand. Darlene, I’m so sorry—” Darlene had the satisfaction of realizing he’d nearly choked on the unaccustomed word. Well heck, if he was saying sorry, maybe, just maybe, he’d say something else worth her while. “Very well. I’ll give you a bit more than ten seconds,” she said stiffly. “But if you say or do anything I don’t like, I’m going to be out of this café so fast, your head will spin.” She thought again. “And if I leave, you won’t ever see me again.” He nodded. He tried to take her by the arm, but she shrugged away. The last thing she needed was to let him seduce her with his touch. “This is too important, we’re too important, to make such impulsive decisions.” Darlene made a face at him. “I’m going to ignore that.” She sat down across the small table from Jon and crossed her arms in front of her. A server approached them then retreated as if reluctant to intrude upon the bubble of intense privacy that surrounded them. For once, Darlene didn’t let the weight of the silence between them force her into speaking too quickly. However long the two of them sat there, she’d wait for him to break the silence first. On second thought, if he kept her waiting too long, she might just get up and leave. She was in just that sort of mood. “I realize now that Monique set up that whole situation back there precisely to accomplish what she did. Namely, to hurt you and the Comte.”

113

Mardi Ballou

Darlene exploded. “Monique forced you to stay in her flat while she pranced around in a chastity belt?” Jon grimaced. “She’d just put that damned thing on. She wanted me to photograph her in it, so we could figure out how the lock worked.” “You believed her when she said that?” “No. But I figured if I played along, I’d have better insight into what she’s trying to pull on the Comte.” Darlene rolled her eyes. “You were alone with Monique de la Chauve-Souris, the creature I most despise in the universe. She was worse than naked, and you stood there holding your damn video vampera.” “Shit, Darlene. I’m not too fond of her either, less now than I was before. But fuck it all, you’re the one I love.” Rotting river rats. He knew she was a sucker for the L-word. She wouldn’t let him distract her. “What happened back there? Why was she in a chastity belt and why were you—” He thought for a moment, trying to reconstruct what had happened between them. “She offered to show me her collection of BDSM stuff.” “Like you don’t have a huge collection of stuff that’s better than what most stores stock.” “Yeah, I know. But Darlene, I thought maybe there were some French goodies that we should think about getting before we go home.” “Pretty weak.” He nodded. “Agreed. But we’ve been so busy on this trip, we haven’t had a chance to check out what kinds of toys people play with over here. And Darlene, from what I’ve heard, Paris is legendary. Practically the world capital for BDSM toys and accoutrements. Home of the Marquis de Sade and all that. And I figured Monique would probably have some good stuff.” “And did she?” “No. I was completely unimpressed by her collection—or anything else about her except her capacity for evil.” “Humph.” Darlene thought before proceeding. “I still don’t get how you ended up there with her dressed like that.” Despite her best intentions, Darlene blushed. Jon sat back in his chair. “Monique went into another room and changed into the chastity belt and the robe. As soon as she came back I realized I had to get out of there and began packing my gear. You and the Comte arrived.” He frowned. “What did that text message say? You looked hysterical.” “The message? That you were in trouble and we needed to help you right away… I’d like to kill her,” Darlene muttered under her breath. From Jon’s reaction, she could tell he’d heard her. Too bad. Let him know exactly how awful she felt about all this.

114

Young Vampires in France

“I’d like to go home with you, now, Darlene.” His eyes dark with desire, he gazed at her. “We’re a long way from home.” She needed to buy some time. “Yeah. But any place I am with you is home. What about we go there so I can really show you how sorry I am? And, most important, how much I love you.” Darlene didn’t melt, at least not outwardly. She stood up instead and held out her arm to her man.

115

Mardi Ballou

Chapter Eleven How ridiculous for her to be in the silly aluminum chastity belt with the Comte there in her flat with her. As if anything could protect her from him if he wanted to have his way with her. As if she’d want anything to protect her from him… He cocked an eyebrow at her, and she shivered. “You want me to wait?” “Yes,” she whispered. His eyes were smoldering. “Whatever for? To hear more of your lies, to give you another chance to torture me and damage my friends?” She bit her lip. Could she let herself tell him what she wanted him for? If she ever did begin to tell the truth, surely all would be lost. But she couldn’t let him go. Not yet. “Hold me.” Her tiny voice sounded pathetic to herself. “Please.” A small smile played on his lips and his eyes bored into her. Though he stayed apart from her, his presence brushed over her skin like the gentle flutter of a butterfly that took command of her body. With a cry and a gasp, she propelled herself into his arms. In a startled reflex, he held her to him for a moment, and she thought she’d drown in him. She wanted to stay exactly where she was forever. In his arms, the craziness of everything she’d done and everything she’d become melted away. But then he pulled away from her. His hands clamped her arms, then dropped to his sides so the two of them were no longer touching. Monique felt like she’d just had a body part severed. She reached out to him, but he backed away, out of her range. “What’s this now, Monique?” His eyes flashed so many messages to her at once, her head began to reel. “The way you have just come to me, I could almost entertain the delusion that you want me. That is, if I were still permitting myself such delusions on your account.” “I do want you to stay.” She’d said the words, and she realized that she meant them. She felt like every word was torn from the core of her being. He actually bared his teeth at her. “Why, Monique? Have you not sown enough disaster for one night? Or is there more that you want to tear from my hide?” He shook his head. “I thought you’d never push me too far. That I could take whatever punishment you threw at me and come back for more. That I could outlast your craziness until you got over whatever is driving you. Alas, I was wrong. And, ma chère dame, I do not give up this admission lightly. But you have shown me my limits—the ones you’ve driven me beyond. Félicitations! You have succeeded where no one else ever has. Not competitors, not hunters out for my hide. Not any of my previous lovers.”

