Night Novellas: Night Thief & Night Angel Read online

  Reason enough to question Kane.

  But that didn’t change the fact that she wished she could feel his arms around her again.

  “He may suspect, but he is too much a gentleman to confront me.” He finally leveled his gaze on her face. “You are the only mortal in France who knows who I really am.”

  “Why?” Why did he trust her, when he knew she stole his watch? She could leave at any time, today perhaps, if she sold the baubles she’d collected. “Why me?”

  “Because I want you to know me. I want you to…” His brow furrowed for a brief moment before he shook his head.

  “The sun will rise soon. I will leave Gerard instructions he is to give you free reign of my home.” He took her hand and kissed the back. “Until tomorrow.”

  She hesitated to release his hand, knowing this could be the last time she felt his skin against hers. “Au revoir, Kane.”

  Chapter Five

  Kane walked through his underground tunnel while the air around him churned with energy. He couldn’t deny the beast any longer. Closing his eyes, he welcomed the golden jaguar, freeing his spirit animal. His body shifted in one fluid motion, until his four feet padded through the torch-lit hall.

  The jungle cat sniffed at the stale air, unhappy to find itself trapped. Again.

  Gradually, his steps moved faster, until he loped toward the end of the tunnel and his underground sleeping quarters.

  On the far end of the bedroom, he leapt on his hind legs and clawed at the stone wall with his front paws. His growls of frustration echoed off the cold underground walls. He paced the room, his tail swishing in agitation.

  Inside, Kane waited for the beast’s anger to dissipate.

  This life, this world, frustrated the jaguar. He yearned for the jungle, for moonlight hunts. The walls of this daylight refuge bore many scars from centuries of the cat’s rage.

  The jaguar panted, aching for the true freedom Kane could not grant him. Jaguars were not native to this country, just as horses were not native to his. If a human witnessed a jaguar roaming the streets of Paris, they would not rest until he was caught or killed.

  Kane closed his eyes, absorbing the energy in the air and shifting his form back into a man. He walked to the bed and sat. Resting his elbows on his knees, he opened and closed his fists, watching his ageless fingers. What was he doing?

  When Rita had questioned him and asked why he chose to reveal himself to her, the answer rattled him.

  He was tired of being alone in this world. He wanted her to know him, the real him.

  But why? He should be above this.

  He stared at the deep grooves in the wall from the jaguar’s claws. Hope sparked deep within. Maybe he didn’t have to remain alone for eternity.

  He could fall in love with this woman.

  Ludicrous. He was a god. An immortal. A Night Walker.

  Mortal ties were beneath him. Love made men weak and brought down gods. Surely, he could not fall any lower than his current position, living among mortals who had no idea of his true power.

  Facing immortality was a heavy burden on its own. How much worse would it be if he mourned every mortal who passed through this world and into the next? This woman was not his goddess. She was fragile and mortal.

  He needed to end the charade.

  But he also couldn’t allow the vampire to feed off her as if she were merely his cow. The thought repulsed him.

  Immortals had a duty to protect the world, uphold it and its people. Not enslave them for their own private pleasure.

  He would hunt down the leech and kill him—justice for the innocents he’d slaughtered.

  Rita would be free to remain in Paris without fearing for her life.

  He stripped off the rest of his clothing and lay in the bed, waiting for the sun to steal the breath from his body.

  Vampires. He’d crossed paths with a few during his stay in Paris. He found them to be superstitious and ill-suited to immortality. They brought their mortal failings into an immortal body. Many of them allowed their darker sides to take control, believing themselves to be the children of Satan.

  At least hunting a vampire would present a small challenge. He welcomed any opportunity to battle another immortal.

  Plus, it might take his mind off Rita’s smile and the temptation of her soft lips. He groaned out his last breath as all life left his body.

  Marguerite waited. The moment Kane’s door closed, she cracked hers open. Peering around the door, she froze when Gerard approached. Before she could duck back into her room, she noticed the dresses draped over his arm.

