Natalie shrugged, not sure she believed that. She glanced away, wanting to change the subject, and caught sight of the clock in her kitchen. “I need to get dressed!” she said urgently, pushing away from Christian, and standing up. “Anthony will be here any minute, and we need to be gone.”
Christian stood next to her, but he clearly didn’t share her urgency. “But that would be rude, ma chére. To make Anthony drive all this way for nothing? I wouldn’t dream of it.”
She gripped his hand tightly. “I thought maybe we’d go somewhere, be gone when he gets here.”
Christian gave her a disbelieving scowl. “You want me to run? From Anthony? I know you can’t judge this for yourself, mon ange, but he does not have the power to kill me, even if he was inclined to try. Which he won’t, because he’s too afraid of dying, himself.”
Natalie rubbed her eyes, thankful she hadn’t put her makeup on yet. She wanted this night to be over. She wanted Anthony out of her hair, and Christian in it. In that order. “But you said you can’t kill him, because of Raphael.”
“I can’t kill him tonight, but I can sure as hell make sure he understands what’s mine. And what will never be his.”
Natalie gave him an exasperated look. What was with the mine bullshit? She didn’t belong to anyone. Although, in her deepest, non-feminist heart, she had to admit it gave her a little thrill to hear him say it.
“I need to get dressed,” she repeated abruptly. It was the one thing that made absolute sense right now. Clothes. “Make yourselves at home. I know you don’t like my coffee, but there’s vodka in the freezer, and scotch in the cupboard next to the sink. Glasses are in the same—”
The doorbell rang, stopping her in mid-sentence, replacing exasperation with . . . not fear exactly, but trepidation. She believed Christian when he said he could defeat Anthony. But best-laid plans and all that. Accidents happened. People got lucky.
She couldn’t think of any other trite sayings. She turned to Christian who cupped her cheek in one big hand, his fingers spearing back into her hair, as he moved even closer. “Don’t worry,” he assured her. “We won’t let anything happen to you.”
Natalie noticed that Marc had come to his feet, and now stood just behind Christian, his arms crossed over his chest.
“I’m not worried about me,” she confessed.
“Then you’ve nothing to worry about. Answer the door, but don’t invite him in.”
“Should I get dressed first?”
Christian tilted his head, taking in her finger-combed hair, her makeup-free face, and the big robe which left it unclear how much, or how little, she had on underneath. Natalie felt a blush heat her cheeks. He smiled.
“No, you’re perfect, just as you are.”
She didn’t believe that, but figured he knew what he was doing. She tightened the sash on her robe, still wishing she’d used the time spent arguing with Christian to go upstairs and put on some clothes. A quick check of the peephole confirmed it was too late for that now. Anthony stood out there. Sucking a deep breath of courage, she opened the door, and was shocked to see that he was all alone. Other than when he was in his office, she couldn’t remember a time when she’d seen him without a bodyguard or two lurking close by. Maybe they were waiting in the big limo idling at the curb.
Or maybe Christian had been right, and Anthony’s intentions this evening had been something less than honorable, or even legal.
“Lord Anthony,” she said, sticking to formalities, as she dug down and managed a weak smile.
“Natalie,” he said warmly, but then he got a good look at her, with her makeup-free face, her barely brushed hair, and her robe. “Am I too early?”
“Anthony!” Christian’s voice came from behind her, and his arm dropped over her shoulders in a blatantly possessive gesture.
She hid her surprised reaction, just barely, but didn’t even try to stop the instinct that had her pushing back into Christian’s strength as rage lit up Anthony’s face.
“Duvall,” he growled. “What are you doing here?”
Christian didn’t answer Anthony’s question, turning his attention to Natalie instead. “Ma chére, go keep Marc company, would you?”
Natalie wanted to insist on being there for whatever was about to happen. After all, she’d been the one who’d set this whole thing up. The one who Anthony had no doubt revolting plans for tonight. Standing this close to him, she imagined she could feel tendrils of his thoughts trying to reach out and grab her, the way he’d attacked Cibor. But her mind had always been her strongest attribute, and there was no way he was getting in there. She pictured a wall around it, starting with stone blocks and reinforcing it with steel. And maybe those tendrils hadn’t been all in her imagination, because she thought she detected a flash of surprise in Anthony’s eyes, a moment before Christian’s arm tightened around her. He pulled her out of the doorway, then shifted to stand between her and Anthony. “Stay with Marc, chére, please.”
Natalie moved back. She had no argument with getting farther away from Anthony. But she wasn’t going to hide behind Marc either. This was her fight as much as Christian’s, and she wanted to be there for it.
Anthony had observed the whole exchange, his face darkening with rage. “Come here, Natalie,” he said harshly, with a whip of command in his voice that she could hear, even if she wasn’t inclined to obey. To Natalie, Anthony’s attempt to compel her was an interesting curiosity. Something she filed away to be researched later.
Christian’s reaction was completely different. It was like a match sparking tinder. His entire posture changed, as if he’d been holding back, and now all bets were off. Every muscle in his body tensed, and all traces of affability disappeared in an instant. Setting her firmly behind him, he faced down Anthony, his hands curled into fists at his sides. Behind her, Marc had come to attention at the same time, and he took her arm now, and carefully put himself between her and the two angry vampires.
“Stay the hell away from her, you sick fucker,” Christian growled, “or I’ll kill you where you stand.”
Anthony made a scoffing noise. “Kill me? Empty words, Duvall. You don’t have what it takes.”