Belle Morte Bites (Belle Morte 4.3)

Artus

France, 1719

Animal blood really wasn't the same as human blood, and Ysanne Moreau couldn't help curling her lip as she drank from the rabbit. It had been too long since she'd taken blood from a human, but what choice did she have?

Artus's house was on the outskirts of town, just far enough away that it wasn't practical for Ysanne to head into town to hunt. Artus would notice if she was gone for too long, and she wasn't ready for him to ask awkward questions.

Once he noticed that she was more than human, she'd either have to risk telling him the truth, or she'd have to end their relationship and disappear into the night.

The thought of leaving him made her chest twist.

The rabbit stopped kicking in her hands as she drained the life out of it, its frantic heart finally stilling.

But a steady thump-thump remained, and chills raced over Ysanne's skin.

How had she not heard it before?

Slowly she turned.

Artus stood behind her, his brow deeply furrowed as he looked at the dead rabbit in her hands, the blood on her lips.

"I don't . . . what are you doing?" he said.

Ysanne just stared at him.

Twenty-six years had passed since she and Edmond had realised it was time to end their relationship and she hadn't seen him since. She'd filled the void left by his absence by taking a steady string of male and female lovers, but until Artus, they'd been nothing but casual bedmates. He was different.

"Ysanne?" he said.

His voice was curious, wary, but he didn't sound afraid.

Ysanne weighed her options.

Artus wasn't beautiful like Edmond. He'd only just turned thirty when they met four months ago, and already grey coloured the hair at his temples, and creases gathered at the corners of his eyes, but he was kind and honest and warm, and she'd quickly come to adore him.

She couldn't run from him now.

Maybe he would turn from her when he knew the truth, but she owed it to the relationship they'd built to at least try.

"There's something I need to tell you," she said.

Artus slumped in his chair by the fire. "I always knew there was something different about you, but I never imagined this."

"You understand why I must keep it secret," Ysanne said.

Artus nodded, running a shaky hand across his face.

"Do you feel differently about me now?" she asked .

Artus gazed at her, the firelight playing off his face. "You cannot have children, then?"

She shook her head.

Tears glimmered in Artus's eyes. "I'm very glad to hear that."

He'd been married once, years before meeting Ysanne, and despite his love for Ysanne, he'd always been honest about the deep love he'd had for his wife. He had thought they would spend their lives together, as Ysanne had once thought she would with her human husbands. But, after suffering several miscarriages, Artus's wife had finally carried a baby to term. Artus had told her that that had been the happiest time of his life. Every day was a step closer to holding his child in his arms at last. Finally he had, but not in the way he'd hoped. His wife had died giving birth to their longed-for child, and his daughter only lived a week before following her mother to the grave. It had broken Artus's heart.