Vampire, Interrupted (Argeneau #9)

Vampire, Interrupted (Argeneau #9) Page 9

Marguerite woke up to find her head cushioned on Julius's chest and his arms wrapped round her. She lay still for a moment, simply enjoying being enveloped in his warm embrace and inhaling his scent. It was a sharp, tangy aroma that made her wonder what cologne he wore. She'd like to buy several bottles of it and use it as air freshener as well as throw it in her laundry so she could enjoy it all the time.

Smiling at the foolish thought, Marguerite eased out of his arms, moving slowly and carefully in an effort not to wake him. The clock on the bedside table read five P.M., a little more than an hour before sunset, and she'd like to take a bath before the other men were up and about. The townhouse had only one full bathroom and she imagined it would be in high demand when the rest of their small group started to stir. If she went now she could be done and out before that happened.

Her gaze slid around the room as she stood up and Marguerite grimaced as she realized she had no clothes here but those she'd worn the night before. A robe would have been handier, but she didn't have one with her, so had to drag on her skirt and blouse from the night before. She didn't bother with her bra and panties, however, simply scooping them up along with her shoes to carry to her own room.

Much to her relief, Marguerite didn't run into anyone on the way to her room. She slipped inside and dumped the clothes she carried on the foot of the bed, and then quickly stripped off the skirt and blouse. Leaving them where they fell, she took her robe from the wardrobe and slid into it, and then fetched fresh clothes and grabbed her hair drier before heading into the bathroom.

With only an hour before the room would be in demand, Marguerite didn't take as long in her bath as normal. She rushed through it and then quickly dried off, dressed, and dried her hair. Once ready to face the day, she slid out of the bathroom, coming to a startled halt when she saw Tiny leaning against the wall in the hall.

"I'm sorry, were you waiting long?" Marguerite asked in a whisper.

Tiny shook his head as he straightened. "I just came out. I heard the hair dryer turn off as I did and figured you were about done so thought I'd wait and grab a shower before everyone else is up and about."

"Oh." She nodded and then offered, "If you tell me how to make coffee I'll put it on while you're showering."

"Hooked on caffeine already?" Tiny teased with a grin, and then shook his head. "It's okay. I fixed it before we went to bed this morning. It just has to be turned on."

"I'll do that, then," she said, moving toward her door. "And then I'll call Martine and see when we can talk to her."

"Sounds like a plan," Tiny said as he disappeared into the bathroom.

After leaving her things in her room, Marguerite jogged lightly downstairs to do as promised. She flipped on the coffeepot, then moved to the phone, grateful that she knew Martine's number by heart. Jean Claude's sister had had the same number for at least ten years, ever since moving back into her York home after one of the necessary breaks most of them were forced to take to prevent anyone noticing that they didn't age. Still, she had to pause and rethink the number since she had it memorized with the country code in the front. She mentally counted off the 011 44 and then actually punched in the following ten numbers, hoping she'd done it right. She didn't relax until she recognized Martine's housekeeper's voice saying hello.

Smiling, Marguerite leaned against the counter and asked for Martine, but her smiled faded when the housekeeper announced that Ms. Martine was in London spending the weekend with her daughters. When the woman asked if she'd like to leave a message, Marguerite murmured no, thanked her and hung up to scowl impatiently around the room. Honestly, they seemed constantly to run into roadblocks with this case. First there had been the three weeks of useless archive hunting, then the attack, and now when they thought they had a real chance of finding out something useful, Martine wasn't available to talk to.

"Why the long face?" Julius asked by her ear, his arms slipping around her waist from behind.

"Good morning," Marguerite said, her lips curving up into a smile as she leaned back into his embrace.

Julius caught her chin in his hand and brought her face around and up for a kiss that may have started as a gentle brushing of lips, but didn't end that way. Moaning as his tongue invaded, Marguerite turned in his arms to make the angle less awkward and then gasped in surprise when he immediately lifted her to sit on the counter.

"Julius," she laughed, breaking the kiss and trying to push him away. "Someone could come in."

"Tiny's in the shower and everyone else is still sleeping," he growled, his hands urging her knees apart so he could step between her legs.

"Yes, but--Oh," She breathed. He'd tugged her blouse from her skirt, raised it up to uncover the red lace bra she'd donned after her bath and immediately began to run his tongue along the flesh at the edge of the lace.

"But?" he asked against her skin.

"But," Marguerite agreed on a sigh, one hand sliding into his hair and the other moving over the smooth skin of his back. He wore only his jeans, leaving his chest and back bare for her to touch unhampered.