  She glanced up at his slender face. Although his pale skin blended into his high collared shirt, his dark eyes held a sparkle when he offered her a tentative smile.

  “My Master requested I deliver these gowns to you.” He bowed slightly. “May I enter?”

  “Oui.” Marguerite stepped back from the door, allowing him entry into the room.

  He carefully laid the dresses across the large bed so she could inspect each one. “Maestro Donizetti has invited Monsieur Bordeaux to see his new Opera…”

  “La Fille du Régiment?”

  “You know of it?” He straightened his waistcoat, but she noticed he stole a glance in her direction.

  “I have heard many people discussing the new French opera.” She ran her finger along the deep red velvet trim of one of the gowns, picturing herself wearing it inside the newly rebuilt Salle Favart Opera House. “He expects me to attend?”

  She glanced over her shoulder to see Gerard raise a brow. “My Master hoped you might wish to accompany him.

  He is not one to force his will upon a lady.”

  Marguerite felt an unwanted jolt of jealousy shoot down her spine. Stiffly, she turned to face him. “So he often entertains ladies with evenings at the opera?”

  Gerard cleared his throat. “Not exactly.”

  “And what does that mean… Exactly?” She rubbed her palms against the riding breeches.

  “Well, Monsieur Bordeaux often escorts the children of his staff to the opera.”

  Marguerite frowned, struggling to process what Gerard told her. “You allow your children to accompany him?”

  He nodded as if she were slow-minded. “Monsieur Bordeaux is a generous employer, Mademoiselle. My family has worked for the Bordeaux family for over one hundred years. We are well paid and well-tended.”

  “I…” She hesitated, biting back the urge to question him further. It was obvious that while Gerard might suspect his eccentric Master for his strange hours, his loyalty remained absolute. She offered her hand. “I am Marguerite Rousseau.”

  He took her hand and tipped his head. “Welcome to the Maison Bordeaux, Marguerite. My Master hopes you will be comfortable. Please let any of the staff know if you require something.”

  “Thank you, Gerard.”

  He nodded and quietly left the room. Marguerite picked up the ivory dress with red velvet trim and turned toward the mirror, draping it over herself. She’d never owned such a well-made garment.

  After she’d carried all of the dresses to the bureau, exhaustion pulled at her, tempting her closer to the feathered bed.

  But she couldn’t sleep yet.

  Quickly, she changed into one of the plainer gowns that didn’t require a corset. She tidied her hair, pinning it up until she looked presentable. The empty hallway outside her room surprised her. Although Kane had insisted she would be free to go if she chose.

  On some level, she still expected deceit.

  The scent of fresh bread surrounded her, making her stomach growl in eager anticipation. Her hunger would have to wait. Outside, she squinted, reaching up to shade her eyes when daylight assaulted her. Forcing her feet to move, she hurried through the bustling Paris streets, toward Antoine’s home.

  Her prison.

  Under the protection of the sun, he couldn’t harm her.

  That knowledge didn’t stop her fingers from wandering up to cover her throat. W
ithout approaching the main house, she followed the path to the stable and her secret hessian bag hidden behind the saddles.

  “Marguerite!”

  A small shriek escaped her. Marguerite spun around, and Callia’s bright smile calmed the sudden rush of adrenaline.

  “Cousin, you frightened me.”

  “You never came home last night.” Callia followed her inside the tack room, lowering her voice. “You should see the library. He ripped apart leather books, smashed his fine Austrian furniture. The room looks like a wild animal tore through everything.”

  Callia was two years younger than Marguerite, and worked in the kitchen. Since their Master had become a creature of the night, he paid her little mind, and for that, Marguerite was thankful. If he discovered Callia was her kin he would not hesitate to use her as a weapon.

  “I will not be returning.”

  Callia’s smile faded. “Where will you go?” She clasped her hands in front of her. “Who will tie your corsets?”

