Follow The Night (Bewitch The Dark) Read Online Free PDF Page B

her eyes. “Celadon,” he decided.
    “What?”
    “Your eyes, mademoiselle. They are the delicate tint of celadon. Like an ice-frosted pine forest.”
    She smiled an unabashed smile, but too quickly her lips drew straight. “Your eyes are shot with streaks of red. Bring a mirror,” she directed Toussaint. “Proof will make you believe, Monsieur—er, Leo.”
    He liked that she was uncomfortable calling him by the singular name. What else hid beneath the surface of this pale beauty that could stir a soft blush to her countenance?
    She tilted the heavy pewter hand mirror toward him. Angry red flesh had formed a wide circle below the left side of his jaw. In the middle of that circle two swollen punctures sat like vicious boils piercing the line of his vein.
    Gabriel opened his mouth in amazement
    “Bite marks.” Roxane said. “Do you believe me now?”
    He fingered one of the wounds. A-a vampire? Impossible.
    What sort of idiot did she think him?
    “All men have teeth. A bite mark is not so unusual when one has been bitten. The man was an idiot. Demented. Yes, that is it. He—he gnawed me.”
    “Gnawed?” She lifted a brow. “Perhaps. But the impression leaves only the two wounds from the canine teeth?”
    He flicked his tongue along his own teeth, noting the two upper teeth that did extend further than the others. No way to leave such marks without the middle front teeth also leaving an impression. And human teeth could not puncture flesh without brute force. His attacker had been disturbingly gentle.
    “Did he suck blood from your body?”
    The question raised bile to Gabriel’s throat.
    “Very well,” he said resolutely. “Since you are the most delicious wench I’ve had in my bed chamber for a time, I will allow you your little fantasy. Not the Rake Ripper? Instead, a creature who tore his way up from a rotting grave to stalk the precieuses in Paris? Ancient attire aside, he looked rather tidy to me. Difficult to imagine the man sleeping in the ground.”
    “The Rake Ripper and the vampire are one and the same,” Roxanne offered. “Paris does not know what sort of creature the man truly is. And Monsieur Anjou did not rise from a grave. That is a lot of nonsense. Vampires are not dead, they are undead.”
    “But of course, merely undead.” A burst of nervous laughter escaped. At times like this he was thankful for the façade Leo offered. “And what makes you so knowledgeable, Mademoiselle Desrues?”
    “I just…” The color in her cheeks brightened. As well, her bosom colored.
    Triumph curled his mouth. He enjoyed the sensual victory. If she moved closer, he could trace his fingers along the plump curves of her breasts.
    “I have studied the vampire for a time,” she said. “Monsieur Anjou in particular.”
    “And yet for all that study you did not know his name?”
    “Why won’t you believe me?”
    “Because your claim is utter nonsense!”
    Allowing his anger to emerge, Gabriel fisted the counterpane. He’d been prepared for a duel that night, not to have his blood sucked from him. He wouldn’t believe it. He could not.
    “Vampires do not exist. Nor do giants or fairies or mermaids. They are manifestations of a child’s fairy tale. Bogies concocted from imagination and a cruel desire to frighten the little ones.”
    “What of witches?” Toussaint conjectured from the end of the bed. “At least once a month another witch is burned at the Place de Greve. You cannot deny their existence.”
    Roxane’s posture stiffened and Gabriel reacted. “You know a witch or two, mademoiselle? Toussaint’s silly chalk markings before the front door tend to keep them from my home.”
    She stood from the bed and smoothed her hands over her skirts. With a pert jut of her chin, her expression segued from unsure to determined. “If you will not believe me, there is nothing I can do for you. Suffer at your own peril. I will take my leave.”
    “My own peril? Such dramatics!”
    Gabriel crawled out