116

Young Vampires in France

He glared at her, and she could have drowned in his eyes. “You should feel proud in this triumph. And, perversely, I thank you for this hard lesson.” Too late. No matter how justified her cause and her anger were, she loved him. She had to find a way to reconcile her need for revenge and the passion for him she couldn’t extinguish. But he was leaving, withdrawing completely. He truly hated her. What could she possibly say to make him change his mind? The Comte’s heart burned white-hot and searing blue-black. With everything he had and was, he wanted only to snatch her up in his arms, bellow to the moon and hide her away in a cave deep in the earth. Somewhere for just the two of them, somewhere he could keep her to himself forever until he healed her of the malice that ate away at her. Right. She’d probably scratch his eyes out before she stomped over him in her platform shoes to get away. After which, she’d sell his ashes to the Museum of Dead Vampires. He’d never been such a slow learner before. This woman was poison, and not only to him. She’d just done a damned fine job destroying the relationship between Darlene and Jon. She was also perilously close to throwing his business affairs into chaos, which would ruin him and many people he cared for. So why was he giving her another chance to sink her fangs into him? He loved her, and he’d better run far and hard to protect himself from the toxin of that bitter truth. She stood there, looking at him with her big green eyes. The nipples of her glorious breasts poked defiantly through the silk of her sheer black camisole. As for the chastity belt… Well, if ever an object could undermine chastity, it surely was that faux metal girdle sitting like an exclamation point atop her feminine mound. Furious as he was with her, his cock stood ready, begging to get into her. But he could not allow himself to succumb again. “I do want you to stay,” she repeated, and his heart sped up a notch. “Why?” Were the need and desire he saw in her eyes truth—or yet another skillful trap? He gritted his teeth and felt his fangs vibrate as he fought back temptation. Did he even have to ask? Surely all she intended for him was a trip to another level of hell. “I need you.” Her voice wobbled, and she sounded perilously close to tears. No, any other woman who sounded like that would be on the verge of tears. Monique, well, she was probably just trying out another trick. Effective, but hardly original. He hardened his resolve to match his cock. “You need me?” His voice dripped disdain. “Whatever for? Have you not destroyed your sufficient quota of men—and women—for the day?”

117

Mardi Ballou

To his amazement, Monique appeared to crumble. She probably would have fallen on the floor had the chastity belt not held her stiffly at her place. “Je regrette… I am so sorry…” Her voice trailed off in a whisper. Of all the words he’d never expected to hear cross Monique’s lips, apology headed the list. She might have been acting, but the plaintive note in her voice gripped him. He had to listen to what she said. No choice. No matter what it cost him. Before he could say so, she continued. “It all got so crazy, you see. So out of my control…” “What is so crazy? I can’t believe anything has ever gotten out of your control, which is iron. Like that chastity belt is supposed to be.” She laughed dryly. “Here, when what I want most in the world is to make love with you, I’m in a fake medieval chastity belt.” She wanted to make love with him? She certainly wouldn’t have to ask twice if she really meant it. Hell, even knowing how insincere Monique’s heartfelt plea really was, what with his cock insisting on taking center stage… But no, not again. He would use the chastity belt, a most appropriate prop after all, to teach this woman a lesson. And then he would walk out and begin the rest of his life. He took a look at the chastity belt. It had been years since he’d had to contend with a contraption like that—a real one. Fortunately, some lessons stayed with him. In moments, he could have made short work of the garish girdle, which looked deceptively well-made but was quite inferior. Of course the Comte would know how to get her out of a chastity belt, even one a lot more authentic than this. There was nothing Monique couldn’t count on him for, nothing he didn’t know. But, after he ran his hands over her body, turning her on even more, he refused. Instead, he ordered her to lie down. The power in his voice, the hard metal of his eyes, raised her excitement to a whole new level. How like him to take advantage of the game she’d set in motion. “You want me on my back in the chastity belt, mon chevalier?” She held her breath. Her pussy, hot and wet since the moment he’d arrived, throbbed with the anticipation of imminent satisfaction. He looked down at her, contempt and desire contending for mastery in his eyes. Down on the bed, encased in the chastity belt, Monique felt an uncomfortable frisson of helplessness—weak as an ordinary female in the grasp of a predatory male. Funny how she’d always considered herself too superior to get caught in such a trap. Decidedly not the place where she wanted to be, ever. But here she was. She held her arms up to him in mute appeal. Surely he couldn’t maintain his cold stance—especially not when his fangs and his cock more than indicated how much he wanted her. He leaned over her, and a shiver of desire sizzled out from Monique’s core—she was sure it had to singe him with its intensity. Now, now he would take possession of her and free her from the belt. He licked his lips. “Where is your dildo?” 118

