Night's Honor
Page 32
If he had walked in the front door, he would have been made welcome, but he didn’t. He usually avoided the attendants’ house, except when he had climbed into Tess’s room to confront her. That house was their space, so that they had time away from the demands of their patron. Instead of entering, he prowled around to stand underneath her window.
Her room was darkened with the curtains drawn, but he could sense her inside, moving around quietly. Her heartbeat had turned languid; she must be preparing for bed. He cocked his head, listening intently. The closet door opened and shut, and there was the sound of running water. He held the goblet with such tense care his fingers began to ache.
When she had turned the faucet off, he said telepathically, Tess, come to your window.
Startled, frozen silence. Then the languid pace of her heart exploded into a furious rhythm.
For a moment, when she didn’t move, he thought she might disobey and end their tenuous relationship. Then he heard the soft rustle of cloth, and the creak of floorboards. When she appeared in the darkened window, she looked shadowy, like the half-hidden, opaque moon, her skin pale like pearls and hair lustrous with darkness.
She looked down at him but said nothing.
He held the goblet up to show it to her. Are you sure you want to give this to me?
Because it mattered. It mattered what she said. While the struggle made the offering sweet, it was the act of the gift itself that was the vital part of the covenant.
She didn’t respond for long moments. He stood motionless as he waited, until finally she moved to put her hand to the windowpane.
Yes.
He inclined his head to her, brought the goblet to his lips and drank.
Pure, undiluted power slid down his throat. Like the delicate skin at her wrist, it was warm and perfumed with her scent.
Such precious, beautiful life.
NINE
After Raoul had taken her blood, Tess strode back to the attendants’ house and her room, cranky and unsettled. Thank God that was over, at least for now. She had met with the monster again and walked away unscathed. Plus, she had finally given blood, and without the supportive properties of a Vampyre’s bite to boost her system, the subject of her donating again wouldn’t come up for another two months.
Except, she was really starting to have a tough time with the whole “monster” concept. While she certainly hadn’t been comfortable in Xavier’s presence, their conversation that evening hadn’t totally sucked—so to speak.
He had been irritable, amused, patient and insightful. He had listened to what she said, and he had been respectful of her input and wishes. It was getting more and more difficult to think of him merely as a blood-sucking fiend.
She was still afraid of him. She never quite forgot what history had said that he had done, and what he himself had admitted to doing. He had a powerful presence, and that wasn’t simply from the weight of his intelligence. He carried a gravitas that went far beyond the illusion of youth in his face. His eyes were old.
Tonight she almost . . . liked him.
Then she thought about what it might be like to be bitten, and her whole body tightened in revulsion. It was like trying to imagine letting a snake bite her. Or a spider. Vampyres were like spiders with human faces.
She felt too hollow to wait until breakfast to eat, so she stopped by the kitchen, where Diego and Angelica were fixing sandwiches. They nodded to her when she appeared, seemingly friendly enough, but as she rummaged through the refrigerator, she noticed that they had stopped talking.
Her mouth tightened. She was tired of the invisible barrier that separated her from the others. Instead of heating up some leftovers from the evening meal, which had been her original intent, she changed her mind, grabbed a banana from the bowl of fruit on the counter and headed up the stairs to her room.
Tiredness dragged at her body. According to Xavier, her days were going to get even longer. It was time to go to bed.
She didn’t even bother to turn on the bedroom light. She could see well enough by the light of the moon. It took her less than a minute to eat the banana. It might not have been the starchy lasagna that she’d been craving, but it filled the gnawing hole in her stomach.
Brushing her teeth, she stripped off her clothes and let them fall to the floor, then reached in her closet for a soft T-shirt that she yanked over her head. Then she took a moment to run some fresh water into a water glass that she set on the nightstand by her bed.
Xavier’s strong, rich voice filled her head.
Tess.
She froze in the middle of pulling her covers down. What the fuck?
Come to your window.
Panic bolted through her. They had just finished talking. She had met her duty as an attendant and given blood, damn it. What could he possibly want from her now?
When nothing else happened, her muscles unlocked and she started to think again. If he wanted to, he could have forced himself into any room in this house, but he hadn’t. He could be standing in the middle of her bedroom, but he wasn’t.
The panic eased up enough to allow for curiosity to bloom. She walked to the window and looked out.
He stood on the lawn just underneath her window, a graceful, solitary figure with such immense poise, just gazing at him did something to her.
Her heart rate picked up speed, and she wasn’t at all sure it had anything to do with fear. His white shirt gleamed in the night, accentuating his lean male form.
He raised something to her. It was the goblet Raoul had used to put her blood in.
Are you sure you want to give this to me?
She put a hand to the glass as she stared at him. He hadn’t just drunk it?
He understood. He wasn’t just putting up with her phobia. He knew how difficult it was for her, and he respected it. Suddenly she knew that if she told him no, he wouldn’t touch the contents in the goblet.
Those weren’t the actions of a ravening monster. Those were the actions of a considerate man.
She relaxed slightly and told him, Yes.
It was impossible to really see his gaze, but still, she knew he watched her as he lifted the goblet to his lips and drank. She imagined his lips touching the goblet’s cool rim, and it was almost as though he had touched his lips to her wrist again.
And it was all right. The respect and restraint he showed her made it all right.
