“But no food, no blood source. Is it just the two of them, or is there a third?”
“You mean . . .” Her cheeks were stained such a delicious pink, that he was tempted to take a small bite, just to taste.
“That’s exactly what I mean,” he whispered, settling for a slow brush of his lips over her cheek, feeling the heat. “They must be hunting and feeding together. Seducing together. I wonder if they hunt men or women.”
“But I thought blood and sex went together . . .” Her words trailed off on an indrawn breath. “Are you saying that they, um, that they both . . .”
“Oh, yes.”
“Oooh.” She studied the couple with an assessing and entirely unexpected gleam in her eye. “Did you and Marc ever . . . you know.”
Christian put his lips against her ear, exploring the soft shell with his tongue before murmuring, “Yes, we did. Many times.”
Her chest flushed with arousal above the tight bodice of her dress, her nipples creating slight bumps where they were trying to push through the fabric.
“Would you like to do that with us, Natalie?” he murmured. “Does it excite you?”
She licked her lips, and he wanted to snap his teeth at the sweet, rosy tip of her tongue. “I’ve . . . that is, I’ve never—”
Christian wrapped both arms around her, hugging her close to his chest. “It would be delicious, mon ange. But only if you want it.”
Natalie’s fingers clenched in his shirt a moment before he detected a powerful presence to his left.
“Christian Duvall. I don’t believe we’ve met,” drawled a deceptively relaxed voice with a deliberate flavor of the deep South.
Christian kept an arm around Natalie’s waist as he turned to greet the newcomer. And what a newcomer he was. Duncan Milford, Lord of the Capital Territory. They’d never met, but Christian knew of him. Everyone knew of Raphael’s longtime lieutenant.
“My lord,” Christian said with a respectful nod of his head. “My companion, Natalie Vivant Gaudet.”
“Charmed, my lady,” Duncan said smoothly. “And intrigued. Cajun and Creole, if I’m not mistaken.”
Natalie gave him a wide smile. “You are not, my lord,” she said, her own lilting accent in full force. “A Cajun father and Creole mother, both back several proud generations.”
“And beauty, as well, surely.”
Christian was beginning to suspect that Duncan was laying on the Southern accent a little heavily. He’d spent more than a century in California with Raphael; it was unlikely he’d managed to hold on to his accent for all that time. Maybe he was trying to relax Natalie, or maybe to disarm Christian himself, with what the Americans called “good ol’ boy” charm.
Christian gave him a bemused look, to let him know it wasn’t working. No disrespect, but no dice, to coin another American phrase.
“Anthony seems to be missing tonight,” Duncan said, his accent all but disappearing as quickly as he’d shifted subjects.
Christian huffed a breath. “You can say many things about Anthony, none of them good, but he has a highly developed sense of self-preservation.”
“Ah, yes, that business with Cibor,” he said disingenuously. Christian had no doubt at all that Duncan and Raphael had thoroughly discussed the previous day’s events. “Jaclyn must have been in a fine temper over that,” he added.
Which provoked Natalie’s sharp elbow in his side. Apparently everyone knew about Jaclyn and Cibor except him.
“She was understandably furious,” Christian agreed, wondering where all of this small talk was leading. “As was I.”
Duncan nodded knowingly. “I feel the need to apologize on Anthony’s behalf, Ms. Gaudet. He is a member of our Council.”
“There’s no reason to apologize, my lord. Christian took care of Anthony just fine,” she said with a loyalty that warmed his cold heart.
“Did he?” Duncan eyed Christian speculatively. “I would guess then that you are not exactly Anthony’s favorite person.”
Christian gave Duncan a flat stare. “If not for Raphael’s prior claim, Anthony would be dead by now.”
“And you would be Lord of the South.”