Night's Honor (Elder Races #7)(18)

No matter how much she wanted to, she couldn’t put him in a simple conceptual box. He didn’t fit. He was too big, too complicated. The very fact that she couldn’t simply label him and be done with it made her uneasy. It hinted at an unknown future, one where she learned new things and made adaptations, and became a stranger to herself.

She shook off the uneasiness. She could handle learning and adapting, as long as it meant survival. For now, supper was waiting and she could take time to settle into her own room, and put all thoughts of Xavier del Torro out of her mind.

•   •   •

Left alone, Xavier paced the room in long, quick strides, while his mind raced. As he reached the sitting area, he glanced at the book he’d been reading, but a quiet contemplation of Descartes’s intelligent, ordered philosophy wasn’t in his foreseeable future.

To save wear and tear on the book’s spine, he closed it without bothering to mark the page. He and Descartes’s writings were old friends, and he would reread all the old passages soon enough.

He went back to his desk and checked his email. Already there were fifty-six replies to the blast email. Like an apologetic cough, the program emitted a discreet ding and the number of unread replies updated to seventy-two.

Something shook through him, and he burst out laughing. He dialed Gavin’s number again, and Gavin answered without a greeting. “Never mind, I figured out how she f*cking did it. Your computer is compromised. Are you coming to Evenfall this evening?”

“Yes, I’ll be leaving soon.”

“Bring it with you. I’ll wipe the hard drive and reinstall everything while you’re here.”

“Remember what I said,” Xavier told him. “I don’t want you to say a word to anyone about how this happened.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t f*cking say a f*cking word. No matter how many f*cking email complaints I get. Jesus Christ, I just got ten more— Come on, people. All the email said was YOU SUCK. It didn’t contain a bomb threat.” Gavin sounded completely out of patience. “Look Xavier, I want to meet her when I’ve got time, but for now, just keep her away from my network, you hear?”

“Understood.” Disconnecting from the call, he powered down his computer, walked over to his leather armchair, sat and tried to haul his thoughts into some kind of order.

They refused to comply. Rubbing his face with one hand, he thought of the angry defiance in Tess’s eyes as her fingers had raced over the keyboard, and how, despite being so afraid of him, she had spat out curses as she worked, and he laughed all over again.

Underneath it all, a persistent, more insidious thread ran through his thoughts. The memory of the silken, warm skin at Tess’s wrist wouldn’t leave him. He closed his eyes, reliving the moment in the dark privacy of his mind, until a discreet tap came at the door.

“Come in, Raoul.”

Raoul opened the door and walked in, carrying a tray with a bottle of bloodwine, an empty glass and a second glass filled with a normal Merlot. He set the bloodwine on the table near Xavier’s hand. “Are you sure you don’t want anything fresh to drink?”

“Not tonight, thanks. I need to leave soon. Julian, all twelve Nightkind council members and Melisande await.” He paused. “So she is settled for the night.”

“Yes.” Raoul took the Merlot and sat in the chair opposite him with a small smile. “I would ask how she did with your little test, except I got the email.”

Xavier snorted without replying. It would be a long time before he heard the end of the evening’s adventure.

Raoul sipped his wine. He said, “Are you sure you don’t want me to run a background check on her? She has an edge that I dislike. It’s a little too desperate, for my taste.”

The last of his humor died as he rested his head against the back of his chair and considered the idea.

You’re supposed to protect me, she had said.

In that moment, she had been so upset he didn’t think she realized what she had given away. Her dark eyes had gone wide, and her soft, sensitive-looking mouth had trembled.

There was a certain kind of nobility in her narrow bone structure, and that wonderful, aquiline nose, as if she was descended from unknown kings. Watching her gave him a subversive pleasure, and he had catalogued her every emotion to date.

Thus far she had evidenced an overabundance of fear, along with a spitting kind of defiance, as well as a rather naive outrage at the Vampyre’s Ball, along with the wariness of a young, untamed animal.

Some of it had amused him, but that one moment of raw, uncensored distress of hers . . .

He didn’t like it. It called all kinds of inappropriate responses out of him. He wanted to find out what had caused her such distress and to protect her from it. And none of that had to do with the reason why he had invited her here. Protectiveness was the very last thing he should be feeling toward her.

He frowned.

Raoul was right. Tess was desperate about something. A shadow of violence seemed to hover behind her words. Perhaps she’d had an abusive boyfriend or husband, or she had gotten involved in something illegal. He tried to imagine her involved in the drug trade but couldn’t. That would harm innocents and go against her moral code.

One by one, he considered various possibilities and dismissed them. Whatever the reason behind her distress, the chances were very slim that a non-magical human would have been involved in something dangerous enough to concern him.