Young Vampires in France

“The top drawer of the night table.” She kept her voice cool, but she roiled and bubbled inside, both from her desire and her surprise at his request for another of her toys. Normally, he didn’t go for using any. Well, maybe her being in the chastity belt had inspired him. Or maybe he was just teasing her, starting to build to an even greater climax than any she’d had previously. After all, the situation tonight was unique. Her thighs twitched in anticipation. Monique watched the Comte move with deliberation to pick up the dildo and examine it. “Do you make frequent use of this?” She blushed, a most rare and uncomfortable reaction. “What, no response from my quick-tongued beauty?” She still couldn’t bring herself to answer. “You know what this situation calls for?” At last a question she could bring herself to respond to. She pointed to the chastity belt. “Two strong hands?” He laughed dryly. “No. I like that piece of junk exactly where it is. Great symbolism. No, my Monique. Along with your core being encased, you need to be restrained—have your hands and feet bound. Then you will be truly immobile.” Fear and desire raced along Monique’s spine. Though her nature balked at her being in such a weak and submissive position, the proposal turned her on. Judging from the bulge tenting the fly of his slacks, the Comte was experiencing the same. Before she had the chance to voice her agreement, he had her hands and feet bound to the ends of her bed with several of her own silk scarves. She imagined the moment of his entry into her with her arms and legs so subdued, and her pussy nearly wept with joy. Now he knelt down next to the bed and gazed directly at her mound, as if he would engrave the image of her spread out and helpless on her bed in his memory. Hardly able to move, she longed to have him touch her there. Instead, he moved. His hot breath fanned over her face before he licked her lips and plunged his tongue into her mouth for a steamy kiss. She groaned, filling the air with the sound of her desire. He nuzzled her chest, and she felt the moment his fangs poised to feed off her. She wanted him to drink from her, to have this joining. But he made no move to feed, and she knew how hard he must be straining to stay away from her. She lifted her chin and thrust her neck to him to encourage him. She wanted her hot blood spurting into him, flowing through him. But he resisted. Instead of biting her neck, he grazed the sensitive flesh of her breasts, licking her hard nipples, nibbling. Ah, perhaps he would feed from her here. Her nipples tingled at the prospect. But he kept his fangs tightly sealed in his mouth. Now, more intensely than before, Monique felt the limits of the bindings. She ached to hold his head to her breasts and thrust her nipples against his fangs. But she lay powerless.

119

Mardi Ballou

Next he darted a finger around the slack in the belt and into her pussy, and she struggled to close her legs around his hand. Obviously he knew how wet she was for him. But no reaction altered his facial expression even fractionally. He slipped his finger from her, and Monique felt the unfamiliar coldness from him grow. She stared at his bulging cock, willing him to lower his zipper. Once his cock sprang free of his fly, he’d put it where she craved it. She closed her eyes, anticipating the first contact between his hard cock and her soft, moist pussy. But instead of cock, she felt the cold rubber of the dildo tickle her sensitive places. Her eyes flew open in dismay and disappointment. “Haven’t we carried this game far enough?” she asked, her voice sultry with desire. He rubbed the dildo over her moist folds, stimulating her desire and making her squirm even more for his touch. “I thought you didn’t play games.” He grinned wickedly as he repeated her words to hurt her. The dildo rubbed over her clit, and Monique trembled rather dramatically. She licked her lips. “I don’t. But you, evidently, are playing a game with me now.” He appeared to consider this. “Au contraire, ma chère. I’m most serious in this, as in everything I do.” He proceeded to slide the dildo between her hungry pink folds with enormous solemnity. He managed to tease and arouse her without a hint of satisfaction coming. Between the desire throbbing in her pussy and the way her fangs ached to feed, Monique doubted she’d ever before been in such need. “I get it. You’ve more than proven your point. But enough. I want you in me, on me, over me.” She hated the note of pleading in her voice, but if she didn’t satisfy her needs soon, she’d burst. He slid the dildo into her, but she desired so much more. She yearned for him in all the ways she’d said and more. He lowered his face and her pulse raced. At last, he’d feed. Then, in the afterglow, he would no longer be able to resist her. He’d fuck her from here to next week, and she’d come and come and come… No, he’d make love to her, and she’d come even more. But he hovered just beyond her reach and, despite his enormous desire, didn’t feed. And he didn’t put his cock to her. Instead, he brushed his lips lightly across hers and rose. “I must set aside my penchant for observation and attend to my other obligations tonight. Foremost on my list is repairing the damage you’ve managed to perpetrate in all the important areas of my life. So I will bid you adieu.” She trembled. His voice sounded hard, implacable, in a way she’d never before heard. And he looked more devastatingly gorgeous and desirable than ever before. “But you can’t be serious.” He shook his head. “That word again. I’m so tired you your accusing me of not being serious. Though I suppose it’s better than being called a fool.” He checked his watch. “I really must go.” Salope. Pute. She could almost hear him call her those words. “But you can’t leave me like this.” Her voice quavered. 120

Young Vampires in France

“You mean encased in the chastity belt you put on to destroy my friends?” His voice sounded so reasonable and adult. Could she tell him that even worse than her imprisonment, she meant he couldn’t leave her in such need of him, so frustrated in her desire on all levels? “At least unfasten my bonds.” He bent over her again, but this time disdain contorted his handsome features. “A woman of resources like you, I have no doubt you’ll make short work of your bindings and your chastity belt, just as you’ve managed to destroy everyone who’s reached out to you.” Before she could say another word, he turned on his heel and strode off, leaving her hornier, more frightened and in greater pain than she’d ever been in her life. And, worst of all, more alone than she’d been since she lost Josette. Outside Monique’s flat, the Comte allowed himself to stand for just a moment with his head against her door. It took every iota of his will, self-control and discipline to walk away from her. His cock, still hard and hungry, pushed against his pants to remind him of what he’d just left behind. His fangs chimed in to join the chorus—as if he needed any reminders. Monique, helpless in her bonds. Scratch that. Monique would never in a thousand years be helpless. He knew the parameters of her plot to destroy his business, but he still didn’t know why. Surely such a storm of destruction and malevolence had to come from somewhere significant. Were he dealing with someone straightforward, he’d simply have asked. If he’d done her some wrong, he’d have moved heaven and earth to make it right for her. Merde, he’d already moved heaven and earth to give everything he could to her—to no avail. Despite everything, she’d made it her life’s work to ruin him and she’d added his friends to her fiendish plot. Now this thing with Darlene and Jon. The Comte shook his head. He hoped they could get beyond the night’s foolishness. He’d do whatever he could to help them while he salvaged what he could of his business affairs. After all, it was his fault they’d come to France. At the same time, he’d have to heal his aching heart, so he could move on with his life. One step at a time. That’s what was required when a body began to recover from being poisoned, was it not?

