Wicked Soul (Ancient Blood #1)(13)

Warin stood outside the door, a small pile of fabric in his hands. “If you need a change of clothes,” he said, politely pretending like my dress hadn’t been dangling around my waist for a good part of the night.

“Thanks.” I smiled, thankful my first run-in with a vampire had been with him, rather than one of the ones from the government scare campaigns. Hell, I was pretty sure I’d never met a human man who’d been this polite. “You’re a lifesaver.”

And then I punched him lightly in the shoulder.

He stared at me for two full seconds, and I stared back, not quite comprehending what I’d just done.

You just bro-punched a vampire in the shoulder is what you did, Liv. A smoking-hot vampire who literally saved your life and fed you his blood as if it was NyQuil.

I grimaced and snatched the clothes out of his hand before he could change his mind about offering me any further assistance, quickly shutting the door behind me with a, “Won’t be a minute!”

Only I definitely would be, I realized as I pulled on the clothes he’d brought me.

The shirt—light gray, crisp linen with an Armani tag—wasn’t a problem. I sniffed the collar as I buttoned it up, and hummed with pleasure at the smell of the fresh night air. It was much too big on my frame, which wasn’t overly surprising as it clearly belonged to Warin. He was only a couple of inches taller than me—maybe six foot or thereabouts—but he was much wider across the shoulders. I rolled up the sleeves to not look like a little girl playing dress-up in her daddy’s closet, and turned my attention to the bottoms he’d brought me.

The were a dark charcoal gray, the same shade as the towels, and as immaculately wrinkle-free as the shirt. The only problem was that they were clearly also tailored to Warin, and I only got them to mid-thighs before they got well and truly stuck.

“Sonuvabitch,” I muttered, pulling desperately at the waistband. They refused to budge so much as an inch. Goddamn my round hips and inability to stay away from fast food! “Come on!”

“Liv? Is there a problem?” Warin’s voice sounded from outside the door.

“Yeah, just…” I sighed, giving up on my fight with the pants. “Do you have some other bottoms? …With an elasticated waist?”

He was silent for a bit, then said, “I’m afraid not. What size are you? I will send someone to purchase something suitable.” His voice came from further away—from inside his walk-in closet, I guessed.

“No, that’s not necessary!” I protested, cringing at the thought of the perfectly beautiful—and very well-dressed—vampire who’d opened the door for us having to go to an all-night Wal-Mart just because my ass was too big. “Don’t you have a pair of sweatpants? Or even boxers would be fine.”

Another moment’s pause, followed by a knock on the bathroom door. I cracked it open, ensuring my lower half was hidden behind it, and peered out.

Warin held out a pair of blue silk boxer shorts for me. “If they don’t fit, it is no trouble to send for a set of women’s clothes.”

“They’ll fit.” If it was the last thing I did, I’d get into them or die trying. Sending vampires to run errands might have been business as usual for him, but I was not about to attract any more attention from the three who’d surrounded me downstairs, fangs out and basically salivating at the thought of full-on eating me.

Did vampires salivate?

“Thanks!” I slammed the bathroom door shut and stepped into the boxers, praying they wouldn’t rip.

The thick silk fabric was pulled tight over my thighs and rear-end in a way it definitely wasn’t meant to, but I managed to squeeze into them without any accidents.

“Oh, thank the goddess,” I mumbled as I finally went to leave the bathroom for good. I might not have had much dignity left, but I very much appreciated not having to flash the poor vampire anymore of my lady bits.

Warin was waiting for me on the bed, absentmindedly stroking a hand over one of my now dried-up blood splotches on his sheets.

“Uh, yeah… sorry about your sheets,” I said. “I can have them cleaned for you.”

He looked up at me, mild surprise at my offer evident on his still-dirty face. “That’s not necessary.”

“You sure? I kind of wrecked them good.” I made a vague gesture at one of the bigger splotches.

“Yes.” He touched a cleaner part of the sheets. “Come, please. Sit. I wish to talk with you for a moment.”

“Sure.” With what he’d done for me this night, he could talk at me as much as he pleased.

I sat down on the bed, careful not to plant his silk boxers in any of the grime. “What’s up?”

“In the basement… you stepped in front of the man with the stake. Why?”

I frowned, trying to remember what he was referring to. The entire night was blurring into one long horror story, so it took me a little while to remember what he meant. “Oh. I dunno. Isn’t that a pretty normal reaction to seeing someone attempt to torture a person?”

Warin stared at me for a long moment before he softly said, “No, Liv. It’s not a normal reaction for a human to try to shield a vampire from harm with her own body.”

I shrugged, the unwavering attention from his blue gaze making me fidget on the bed. “I guess I’ve never liked seeing people pick on someone weak. I didn’t really think about it.”