She smiled at his look of horror. “I could not rightly say.”
“Why has our Master taken a toy he cannot touch?” Zadok asked Walter. “That’s madness, even for him.”
“It seems he can touch me.”
Silence. She shouldn’t have said that. Both vampires were watching her in curiosity and confusion, reflected in yellow and red tones. She looked away from them and sighed. “His soul is immovable. Even from me, he is immortal. It is for the best. If I tore out his soul and left him an empty shell, I dislike thinking of what kind of wandering spirit might come to inhabit something with that manner of power.”
“An unsettling thought indeed,” Walter muttered.
“He can touch you. And you have never known the embrace of a man or a woman?” Zadok cackled. “I see why you climbed so willingly into this carriage, my beautiful thing. You’ll climb as eagerly into his bed before long.”
She shot Zadok a withering glare.
The vampire only howled in laughter. “Oh, what a look! No wonder he is infatuated with you. How I wish I could have you for myself. I would teach you a man’s touch in all its glory.”
She looked to Walter. “How angry would Dracula be if I ripped his soul out of his body?”
“No. You will do no such thing—” Zadok protested.
Maxine and Walter ignored him. The redheaded vampire thought it over. “I think not very.”
“May I, then?”
“I would ask that you not.” He smiled thinly at her. “As tempting as it may be.”
“I resent that, old friend.” Zadok folded his arms across his chest and propped his feet up on the bench across from them, crossing them at the ankles. “You would miss me.”
“You would be disappointed to learn how very little I would do anything of the sort.”
She fought a smile and lost. She turned her gaze back out to the window. “What is it that he wants from me?”
“Well—” Zadok began.
“That is not our place to say,” Walter interrupted him sternly. It was clear that Zadok was to keep his mouth shut on the subject. “You may discuss it with your Lord.”
“He is your Lord, not mine,” she protested.
“Oh?” Walter watched her, devoid of emotion, and she realized how fruitless a sentiment it was that she clung to. She had come here for lack of any other choices. If Vlad wished her in a cage, she would be in one. If he wished her dead, she would be so.
Who was he now, if not her King?
Willful surrender. His words to her during their dance rang in her mind. It disgusted her that she could not see him for what he was in hindsight. But he had hidden from her flawlessly. She had trusted her gift to warn her of an intruder, and it had failed her.
Zadok trailed a hand over her shoulder, ghosting over the fabric. It seemed even though he had decided not to touch her skin, he was still intent on playing with her. She flinched and pulled away, but there was nowhere for her to go in the small carriage. He shifted closer to her, his leg touching hers. “Do not be afraid, my beautiful. He does not intend to hurt you.”
She glared at him and pushed his hand away from her. Or rather, she tried. He returned it to her shoulder a moment later, undiscouraged. “What did you do to the man you pretended to be last night?”
Zadok laughed and ended it with a grin, a reminder of the sharp fangs that he owned. They were not long enough to cause the wound she saw without leaving the mark of other teeth—they must retract like a cat’s claws. “Arthur…lovely boy. He was quite willing in whatever harm I paid him, I assure you.”
“Please stop touching me.”
“You do not scare me.”
“I should.”
“I do love a little danger. As do you, I think. Or else why would you be here? I will tell you this. Our kiss brings pleasure the likes of which you have never known. Tell me, Miss Parker…since you cannot touch anyone, are you quite skilled in pleasuring yourself, then?”
“Enough, Zadok,” Walter hissed from across the carriage. “I needn’t remind you how displeased our Master would be with this indiscretion of yours.”
The blond vampire sighed heavily and slid away from her obediently. “Yes, yes…Why must you ruin my fun, Walter?”
“Someone must.”
Zadok grumbled.
And with that, the carriage came to a halt. She recognized Boswell Street. The wooden sign for Marliave swung in the breeze from its hooks.