  Marguerite set her stolen treasures aside and cupped her cousin’s face in her hands, staring into her eyes. Callia was the only one who knew of Marguerite’s activities among the wealthy gentlemen of Paris. “You stay in the kitchen.

  Stay far from Antoine. Promise me.”

  She nodded. “I promise.”

  Marguerite attempted a smile, her heart growing heavy.

  “I will come back for you. You have my word. We will leave this place once I have enough gold pieces.” She kissed her forehead. “We will live like queens across the ocean in the new world.”

  Callia stepped back with a grin. “You can be the queen. I will be a princess, and have my choice of handsome princes.”

  Marguerite laughed and pulled the purse strings of her satchel tight. “Any prince would be lucky to have you, sweet Callia.” She tucked the satchel inside the bodice of her dress, and handed the dress she’d been using to attend the parties to her younger cousin. “This is yours now.”

  Callia clutched it to her chest, but stopped herself.

  “What will you wear to the fancy balls?”

  Marguerite thought of the dresses waiting for her back at Kane’s home and smiled. “Do not worry for me, just remember your promise.”

  “I will stay in the kitchen.” She rolled her eyes. “But only until you come for me.”

  “Very soon, Callia.” She brushed a kiss to each cheek.

  “Au revoir.”

  Her heart raced as she left Antoine’s house behind her.

  A tear spilled down her cheek. One way or another, she would be free of him. She would take Callia with her across the ocean to the new world so they could start over.

  She couldn’t let her attraction to Kane weaken her resolve.

  Chapter Six

  Kane kept his steps measured, making his way down the hallway toward Rita’s door while he fumbled with the buttons on the cuffs of his white shirt. Her scent had enticed him since the moment he lifted the stone from the floor of his bedroom. Knowing she hadn’t run from him during the day lifted his spirit.

  And the knowledge that she rested just down the hall tempted him until he could wait no longer. He had to see her.

  She didn’t respond to his gentle knock on her door. He knew he should walk away and finish dressing for the opera.

  Instead, he opened her door and stepped inside. Her golden hair framed her head on the pillow like spun gold.

  Sensing his presence, her eyes fluttered open.

  Kane’s heart stuttered in his chest with the overwhelming desire to wake to her beautiful face every night. He managed to keep his distance from her and cleared his throat, bottling up the strange emotions filling his chest.

  “I am grateful to see you again, Rita.”

  Her gaze ran up his body until she met his eyes. “Do you ever button your shirt?”

  Her drowsy smile undid what little control he’d gained.

  Against his better judgment, he approached her bedside.

  “My lack of proper dress bothers you.”

  “I did not say that.” She shifted, sitting up. “Gerard brought me beautiful gowns today.”

  Kane glanced at the bureau and back at her. “I hoped you might accompany me to the opera tonight.”

  She started to nod, but suddenly closed her eyes, wincing.

  He heard her pulse racing. Kane reached to take her hand, and she clenched it tightly. “He is searching for me. He could be anywhere.”

  She took another deep, slow breath before opening her eyes.

  “Can you keep him out of your mind?”

  “Yes.” She didn’t release her hold on his hand. “I forgot to guard my thoughts. His rage and hate…” She shuddered, looking down at their joined hands. “I never should have come here.”

  “I will not allow him to touch you, Rita.” He lifted her chin, shaking his head. “You are safe here.”

  “It is not my safety I worry for. Maybe we should stay here.” She slipped her hand free of his.

  “Rita…” Kane tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear.

  “Do not allow him to make you his prisoner anymore.”

  Her gaze searched his for a moment, and finally, her jaw set and the fiery spirit that had first attracted him returned to her eyes. “I should dress.” She turned, dropping her feet to the floor. “Can you send someone to lace my corset?”

  “Of course.” Kane rose from the bed and crossed to the door. Turning back, he leaned against the doorframe.

  “Gerard has prepared dinner for you. I will return soon.”

  She nodded with a playful grin. “Do not forget to button your shirt. You will have the fine ladies of Paris fainting in the streets.”

