I Want You to Want Me (9 page)

Why the hell hadn’t he put this together sooner? After all, he’d always suspected his mother was not above getting rid of anyone she saw as competition for his attention.

M
aksim lounged in the chair across from Orabella, cradling an expensive glass of pinot noir between his fingers, taking in the charm of the courtyard. This restaurant was a far cry from the place where he’d had lunch with the skittish mortal.

Bad demon,
he admonished himself. He’d gotten a little impatient again, and sure enough the human had gotten unnerved, disoriented. She was a sensitive little thing—at least when it came to demons. She was wary of him, yet had no idea the being she had the hots for was a vampire.

And while he’d jumped the gun on discovering any really solid information, he did know one thing. Vittorio had gone to her last night. Maybe he was more interested in this Erika than he’d originally believed. And Erika was very interested in Vittorio.

Erika could actually be a way to reach Vittorio.

“What are you ordering?” Orabella asked, looking up from her menu. She looked stunning tonight in a white sundress, her skin a milkier shade against the starkness of the material, her hair swept up in loose blonde curls.

He halfheartedly scanned the menu lying on the table in front of him. “I think I’m in the mood for oysters. They’re aphrodisiacs, aren’t they?”

Orabella raised a perfectly arched brow. “If they are, you hardly need them, my lover.”

He smiled at the way her pale skin colored as she said the possessive endearment. She was quite an actress, although limited in her repertoire. The virginal blushes were becoming a tad of a bore.

“You are right,” he agreed. “But I can’t help myself. I find you so stunning.”

This time the pleased look was genuine—although a little more smug than charmed. She reached across the table and touched his hand, her fingers cold.

He smiled, then took a sip of his wine, debating if he should mention what he knew about Vittorio and a certain human. He longed to see Orabella’s reaction—what would a slip in her practiced acting skills reveal to him?

But he didn’t say anything. Not quite yet.

“And what about you, my darling? What will you order and push around your plate?”

Orabella gave him a small smile. “The filet mignon, I think.”

“Rare, of course,” he added.

“Of course.”

Orabella loved to go to expensive restaurants, even though she wouldn’t take more than a couple bites of the delectable entrees. But she certainly would feed. Taking energy from the other patrons until she was so full it was a wonder she didn’t lean back, unbutton her pants, and pat her belly in satisfaction.

Okay, she didn’t have on pants, and frankly his image of her would revolt her, which was why it made him chuckle. But the fact remained; she was a glutton, even if she tried to hide her greed.

The waitress approached the table, a pretty brunette in her mid-twenties. Orabella studied her, her dark eyes devouring the girl as Maksim ordered their dinners, her body stealing the girl’s energy.

He’d noted that when they dined like this, Orabella always took the most life force from the young, pretty girls. Of course a woman like Orabella did not like competition. A bit of the “who’s the fairest of them all” syndrome, Maksim suspected.

Even now, the waitress frowned as if she was having a hard time following Maksim’s words. She touched a hand to her forehead as if she was getting slightly disoriented.

When the waitress finally left, Orabella sighed, content, and relaxed in her chair. Not exactly reclining in a Barcalounger with her stained T-shirt rolled up over a fat belly, but Maksim still found the action humorous.

She lifted her glass of Chablis to her lips, taking a deep sip, then let out another contented sigh. He supposed she was more like a cat, really. Greedy, self-satisfied and disdainful.

“So, what did you do today while I got my beauty rest?”

Maksim took a sip of his own wine before answering. “I had lunch with a mortal woman.”

Orabella’s eyebrows immediately drew together. “Really? Whatever for?” She tried to sound casual, but her acting skills were wobbling.

He took another sip of his wine. It was a good year. Rich, yet not heavy. A little spicy.

“Well?” Orabella asked, her voice sharp, not the sweet, singsong tone she usually adopted when she spoke.

He smiled again. He enjoyed provoking her. Just a little.

“I believed that perhaps she knew Vittorio.”

She sat forward on her seat. “And did she?”

Maksim nodded. “She is an acquaintance. Well,” he said, tilting his head, pretending to consider what he’d learned, “maybe a bit more than an acquaintance. He’d been with her last night. Understandably too. She’s lovely. Dark hair, skin as white as snow.” He waited to see if she caught the Snow White reference, since she did tend to act like the evil queen.

