Immortal Obsession by Denise K. Rago Page A

his hands and closed his eyes, willing himself back from the rage that threatened to consume him. For a moment, he thought about catching up to her and bringing her back. She could not have gotten too far. He could sit her down, and explain how the present intersection of their lives had been forged over two hundred years ago with the birth of his daughter, Solange Du Mauré; the child of a mortal woman and a vampire.
    Yes, she’ll buy that one , he thought. Then I’ll tell her I am a vampire, that vampire. He tried, but he could not squelch his fury. It was born of rage and fueled by guilt over hating his only daughter, the bringer of so much pain and suffering to his life.
    He picked up a glass ashtray and threw it at his reflection. The ashtray shattered against the back bar, like falling snow.

Chapter Ten

    C HRISTIAN CURLED UP in the large leather chair in the office of the Grey Wolf. He so hated grand displays of emotion and tonight had rattled him. Distracted, he took apart a paper clip, while the music of Beethoven played in the background in an attempt to calm his frazzled nerves.
    The walls, floor, and the ceiling of the small office were lacquered black, giving the room a cold, cave-like feel. A glass-topped desk filled up the far right corner of the room, a hint of Michel’s preference for modern decor. A gray leather couch faced the desk on the opposite wall. Behind the couch, a framed black and white poster held the image of a lost-looking Humphrey Bogart. The word Casablanca scrawled across the top of the poster. Christian knew it was Michel’s favorite movie and had made a concession.
    On the far left wall were two framed lithographs. The first was an 1870 map of Central Park. The second was the Bois du Boulogne in Paris, dating from 1790. Both were lit, giving the room the feel of a library. They were the only hint of Christian’s influence in the office. Below the maps stood a tall bookcase overflowing with CDs of numerous musical styles, a small stereo system, and a portable TV. The bookcase was Plexiglas, so the objects appeared to float in space.
    Hung on a door at the far end of the room was a color poster of the Rolling Stones, circa 1972. The door led to a bedroom that Michel used frequently for the seducing of the young women who came to the club. The instinct for self-preservation demanded they keep their Upper East Side townhouse private, away from the prying eyes of mortals. Tony, a male barfly, lived with them and handled the daily activities required to retain an air of normalcy for the two vampires.
    Michel gently closed the office door behind him. “How did she find you?”
    Christian had never lied to Michel, but he could not admit to himself why he had lured her here.
    Michel went to sit down. “I never realized how beautiful—”
    Christian grabbed his best friend. They had shared many women between them, but his stomach twisted in a knot at Michel’s words.
    What it would mean if he tried to take the young mortal away from him?
    “Don’t even think about touching her, Michel.” Christian could barely force the words out.
    “I meant no harm, my friend.” Michel raised his hands in surrender.
    “My job is to protect her, though I am not sure how to anymore.”
    Michel sat down on the edge of the desk. “What did you say to her? She looked frazzled yet determined when she left, and I imagine she will keep coming back until you thoroughly convince her you are not the madman who beheaded her brother’s murderer and saved her life.”
    Michel was joking, but Christian was not in a jovial mood. He had tried to hypnotize her that night yet she had described everything, including Christian, in disturbing detail. Ross had shown him the police report. She was more powerful than he had anticipated; more powerful than Ryan.
    “She handed me this before she left.” Michel reached into his pocket for the envelope.
    Christian stared at it as if it were on fire, hesitating to touch