  “I am grateful you can bear the sight of my body without wilting away.” He fiddled with the infuriating button at the bottom of the shirt.

  Rita laughed, the sound warming him from the inside out. “I know treasure when I see it.”

  He ceased the battle with the button, all his attention focused on her. “As do I.”

  The urge to lay her back on the bed and explore every exquisite curve of her body burned through him. Sadly, his thirst demanded his attention, and Rita was far too tempting to risk being close to her.

  He forced himself to take a step back. “I will return soon.”

  Kane stopped at the front door and buttoned half of the shirt before leaving his house. Outside, the streets of Paris bustled with activity. Gas lamps lined the alleyways, and clomping hoof beats and creaking carriages echoed through the city, drowning the conversations brewing around him.

  Usually, Kane took his time while hunting. Time was something he had in endless supply. He’d never given it much value.

  But last night, all of that had changed. He hadn’t wanted the evening with Rita to end, and now that he was granted one more night with her, he didn’t want to spend it hunting.

  Instead of wandering the streets and restaurants, he moved quickly through the shadows toward the darker alleyways of Paris, where cheap wine flowed freely, and fists and daggers decided disputes.

  Behind one of the inns, a woman screamed. Almost immediately, the sound was muffled, but he didn’t have any trouble locating the couple. He found the woman pressed against the back wall. Her attacker had his hand over her mouth while his other hand fumbled with her skirt, pulling it up.

  “Hold still, trollop. I know how to handle women like you.” He ran his dirty hand up her thigh.

  Kane moved closer, and the woman met his eyes over her attacker’s shoulder. He pressed a finger to his lips, signaling her silence as he moved closer.

  The man slid his hand down from her mouth, squeezing her throat. “Now you mind your manners, and we can finish here in no time.”

  “Who told you that a woman prefers to be finished quickly?”

  The man jumped, looking back over his shoulder with a grunt. “This is none of your concern. Move along.”

  Kane approached the man. “Let her go.”

/>   “I paid her. Go find your own whore.”

  “Please.” The woman gasped. “Help me.”

  Kane gripped the man’s shoulder and pulled him back, careful to keep his strength measured. It would be so simple to crush the man’s collarbone.

  He glanced at the woman. “Go home.”

  She wiped her eyes and ran, her boots clicking against the cobblestoned street.

  Once she rounded the corner, Kane shoved the man up against the wall and without hesitation, buried his fangs into his neck. The man struggled for a moment and started to scream. The sound vanished the moment Kane crushed his windpipe.

  He drank, forced to witness the man’s memories and sick conquests. At least this piece of human filth would never harm another woman. When the heartbeat fluttered and finally stopped, Kane cut his fingertip and healed the puncture wounds on the man’s neck. Satisfied, he released his dinner, allowing the body to crumple to the ground.

  Marguerite finished her potatoes and roasted duck, and sipped the red wine. “Dinner was delicious, Gerard. Merci.”

  He shifted his coat and moved to clear the table. “I only delivered the food. My wife is the cook.”

  “Please tell her I savored every bite.” She enjoyed the way Gerard’s face flushed with pride. “She is a goddess in the kitchen.”

  “Thank you, Mademoiselle Rousseau.” Gerard tipped his head as he turned to exit. “I am a lucky man indeed.”

  “That he is.”

  Marguerite gasped, finding Kane standing behind her chair. “I did not hear you come in.”

  He leaned close to her ear. “Forgive me.”

  He straightened and offered her his hand. He wore black pants; his white shirt was buttoned except for the collar, and his black frock coat opened to reveal a tailored, burgundy vest. Even without the high collar, tie, and top hat, Kane stood before her more stunning than any gentleman she’d ever seen.

  She took his hand and stood. Taking a step back, she inspected her gown, smoothing it. The ivory dress with red trim accented her fair skin. With her hair pinned up, her curls barely brushed her bare shoulders. Happy with her turnout for the evening, she lifted her chin, meeting his eyes.