When he finished, he bowed his head to her, turned and walked back to the house. She didn’t leave the window until he disappeared from her sight. Then she climbed into bed and settled down to sleep with a sigh.
Her room was darkened with the curtains drawn, but he could sense her inside, moving around quietly. Her heartbeat had turned languid; she must be preparing for bed. He cocked his head, listening intently. The closet door opened and shut, and there was the sound of running water. He held the goblet with such tense care his fingers began to ache.
When she had turned the faucet off, he said telepathically, Tess, come to your window.
Startled, frozen silence. Then the languid pace of her heart exploded into a furious rhythm.
For a moment, when she didn’t move, he thought she might disobey and end their tenuous relationship. Then he heard the soft rustle of cloth, and the creak of floorboards. When she appeared in the darkened window, she looked shadowy, like the half-hidden, opaque moon, her skin pale like pearls and hair lustrous with darkness.
She looked down at him but said nothing.
He held the goblet up to show it to her. Are you sure you want to give this to me?
Because it mattered. It mattered what she said. While the struggle made the offering sweet, it was the act of the gift itself that was the vital part of the covenant.
She didn’t respond for long moments. He stood motionless as he waited, until finally she moved to put her hand to the windowpane.
Yes.
He inclined his head to her, brought the goblet to his lips and drank.
Pure, undiluted power slid down his throat. Like the delicate skin at her wrist, it was warm and perfumed with her scent.
Such precious, beautiful life.
NINE
After Raoul had taken her blood, Tess strode back to the attendants’ house and her room, cranky and unsettled. Thank God that was over, at least for now. She had met with the monster again and walked away unscathed. Plus, she had finally given blood, and without the supportive properties of a Vampyre’s bite to boost her system, the subject of her donating again wouldn’t come up for another two months.
Except, she was really starting to have a tough time with the whole “monster” concept. While she certainly hadn’t been comfortable in Xavier’s presence, their conversation that evening hadn’t totally sucked—so to speak.
He had been irritable, amused, patient and insightful. He had listened to what she said, and he had been respectful of her input and wishes. It was getting more and more difficult to think of him merely as a blood-sucking fiend.
She was still afraid of him. She never quite forgot what history had said that he had done, and what he himself had admitted to doing. He had a powerful presence, and that wasn’t simply from the weight of his intelligence. He carried a gravitas that went far beyond the illusion of youth in his face. His eyes were old.
Tonight she almost . . . liked him.
Then she thought about what it might be like to be bitten, and her whole body tightened in revulsion. It was like trying to imagine letting a snake bite her. Or a spider. Vampyres were like spiders with human faces.
She felt too hollow to wait until breakfast to eat, so she stopped by the kitchen, where Diego and Angelica were fixing sandwiches. They nodded to her when she appeared, seemingly friendly enough, but as she rummaged through the refrigerator, she noticed that they had stopped talking.
Her mouth tightened. She was tired of the invisible barrier that separated her from the others. Instead of heating up some leftovers from the evening meal, which had been her original intent, she changed her mind, grabbed a banana from the bowl of fruit on the counter and headed up the stairs to her room.
Tiredness dragged at her body. According to Xavier, her days were going to get even longer. It was time to go to bed.
She didn’t even bother to turn on the bedroom light. She could see well enough by the light of the moon. It took her less than a minute to eat the banana. It might not have been the starchy lasagna that she’d been craving, but it filled the gnawing hole in her stomach.
Brushing her teeth, she stripped off her clothes and let them fall to the floor, then reached in her closet for a soft T-shirt that she yanked over her head. Then she took a moment to run some fresh water into a water glass that she set on the nightstand by her bed.
Xavier’s strong, rich voice filled her head.
Tess.
She froze in the middle of pulling her covers down. What the fuck?
Come to your window.
Panic bolted through her. They had just finished talking. She had met her duty as an attendant and given blood, damn it. What could he possibly want from her now?
When nothing else happened, her muscles unlocked and she started to think again. If he wanted to, he could have forced himself into any room in this house, but he hadn’t. He could be standing in the middle of her bedroom, but he wasn’t.
The panic eased up enough to allow for curiosity to bloom. She walked to the window and looked out.
He stood on the lawn just underneath her window, a graceful, solitary figure with such immense poise, just gazing at him did something to her.
Her heart rate picked up speed, and she wasn’t at all sure it had anything to do with fear. His white shirt gleamed in the night, accentuating his lean male form.
He raised something to her. It was the goblet Raoul had used to put her blood in.
Are you sure you want to give this to me?
She put a hand to the glass as she stared at him. He hadn’t just drunk it?
He understood. He wasn’t just putting up with her phobia. He knew how difficult it was for her, and he respected it. Suddenly she knew that if she told him no, he wouldn’t touch the contents in the goblet.
Those weren’t the actions of a ravening monster. Those were the actions of a considerate man.
She relaxed slightly and told him, Yes.
It was impossible to really see his gaze, but still, she knew he watched her as he lifted the goblet to his lips and drank. She imagined his lips touching the goblet’s cool rim, and it was almost as though he had touched his lips to her wrist again.
And it was all right. The respect and restraint he showed her made it all right.
When he finished, he bowed his head to her, turned and walked back to the house. She didn’t leave the window until he disappeared from her sight. Then she climbed into bed and settled down to sleep with a sigh.
