Immortal Obsession by Denise K. Rago Page B

it.
    “Aren’t you going to read it?” Michel shoved the note into Christian’s hand. He tore open the envelope.

Dear Christian ,
We need to talk. I am not afraid of you. Please call me at 555-232-7717 or come by the museum any time.
    Amanda

    Frustrated, he tore up the note and tossed the pieces into the air.
    Sure, and we’ll do lunch too.
    The paper shreds floated to the floor like snow and reminded him of his choices, both the night he followed Michel into darkness and now, as his long-ago promise to Josette haunted him.
    “What does she want?” Michel impulsively began to pick up the pieces of paper.
    “What I cannot give her: the truth.” He began to twist a strand of his long hair around his finger, a habit born in his youth.
    “Why won’t you just talk with her?” Michel looked up from the floor, still scooping up pieces of the note.
    “And tell her what, Michel? I broke my own rules and interfered. In trying to protect them both, I failed, and now he’s dead and she is in mortal danger. Christ, I wouldn’t even turn Solange when I found out she was dying.”
    “Stop torturing yourself, Christian. You have watched over them all in homage to Josette, but who knows, Amanda may be the last of them.”
    Michel’s declaration twisted a knot in Christian’s stomach as he realized that something could happen to her, and then what would he do? His entire existence had been devoted to Josette and the descendants of his daughter, Solange. London. California. New York. All because of them. He had never allowed himself to consider Amanda’s premature death, but he could not imagine her future as a wife and mother. In his mind’s eye she was forever young and beautiful, existing only for him.
    “I made a promise to Josette, Michel. I suppose that would mean nothing to you.”
    “Let it be over, Christian.” Michel got up and dusted off his knees. “Their attack is inevitable, so turn her or kill her.”
    Christian grabbed him by his jacket. “Are you worried? Let them try to slaughter us.”
    “It is not me that I worry about.” Michel brushed a strand of hair away from Christian’s face. “You have become obsessed with her.”
    “I have an obligation to Josette, or have you forgotten?”
    “It is you who have forgotten that we have the power to turn her. Then she would stand a fighting chance.”
    “Are you out of your mind, Michel?”
    “Don’t tell me that you haven’t thought about taking some of her precious blood for yourself?”
    “I would rather kill her first,” Christian hissed, reaching for his coat.
    “You may just have to, because the way I see it, there are few options here,” Michel snapped back as Christian slammed the door.

    Christian left the Grey Wolf and headed toward Seventh Avenue. He touched the leather strap at his chest for reassurance. Michel had suggested he take Amanda’s blood for himself, but the thought of ever taking advantage of her was inconceivable. Michel could no more imagine being responsible for anyone other than himself than Christian could imagine abandoning Amanda now.
    How dare Michel perceive his need to protect her as something sordid and lustful! That was the way he viewed women, objects to be seduced and discarded and just because his life had been filled with sex and blood alone, Christian could not condone it. It was where they differed and yet Michel had followed Christian from Paris to London, and then to the New World. He loved Paris and could have easily stayed back, but he had come along. Still, Michel had always been a roué and that was not about to change now.
    He walked faster, trying to clear his head. Let Michel stay behind at the club with all those mortals. Michel had always loved being amongst them. He found comfort and life’s meaning in their world. Christian could never understand his continual fascination with them. He thought Michel would outgrow it, but he never did, and Christian had given up trying to convince his best