***** Monique had lots of time to think—way more than she wanted, more than enough to realize the Comte was well and truly gone. He’d probably manage to undo all her work and save his business. She’d have expected the disappointment of that failure to cause her more pain than it did. But how could she mourn the destruction of her plot when it paled before the fact that she’d really, really lost him—as in forever? Well, he’d been right when he told her she’d be able to free herself from her bonds without a great deal of trouble. Using her vampiric strength and a bit of concentration, 121

Mardi Ballou

Monique soon had her arms and legs free. Too bad she couldn’t replicate the same process for her heart. As for the chastity belt, by the time she got through with it, it lay in tatters around her, the victim of her anger and anguish. As if she’d ever want to use such a foolish gewgaw again. As if she could pin the blame for the mess she’d made of her life on the inert pieces of aluminum. Dawn was fast approaching. Monique didn’t expect the day would bring her much rest. To fulfill her grand ambitions, she’d trained herself to use her time of rest to think, to solve problems. Today, she’d focus on coming up with a way to see the Comte again. To talk with him again. She bit her lip. Would she ever have the chance to touch him again, to feel his hands on her in an act of love? A rare tear formed in her eye, and she angrily brushed it away. No matter how badly she wanted to throw herself on her lonely bed and weep, she would not allow herself tears. The only tears she’d ever shed would be for Josette. She would come up with a way. She had to. She would explain everything to him and then, grasping the shreds of her dignity around her, she’d bid him adieu. And move on to the vast emptiness of the rest of her eternal existence. First she’d visit Josette’s grave. There she’d cloak herself in the peace that emanated from Josette’s resting place and promise to find another way to fulfill her pledge. Most of all, Monique would beg Josette to forgive her all her failings. When Monique rose from her restless day, she didn’t feel she’d solved anything. But she knew tonight she needed to meet with the Comte, and she shuddered at the thought that this might really be the last time ever. Before she went to him, she stopped at the Père-Lachaise cemetery to commune with Josette. Despite the shambles her life was in, Monique gave herself up to the serenity of the place. She sensed Josette’s presence and also her sister’s assurances that all would be well. Monique left the cemetery with a confidence she hadn’t felt before. Maybe one day soon she’d finally get the sense that her sister could forgive her. Buoyed by this tranquility, Monique took a cab to the Comte’s residence in the eighth arrondissement. She hoped to find him there alone. Guided by her vivid memories of Josette, Monique resolved to tell him her true story and her real name. At least he would know who she was before she disappeared from his life. Her heart in her mouth, Monique rang the entrance bell of the formidable mansion. Probably a servant would open the door and refuse her entry. To her amazement, the Comte, looking elegant in a tuxedo, opened the door himself. Surely, he must be on his way out, or maybe he was entertaining, and she was intruding. She heard violin music and laughter from inside. “I see you managed to free yourself.” His voice had a hard, sardonic edge. “No thanks to you,” she snapped before remembering the reason why she was here—to apologize to him and make what she could right. She shook her head. “I’m sorry if I’m coming at a bad time, but I need to speak to you. To explain.” 122

Young Vampires in France

He cocked his head to one side. “To explain?” He folded his arms in front of his chest. “This promises to be a rich experience. Well, go ahead. I’m a great fan of fiction.” She winced. “May I come in? Or are you on your way somewhere?” He shrugged. “My friends have plans for the evening and are getting ready to leave. As for me, I also have plans for a bit later. But if you promise to keep your claws sheathed, I will give you a few minutes. Though I know I’ll probably regret it, my curiosity to hear what you have to say is outvoting my sense of self-preservation.” He’d given her a little opening, more than she could have hoped for. Monique tried to ignore the barbed glares of Darlene and Jon when she followed the Comte into the sitting room where the four Californians sipped blood and chatted. Obviously last night’s adventure hadn’t split Jon and Darlene apart—a relief. One less thing on her conscience. Maybe the Comte would explain everything to them later on. The Comte couldn’t believe it when Monique, looking ravishing in an emerald green silk dress, stood on his doorstep. He’d given the servants the night off and had answered himself. Stuffy Madame Poirier would not have allowed Monique entrance. Somehow Monique seemed different to him tonight, as if she might have changed. Had her time in restraints given her an opportunity to reflect—or was that just more delusional thinking on his part? As soon as she entered his sitting room, the Comte felt the tension in the air ratchet up several notches. For one moment, he thought Darlene would take her goblet of blood and pour it over Monique’s head. But then Jon put his hand on Darlene’s arm and looked deeply into her eyes. Darlene shook her head, drained her goblet and ignored Monique. His friends left for the theater, departing a half-hour earlier than they’d planned to. The Comte once again found himself alone with Monique. “May I offer you some refreshment?” he asked. After all, hospitality rules couldn’t be ignored under any circumstances. Monique licked her lips, and the Comte knew that his own blood was the only refreshment she desired. He wasn’t about to let himself be led down that path again. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “For not wanting any refreshments?” He sat down in a chair opposite the divan she’d chosen. “I owe you my story. To try to explain why…” Ah. Her story. Her true one. Or tonight’s version of it. “Very well. I’m all ears. Only tell me which story you’re favoring me with tonight. The truth? One quarter of the truth? A third? Or else a total fabrication?” She blushed and, for once, appeared at a loss for words. She rose. “Perhaps this isn’t the best time after all.”

