Page 44 of Even Vampires Bleed
I need those two monsters to be six feet under.
I need it like I need my next breath.
Maybe then my heart will start mending.
But I can’t tell them that. They wouldn’t understand. Not unless I’m willing to tell them exactly why, and I’m not ready for that.
I didn’t flee Notre Dame to have to talk about Léandre again somewhere else.
“Then let me help you destroy their system.”
22
Cassiopé
Christina looks at me from head to toe. It’s more like she looks past my nakedness than anything else, but one of the men next to her can’t help himself and releases an appreciative hmm.
Did I tell you how much I hated those two?
“Elis, get the girl something to wear,” Christina says right after.
I guess she doesn’t like the way they look at me, either.
And I guess I now know the name of the scowling guy I followed here.
He grumbles, but still gets out to comply.
“Paul, Jean, I think everything is settled. I’ll see you next Thursday.”
Christina dismisses the two men like it’s nothing. They don’t seem to be too happy about it, but they still get up from the couch and walk for the door that stayed open after Elis left.
I see them going the other way, though, and it occurs to me that legend says the catacombs snake all around under Paris might be right.
It would be a good thing to double check if there could be access under Notre Dame.
“Now, tell me exactly why you want to kill the new royals, or I’m not helping you,” Christina says as she relaxes on the couch.
She says the word “royals” with so much disgust that I’m taken aback.
I might not be the only one hating them so much, but her question raises one in my mind too. She doesn’t like the idea of helping a shifter, for sure.
“Do you truly hate shifters so much that you wouldn’t accept my help?” I ask instead of answering her question.
I know I’m stalling, but I’m not sure I can hold it together in front of the hard stare of that woman.
She looked almost sweet when I saw her on theparvislast time, but I can see it now. I was wrong. She’s cold, assessing, and doesn’t seem to mind being curt or asking the right questions. Or in my case, the question I don’t want to answer.
“I don’t hate shifters,” Christina starts. “I just don’t trust them.”
Not much better.
“Then why help Elhyor and provide serums?” I ask, baffled.
“Because our interests align, and I would be dumb not to take help where I can find it,” she says.
I give her a look and answer tauntingly.
“And yet, you question my help…”