Julius chuckled and tugged one cup of the bra aside so that he could latch onto the excited nipple beneath and Marguerite groaned and unconsciously shifted her hips forward, groaning again as the core of her pressed lightly against his erection. Julius immediately let go of her blouse, letting it drop over his head as his hands reached for her hips and tugged her more firmly forward so that they ground against each other through their clothes. They both groaned then and he withdrew his head from beneath her blouse, abandoning her breast to kiss her again.

Marguerite kissed him back frantically, her hand slipping between them to find that while he'd donned the jeans, he hadn't bothered to fasten the button, simply pulling up the zipper. There was no need for fiddling with fasteners, she simply slid her hand inside and found him hard and eager.

Julius thrust against the caress, his own hands finding her skirt and beginning to lift it up and out of the way. It was the buzz of the coffeemaker announcing that it was done brewing and the coffee ready that brought her to her senses. Blinking her eyes open, she peered around the kitchen and immediately broke the kiss and caught at his hands to stop him as they slid between her legs.

"We can't," she gasped.

"We can," Julius assured her, running his lips down her throat as he brushed his fingers against her through her panties.

"Oh, noooo," Marguerite moaned and then shook her head firmly and redoubled her efforts to catch his hands, this time digging her nails into his skin. When he lifted his head to look at her, she said, "Tiny or one of the others will find us half dressed and unconscious on the kitchen floor."

"Oh, right." Julius sighed, dropping his head on her shoulder and letting her skirt fall back into place. Then he lifted his head abruptly and suggested, "We could go back to bed."

Marguerite smiled at his hopeful expression, but shook her head. "Work. I have work to do."

"Did I hear someone say work?" Tiny asked as he entered the kitchen and then his eyes found them and rounded. "That doesn't look like work."

Grimacing, Marguerite pushed Julius away and slid off the counter. "Good morning."

"Good morning, again," Tiny said with amusement, reminding her that they'd already met once that morning.

"Right," she murmured, then, hoping to distract him, said, "The coffee just finished."

The moment Tiny turned to glance at the coffeepot, she quickly reached under her blouse to readjust her bra, slipping her breast back inside. While her blouse had hidden the fact, she'd been uncomfortably aware that it was still out under there. Catching Julius's amused grin, she made a face and moved to collect cups, asking him, "Do you want coffee?"

"Not yet," he answered. "I think I'll go take a shower."

"Marcus was heading in next and Christian has already called dibs on following him," Tiny announced as he retrieved milk and cream for the coffee.

"Then I guess I'm having coffee," Julius muttered.

Marguerite smiled with amusement at his disgruntled tone as she collected three cups and moved to the coffeepot.

"So, did you call Martine? When are we going to see her?" Tiny asked as he joined her by the coffeepot.

"Yes, I called her, but there's a problem," Marguerite said on a sigh as she poured the coffees. "She isn't home."

Tiny looked as disappointed at this news as she'd been. "Where is she?"

"In London if you can believe it," she admitted dryly. "It seems while we were on the train here, she was on another train heading to London for a weekend with her daughters."

"Her daughters live in London?" Tiny asked with a frown.

"No. They're at university at Oxford. They were catching the train into London to meet up with her."

Tiny raised his eyebrows. "Impressive."

"Juliana and Victoria are both very bright," Marguerite said proudly.

Tiny nodded, but then shook his head with a wry expression. "So we headed up here from London to talk to her and she's gone down to London."

"Hmm," Marguerite murmured and then shook her own head and said, "You'll never guess where they're staying."

Tiny raised his eyebrows. "Claridge's?"

Marguerite shook her head. "The Dorchester."

He gave a short laugh at that, and then sighed and glanced from Marguerite to Julius before asking, "So... do we hop on the train and head back?"

"No," Julius spoke before Marguerite could voice an opinion. "Martine is only gone for the weekend, she'll be back tomorrow or the next night. I rented this place for a week, and besides with our luck, something would come up and she'd be heading back this way as we went down and we'd pass each other again."

Tiny nodded and then glanced to Marguerite. "You could call her."

"I'd rather talk to her in person," she said.

"Then maybe we should check the archives again while we're waiting," Tiny suggested. "We may have just missed--"

"You didn't miss anything," Julius said quietly. "Christian's birth was not recorded anywhere."

"Right. Good to know we wasted all that time," Tiny muttered, and then said impatiently, "You know it would make things a hell of a lot easier if you just told us her name."

Marguerite waited for Julius to tell the detective that he "couldn't" as he had her, but he merely smiled and said, "Where would the fun be in that?"