123

Mardi Ballou

“As you wish.” He wasn’t going to encourage her. “Don’t you know how hard this is for me?” “Is that a rhetorical question? Charming as this interlude has been,” he said in a flat voice, “I must cut it short.” He took her by the arm and escorted her to the door. “But my story—” “Yes, there’s that.” He thought for a moment. “Well, look at the extra time as an opportunity to embellish it yet more. And with all the modern technology, a storyteller doesn’t have to be face-to-face with her audience. You can send me the story as a letter or email it. Or, maybe you’d prefer the medium of the text message that you’ve used so effectively in the past.” She’d been an idiot to come here. “I can see myself out.” “Very well.” Furious with herself, Monique summoned all her dignity and walked with pride until she got through the door. Once outside, she permitted herself the brief luxury of tears that would do her no good. She’d failed at everything that mattered to her. With the vast emptiness of her existence looming before her, Monique walked off into the night. He let her go. For a few moments tonight, he had been almost ready to believe that she was capable of sincerity, remorse and change. If he hadn’t seen the expressions on his friends’ faces, he might have been receptive to her story. But, fortified by his anger at what she’d tried to do to Darlene and Jon, he’d been determined to break the pattern of his relationship with Monique. Tonight he’d succeeded. Except… Was there possibly an iota of truth in the story she’d planned to tell him? At least he’d given her no triumph to gloat over. But he wasn’t gloating either. She’d wormed her way into his heart, and he hadn’t yet succeeded in banishing her. Where had she gone once she left his house? Maybe if he followed her tonight, saw what she did when she truly believed herself alone, he would finally be able to accept the truth about Monique de la Chauve-Souris—that all she intended for him was evil. The Comte had no difficulty this time picking up her trail. Was she headed to a club? The home of another lover? The Père-Lachaise cemetery was not on the list of places he expected to find her. Wondering what mischief Monique planned to foment here, the Comte hid in the shadows near the tiny site where Monique knelt.

***** Monique hadn’t sobbed so hard since Josette died. Now she felt as if some dammed-up emotions deep inside her had burst free. She couldn’t stop crying.

124

Young Vampires in France

“Josette,” she wept, “I’ve lost him. Nothing has hurt so much since I lost you. I never thought I would care for anyone as much as you, and then came the Comte. “I thought that, by destroying him, I could make my failure up to you. After all, his charity failed you. But now that I know him, I can no longer believe he meant to hurt you. Something went terribly wrong back then, just as things have gone wrong now. Only this time, everything bad is my fault. Can you ever forgive me?” Prostrate with grief, she embraced the dark earth that had covered her sister’s grave all these years. She lay there, sobbing out her agony until she had no tears left. Completely empty, she felt a light of forgiveness fill her. For the first time ever, she sensed Josette reaching out to her. Her sister understood and forgave. Monique wanted to hold on to this connection forever, but the night grew cold. And then she sensed someone with her. She’d just begun to rise when two strong arms scooped her up. “Who was Josette?” The Comte’s voice sounded harsh in the silence of the graveyard. “She was my little sister who died.” Despite Monique’s grief, saying these words brought her a measure of peace. “But why didn’t you ever tell me about her?” “I tried,” she murmured. “Tonight.” “The truth between us now, Monique. I won’t settle for less.” “You didn’t want to listen.” He looked grim. “What about before tonight? Before everything that happened between us, before so much hurt?” “I couldn’t. But now, I can. Because, despite all I’ve done, you are still here with me. I didn’t think any being would show me such caring.” No matter what the consequences of telling him the complete truth, at last she knew she was free to do so. For the first time since she lost Josette, she stopped feeling afraid. He gathered her to him and flew home. This time he brought her, shivering, into his house and made her welcome. With a fire burning in his hearth, the Comte questioned her. “Tell me about Josette, for I think your story begins with her.” Careful not to omit a detail, Monique told the Comte everything about Josette and her short life, illness and death. The Comte stroked his chin the way he always did when he was wrestling with some problem. “Did I hear you say something about my charity failing to meet your sister’s need?” Now that she’d opened her life up to him, Monique told him all the rest—including her anger at him for the promises that his charities failed to live up to. He looked shocked, as if his story caused him as much pain as it caused her. “But this cannot be,” he said several times. Then he explained about his business. As he’d always been so busy overseeing the overall operations and direction of his affairs, he’d 125

Mardi Ballou

come to rely strongly on his top officers. All three of the current ones were descendants of earlier colleagues. The same three families had been with him almost since the beginning of his enterprise. As to the charity clinic, the early prototype and the current incarnation were all under the supervision of the Mains de Chair family. “Once I set up the clinic charity,” he said, his voice very still, “I was never again involved in any of the day-to-day operations. Instead, I relied on my trusted associate to make sure all operated as it should.” Monique gasped. “Are you telling me you didn’t know how they diverted the funds?” Whatever disgust she might feel for him paled in view of his own self-contempt. “I am ashamed to say so, but yes. I believed Olivier Mains de Chair, Pierre’s ancestor, just as I’ve always believed Pierre and all the others in their family.” Despite her relief at finally revealing all, Monique couldn’t hide her disdain at this failing. “Your trust was obviously misplaced.” The Comte nodded. “It seems to me it’s time to examine his books much more carefully than I’ve ever done before. Perhaps it’s also time to end that long-standing affiliation.” This was what Monique had wanted—her whole motivation for all her plots. If only she’d known how easy it would be to explain the whole situation to the Comte. At least one thing she knew without any doubt now—once he took charge, his charities would truly ensure that needy children would get the best of care. He took her hand. “Though I don’t applaud your methods of getting my attention, I’m glad that you have told me the truth at last. From this night on, I will make it up to you—if you’ll have me.” Her heart melted. “If I’ll have you?” she repeated softly. “I take nothing for granted with you.” Overcome and speechless, she embraced him by way of response. “I’ll have you. But it’s good not to take things for granted.” “My darling. There is one condition.” “Just one?” She wondered what it would be. “To start with.” “What’s that?” “No more secrets and no more plots.” Monique laughed. “That’s easy. No more secrets.” They kissed. “And no more plots.” Monique felt her old self begin to crumble away. “My real name is Monique Denise Dubordieu.” “What?”