She didn’t. Instead, she literally bristled, her posture becoming stick straight, her skin appearing to pull tight against her bones.

“Did you enter her mind? What did you see?”

“He didn’t seem to do anything threatening, if that’s what you mean.”

“It’s not,” she said, her voice harsher. Then she seemed to hear herself, because her voice calmed, not yet back to its normal quality, but closer. “Well, I mean of course it is. But I just…” She frowned. “Well, she must be kept away from him.”

Maksim regarded her for a moment over his wineglass. “For her own safety, of course.”

“Of course.”

She took a sip from her glass, the white wine clearly not as pleasing as before.

“You will follow them,” she said. The comment held no hint of a question.

Maksim nodded. “Yes, I’ll make sure he does nothing untoward.”

“You will report everything to me. Everything.”

“Yes.”

Orabella relaxed back in her chair, just slightly. The rest of the dinner would be a tense affair. But when his pan-roasted oysters arrived, Maksim didn’t let her edgy silence affect his appetite. He dug into the dish. Plump oysters, a savory cream sauce and a hint of paprika. He closed his eyes in pleasure.

Nope, he wasn’t letting Orabella’s reaction dampen the enjoyment of his meal. In fact, her response actually added to his satisfaction. She wasn’t worried about the mortal woman, as he’d suspected all along. She was jealous. Absolutely.

And he had a stronger feeling than ever that these two vampires could lead him to answers about Ellina. Something was definitely amiss here. Soon he’d know whether she or Vittorio or maybe even both of them had something to do with his sister’s disappearance.

Lafayette Cemetery was quiet as Vittorio strolled up and down the rows of tombs. He supposed, given what he’d discovered tonight, it seemed strange to find solace in a place of the dead. This was a different place of the dead than the coroner’s office, however. These souls were laid to rest. He always found peace here.

He prayed that all the women he’d known, now knew true peace. Peace they’d never found in their earthly lives.

He wandered, the monuments dark, hulking silhouettes in the overcast night. Drizzle fell, dampening his skin, his hair. But still he didn’t leave. He just wandered, trying to understand what he could do to make sure no other woman was hurt because of him. Hurt? Hell, they hadn’t been just hurt—they were dead. And could he have stopped it—if he’d only paid attention, been aware?

He came to a halt, not seeing the tombs any longer, not feeling the rain, just lost in his own thoughts. What could he do to stop this now? Did he even have that kind of power? He and his mother were bonded, tied together by blood, by energy, and now it would seem by eternal damnation.

Yet, he didn’t know for sure if she was guilty. Oh, he was certain she’d sinned enough both in life and undeath to warrant being damned. But could he punish his own mother based on speculation? Pretty substantial speculation, but speculation nonetheless.

God, he wanted to talk to Ren. His brother was the only other being on earth who knew their mother, even in some small way, like Vittorio did. Ren had managed to escape her during his childhood and for his rebirth into his new existence as a lampir, a creature doomed to live off of the living’s energy. He’d learned about his vampirism on his own. Not under the tutelage of a sick, obsessive madwoman.

A woman whose blood and DNA did make up part of himself. He blew out a long breath. That was a horrifying thought.

He sighed, frowning into the darkness, noting for the first time where he’d stopped. In front of him was a small tomb, nearly lost among the larger family mausoleums. On top was a bust of a woman, her eyes closed, her face tilted downward as if in prayer.

He immediately thought of Erika and her request to sculpt him. Then he was just thinking of her. Her face, her tall, lithe body. He returned his attention to the grave. The point of the statue’s chin, the curve of her cheeks, the shape of her lips, something, reminded him of Erika. Or maybe all things had him thinking of her.

Was she at risk? If his mother was guilty of killing the other women from Vittorio’s past, then would she attempt to hurt Erika? After all, Julianne Sinclair may have paid with her life for simply talking with him, trying to find compassion and understanding in a world she wasn’t comfortable in.

He turned, his steps quickening as he headed for the front gates of the cemetery. He had to protect this mortal woman. He’d failed the others, but he had to keep Erika safe. Safe until he found out the truth.

