I stand in front of them with him in front of me, tears welling in my eyes, for Michel and Julien appear so unreal as if they've just stepped out of a Renaissance painting. While they look like the twins I know and have the same features, they seem otherworldly in a way that's entirely new, their bodies larger, more powerful, their skin more luminous. I can't find a word for it but it's as if they've been transformed.
Michel turns me around to face the other vampires. I feel their gaze on me as an almost physical force – as if they could smell me and taste me from a distance like predators sensing their prey. Despite their differences in coloring – some are fair haired, others are dark haired – they are uniformly tall and well-built, their skin the same luminous quality, whether they were dark-skinned or fair as Michel and Julien's.
Michel pulls my hair back, smoothing it, exposing my neck. He's almost a foot taller than me and when he pulls me against his body, his chin touches the top of my head.
"So this is the one?" one of the vampires in the back says, his accent heavily British.
"She's Natalia's daughter, Eve. In case there's any doubt, she's ours. If any one of you dares to even come within arm's reach of her without our leave, we'll destroy you."
He tilts my head to the side, exposing Julien's bite wound, running his fingers over it tenderly. Then he bends down and covers the wound with his mouth. I close my eyes at the feel of his lips on my neck, the touch of his tongue on my skin sending a stab of desire through me. My knees give out from the intensity of his emotions flooding through me from his touch, but he grabs me and holds me up, one arm around my waist.
He bites me, his teeth sharp, breaking through the skin where Julien bit me earlier as if he's trying to overwrite what Julien did. Despite the pain, I feel what he feels, his overwhelming bloodlust, and he hates that Julien had me first but he also feels that finally he's having me the way he wants me, even if he has to share this moment with Julien. He takes in a mouthful of my blood, savoring it like its some rare old wine and he doesn't want to let go. He didn't want it to be like this, in front of everyone but when we were alone, our bodies naked, joined in pleasure.
Soon, the pain recedes. He hates this, drinking my blood and claiming me like some spoil of war in front of everyone but he feels he must. He pulls his mouth away and our connection breaks. My eyes open, only to stare into those of a dozen vampires, watching hungrily as blood trickles down my neck. Then Julien takes my hand and bites the other side of my neck and I feel him at the edge of my consciousness. He's glad that Michel's back but unhappy that he has to share and afraid of what this means – the two of them now Soren's possessions, one a bishop and one a knight like they were in 13th century France.
Julien pulls away, and Michel motions to Vasily, who comes to my side and takes my arm.
I turn back. Julien's in hunter mode, his eyes blood red, his pupils huge, fangs extended. He licks my blood off his lips and that image makes me so weak that I stumble and Vasily has to hold me up. Michel and Julien are now clearly the most powerful vampires – or whatever it is that they have become – showing them all that I'm their pet. That they own me – the two of them.
Vasily leads me through the vampires and I feel their gaze on me as a barely repressed current of hunger, jealousy, and desire. I glance back and the procession of vampires bowing before Michel begins once more. One vampire with pale hair kneels before them and takes Michel's hand, kissing his ring as if Michel were the Pope himself. Then he moves to Julien and repeats the gesture.
"What are they doing?" I whisper as we leave.
"Swearing fealty to their new Lords."
"They were Luke's before?"
"Yes," Vasily says.
The evening's events finally catch up to me, and my composure crumbles. The sight of the vampires kneeling before Michel and Julien, whose huge wings make them resemble angels instead of vampires, the perfection to their faces and forms, the otherworldliness to them, overwhelms me.
I look up at Vasily, my vision blurry.
"What are they?"
"What do you think they are?"
They resemble angels, but what are angels? Are they shape shifters, able to change their form at will? One moment they were both ordinary, and the next they had wings, and I wonder if this isn't some kind of psychic projection.
"I'm going insane," I say. "They're projecting into my mind," I add, remembering what I've read about telepathy. "They have telepathy and are sending images, making me think I see wings."
"If that comforts you, believe it," Vasily says.
"Do you see wings?" I say, staring at Vasily.
"Seeing is believing," Vasily replies.
The other vampires take seats around the room, murmuring in muted conversation as they wait for Michel and Julien to finish. Michel comes to me and lifts my chin so that I have to look in his eyes
"How are you?"
I shake my head, unable to speak.
"Come," Michel says, offering me his hand, leading into the bedroom. When the door closes, he pulls me against his body and leans against the closed door. His wings curve around us as if in protection and when he presses his lips against my neck, a connection forms between us. I'm overwhelmed with his emotions – pain and longing, desire for me, hunger for my blood, frustration at the way he can't completely control any of his emotions. The intensity makes me momentarily dizzy, but then he begins to recede until he's only a presence at the edges of my awareness.
He strokes my neck. Pressed against him as I am, I lay my hands on his skin, which feels as cool and smooth as marble, yet vital rather than unyielding. Almost touching me are feathers from the wings and I long to reach out and touch one to see if it's real.
"Tell me what you are," I say. "You and Julien."