126

Young Vampires in France

“My real name. Not the one I assumed after my transformation, but the one I had as a mortal. And the family name I shared with Josette and our mother.” Her mouth stumbled over names she hadn’t said to another being in decades. “Monique Denise Dubordieu.” Her name rolled off his tongue like the smoothest wine. “Not de la Chauve-Souris. Dubordieu. Well, my love, a Monique by any other name…” The Comte began to look at Monique in a whole new light. This beautiful, fascinating woman had a story he’d never suspected. Thank the universe for the impulse that drove him to follow her tonight—and learn the truth he’d never suspected. Tonight he could give himself over to enjoying her, secure in knowing her completely— not to mention no longer having to worry that she was out to destroy him. Starting tomorrow he would fix the mess his business had fallen into. But for now, he planned to celebrate fully their coming together. When Monique smiled at him, her fangs gleamed. Like him, she’d suppressed her hunger too long. His cock went to full erection. With his mouth tight on hers, he snatched her up in his arms and rushed through the mansion to his bedroom. Monique held on to him like a log in a raging river. He whispered words to her, calling her his darling, his loved one. And then they were at his bed. He sat her down. The skin around her belly still bore the faint marks of the chastity belt. He buried his head in her belly and began to lick away the slight red ridges. At the touch of his tongue, her skin quivered and beaded. With a moan, she held his head to her, the two of them in a moment of profound communication. The Comte nudged Monique back so she was resting on her arms. With his tongue he traced the line down from her navel to her pussy, and she cried out. His fingers played the delicate skin inside her thighs while his teeth grazed just above her mound. Monique thrust her pussy up at him. She wanted him in her, stirring up her juices with his hot mouth. He alternated kisses and nibbles with little puffs of air on her folds, on her clit. With his mouth on her core, he knew Monique could feel him in every cell of her body, taking command of her. Taking care of her in all the ways she wanted him to. She whispered to him that she wanted to surrender all to him, to give him the gift of herself wrapped in a package meant for him only. She wove her hands in his hair, holding his precious head to her most intimate space. “Monique Denise Dubordieu,” he whispered. Her name rose from him like a sigh. He licked the sensitive fold between her leg and her pussy, and he wanted to linger in that delicious place. Except she urged him to move elsewhere, to touch her in all the places she craved. To suck and lick and pull her into him. Her pussy vibrated with arousal and desire, and he savored the slick contact between him and her. He tasted her slit with his tongue deeply embedded, all the while stroking her clit in a steady rhythm. When her climax start to build, Monique tightened her legs around

127

Mardi Ballou

his head. His whispered words of love alternated with little love bites, and he stroked her sensitive spots, driving her into a frenzy of need and release. When she could no longer wait, Monique gasped out her joy, and her fingernails raked his back. His mouth wet with her juices, the Comte lazily gazed at Monique. But she demanded turnabout. She wanted his cock in her mouth—now. He gestured for her to lie down, but she shook her head and got up. “On your knees!” she commanded. That half-smile, the one that fried his brain and melted his soul, curled her lips. “Yes, my queen.” His words sounded half-mocking. “On the floor?” “On the bed,” she insisted. When he was kneeling at the edge of the bed, his cock pointing at her, Monique knelt on the floor. Perfect. She put her hands on his ass and clamped her lips around his cock. He groaned and gently laid his hands on her head. The first time they’d had sex—for it hadn’t yet been lovemaking then, had it?— she’d praised him, saying how magnificent his cock was. Size, yes, of course. But everything else, too, was perfection. The look, the feel, the heft. She flattered his ego, saying that when she saw him like that, she had begun to believe the legends. Surely such a magnificent man could indeed be regarded as a lover of almost mythological fame. Though he’d heard flattery from many women before, when Monique said these words, they resonated deep within him. Especially when she repeated them in awed whispers now. He responded to her so easily, growing larger in her mouth as she paid homage to him with her teeth, her tongue, her lips. Her fangs. Blood drawn from a lover’s genitals was a rare delicacy, an intimacy that drew two people together in an uncommon bond. Suddenly, only such closeness would do for them both. With a sigh she confessed that she couldn’t resist grazing the skin on his shaft with her fangs. Though she realized she had to be gentle in her ferocious possession of him, she told him that she feared being unable to restrain herself once she opened him up. Luckily, instinct took over the minute she dipped her fangs into his cock. The Comte greeted her move with a sharp intake of breath, and his eyes flew wide open. He shivered, and then he arched his hips forward to give himself more deeply to her. Monique was feeding from his cock. In all his centuries of coupling and other combinations, this was but the third time a lover had done this. The other times had been serious, preludes to unions that lasted longer than most. But nothing could compare with their lovemaking. Monique’s feeding from his cock signaled something deeper than any experience of his past. But he couldn’t entertain such thoughts and give himself to her, which was what her lips and fangs demanded from him now. He closed his eyes and let himself become one with her on a whole new level.

