Smoldering Nights Read Online Free PDF Page A

probably still helping out. I’d get in touch with her later.
    When I reached my Mini Cooper, I turned the ignition and slammed my stiletto boot down on the accelerator as I drove back to find Michel. Only moments had passed, or was it minutes? I’d lost track of time.
    There he was, still fighting them both.
    “Michel,” I yelled. “Get in.”
    It took Michel a moment to realize what was happening, but then he leaped so quickly from their grasps that I wasn’t sure how it happened. Within an instant, he was in the car beside me.
    “Gun it,” he said.
    They both realized what had happened and redirected their attention onto us.
    I pressed my foot on the gas as Michel grabbed the steering wheel and drove straight toward them. I was speechless as the car approached them at fast speed. When we hit the men, the crash sounded like metal banging against concrete, not human flesh.
    “Oh my God! Did we kill them?”
    I looked in the rearview mirror at the men, now lumps on the ground.
    “Not by a long shot. Come on, let’s get out of here before they recover.”
    Sure enough, they were getting back to their feet. I resumed control of the steering wheel, pressed on the gas again and sped around the corner to the on-ramp to the highway.
    “Where should we go?”
    “Not your place,” he said. “It won’t take long for them to figure out who you are and where you live.”
    “Oh God!”
    “Get over to Route 95. We’re going up to Maine.”
    “Maine? Why Maine? What’s there?”
    “I have a friend who has a place up there. It’s secluded. We’ll be safe.”
    As I drove, I took some more deep yoga breaths to try to refocus and calm down. How many times had I done that already tonight? First, reining in my feelings for Michel. And now—with this?
    I had so many questions, I didn’t know where to start. For several minutes, we drove in silence. I focused on the best route to get over to Route 95 while I sorted out my questions.
    “Who are they?” I asked.
    “Old friends. We had a falling out a long time ago.”
    “How long?”
    “Very long.”
    Michel may be strikingly hot and all, flaming my desires, but I didn’t have time for games. “Listen, buddy, I just saw a wall blow up, a man whom I was kissing sprouted fangs and jumped out a window, and now two men, if they even are men, are after me. So cut the crap. Who are you? No, what are you? Why are they trying to kill you? And what the hell is going on!”
    Michel didn’t answer right away. I glanced in his direction and noticed him clench his jaw slightly.
    “What I’m about to tell you is confidential. I don’t know you well, but I sense I can trust you. Will you swear to keep this a secret?”
    I debated whether I should trust this guy and guard his secret, whatever it was.
    Then I answered. “Yes.”
    Without looking in his direction, I could tell he had relaxed in the passenger seat; all the tenseness he emanated moments before disappeared.
    “My name is Michel Camard and I was born outside of Paris in 1763.”
    “Excuse me—did you just say the seventeen hundreds?”
    “Yes. Please let me continue. I haven’t told a human my story and I think it will be easiest if I tell it in one go. You can ask me questions after.”
    Human? Was he not human, I wondered. But I said, “Okay.”
    “Your history books tell you about the French Revolution, but they don’t explain how it actually felt to live through that time. It was chaotic, thrilling, terrifying, exhilarating and hypnotic. I have not experienced an era like that since.”
    Although questions swarmed my mind, I was unable to formulate any words and didn’t want to interrupt the story.
    “I served in a militia back then. One day we were warned of an attack upon our village. I led my men to counter the charge before they reached our village. We fought them most of the day. We lost many men, but we managed to fend off the attack and they retreated.
    “I had left a small group back at the