Night's Honor (6 page)

When they reached her car again, her keys lay on the roof. She gave Raoul a quick look. At his nod, she scooped them up and tucked them into her pocket. The doors were unlocked, which was the only sign that her car had been searched. Everything else looked the way she had left it.

She had two suitcases in the trunk and pulled out one, while he took the second. They walked together along the path to the attendants' house, which was an attractive building in the same style of architecture as the main house and lay tucked into one corner near the protective wall that surrounded most of the property.

“You'll have your own room for privacy, but everything else—kitchen, living room, dining room, TV room, etc.—is communal,” Raoul told her. “You'll share a bathroom with a few others. I'll show you the gym tomorrow, and you'll get the chance to meet everyone.”

“Having my own room is great,” she said faintly.

Over the last several minutes, a sense of unreality had begun to coat everything in a thick, cloudy film, distancing her even further from her surroundings. On the one hand, she couldn't believe her luck, but on the other, sometime soon Xavier was going to want to take blood from her for the first time.

He might even want to drink from her that evening. The thought of forcing herself to let him sink his fangs into her made her stomach clench all over again.

Stepping inside, Raoul led her through the attendants' house, up to the second floor and down one hall. They didn't meet anyone else along the way, although she heard a TV going in another room downstairs, and voices sounded from the direction of the kitchen.

Opening the last door down the hall, Raoul stood back to let her enter. As the room was located at the corner of the house, the windows at two walls gave it an airy feeling, and during the day it would be flooded with natural light. The dimensions were on the smaller side, but still, with a hardwood floor, a double bed covered with a bright, thick duvet and an armchair positioned close to one window, the room looked attractive and quite comfortable.

She glanced into the empty closet as she set her suitcase on the bed, and Raoul put the other one at the foot of the bed. While not spacious, the closet space was entirely adequate. There was even a small sink in one corner, so she could do simple things like wash her face and brush her teeth without ever leaving the room.

The walls were bare of any decoration, and they appeared to be freshly painted. “You can decorate it however you like,” Raoul said. “The nearest bathroom is across the hall and two doors back toward the stairs.”

One window faced the main house. She looked out the other window at a cluster of sheltering pines. To the right, she could just see the edge of the property wall as it ended at the top of the bluff, and beyond the pines, she caught a silvery glimmer of water.

She had been living with such a sense of desperation for the last week, but here, she caught a glimpse of the possibility of another life, one where she might be able to find a sense of peace in this quiet place.

That had to be as much of an illusion as the impression of safety in the false daylight created by the lights in the city.

But if it was an illusion, she was too tired to resist it. For a moment, simple wonder overcame all other concerns. The setup was so idyllic she almost expected fat, happy bunnies to hop across the rich, thick carpet of lawn.

Touching the corner of the bright, soft duvet, she muttered, “This is amazing.”

Raoul regarded her for a moment, his expression inscrutable. “I'm glad you approve,” he said. “Now it's time for your meeting with Xavier. Do you need a moment before we head back to the main house?”

It took her a few heartbeats to realize he was asking, in the politest way possible, if she needed to use the bathroom. She shook her head. “No, thanks.”

“Very well, come with me.”

They fell silent as they walked back to the main house. Full night had fallen, soft as a black feather, and the temperature had plummeted again. A breeze blew steadily off the ocean, feeling wet and icy. Raoul didn't appear to be uncomfortable in his shirtsleeves, but she shivered and wrapped her arms around her middle, and tried not to think about what might happen in the next fifteen minutes.

A muscle in her jaw was tired from being clenched so much over the last couple of days.

This is my choice, she thought. Nobody is going to be taking anything away from me that I haven't willingly bargained for, and it's even an excellent bargain. After all, what's a little bloodletting between friends?

As Raoul opened the back door, she asked, “How long have you been with Xavier?”

“Forty-eight years.”

Her head snapped up, and she stared at him. He looked like he was approaching fifty, but that couldn't be accurate.

He gave her a faint smile. “In case you were wondering, I'm seventy-five.”

“So, you must like it. Working for him, I mean.” Arms clamped tighter around her middle, she stepped inside, and he followed.

“I wouldn't be anywhere else. Xavier is not just my patron, he's my friend.”

She took a moment to mull that over. “But you're still human.”