128

Young Vampires in France

To seal the pact between them, he would refrain from coming, which required superhuman concentration and strength for the feeding needed to be followed by the total union of their bodies, when he would feed from her before they both climaxed together. But he was very near the limit, which Monique must have felt too. She withdrew her fangs and licked his punctures with a sweep of her tongue. Then she lifted her head away from his throbbing cock and looked at him, a lopsided grin on her face, a drop of his blood gleaming at the corner of her mouth. Wordlessly, Monique stretched out on her back. Ravenous for her, the Comte blanketed her with his body. He could wait no longer. His cock, more engorged than ever despite the blood Monique had sucked, plunged into her at the same moment that he sank his teeth into her neck. Monique began to weep gently. For just a moment, the Comte feared that he was hurting her—with his cock, with his fangs, with his total abandon of control. He couldn’t stop feeding, not any more than he could keep his hips from thrusting into his love. And then, she stroked him, his back, his head. Her touch let him know that her tears were not from pain—rather from joy, from relief, from wanting the two of them to be together exactly as they were at this precise moment. She surrounded him on every level. The wet heat of her pussy caressed his cock, letting him know in no uncertain terms that he was home. Her blood in his mouth nourished him, heated him, promised him life everlasting in her arms. Moving together in perfect synchronicity, they pleasured each other in a way neither had ever known before. And then at last they came together, rocking the world with the force of their union. When they quivered the last gasp of their mutual orgasm, he felt they were both bathed in light and warmth. Nothing would ever again be the same. Monique woke first from the doze she and the Comte had fallen into. He began to stir. She felt a rare wave of reticence. Mon dieu. She’d laid herself open to him, revealed her essence to him. Now, after all the intimacy that had just passed between them, they both needed to figure out a way to be together. He propped up on one elbow and looked at her with such tenderness, she nearly began to weep again. “We have a great deal to talk about.” His voice, just barely above a whisper, nonetheless carried all the weight of his natural authority. “But now we have all the time in the world.”

***** As soon as the Comte and Monique Dubordieu awoke the following night, they resolved to begin delving into Pierre Mains de Chair’s records immediately. When they arrived at his office, they weren’t really surprised to find that the man had disappeared.

129

Mardi Ballou

The records they’d planned to examine and a sizeable chunk of the company assets he’d had access to disappeared along with him. Sitting across from Monique in Mains de Chair’s newly denuded office, the Comte felt furious with himself. But he felt even more furious with his errant officer, who would pay for his monstrous betrayal. The Comte mobilized his security department to bring the man back—immediately. However, this did little to make up for the losses of Josette Dubordieu and all the other children harmed over the years when the Comte thought he was making his resources available to help them. “I owe you both a profound apology and my sincere thanks,” he said to Monique, who looked stunned. “Why?” “The apology is to you and all the others I failed. The thanks is for uncovering the Mains de Chair family’s perfidy. I only wish there had been a way for you to contact me at the time of Josette’s need, when I could have helped.” “But I was little better than an urchin myself in those days. How would I, a ragamuffin from the streets, have approached the mighty Comte du Montnoir?” “Pity that. I wonder how many others have considered me unapproachable over the years? I depended on my top officers to keep me informed of the most important aspects of their sectors, not to isolate me—and cheat me.” “You sound distressed.” “I suppose the truth hurts when one has been neglecting it. Thanks to you, I have discovered that both the Mains de Chair and the du Soutien families have maintained a tradition of fattening their personal coffers at the expense of my businesses. If it were just money, it would be bad enough. But when they’ve hurt the weakest, neediest people…” “What of the Aurore family?” “They have been all honest with me, so Françoise not only stays, she will be promoted.” Monique, remembering her plot to compromise Françoise, blushed. But at last such dishonesty lay behind her. “I can’t believe it’s over.” “But it’s not.” The Comte crossed the room. “Monique Denise Dubordieu, I hereby offer you the post of top administrator for the clinic charities. I know that in your hands, resources will go to those who most need them.” Her eyes looked wide with amazement. “You would trust me in this?” “No question in my mind—above all, not after hearing Josette’s sad story.” A small smile played on Monique’s sexy lips. “I am honored.” Monique bowed her lovely head.

130

Young Vampires in France

“And,” the Comte continued, “with your permission, I would like to rename our main Parisian clinic to symbolize the changes. From this day forth, it will be known as the Josette Dubordieu Children’s Clinic.” Monique’s eyes filled with tears. “Josette Marianne Dubordieu.” “Done,” he declared before he allowed himself to kiss away those tears. “Now I will leave you to settle into your new office. I’ll be checking in often.” Renaming the clinic in Josette’s memory. Yes, her little sister would have cherished being remembered in this way. But what was going on? The Comte was leaving her, now? When she needed and wanted him more than ever? She practically flew over to block the door. “Where do you think you’re going?” He shrugged. “I’m sure you need to establish your routine in your new office.” Ah. She crammed her body fully against his and was gratified to feel his erection, stiff and throbbing for her. She ground her pussy against him. “Routine, yes. But tonight we celebrate,” she purred. Monique dug her breasts, nipples hard and tingling for his touch, into his chest. He lowered his face and took possession of her mouth for a kiss that had her toes curling. “I’m grateful to you for all you’ve done in Josette’s name and so much more,” she whispered. “Gratitude, is it?” he growled. She kissed him, cutting off his words. “As grateful as I am,” she murmured, her face sheltered on his chest, “I would walk away from the Josette Marianne Dubordieu Clinic if I thought being its director would cost me your love. You see, more than anything else, I want you.” “My darling,” the Comte said. Then he scooped her up in his arms for a magical embrace, the first official act to inaugurate her new executive desk.

