The estate seemed almost deserted as they sped down the long, curved driveway and out through the wide-open gate. Christian would have to come back tomorrow night to count the casualties, and comfort the survivors. But for now, he simply relaxed into the BMW’s fine leather seat and reveled in the knowledge that he was, by his own hand, Lord of the South.
NATALIE DROVE QUICKLY, but without the flash she associated with Marc’s driving. He had vampire reflexes on his side; she was just human. But she didn’t regret that for one minute. Because it was her humanity that Christian wanted, her human blood that he needed. She’d seen the lust burning beneath the exhaustion in his eyes, and it made her hunger for him in a way that would have had her own eyes burning if that had been possible. Who would have believed that her father’s good little girl would be sitting here right now, squeezing her thighs together in anticipation of getting home and into bed with a vampire?
There was so little traffic that the trip was short, despite her sensible driving, and it wasn’t long before she was turning down Christian’s street. The house was completely shuttered up. She pulled into the driveway, and Christian pushed a button on the overhead console to open the garage door. She found herself worrying about the security risk posed by the ordinary garage door, until she saw that the door to the house was shuttered as tightly as all of the other doors and windows.
Christian held her hand while he flipped up the cover on an alarm panel, and entered a release code that was a lot more than six digits. This was clearly a custom system, and, moreover, obviously designed for vampires. Apart from the shutters, which weren’t exactly standard in the upscale Houston neighborhood, the multiple codes for different functions were something she’d never seen before. Anthony had been proud of his vault down in the basement, but he didn’t have anything like this. She shuddered suddenly, remembering her recent imprisonment, and Anthony’s plans for her.
“Don’t think about it,” Christian murmured, pulling her closer to his side.
Natalie glanced at him. How the hell did he know what she was thinking? She’d have to ask him sometime when they weren’t all dragging their feet with exhaustion. The heavy shutter rolled up with a muted hum, and Marc pushed through and into the house. Christian and Natalie were right behind him.
The house was quiet, mostly dark, except for a light on in the kitchen. Why was it always the kitchen light that people left on? Even vampires left it on, and the kitchen was hardly a gathering place for them.
The basement door opened, and Cibor emerged, looking more worn than she’d ever seen him. She looked up, meeting his tired gaze. “Jaclyn?” she asked.
“She’s sleeping it off. Between her own recuperative ability and Christian’s blood, the damage is almost healed. What she needs now is sleep.”
“She needs you,” Natalie corrected him softly.
He gave her a crooked smile. “She’s got me.” He shifted his attention to Christian and asked, “Anthony?”
“Dust in the wind,” Christian informed him.
Cibor smiled, and gave a little bow. “Lord Christian.”
“Call me that tomorrow night. I might have the energy to believe it.”
The big vampire laughed, then turned and started back down the stairs. Marc moved to follow, and Natalie tensed. Would Christian walk her to the guest bedroom and leave her there again? Had she earned enough of his trust that he would let her sleep next to him, wake next to him in his own bed?
He waited until Cibor and Marc had both disappeared down the stairs, before turning to pull her close, his arms around her waist, his fingers resting at her lower back, just above her butt. She put her hands on his chest and looked up at him in question, her stomach doing backflips, as she waited for the inevitable rejection.
“Do you love me, Natalie?” he asked, surprising the hell out of her.
Natalie stared up at him, her heart pounding so hard, she thought his vampire ears must be able to hear it. Did she love him? Of course she did. The pain she’d felt when she thought he was dead had forced her to acknowledge that. But could she admit it to him? Could she lay herself open and risk being torn apart? If she didn’t, if she told Christian she wasn’t sure or some other bullshit, she’d never see him again. And she would regret that forever.
“I love you,” she said, and the mixture of terror and relief those three words conjured up had her body so confused, that it didn’t know whether to run or stay.
Christian gave her his beautiful smile, and tightened his arms around her. “Mon cœur est tien, Natalie.”
My heart is yours. She knew enough Cajun French to understand that, and her heart squeezed so much that it hurt.
“Christian,” she breathed. And he kissed her, his lips touching hers gently at first, then harder as the kiss was filled with all the passion and terror of the previous hours. She clung to his broad chest, her fingers clenched in the thick cotton of his shirt, kissing him back until her lungs were begging for air. She rocked on her feet when he finally lifted his mouth, and she rested her forehead against him as she sucked in air.
He hugged her, chuckling softly. “Can you breathe?”
Natalie looked up at him with a smile. “I can now, but it was worth it.”
“That’s good to know. Shall we go to bed? The sun is very nearly up, and I have plans.”
She grabbed his hand and turned toward her bedroom. “Let’s go,” she said, but he pulled her back.
“Not there, ma chére.”
Her eyes widened hopefully. “Are you sure?”
“Are you? Once that door closes, it doesn’t open until sunset, and I’m not exactly a lot of fun in the meantime.”
“Oh,” she said suddenly remembering. “Let me get my laptop!” She hurried down the hall to the bedroom that had been hers, grabbed her laptop, her toothbrush, and a nightgown, then ran back to where a bemused Christian was waiting for her. “I’m ready.”