When Tiny scowled at him, he slapped his back on the way to the coffeepot to pour himself another cup and said, "Cheer up. It means you have at least two days to tour York before you have to get back to work. And it's on Christian."

"Leave it to you to find the silver lining, Father," Christian said dryly from the doorway.

"Good morning, son," Julius said with a grin. "Your hair's wet. Does this mean you've had your shower and it's now free?"

Christian shook his head. "Marcus is in there."

"I thought Marcus was showering after me," Tiny said with a frown.

Christian grinned. "So did he, but I'm younger and faster."

Julius shook his head mournfully, "The youth today, Marguerite. They have no respect for their elders."

Tiny snorted at the words as he moved to the refrigerator. "Five hundred and something isn't a youth, Julius."

"He's right," Marguerite said with amusement. "Tiny's the baby in the group."

"Yeah, and at thirty-five I look the oldest," he said with disgust as he removed bacon and eggs from the mini-fridge and set them on the counter.

"Are you planning to cook something, Tiny?" Julius asked with interest and then frowned as he moved forward and caught a glimpse of the contents of the small appliance. "Where is the blood?"

"Yes, I'm planning to cook. I'll cook enough for the three of us. And the blood is in the mini-fridge in the living room. There was no plug in here for it," he added to explain why it was in the living room and not the kitchen.

"You did manage to get another refrigerator, then?" Marguerite asked with surprise. "Where?"

"You don't want to know," Tiny said dryly, and then sighed when Marguerite raised an eyebrow in question and said, "None of the stores were open, of course. So, the guys 'convinced' the neighbor to sell us his."

"Oh, dear," Marguerite breathed.

"We paid him twice what it was worth and gave him money to replace the groceries in it as well," Christian assured her quickly.

"Needs must, Marguerite," Julius said quietly when she merely shook her head.

"I hear Marcus on the stairs," Tiny announced. "Go shower, Julius, or your breakfast will be done and cold before you get back."

Julius didn't need anymore prompting than that. Nodding, he kissed Marguerite on the cheek and headed out of the room with his coffee.

Marguerite watched him go with a smile, then started to turn to Tiny to ask if there was anything she could do to help, but paused when she saw Christian grinning at her.

"What?" she asked, grimacing when she felt the blush riding up her cheeks.

"Does this mean you'll be my mother?" Christian teased lightly.

Marguerite's embarrassment fled at once, her expression becoming serious, she said slowly, "I would be more than proud to claim you as a son, Christian."

The teasing in his expression leeched out of his face and he swallowed thickly, then nodded. "Thank you, Marguerite."

"Are you all right?"

Marguerite grimaced as Julius paused and caught her arm to keep her on her feet when she stumbled. Shaking her head at her own clumsiness, she laughed and said, "I'm fine. I shouldn't have worn these heels, though. I didn't even consider the cobblestone walks when I dressed tonight. It's uneven and they slip on the smooth stone."

"They look good, though," he complimented, his hand releasing her arm to slip around her waist. Letting it a rest rather low on her hip, he squeezed gently as he peered down at the high-heel silver shoes she wore.

Marguerite peered down at them herself, noting that they did look good, and they went well with the silver cocktail dress she'd donned for the show and dinner Julius had planned. Raising her head, she grinned at the interest in his eyes and ran a hand lightly across his chest.

"Mmm." Eyes beginning to glow as the silver flared in their depths, he turned her into his arms, his head lowering to kiss her, but Marguerite laughed and put a hand to his chest to hold him off.

"Behave. We are on a public street," she reminded him.

"We are," he agreed solemnly. "But as I recall there is a snickleway not far up the road. We could duck in there and--"

"Ruin our clothes when we both pass out afterward and probably be mugged while in a dead faint and helpless into the bargain?" she suggested dryly, then pulled free of his embrace and caught his hand to urge him to follow as she continued up the walk. "Besides, you promised me food."

"Food." He sighed with mock despair, but started to walk again, even as he muttered, "Passed up for a burger."

"Who said anything about a burger?" Marguerite asked with amusement. "When you said restaurant I thought you meant proper cuisine."

"That was the plan," Julius agreed. "But a burger joint would be so much faster, and then we could go home and--" He paused when she turned and arched one eyebrow at him. A slow smile curving his lips, he murmured, "You look so cute when you get that look on your face. It just makes me want to--"

"Everything makes you just want to," Marguerite said on a laugh.

He raised an eyebrow himself now. "And you don't want to?"

"No," she assured him solemnly as she walked back the few feet now separating them. Placing a hand to his chest, she leaned up to kiss him apologetically on the lips and then whispered, "And the fact that my panties are wet right now is because it was so hot in that theater, not because I only have to look at you to want you."

