"So how did she betray you?"
So transparent. The depth of the story was either lost on her, or he had made too much of it in his own mind. "I did it to myself. I revealed the truth about myself to her."
Hazel eyes widened. Was that hurt in the bright depths? Surely she had to know there had been women before her. So many women.
But never one like her.
Violet's long fingers clutched at the front of her robe, twisting the silky fabric. "She betrayed you to her brother."
For a moment, Payen wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms and kiss her senseless—forever. The words were said with such horror, such disgust. Perhaps it was because she had no blood relation left to have such loyalty as Alyce's. Or, perhaps it was because Violet would never betray a man she claimed to care for.
Which meant she didn't care for Villiers—not really.
"Yes. She confessed what she had done to Stephen, why I don't know. The idiot came to warn me, a hero till the end."
"He was killed in the fight? Henry told me he was killed in battle."
Payen flinched before meeting her gaze. "That's what I told him. In truth, the battle didn't start until after Stephen died. He was killed by Alyce's brother, who had already murdered his own sister for her disloyalty."
Violet frowned. "That must have been horrible for you."
"I had my vengeance." He wasn't about to tell her what he had done to those men. He didn't want to think about it, but even after all of these centuries, he could smell their blood in the air, feel the stickiness of it on his hands.
And his shrewd little Vi, so much sturdier and stronger than her namesake, looked at him as though she too smelled what he smelled and felt what he felt. She would have been right there beside him, a sword in hand.
She would kill for him, he realized with a sudden jolt—one that hit straight in his heart.
She also wasn't about to let him off with a story of old betrayal. "So you don't want to be with me because I might hand you over to the Silver Palm? You don't trust me?"
"That's not it at all."
A sharp dark brow shot up against the pale flesh of her forehead. "You didn't think I'd reveal you to Rupert? Perhaps he and I are in league already."
Payen scowled his offense. "You would never do such a thing." And he knew she wouldn't. Had never once thought she might.
"Then you haven't cast judgment against all women based on the actions of one?"
"Of course not." He was beginning to lose his patience.
"But because of this, you and I cannot be together."
"Damnit, Violet!" Drawing a sharp breath, he rose from the bed and walked toward her once more. He cupped her shoulders with his hands, feeling the supple strength of her beneath his palms. "People I love die."
Her dimpled chin lifted defiantly. "People die, Payen. Whether you love them or not."
"You don't understand." Sadly, he knew of no other way to make her see.
"I understand perfectly." She tilted her head. "It's a little pathetic, frankly."
His hands dropped. "Excuse me?" Surely he couldn't have heard her right.
"I never would have thought you such a coward."
He had heard her right. Indignation—anger—swelled within him. "I've killed men for less than such an insult."
Violet practically sneered at him. "You'd never physically hurt me and we both know it."
But he heard the thinly veiled barb in her words. He had hurt her emotionally. "I am not a coward."
"When it comes to your heart, you are," she insisted. This time it was she who lifted her hands, placing one on either side of his face. Instinct demanded that he pull away, get himself to safety, but his pride held him still. He would not prove her right.
"You love me." Conviction rung in her words, made him frown even deeper.
"I've never made any such declaration," he insisted pompously.
Her smile was one of serene indulgence. "You love me, and I love you. But I don't have the luxury of being able to wait forever, Payen. If you wait too long to realize what it is your heart wants—what you need—I'll be gone. Ask yourself which you'd rather have, your vow, or me by your side for all eternity."
Payen pulled away, shocked and silenced to the depth of his very being by her words. She loved him? Loved him? No, she couldn't. Yet, there was nothing but truth in her guileless gaze. Nothing but sadness and certainty. She loved him, and she believed that he loved her.
Christ, what had he gotten himself into?
He had to get out of there. Had to go. Had to be somewhere she wasn't. Somewhere far away.
He backed toward the balcony.
"Go ahead and run," Violet said softly. "But if you're not back here by sunrise, I'll come looking for you, Payen Carr. I'll hunt you till the day I die."
She would too. He could see it. "Why?"
Her smile was sad yet determined. "Because I'd rather spend the rest of my life chasing you than missing you."
That was it. He could hear no more. He stared at her for what felt like a lifetime, but in reality was but a few seconds, and when his heart could bear the sight of her no more, he turned and fled through the French doors. He vaulted off the balcony and into the sky, shooting frantically toward an unknown destination.
And from the darkened garden below, Rupert Villiers watched in astonishment.
Chapter 6
Payen did indeed return by dawn. Violet heard him on the stairs—and knew whatever noise he made was for her benefit.
When he came to her door, he was silent and stealthy once more. Violet felt his presence rather than heard it, but she knew he was there, separated from her by nothing more than a slab of wood that wasn't even locked. What good would a lock do against a being who could crush rock with his bare hands? But more to the point, why would she ever lock her door against the man she loved?
The only thing that kept Payen from coming into her room was himself, and that took some of the shine off what pleasure his return gave her. She lay in her bed, still and listening. She wasn't sure exactly when he walked away, but eventually she realized that he was no longer near. Perhaps she imagined the entire thing. Still, Violet didn't close her eyes and attempt to sleep again until the first pale light of dawn crept through her bedroom window. She could rest now, knowing that Payen was her prisoner at least until sunset.
When she woke a few hours later, it was with a renewed sense of hope. She wasn't certain how one engaged in a battle of wills with a centuries-old being, but she was spoiling for the fight, regardless.
His loyalty—outdated as it was—was admirable. Violet hadn't any concerns that he would be just as loyal to her. His feelings for her weren't the problem. The problem was in his head, in his thinking that he couldn't love her, be with her, and still keep those ancient vows.
Surely the people who gave him those vows never intended that Payen should not have happiness in his life? Surely they didn't mean that he couldn't turn his mate into a vampire if he so chose? If they had, then they were wrong.
Her convictions and determination firmly in place, Violet rose and rang for her maid. Then, she washed, slipped into her undergarments, and stood still while her maid laced her into her corset. The fine boning nipped her waist in a flattering manner, but lifted her breasts far too prominently. Unfortunately, there was nothing to be done about it.
Payen seemed to like them. He had practically worshipped them the night before with his mouth and hands. Ah, the feel of his hot, wet tongue against the sensitive ache of her nipples…
"Are you all right, miss?" Her maid questioned. "You look a little flushed. Are your stays too tight?"