“Yes. He's offered to turn me several times, but I like being human. I enjoy food, and the warmth of the sun, and I'm not afraid of dying. That's going to be hard on him.”

Raoul said the words so simply, even with compassion, and the picture they painted threw Xavier into an entirely new light. He might be one of the deadliest monsters she had ever met, but the property and his house showed that he had exquisite taste, and apparently he also had feelings.

Her back stiffened. She didn't want to know that about him, nor did she want for it to affect how she thought or felt.

They walked to the study, where a crack of light shone underneath the door. Raoul raised his hand to knock.

Stop, wait, Tess wanted to say. Don't let him know we're here.

But it was a foolish impulse, and she swallowed the words. Xavier already knew they were there. He had probably tracked them from the moment they had stepped outside the attendants' house.

Raoul's fist fell. He rapped lightly on the door panel.

The last two weeks had been filled with a series of decisions and choices. She had betrayed Malphas to save a spoiled, ungrateful boy, and then she had run away, as hard and fast as she could go.

Even though she knew everything had happened as a continuous stream of events, somehow, as she watched Raoul knock on Xavier's door, she felt that this was the defining moment.

The door would open, and her life would become categorized by everything that either came before this moment, or after it.

From within the room, the Vampyre said quietly, “Come in.”

Just the sound of his voice caused her heart rate to accelerate, and her hands to shake. Raoul opened the door, pushed it wide and beckoned her forward.

She made her trembling legs move, and she stepped over the threshold and into her future.

There were so many books. Feeling dazed, her gaze swept around the large space. The room was located on the opposite side of the house from the ballroom, and the outside three walls were covered with floor to ceiling bookcases interspersed with tall windows, except for an elegant fireplace that dominated one end.

Aside from two doors, one of which she had just walked through, the interior wall was completely covered in bookcases that were filled with leather-bound books that looked old. They looked like they could be first editions.

Opposite that, between the windows, the bookcase was filled with modern paperbacks, both fiction and nonfiction. At one end of the room near the fireplace, aged leather couches and chairs had been grouped together to make a sitting area, while a large antique desk with a top-of-the-line computer took pride of place at the other end.

The study was on the north side of the house, she realized, and as such, it wouldn't get any direct sunlight throughout the year.

Nearest the fireplace where a bright fire blazed, Xavier sat in one of the leather armchairs, reading. Dressed simply in black slacks and a white shirt, he wore the cuffs of his sleeves rolled to midway up his forearms. His chestnut hair was neatly combed back and tied at the nape of his neck.

As she stepped into the room, he set his book aside on a polished end table and rose to his feet, his erect, slim form as elegant as his surroundings.

At his simple, lithe movement, her mouth dried out and her heart started pounding.

He cocked his head as he regarded her, looking much as he had the night before, with his face expressionless and gray-green eyes intent. “You can't do this in half measures, Ms. Graham. Come all the way in and shut the door behind you.”

FOUR

Y
ou might as well call me Tess,” she muttered. What was it about him that made her feel so graceless and awkward? With a glance over her shoulder, she saw that Raoul was already easing the door shut, so she forced herself to move forward.

She drew closer, and his eyelids lowered as he watched her. It was the only movement he made that she could discern. Once again, she grew intensely aware of her own human failings—the tiny rasp of breath catching in her throat, the slight sound of her jeans rubbing at her inner thighs, and the damp palms hidden at the heart of her unsteady hands.

Like the night before, his intelligent, youthful face showed nothing of what he was thinking. As she came close to the sitting area, he gestured to the armchair opposite his. “Please, have a seat.”

If nothing else, both he and Raoul had beautiful manners, much better than hers. She complied with his invitation and sat.

Once she had taken her place, Xavier sat as well, crossed his legs, rested his elbows on the arms of his chair and laced his fingers together. He looked utterly relaxed and at ease, and his poise made her even more uncomfortable and envious. While they sat mere feet away from each other, the distance between them was immeasurable.

“I trust that Raoul has seen to your needs.” His quiet voice caressed the silence in the room. “Is your room adequate?”

She nodded. “Yes, thanks. It's great.”

“Very good.” He met her gaze, and his was steady and shrewd. “Now tell me, Tess. Why are you here?”

She bit her lip. “Like I told you, I needed the job.”

“I remember very well everything you said to me last night.” He tapped his lips with his forefingers. “But I do find it curious that someone with your marketable qualifications would be so desperate for employment.”

