By My Choice...: A Valentine's Day Story (Valentine's Day Stories) Read Online Free PDF Page A

the two positions conveyed on their owner, to greet her?  
    She was tired and cranky, grimy as one only ever felt after twenty-three hours travel and a night spent curled up on a train seat. The back of her shirt was sticking to her spine, the ten minutes with her emergency makeup she had smuggled into her pocket, even though she had been told not to bring anything, had done little to cover the grey tiredness on her features and underneath the scent of Chanel No5, she feared a vampire would be able to smell her less than fresh skin. She wanted to be annoyed. In her state of physical and mental uneasiness she wanted the outlet to rage against the Lord’s arrogance and was deprived of that relief by the mere presence of his Second greeting her will all appearance of politeness and respect.  
    Fortunately, Rousseau provided her with the perfect excuse to get angry with his next sentence.  
    “The Lord is expecting you. If you would please follow me to his study.”
    He turned without waiting for an answer and she could not help glaring at his retreating back. Her nails left red, little half-circles in her palms and she had to remember to unclench her fists. Jen did not feel the pain, not now. She had managed to divorce herself from her sensations, was taking the step away from her emotions. She needed it in order to function, in order to keep her mind operating with some illusion of rationality, especially here. It might be why she could not hate Fabian. Somewhere in her mind she found the pain of Fabian’s action almost salutary. She had not thought she could still feel that much pain and not get lost. She also had not thought she could still be insulted — or annoyed.  
    Julien Rousseau remained oblivious to her glare at his back, or at least pretended to be. She knew better, of course. He would be aware, not only of her tensed muscles, but of the sweat sheen on her skin, the speed of her breathing, even the tiredness weighing down her limbs. He was vampire, one of the ultimate predators, these perceptions would be a matter of course to his superior senses without him even having to try. She hated knowing it, hated the loss of the little dignity she had in this farce. It was like resenting a snake’s ability to read its surrounding by the vibrations in the sand; and still she resented it.  
    She wanted a shower, a bed and, could have lived entirely without the dubious honour of meeting the Lord and Master today, or tomorrow, or even next week. Ten seconds ago she had wanted to be angry about his arrogance of not meeting her; now, she would have been happy with simply being assigned a nondescript duty by an underling. From the way Rousseau strode off, in the secure knowledge she would follow him, indicated quite clearly she would not be getting her wish. With a sigh she followed him.  
    Through antechambers covered in blue velvet, along passages decorated with ivory and mahogany, under the eyes of long dead masters, they wandered through a court building seemingly deserted in its entirety. At one point she thought she might have heard the shuffle of feet, but the sound disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. The silence was becoming oppressive.  
    “This court is very quiet.”
    There was something guarded, something hidden in the look he threw her. Worse, there was something quietly amused. The automatic superiority of the powerful, and he was powerful in order to act as the Second of this court, or something more? She could not decide, his answer not providing any true illumination to her question either.  
    “Only today, Mademoiselle. Most are occupied in preparation of the celebration taking place tomorrow.”
    “You celebrate Valentine’s Day with a court holiday?” She knew the traditional court festivities differed across the countries, and even among courts within the same nation, and it seemed strangely appropriate for Valentine’s Day, the day of courtly love, to be celebrated grandly in France.