Lothaire (Immortals After Dark #12)(24)

“Don’t continue to fight me, Elizabeth. Anyone who crosses swords with me loses. It’s merely fact.”

“Huh?” Something was definitely amiss downstairs.

With increasing irritation, he said, “Crossing swords. You losing . . .”

“Yeah, well, maybe that’s because you’ve never met anyone like me. I’m more stubborn than anyone you’ve ever encountered.”

“A ridiculous statement, from an ignorant girl. I’m thousands of years old. I’ve encountered millions.”

“Thousands? That’s ancient!” she cried. “So bloodsuckers are immortal?”

“I’ll give you a moment to wrap your puny mind around that.”

“Mighty considerate of you. But no matter. I’m still more mule-headed than anyone. I can out-stubborn a mountain. It’s just my nature.” Dang it, why did she feel so weird between her legs?

Lothaire opened his mouth to say something, but she cut him off. “I have to use the restroom.”

He exhaled in irritation and pointed toward a hall. “Through there.”

Ellie rose from the bed, wincing at her pedicured but sore feet. A pair of stilettos lay at angles on the floor.

Heels, Saroya? That’s just cruel. Growing up, Ellie had gone barefoot

a good seven months out of every year. In prison, they’d given her flip-flops.

Shoes were foreign, heels torturous.

Down a lengthy hallway, she spied the bathroom. The inside was spacious. A marble floor gleamed, counters to match. Plush towels too pretty to use hung from a heated rack.

When she turned to examine herself in the wall-to-wall mirror, she gasped at her reflection.

The black gown she wore was the finest silk, but it dipped down until her navel was visible. Her breasts were all but spilling out; the thin fabric clearly outlined what little of them was covered.

Being exposed like this might have embarrassed her, but prison—and communal showering—had drilled out any inkling of modesty she’d once possessed.

She had a stylish new haircut and a manicure and pedicure, but layers of makeup covered her face.

Her lips were bright red, her eyes done up with flashy shadow. She looked like a porn-star version of herself.

Makeup also concealed the scratch the vampire had given her. She scrutinized her neck and chest for more bites, but found none. So he’d told the truth.

Considering the way he’d licked that stream of blood earlier, she’d thought for sure he’d bite Saroya and finish the job. So why had he refrained?

Had Saroya given Lothaire her virginity instead? For all that Saroya had loved to murder males, she’d never enjoyed one!

Ellie pulled up the gown’s hem, and nearly screamed. Saroya had waxed her—completely.

“What the f*ck?” Bald as a cue ball. “Who does this?” Her face heated.

The bareness was so blatantly sexual. Surely Lothaire had deflowered her today.

She sat on the toilet, matter-of-factly feeling herself, gently probing inside. No soreness. Her virginity was intact.

So there’d been no sex and no biting? Did vampires even have sex? She recalled when he’d licked her blood. Her eyes went wide. “Oh!” He’d had an erection, had ground it against her back.

Perhaps psycho Saroya had denied him. If she was indeed a goddess, then maybe she thought sex beneath her.

So why the waxing?

Ellie emptied her bladder, washed her hands, then headed back to the millennia-old immortal waiting for her.

The bedroom was now lit. Recessed fixtures cast a muted glow.

Once her eyes adjusted, his face drew her attention, and she did a stutter step. The first night she’d seen him, she’d been too petrified to register much about his looks, other than: red-eyed demon!

Then earlier today, he’d been covered in blood. Now?

Dear God, he’s . . . fine. All chiseled features and tousled blond hair. Even those creepy eyes couldn’t detract from the rest of his face, just made him look like some kind of fallen angel.

Once she could pry her gaze from him, she noted other details—like the size of the room. “If only it wasn’t so cramped,” she mumbled, gawking at the height of the ceiling.

Decorated in shades of cream, the room was so spacious it was divided into study, sitting, and sleeping areas. The furniture was so ritzy, she feared to touch it.

Yet the king-size mattresses lay straight on the floor. “You got something against bed frames?”

“Vampires like to sleep as close to the ground as possible.”

“But we’re not on the ground floor.”

“Twenty-five stories from it. I also enjoy having the penthouse.”

She’d never been above three stories before! She spied an enormous park just beyond the balcony. “That’s . . . Central Park?”

“What of it?”

She ran outside. Look at the pretty lights. Better than on TV—

When she reached the balcony railing, she was shot backward as though she’d run into an invisible wall. Just as she was about to land on her ass, Lothaire gripped her sides, holding her upright.

He drew her to her feet but remained close behind her. At her ear, he said, “Mystically protected, remember.” He grasped her wrist, forcing her to touch the invisible border.

Her lips parted when she felt energy pressing back against her hand.