Free The Dark Blood of Poppies by Freda Warrington Page A

incredible. They have paranoid conviction that you are… how can I put it? Not a conventional vampire, if such a beast ever existed.”
    “Who said these things?”
    “Oh, everyone.”
    “Stefan?”
    They crossed a courtyard and descended some steps to a terrace with a waist-high wall. The Fortress rose in all its masculine weight behind them. In front lay a sweeping view of the valley, sky and mountains.
    “Yes, Stefan, Niklas, Karl, Rachel, Ilona, John. They went to Karl and Charlotte’s house yesterday evening, to tell Charlotte that she’s created a monster.”
    “And you happened to be there?”
    “Only because Ilona insisted I go. For Ilona to be so concerned is quite out of character. You have certainly stirred them up.”
    “If they think I’m a monster, what do they intend to do about it?” Her voice was paper-thin and soft, and like paper it could cut without warning.
    “No decision was reached.”
    “Do they mean to kill me?”
    “Perhaps.”
    She leaned on the wall, silent. Across the valley, the Alps pushed up from the Earth’s crust under a frost-white web. The peaks were immense yet they seemed to float, as if weightless. The sky was dark, cloudy. Rain fell steadily, but Violette seemed oblivious.
    Pierre watched her, fascinated. She had a true ballerina’s neck, long and slender. He studied the creamy curve of her throat – as much of it as her black fur collar revealed – and felt a perverse desire to kiss her there.
    After a time she asked, with evident difficulty, “What did Charlotte say?”
    A breath flickered in Pierre’s throat, not quite a laugh. “Oh, she defended you with passion, but it was a case of ‘the lady doth protest too much.’ She was panicking, because in her heart she agrees with them.”
    Violette bent her head. “Even Charlotte,” she murmured. “So, I have no friends in the world, then?”
    Pierre shrugged, lifting his hands. “It’s a cruel world, Madame.”
    “It means nothing. I’d guessed, anyway.”
    He moved closer. “Surely it means something. I came to warn you.”
    “Why?” Seeing deep suspicion in her expression, Pierre felt wounded.
    “I refused to believe them, Madame, until I could make up my own mind. Now I have met you, my opinion is that they are a bunch of hysterics. Clearly you are a gracious and gentle creature who harbours ill intentions towards no one.
Ma chérie
, you won’t even feed on humans until the need nearly kills you – will you?”
    He ventured to put a hand on her shoulder. She looked at the hand, then at him. “What are you doing?”
    He placed his other hand over hers, where it rested on the wall. “You have one friend.”
    He leaned towards her. Couldn’t resist. Her scent was gorgeous: floral perfume mingling with satin, rosin dust, wood polish from her studio. But no taint of blood. She was clearly starving, her flesh drawn against the bones. Pierre shook with excitement. How could another vampire be as alluring as a human victim? He reminded himself that she wasn’t human, that he must approach her not with his usual gleeful confidence, but with delicacy.
    “You, my friend?” she said. “I think not.”
    Her coldness dismayed him. “But I have –”
    “You have done nothing but mock me since we met. I’ve no idea what you’re playing at, Monsieur Lescaut, but it is nothing kind. Nothing sincere.”
    “I am not mocking you.” His hand slid along her shoulder and rested on her spine.
Careful
, he told himself.
Use all your charm
. “Why did you walk here with me, Violette, if you did not see something to your liking? We are not human, we need not pretend. Nor waste any time.”
    “What do you want?” She looked alarmed. That was good. It meant he’d got the upper hand.
    “To kiss you.”
    “Oh,” she said softly. “So you want to kiss me, do you?”
    Oh God, yes
, he thought, but she put a finger to his lips. Her whole manner changed; seductive softness came to her mouth and eyes. “Wait.