Marguerite watched Julius's eyes widen, but the moment his hands reached for her, she whirled away with a laugh and started walking again, saying over her shoulder, "Feed me. Woman cannot live on love alone."

"You're a hard woman, Marguerite Argeneau," Julius growled, catching up to her quickly and taking her hand in his.

"Yes, I am," she agreed with a grin. "And I'm looking forward to trying the moules mariniere that Tiny mentioned he had last night when he, Christian, and Marcus stopped there."

"Hmm," he scowled. "That probably takes forever to make. We will be there hours."

"The anticipation will do us good," Marguerite assured him with amusement.

"You can go off a person, you know," Julius warned, but squeezed her hand to let her know he was teasing.

Laughing, she paused at the door to the restaurant and reached for the handle, letting her hand drop away when he reached past her and opened it for her. She stepped inside, her gaze sliding over the busy restaurant with interest. The lighting was dim, romantic music played softly in the background, and the tables were arranged so that each had enough privacy not to feel intruded on by neighboring tables. They were met at the door, whisked to their table, and their waiter arrived at once, bearing two glasses of champagne to accompany their menus.

"So, did you enjoy the play?" Julius asked once they'd placed their orders.

"Very much." Marguerite smiled. It had been a modern comedy that had had her laughing from the start, even distracting her from the heat in the theater. Unfortunately, mind control didn't work over the phone and Julius had been forced to make do with what tickets were available. Their seats had been high in the back, nearly in the rafters. It hadn't been a problem, with their exceptional hearing and vision they'd seen and heard everything just fine, but it was a warm evening and the theater had been full, heat rising off the bodies and leaving them sweltering in the upper seats. It wasn't until the play was over that she'd realized just how hot. It had been worth it, though, but now that she'd been reminded of the free sauna they'd enjoyed, Marguerite thought a trip to the ladies room to give her face a splash and check her hair might be in order.

Excusing herself, she stood and glanced around, then stopped the waiter to ask where the ladies' room was. It turned out it was on the upper floor and she negotiated the building's steep, old steps with care, relieved when she arrived at the landing and spotted the sign over the women's bathroom door.

Slipping inside, she smiled at the pretty, young mortal at the sink and joined her. The walk had cooled her off after they left the theater, but as she had feared her face was a touch shiny and her hair looked a bit limp and sad. Marguerite fluffed her fingers through her hair, returning a bit of life to the stressed strands, then turned on the tap and splashed some cold water on her face.

Marguerite heard the door she'd just passed through open again, and assumed it was just another woman in search of the restrooms. It was a gasp from the woman beside her that made her blink her eyes open and start to straighten.

Catching sight of the mirror in front of her and the reflection of the figure in black, her eyes widened. It was the same person who had attacked her in her hotel room her first night in London, she was sure. The shape was the same; tall, broad shouldered, muscular, and covered from head to foot in black, including a black cape. He also had the sword, she saw and it was swinging toward her as she straightened.

Marguerite quickly ducked her head back down and stumbled to the side, away from the arc of the sword. Only the woman beside her kept her from falling to the floor. They both stumbled to the side and against the wall, and then Marguerite managed to regain her footing. She caught the woman's arm and pushed her toward the stalls along the back wall as she straightened to face her attacker, the action meant both to get the woman out of the danger zone and out of her own way so she wouldn't be tripped up at a critical moment.

"Go. Get out of here," Marguerite hissed at the woman, shifting to the side until the frosted windows were at her back as the figure in black turned to face her, his sword rising again.

Eyes wide with terror, the woman slid slowly along the wall of stalls, obviously terrified the man in black would hack at her with the sword at any moment.

Marguerite found herself worrying about that very thing herself when the man hesitated, his head turning the mortal's way, tracking her like a cobra about to strike. Desperate to distract him, she asked, "What do you want?"

Stilling, the black-clad figure turned back to her then, and Marguerite gave a little wave with her hand, urging the woman to make a run for it. Still, it wasn't until the man raised his sword and hurried toward Marguerite that the woman found the courage to scramble to the door. She pulled it open and slipped out of the room just as Marguerite threw herself to the side to avoid the oncoming sword.

She landed hard on the floor, her back slamming into the corner of the first stall with a painful jolt. Marguerite scrambled along the floor at once, sure that at any moment she'd feel the bite of the steel slicing into her flesh. It didn't happen, however, the sword had bitten deep into the wood of the windowsill and it took her attacker a moment to tug it free.