She lifted her shoulders in a jerky shrug. “Things happen. Accidents, unemployment, sickness. We aren't always in control of what occurs in our lives.”

“True, but surely you could have found employment again, quickly enough. Just now when you walked into the room, I could taste your fear in the air. It is—disquieting. Why are you so afraid?”

Somehow saying, “Because you could tear my head off my shoulders before I could draw in enough breath to scream” didn't seem the most politic of replies. She shifted in her seat, listening to the leather cushion creak underneath her weight.

“Are you afraid of all Vampyres, or is it me?” He didn't look as if he would be terribly bothered by her answer, either way.

Oh, to hell with it. It wasn't like she could truly hide how she felt anyway. He was reading her as easily as he had read his book.

“I'm intensely uncomfortable around all Vampyres, but even more so around you.” She forced a deep breath into her constricted lungs. “Is what they say about you true?”

He lifted one sleek eyebrow. “To what are you referring?”

She met his gaze. “That you were a priest when you were human. The Inquisition killed your family, and that was when you became a Vampyre—and you went after all of the officers of the Inquisition until everybody who had been involved was dead.”

Something glittered deep in his eyes, a fierce, hot spark of reaction, until his eyelids lowered again to cover the expression, and he looked as cool and collected as he had before. “Yes.”

It was the smallest betrayal of feeling, that spark, but she had seen it, and her perception of him altered again.

What kind of rage and pain drove a young man to end life as he knew it, so that he could bring justice to those who had killed his family?

For some reason, she glanced down at the book where he had laid it on the table. The name of the author and title were clearly stamped in black on the old leather cover: René Descartes,
Meditations on First Philosophy
.

The book was worn and had clearly been read often. So, not only did he have excellent taste, and evidently sincere feelings for at least one of his attendants, but he enjoyed philosophy too. The business of compartmentalizing him into a box labeled “monster” was quickly getting more complicated than she had expected.

Clearing her throat, she fumbled for something appropriate to say. “I know it happened a long time ago, but I'm sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” he said. “And I'm sorry that circumstances have forced you into being here, when you are clearly so uncomfortable. I will be blunt with you—you are of no use to me if you are forced into doing something you cannot come to terms with. We will not be able to maintain a liaison if you cannot banish your fear, or at the very least control it.”

Her hands tightened into fists, and her breathing roughened. He wasn't going to change his mind, was he? Not after she had spent the last of her cash just to get here?

“I'm sorry if it seems otherwise to you, but I do want to be here,” she said tightly. “And if you need for me to prove it, I will. The first night of a patron-attendant liaison is supposed to involve the first blood offering, isn't it?”

His eyes narrowed. “Yes.”

“So, bite me.” Oh, dear. That sounded so much ruder than she had meant for it to. If Xavier was a painting by Monet, nuanced and elegant, then she was a picture drawn in crayon by an angry kindergartner.

He lowered his hands, uncrossed his legs and rose to his feet, all in one sinuous, graceful movement. His steady gaze never leaving her face, he walked forward and crouched in front of her chair. Everything he did was at an unhurried pace, all with the same incredibly beautiful economy of motion. He simply flowed like water.

If a wild lion had walked up to her, it could not have been a more powerful experience. A deep shaking started in her limbs and intensified as he took one of her fists and lifted it. Gently but firmly, he pulled her fingers out and turned her wrist up.

His slim fingers felt cool and light on her overheated skin. Bending his head at a slant, he watched her face as he raised her wrist at the same time. In the firelight, his eyes had turned the shade of green bottle glass, bright and glittering, and his skin appeared tinged with a faint wash of color.

She couldn't look away. How she had ever thought he was plain-looking, she didn't know. He might not be conventionally handsome, but everything about him, from the power of his presence to his quiet dignity of manner, was unspeakably striking.

Then he put his mouth on the delicate, thin skin at her inner wrist. His lips were cool as well, but not unpleasantly so. Resting his mouth on her like that . . .

It felt almost as if he kissed her.

Any moment now, his fangs would pierce her flesh. Somehow, she managed to swallow the small moan that wanted to escape, biting her lip until her teeth broke through the skin. Why was he doing everything with such excruciating slowness?

She wanted to shout at him. Stop dragging this out. Just do it.