131

Mardi Ballou

Epilogue Darlene, Jon, Lynette and Nick, who’d gone back to San Francisco once the Comte regained control of his life, returned to Paris for the dedication and grand opening of the Josette Marianne Dubordieu Children’s Clinic. With the Comte and Monique in charge, the night promised to be A-list elegant. Over flutes of AB negative, the four nattered. “I understand Monique is going to cut the red ribbon—and the Comte will make a speech,” Lynette said. Both men rolled their eyes—discreetly. “I still don’t completely trust that Monique.” Darlene sipped her drink. “The way the Comte explained it, Monique had some justification for her anger. Which doesn’t excuse the things she did,” Jon added the last part when Darlene glared at him. He put his hand on the small of her back and gave her a mini-massage. Getting over the cracks in their relationship after the Monique episode hadn’t been easy—but definitely worth it. Still, Darlene didn’t know that she’d ever one hundred percent trust Monique. Just then the Comte, impeccably dressed as always, rushed over to them. “Where’s Monique? The ribbon-cutting ceremony is in ten minutes, and no one’s seen her.” Right. Darlene tried not to gloat as the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach told her Monique had struck again. Though Darlene had no idea what Monique could possibly gain by embarrassing the Comte at this point, her old distrust of the woman didn’t require much stimulus to flare up. “Do you want me to help you look for her?” Jon asked. Darlene growled softly, a signal she and Jon had agreed on to indicate trouble brewing. “I’m sure she’ll turn up,” Lynette assured the Comte. “She’s probably doing a lastminute makeup check before she comes out into the spotlight.” Since the Comte looked unconvinced and worried, Lynette volunteered herself and Darlene to go back to Monique’s designated dressing room. Not that Darlene relished personal time with Monique, but if that woman had something nasty planned, Darlene personally would drag her out to the spotlight by her short spiky hair. When she and Lynette got to the “star’s” door, they were about to knock when they heard Monique talking to someone. “Great. She’s probably snuck her new boyfriend in and will humiliate the Comte in front of everyone.” Lynette snorted. On the count of three both women forced the door open—and discovered Monique with a small dirty munchkin ensconced in her immaculate lap.

132

Young Vampires in France

Monique appeared oblivious to the damage the little one—they guessed she was a girl, but it was hard to tell—was doing to her designer outfit. “Monique, what the hell—” Lynette started, when Monique turned to them and held up a hand to signal them to stop. Darlene couldn’t believe it—a real tear slid down Monique’s cheek. “Ladies, I would like you to meet Christine Langlois. Christine, these are my American friends, Madame DeMars and Madame Loring. Please, say hello to them.” Christine bobbed her head. Matted black curls that cried out for shampoo briefly slid over the girl’s filthy face. “Christine has come to tell me about her little sister, Janine, who has a bad cough and cries all the time. As their mama has not been home for two days, Christine is worried about how to take care of Janine. When she heard about the new clinic, she decided to ask for our help.” Monique then hugged the child. “I am telling her, of course, that’s why we’re here. And now, we must hurry, for we don’t want to leave Janine alone any longer.” Hearing these words, Darlene felt her heart melt. She sniffled back tears and held her arms out. “Go, Monique. You’re needed at the celebration. Lynette and I will go home with Christine and bring Janine back with us.” With Christine’s arms around her neck, Monique rose. “Nothing is more important than what happens to a single child—not even this party.” Knowing how much the Comte treasured ritual, Darlene thought quickly. “The ribbon-cutting is now. Why don’t you and Christine cut the ribbon together—and then we’ll all go to fetch Janine.” Monique asked Christine if this would be acceptable. Christine solemnly nodded. Arriving at the ribbon-cutting at exactly the scheduled time, Monique now had help. With her fingers wrapped around Christine’s, the two of them cut the ribbon opening the Josette Marianne Dubordieu Children’s Clinic. And then, Monique requested everyone’s attention. “Christine Langlois has come to the clinic for help with her sister Janine. My two American friends have offered to go to Christine’s home to provide assistance. As they are unfamiliar with Paris, I request other volunteers to go with them. What better way to open the clinic for business?” After a moment’s silence while the audience mulled over this invitation, five people sprang up to offer their services. Led by Christine, the team made their way to her home.

***** The Comte watched Monique with admiration—and love. Now that she was head of the clinic, at last he knew its mission was being honored. His heart overflowed with pride…and trust.

133

Mardi Ballou

With a practiced eye, he surveyed the reception and saw that everyone appeared more than pleased with the refreshments, the ambiance. Yes, the launch of the Josette Marianne Dubordieu Children’s Clinic was an unqualified success. Later tonight he and Monique would celebrate in their own special way. Now, he allowed himself a moment’s refreshment. After getting a drink from the bartender, he turned and almost crashed into a guest—one, alas, he didn’t recognize—who’d just also gotten a drink. The Comte studied the other man for a moment before admitting to himself that he really didn’t know his name. Long silver hair, tied back off his face. Gleaming silver eyes. “Wonderful party,” the other man said. The Comte nodded his head. “You are a friend of Monique’s?” The man’s smile revealed his fangs. “An old and distant one who’s been concerned about her. There was a disappointment between us. Then I spent many years abroad. Though I’ve been remiss in not remaining in contact with Monique, I’m gratified to see the way she has resolved this matter.” “She’s busy now, or I’d take you to her.” The man smiled. “No need. Please give her my best wishes and congratulations.” “Your name, Monsieur?” The man had started to walk off. He turned back for one moment and said, “Christophe.”

134

About the Author Exploring the erotic side of romance keeps Mardi Ballou chained to her computer— and inspires some amazing research. Mardi’s a Jersey girl, now living in Northern California with her hero husband—the love of her life—who’s also her tech maven and first reader. Her days and nights are filled with books to read and write, chocolate, and the pursuit of romantic dreams. A Scorpio by birth and temperament, Mardi believes in living life with Passion, Intensity, and Lots of Laughs (this last from her moon in Sagittarius). Published in different genres under different names, Mardi is thrilled to be part of the Ellora’s Cave Team Romantica™ . Mardi welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.

Also by Mardi Ballou Down and Dirty anthology Nibbles ‘n’ Bits anthology Pantasia 1:Hook, Wine and Tinker Pantasia 2: For Pete’s Sake Pantasia 3: Forever On the Isle of Never Photo Finish Reunions Dangereuses Young Vampires In Love

Discover for yourself why readers can’t get enough of the multiple award-winning publisher Ellora’s Cave. Whether you prefer e-books or paperbacks, be sure to visit EC on the web at www.ellorascave.com for an erotic reading experience that will leave you breathless.

www.ellorascave.com