Belle Morte Bites (Belle Morte 4.3)

Celeste: Part Three

France, 1734

"You're leaving, aren't you?"

Isabeau looked up, startled. Even after four years living together, Celeste could still sneak up on her.

Celeste stood in the bedroom doorway, leaning against the wooden frame, casual but for the hard cast to her eyes as she looked at Isabeau, perched on the edge of the bed they'd shared so often.

"Was it that obvious?" Isabeau murmured, tracing her fingertips over the bedcovers, thinking of the way they'd twisted around Celeste's body when she writhed beneath Isabeau's touch.

Celeste huffed. "You've been distant for weeks. I've been around long enough to know how to read people."

She came into the room, but didn't get too close to the bed, or Isabeau. The sweet smell of her filled the air, but it didn't move Isabeau like it once had. She still thought Celeste was beautiful, and she still enjoyed the sex they shared, but something was missing, and after four years she couldn't ignore it any longer.

"Are you at least going to tell me why?" Celeste said.

Isabeau didn't reply, trying to choose the right words, and Celeste gripped the footboard with both hands.

"Isabeau," she snapped.

Celeste Beauchene was not used to being disobeyed, even by the people closest to her, and it sparked Isabeau's irritation.

"I'm leaving because I don't belong here," she snapped back.

Celeste actually looked surprised – maybe she wasn't quite as good at reading people as she'd thought. She must have noticed that Isabeau didn't quite fit in with their little group, not the way Renee and Jeanne did.

"Why do you think that?" Celeste asked, her voice softening.

"Because it's true. I love you, Celeste, but maybe not the way I think I should do. You saved me in so many ways. You gave me a new life, and you'll always have a place in my heart for that, but I'm not in love with you. Renee and Jeanne will never be more than friends to me, as much as I know you're still hoping otherwise."

"I've never pressured you into anything you didn't want to do," Celeste said sharply.

"Not with words, no. But don't insult me by pretending you don't still want us all to share each other. But that'll never happen, and that's why I don't belong. What do you think I do when you're all having sex together?"

Celeste said nothing.

"I sit downstairs and feel like I shouldn't be here. I know you all hoped I'd be open to that kind of relationship, and I know none of you have ever judged me for not wanting it, but surely you can understand how left out I sometimes feel? And it isn't just about the sex. When we first met, I told you I felt there was so much more out there, but I wasn't allowed to see it, and I still feel like that. When I became a vampire, I thought a whole new world had opened up to me, and in so many ways it had. But in other ways, nothing much has changed. We rarely leave Paris, and there's never any question of us leaving France."

"Why would we want to leave?" Celeste sounded bewildered.

"Because France isn't the only country in the world. There's so much I'd love to see, but you never want to. And we always have to do what you want."

"I've seen enough of the world, and you're not missing anything."

Quietly, Isabeau said, "Maybe that's for me to decide. This is the problem, Celeste. You make all our decisions for us, and you always think you know best. But that's what my father was like too. For so long I felt caged by my family, and now I'm starting to feel like I'm being caged by you too. I still don't get to choose my own course in life."