"Of course. He wanted you protected, cared for.” He takes my chin in his hand so I have to look in his eyes. "We have to get on the same page and quick. Partners?" he says, and tilts his head to the side. "Work together?"
I nod and feel my breath hitch for that’s what I suggested to Michel and what he rejected. These two are so different…
"On one condition," I say, wondering how to phrase my proposal. "My condition is that you have to help me find a way to kill Soren and bring Michel back. I can't have him do this, Julien. It's not fair."
He tightens his arms around me.
"You're so good, Eve," he says, his voice soft. "But killing Soren? That's a huge thing. Do you think for amomentthat if there was a way, I wouldn't have already done it? You're not strong enough. I don't know if anyone's strong enough. He's probably four thousand years old and something else entirely. You think vampires are hard to kill? Ancients are motherfuckers. I don't know if one's ever died."
"He was created," I say. "He can be destroyed. We just have to find a way."
He shakes his head.
"I won't risk your life. Michel's tolerating his servitude to Soren because he wants you to be safe. And you just can’t stop from trying to put yourself in danger." He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, smiling softly as he does. He runs the back of his fingers against my cheek and he's so much like Michel with those black-lashed blue eyes and black hair that before I know it's happening, he pulls me down to him and we kiss, the kiss starting off soft, chaste, then deepening, his lips parting mine, his tongue finding mine.
My body responds to him in an instant, but I push him away.
“Stop,” I say. “I don’twantyou, Julien. I can’t give up on Michel. You said partners. We can be partners. Nothing more.”
He shakes his head and exhales. Then he gets up, lifting me up with him and I slide down his body. He pushes me away.
“Fine,” he says, adjusting himself, not meeting my eyes. “Purely professional from here on in.” He turns away and leaves me standing alone.
Chapter 8
“Absence diminishes mediocre passions and increases great ones, as the wind extinguishes candles and fans fires.”
Rochefoucauld
THE NEXT AFTERNOON, VASILY COMES OUT of his office and calls me to the door, holds out my coat.
"We're going out. Boss wants you to meet someone."
"Who?"
"Someone from South Carolina."
I take my coat and put on my shoes. South Carolina – it must be the person he had been 'interviewing' when the whole business with Kate happened. Despite myself, I'm curious about who it could be. One of the staff working for Blackstone? A doctor involved in the research?
I follow Vasily down to the car and sit beside him in silence as we drive towards the more run-down areas of the waterfront that hasn't yet been revitalized.
We pull up beside an old warehouse whose bricks are so old they're black from years of soot and pollution. Vasily escorts me inside and into a room in the basement. The room is hot and stuffy. On a chair in the center of the room is a man, his shirt off, his arms behind his back. He's sweating, but his skin is pale, his face bruised and his lip split. Blood has dripped on his chest. One eye is swollen shut.
Julien walks around him, some kind of implement in his hand, which he slaps against his palm. He stops when he sees me, but his expression is still dark.
"Ah, here she is – my little Adept. Colonel Reynolds, meet Ms. Eve Hayden."
Vasily pushes me forward and I stop a few feet away from Reynolds, who looks me up and down.
"This is yourAdept?" He whistles, causing my cheeks to burn in the already hot room. "God, how can you possibly focus?"
"Tell me about it."
Reynolds nods to me.
"Pardon my slurred speech," he says in a soft southern drawl, "but my lip is a bit fat right now. Sorry I can't shake your hand."
Julien turns to me but doesn't meet my eyes.