By the time he had and turned on Marguerite, she'd got back to her feet and was rushing for the door. He charged that way at once and knowing she wouldn't make it before him, or at least wouldn't get the door open and get out before he brought the sword down, Marguerite skidded to a halt and scrambled back toward the wall of stalls, her eyes darting around, searching for something to use as a weapon or shield. She very much feared that if she didn't find something and quickly, Julius would be eating his meal alone... as well as looking for a new lifemate to replace his headless ex-lifemate.

There was nothing to find however, nothing to hurl at him or block his blows. Sensing movement out of the corner of her eye, Marguerite drew her head back around to see the sword swinging again, and instinctively leapt back. The door behind her swung away under her weight, crashing into the stall wall as she stumbled back into the tiny cubicle.

Marguerite cursed herself for not diving left or right even before the back of her legs ran up against the toilet and she began to fall. She was trapped in the stall and had done it to herself, she realized with disgust as her attacker approached, the sword held high. He couldn't swing from side to side and take off her head in the small booth, but Marguerite had no doubt he'd simply give her a fearsome bodily injury, and then drag her out of the stall while she was too weak to fight and cut off her head then. She imagined he must be smiling with victory under that damned balaclava covering his face.

Furious with both herself and whomever this man was, Marguerite shot her foot up and out the moment he was close enough. She felt great satisfaction when it lodged firmly between his legs, the blow upsetting the man's aim, she saw just before the sword sliced down into her shoulder.

It was the clatter of high heels tapping down the stairs in a mad rush that drew Julius's attention. His first sight of the terror on the face of the woman even before her feet slid out from under her and she tumbled the last few steps was enough to send a shock of concern down his back and bring him to his feet.

Crossing the restaurant at a speed that would have startled everyone if their attention hadn't been on the jibbering woman now being helped to her feet by the ma?tre d', Julius didn't stop to hear what she had to say, but hurried up the stairs at once, taking them three at a time in his rush to reach Marguerite.

There were three doors off the landing at the top of the stairs. Julius rushed for the one with the ladies' room sign above the door, slamming it open with a crash that no doubt echoed through the building. He then froze in horror at the sight before him. A wounded and bloodied Marguerite was being dragged out of one of the stalls by her arm by a man dressed all in black. Julius's entrance had caught the man's attention, however, and the black-clad figure paused with Marguerite's legs still in the stall to peer around. The two men stared at each other briefly.

"Jesus," someone breathed behind him, telling Julius he'd been followed.

Julius charged forward, but the attacker was already moving to make his escape. Turning away, he ran in the opposite direction, charging the large square window at the end of the room, his sword out before him.

There was a shocked shout from behind Julius as the man crashed through the glass and dropped out of sight, but he paid it no attention. Neither did he chase after Marguerite's attacker, instead, Julius stopped and knelt beside her, his hands moving swiftly over her to check her wounds. She'd taken a bad blow to the shoulder that had nearly severed her arm, and another to the chest. They were not killing blows to an immortal and she was already healing, but needed blood and a lot of it he realized.

Julius started to scoop her up into his arms, pausing when she moaned in pain.

"She's alive," someone breathed with shock by his ear.

Julius lifted his head to the speaker. It took him a moment to recognize the ma?tre d' and then he glanced toward the door with a frown as he became aware of the clatter of several people rushing upstairs to join them. Cursing, Julius slipped into the ma?tre d's mind, altering his memory of what he'd found here and sending him out into the hall to head off the oncoming crowd and assure them that everything was fine.

Once the door had closed behind the man, Julius scooped Marguerite into his arms and then hesitated. He could hardly carry her out of here past all the people out on the landing. He didn't have the time to wipe all their memories.

Marguerite moaned again, drawing his gaze down to her. She was pale, her face the color of the porcelain in the room. The blood was migrating to her wounds, repairing and regenerating and doing all sorts of miraculous things to save her life and limb. But it had a price and he knew soon she would be in agony as the nanos in her body attacked her organs in search of fresh blood.

Cursing, he moved to the shattered window and peered out. There was no sign of her attacker, but he hadn't expected there to be. More importantly, the walkway between the building and the river was completely empty, and that's what he'd hoped for.

Pressing Marguerite tight to his chest, Julius climbed up on the ledge and jumped through the opening, dropping one floor to the cobbled walk below. He landed awkwardly, his ankle twisting on the uneven cobbles.

Julius ground his teeth as pain shot through the abused joint, but ignored the pain and started quickly along the walkway in the direction of the townhouse, glancing at Marguerite with concern as she moaned again. This time she didn't stop.