The Bleeding Dusk by Colleen Gleason Page B

I’m certain you instructed Zavier on the proper way to accompany you when on the hunt…but back to the important matter, which is: You saw Sara at that time? Has she turned?”
    The question startled her, but after a moment Victoria wondered why it should. After all, Sara clearly enjoyed interacting with vampires, and her father, the Conte Regalado, had been the leader of the Tutela in Rome before he was turned into a vampire just before Akvan’s Obelisk had been destroyed. “I don’t believe so. Were you expecting her to? It would make for a considerably interesting marriage bed if she had.”
    Max looked at her sharply, his mouth opening as if to say something just as cutting. Victoria cringed inside, knowing he would have every right to do so after she’d baited him. Instead he stated, “It’s obvious you’re wearing a vis .”
    Her face blossomed warm and, even though she was certain he couldn’t tell in the low light, she looked away. She was suddenly acutely aware of the fact that his vis bulla, the one that had at one time pierced him in the intimate area of his areola, was now one with her flesh and dangled warmly in the curve of her belly. And she would swear the tiny silver cross suddenly felt warmer and heavier, shivering in her navel.
    Would he be able to sense she was wearing it? Since it was his?
    â€œYes. I’m wearing Aunt Eustacia’s.”
    At the casual mention of her great-aunt, a pall fell over the already awkward moment. Max turned toward the ragged Colosseum, which was only a few yards to her right, and she saw his shoulders lift as he took a long, deep breath.
    â€œKritanu? How is he?” he asked finally, in a very different voice. “And the others?”
    There were many other questions between the lines of those particular ones, and Victoria wanted to answer all of them—but couldn’t fully answer any of them. “He is philosophical and uncomplaining, as only Kritanu can be,” she replied, choosing the easy one. “He grieves, as do I—”
    â€œAnd I.” The words were a challenge, as if to dare her to presume he didn’t.
    â€œAnd the others. But she lived a long life, a dangerous one, in which she devoted more than sixty years to the Venators. We miss her—we all do—but…it’s past, Max.”
    â€œIs it?” Now he looked at her fully. Still challenging. And he was right to be so.
    Although she finally understood he’d had no choice but to execute Aunt Eustacia, the fact remained that he had actually done it—and she’d witnessed it. There was no glossing over that in her memory.
    Once again her gaze skittered away. Victoria was no shy rabbit, no cowering woman…yet the expression on his face made her want to alternately rage at him for his coldness and fold him in her arms to erase whatever it was that gave him that hard edge.
    What an odd thing to think about Max, of all people.
    She’d once accused him of being unfeeling, emotionless, of being envious of the loving relationship she’d found with Phillip. How ironic that now she was the one who felt cold and empty, while he seemed to be almost tentative, with the slightest hint of vulnerability.
    But no, it was grief for the loss of Aunt Eustacia and guilt for the part he’d played in her death that made him seem less harsh. And he was asking her if she’d yet forgiven him for setting in motion the events that had resulted in that horrible ending.
    She truly didn’t know if she had. She tried not to think about that night and the part he’d played in Aunt Eustacia’s death, the risks he’d taken, the danger they’d faced. The fact that there had been only a sliver of hope of destroying Akvan’s Obelisk, and that he’d risked everything to do it. And had succeeded.
    But she still couldn’t answer him.
    When she remained silent, he asked, “You have