Night's Honor (Elder Races #7)(15)

“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.”