Sometimes, she honestly wondered what she’d done wrong. She’d certainly tried to do her best, but for some reason she was being punished.

Orabella gazed at her ghostlike reflection in the mirror. Her beauty, a transparent veil. Although the diaphanous quality only added loveliness to her features. Like a fragile web or a particularly delicate piece of lace.

“How could I have done any better?” she asked her sheer reflection. “I loved him so completely. I was devoted to no one but him.”

Yet, Vittorio had forsaken her, rejected her. For decades he’d been pulling away. Until he’d moved to this foul city, with its lowly women, its filth and poverty, its excesses.

She could understand Vittorio’s desire to overindulge. But not with the women he chose. Awful, unworthy whores. All of them.

And now he was back, and already with a woman who could never be what her son needed. No mortal would ever be good enough for him. Never.

She touched her face, running her fingers over the curve of her cheek, down her neck. She was the only one who could love him the way he deserved. When would he realize that?

She touched her fingers to her mouth, closing her eyes, imagining she was touching Vittorio’s mouth, nearly identical to her own. The petal softness of his lips, the heat of his breath.

She opened her eyes, meeting her dark gaze in the mirror. She’d have to take care of this. Show him no one could love him like his mother.

That was her only sin, after all. Loving him too much.

Vittorio wasn’t surprised to see all the lights out in Erika’s apartment. It was after 2 a.m., and her sleep the night before hadn’t been exactly restful.

Pausing outside her door, he tried to sense her in the dark, quiet apartment. Maybe she wasn’t even home, although that idea didn’t reassure him. After a moment, he sensed her energy, surprised he could actually feel it from outside her place. But then, he was very in tune with her. Her energy reached out to him, swirling around him, sweet and enticing.

He didn’t let himself stay to take in any of it, however. She was in there. She was safe. Likely sound asleep, and he couldn’t take any more of her energy into him. He enjoyed it too much, and that was very dangerous. He’d learned that the hard way, and he couldn’t allow himself to take any more of her. As tempting and lovely as she was.

He climbed the stairs, his feet silent on the warped steps. He didn’t bother with his key, simply shifting and reappearing inside. The transition back, even after using his powers to enter the coroner’s office, didn’t disorient him as it normally would. More guilt weighted his chest. Better control of his powers didn’t give him any sense of satisfaction. Not when it was Erika’s energy that was making him more powerful.

He didn’t bother to turn on the light, even though the room was pitch black because of the storm outside. His eyesight was keener too, seeing even without any ambient light from the moon or stars.

He tugged off his shirt as he crossed toward the bedroom. He wouldn’t sleep, not until dawn, but he didn’t have interest in doing anything but lying down and trying to sort out what to do next.

He dropped his shirt onto the floor, unconcerned with where it landed. He toed off his shoes, kicking those aside too, and collapsed onto the bed, his body so tense his muscles ached, every joint feeling its two hundred and twenty years.

What the hell was he going to do?

Just then a shriek ripped through the blackness. He bolted upright, this time knowing exactly where the cry came from. His shape began to fade even before his feet hit the floor.

Erika’s apartment was as dark as his own. But he knew she wasn’t on the sofa this time. Her energy was weaker than if she were near. The intensity not there.

She had to be in her bedroom. He started in that direction, when the same black shadow from last night darted past him, nearly tangling in his long strides. This time, Vittorio wasn’t startled. In fact, it appeared that her tetchy cat was leading the way to his mistress.

Another scream echoed down the hallway, and the feline zipped back toward the living room.

“Scaredy cat,” he muttered, but didn’t slow down his pace.

When Vittorio reached the doorway, Erika’s broken cry turned to a chant of terrified, “no’s.”

“Erika,” he called, speaking loud enough to be heard over her cries, but not so loud as to scare her even more. Not that his attempt seemed to matter, his voice didn’t penetrate the wall of absolute fear that surrounded her. She continued to plead, her whimpered no’s filling the darkened space.

He stepped farther into the room. “Erika.”

Her body was much like it had been last night, curled on her side, her knees pulled up into the fetal position, closed in on herself. Keeping him out, but also keeping her terrible dream in.