"You and I don't have to be friends for you to talk to Payen, Rupert."
"No, but I think it would help him to trust me. And it would quiet all those ugly rumors about you, my dear." His fingers tightened slightly on her arms. "I adore you, Vi. I hate to see you injured in anyway."
He had certainly changed his tune since the other night when he accused her of practically being a slut. There was a glimmer of truth in his eyes—enough to make Violet feel like dirt. And just enough lie to make her spine tingle with fear. Was he threatening her, or was it just her wild imagination?
"I'm sorry, Rupert. Truly I am, but I think you should go now."
Not one to give up easily, he gave her arms another squeeze before releasing her. "Trust me, Violet. Think of Lord and Lady Wolfram. I want what is best for you."
And for himself, she suspected. He had been badly hurt the night their wedding plans were destroyed, and she knew him well enough to know that he hadn't reconciled with it at all. He hadn't forgiven her. He never would. He was driven by what he felt she could do for him, rather than what he felt for her. Just as she had been when she agreed to marry him. She had given up hope for Payen even though she dreamed of him coming for her.
What Rupert was doing now wasn't for her, and perhaps it wasn't even truly for himself, but it was for the Order of the Silver Palm. They wanted Payen.
Oh God.
"I'll think about it." It was a lie, but it seemed the easiest way to get rid of him.
Rupert smiled, obviously believing her. "Good." He leaned in for a kiss. She turned her head, giving him her cheek.
"We'll talk later," he said as he moved toward the door.
"Of course," But as she saw him out, Violet's head was filled with one thought alone.
Getting Payen the hell out of England.
Payen was in the bath, shoulder deep in hot, sandalwood-scented water when Violet slipped into his room. The sun had barely slipped over the horizon on its long, late summer descent when he caught the subtle scent of her perfume, heard the not-so-subtle pounding of her heart.
"Checking to make sure I'm still here?" He called out with a touch more annoyance than he meant. "Did you think I would run away?"
She barged into the bath with a rustle of skirts and shallow breath. It was the fear radiating off of her that had him sitting up, sloshing water over the sides of the tub. "What is it?"
"You have to leave." This would have been amusing after all her talk of chasing him if he ran were it not for the insistence in her voice, the wide appeal in her eyes. She fell to her knees beside the bath, heedless of the water that would soak her pretty gown.
He caught one of her cold hands in his. "Easy, pet."
She stared at him, hazel eyes huge and round. "Rupert. He knows what you are. He says he wants to be friends now. Payen, I think you're in danger."
"From Rupert Villiers? Not likely." The words were more for her peace of mind than his own. Rupert Villiers might not be a threat on his own, but in the company of several other men skilled in combat who knew a vampire's weaknesses…
Her other hand clutched at his shoulder, her fingers digging into the muscle beneath his wet flesh. "You have to leave. Tonight."
She was afraid for him. More than that, she was terrified. When had anyone been concerned with his well being? Decades at the very least. Most people assumed he was indestructible, or at the very least nigh on impossible to kill. Not his Violet. Perhaps he should be insulted that she thought so little of his abilities, but he wasn't that stupid. With an odd clarity he knew that her concern sprang from her feelings for him, and not any doubt as to his physical prowess.
The realization was as humbling as it was arousing, and he rose from the tub with a heart full of an emotion he couldn't name, and a cock so hard he could use it as a battering ram.
Violet noticed it, of course. How could she not? She stood as well, her hand still in his.
"I don't think you're taking my concerns seriously at all," she info rmed him with a tight jaw, but her gaze slipped back to his erection with an interest that had the damn thing twitching in anticipation.
"On the contrary," Payen replied, stepping out of the tub and pulling her tight against him. "I take everything about you seriously. You're like a sword hanging over my head."
She glared at him. "What a lovely compliment."
He wrapped his fingers around the thick knot of hair coiled on the back of her head, holding her so she couldn't turn away. "I can't get away from you, and I know it's just a matter of time before you cleave my heart." As far as compliments went, he knew it wasn't a pretty one, but Violet understood. She always understood, damn her.
Warmth shone in her face, but there was sadness in her eyes. "You could just let me have it, you know. Then I wouldn't have to cut it out of you."
He smiled. "Where's the fun in that?"
She didn't return the smile. "I don't have time to wear you down."
He swallowed against a strange lump that was forming in his throat. "I thought you were going to chase me."
"Until I died. I'm going to die someday, Payen. Do you really want to live with that regret?"
He had forced himself not to think about it, but here it was, tossed in his face like last night's wash water.
Violet and death was not something he thought about if he could help it. She was so young, how could he think of her ending? And yet, he knew it would come. He had seen it so much in the past.
No more Violet. No more hazel eyes and sweet lips. No more driving him insane with questions and demands. No more sword above his head.
He couldn't breathe.
Soft fingers brushed his cheek. Violet's fingers came away damp. "I'll take that as a no," she whispered.
Then she was up on her toes and her lips claimed his with an urgency that eased the ache in his chest and directed it south. He was hard with wanting her, and if she let him, he was going to have her.
But when he was on his back on his bed, Violet straddling him with her skirts billowing around them, Payen realized that it was she who was going to have him. He guided himself between her spread thighs, to the slit in her thin drawers where the fabric was damp with her juices. Her body accepted him readily, slick and hot as she took him inside, tightly sliding down the entire length of him, so that her buttocks rested on the top of his thighs.
It was quick and urgent, with her grinding herself against him as he clung to her hips beneath the mountain of petticoats and gown. All he could do was arch his hips and groan, beg her to take him all the way, to let him come inside her as she came for him.
And when it happened, it was sharp and intense, almost violent as they climaxed together, voices mingling as they cried out in joy.
Afterward, with Violet collapsed on top of him, Payen realized that he was lost. He would have to find some kind of compromise within himself, between the vows he took and his feelings for this woman, because there was no way he could let her go again.
She stroked his jaw with her fingers, her chest pressed against his. He could feel the beating of her heart, even through the layers she wore. It tripped in time with his own.
"Promise me you'll leave," she whispered. "Just this once, do what I ask of you and run."
The tightness in his throat returned, but he ignored it. He didn't want to leave her. Didn't know if it was safe, but she would be in more danger with him there. "Only if you promise to chase me as soon as you can."