When he raised his head again, a pulse of anxiety shot through her. She managed to whisper, “What's wrong?”

“Even though everything inside of you has clenched in protest against this, you would still let me drink,” he said.

His voice had gentled again, and to her horrified surprise, her eyes dampened. She said between her teeth, “That's our bargain, and I'll keep it.”

“Such fierce determination.” He smiled, folded her fingers back to her palm and set her hand in her lap. “I will not bite you, not when the very thought of it causes you such distress.”

“If you're not going to bite me, why did you do that?” Her chest heaved as she sucked air, and she flung out an unsteady hand to gesture at him kneeling at her feet.

“To test your resolve. Your commitment, if you will.”

“But if you don't take an offering, how can we create or maintain a liaison?” she asked, near to tears. “You need blood. I'm supposed to give you blood. You're supposed to protect me.”

“You can still give blood.” He rose to his feet and walked back to his chair. “I don't need to drink directly from your vein. We have all the necessary equipment, and Raoul is a licensed phlebotomist. Of course, that means you would forego any of the benefits that humans gain from a Vampyre's bite, but I assume that will not be a problem for you, at least for the time being.”

“No. . . .” Her forehead wrinkled. She hadn't slept in a bed in a week, and it had been over twenty-six hours since she had last eaten. An exhausted kind of fog had been slowly but steadily filling her mind, but suddenly it all cleared away and the fear had subsided enough so that she could truly think.

She asked, “Why did you ask me here?”

He smiled, and for the first time since she had met him, he looked genuinely approving. “That is the right question to ask, but it is not the right time for me to give you an answer. How old are you?”

Taken by surprise, she told him, “Twenty-four.”

“You appear to be in excellent health.”

“I am.”

“Do you exercise?”

“Yes, usually I run three times a week, and I like to do weight training at the gym, but I haven't had the chance—”

“Good,” he said, cutting off her flow of words. “You need to know, this is a very busy time for me. After the Vampyre's Ball, Julian holds a series of council meetings while senior members of the demesne are still in the area. Usually every year, he hosts some kind of visit from the Light Fae as well, which means I will not have much time to give to your training, at least in the beginning.”

Relief banished a huge amount of her fear, until she felt almost normal. “I understand.”

The light touched the corner of his mouth and the strong line of his forehead. “While I am otherwise occupied, Raoul will be in charge of your training. I warn you, physically it won't be easy.”

She straightened her spine. “I'm not afraid of hard work.”

He smiled again. “If, at any time, you feel the need to end our liaison, you may do so. If you stay, you will do as you're told. It's as simple as that. All of my attendants receive a monthly stipend. While we have an arrangement, I will cover your medical needs, and of course your room and board. Everyone gets time off each month. Should we develop a long-term liaison, eventually I would care for you in retirement as well, although these days, we have a more mobile society than we used to, and people are more likely to want to change professions and lifestyles than they used to.”

“Has that happened often?”

“Not with any of my attendants, but it does happen.” He paused. “Tess.”

It was strange to hear him say her name, intimate in a way that she couldn't define. She looked at him curiously. “Yes?”

“I will never bite you without your permission.” His voice was soft, even courteous. “I will never take anything from you that you do not want to give, but make no mistake—there are some Vampyres who would.”

Dread had become a familiar acquaintance of hers by now. It pulsed again, sullen like an aching bruise. “I understand.”

His gaze turned hard and piercing. “It's important you do, because if you choose to leave, some might approach you and offer a liaison merely because you have resided within these walls for a time. I would advise against doing that. Anyone who would choose to offer for you would not have your best interests at heart.”

She swallowed. “I see.”

“One more thing. If you are not able to give a direct blood offering, freely and willingly, by the end of the trial year, our liaison will be over.”

She clenched her jaw, but she couldn't keep quiet. “Forgive me, but isn't that a contradiction? First you said you wouldn't take anything I didn't want to give, but now you just said otherwise.”

He lifted one eyebrow, and when he spoke, his voice had chilled. “There is no contradiction. Everything you do here will be by your choice, and you are always free to go. I will not coerce you into doing something you do not want to do, but there are also requirements of this job that you must fulfill if you want to stay on permanently. You don't get a free pass, and you don't get to change my rules just because you might not like them. I will give you ample opportunity to come to terms with the blood offering, during which time, I expect you to get over it and move on. Does that clarify things for you?”