Night's Honor (Elder Races #7)(41)

Here, she might have a place and people to belong to. It was good to be able to go down the path to the beach and walk along the shore, and at night the estate was peaceful, surrounded as it was by forest and wreathed in fresh ocean air. Once she thought she might miss the bright lights of Las Vegas, but she didn’t. She liked the quiet and the seclusion of the forest that surrounded the estate.

She might have been a fool once, but she didn’t think she was being one twice. She knew there would be much more involved in her position as she finished her training. She had to complete her pact with Xavier, and one of the simplest yet hardest obstacles for her to overcome would be to walk calmly into a room filled with Vampyres.

Also, training so hard, not only in hand to hand but with weapons, might be to cover unlikely eventualities, but those eventualities did occur. Some day shit would get real, and some kind of confrontation would happen. But even that thought didn’t deter her. It was good to feel empowered, and to know that because of the work she did now, she might one day have an active hand in shaping critical events.

As the day wore on and evening approached, her good mood dissipated, and she grew more and more nervous.

Honestly, she didn’t know how to feel about Xavier after the previous night. She only knew that just because something had changed, maybe even something important, it didn’t take away her discomfort at being around him.

But discomfort wasn’t the same as the kind of outright panic she had been in when she had first met him. Discomfort was an entirely different animal. She had already taken an important stride forward.

After supper, when it came time for her evening lessons, she walked into the main house to the formal dining area, where she found Xavier standing at one of the windows, looking out over the lawn.

Reflexively, her gaze flew to the outside scene framed by the tall window. The last of the daylight covered the foliage and emerald lawn in a transparent mantle of heavy gold, but the angle of the sunlight came nowhere near the window where he stood.

He wore black slacks, a white shirt and a gray jacket, and his dark hair was pulled neatly away from his quiet, reflective face. His shirt was open at the neck and he wore no tie. She was beginning to recognize that this was his casual attire, yet he achieved a certain elegance, due to his erect carriage and natural poise more than anything he chose to wear. She suspected he would embody that same kind of elegance even if he wore jeans and a T-shirt.

As she paused on the doorstep, he turned to walk toward her, fixing his intelligent, keen gaze on her face. She felt her damn heart rate speed up again, and what little poise she had fell apart completely.

She bolted into the room. “Hi, I hope I’m not late. Beautiful evening outside, huh? Not that you’re able to go out to enjoy any of it, at least until the sun disappears—but maybe I’m not supposed to mention something like that. You know, it does seem a little like pointing out someone’s pimples. . . .”

He seemed to move at a casual, unhurried pace, yet somehow he appeared directly in front of her, which brought her to an abrupt halt. Amusement tilted the corners of his eyes. “Trust me when I say this—that is not at all how you should enter a room. Ever.”

“I just thought I might be late,” she said stupidly, looking up into his smiling gaze. His presence was so large and intense, she was surprised to discover that he was only a few inches taller than she.

He put one slim, strong hand on her arm and gently turned her around. “Enter the room once again, and this time, do so slowly, if you please.”

Ah, that phrase again. It would be her nemesis yet.

Intensely conscious of his touch, she walked back to the door. To her own frustration, she noticed her all too human reactions were out of control again. Her breathing accelerated, along with her heartbeat, and a fine tremor shivered through her hands.

Still, it wasn’t quite from panic. Not quite from terror. She knew he wouldn’t hurt her. She had no idea why she was reacting so strongly to him, and she had no words to describe it. He simply approached, and all her systems went haywire.

Baffled at herself, she plunged into talk again. “You should know, I’m beginning to develop a conditioned reaction to the phrase ‘if you please.’”

“Are you?” The Vampyre quirked an eyebrow as he kept a smooth pace beside her. “And why is that?”

“Raoul says it all the time, usually just before he slams me to the ground or throws me into a wall.” Reaching the doorway, she used it as an excuse to pull away from his hand as she turned to face him again.

He frowned, his lips drew tight and the small scar at the side of his mouth whitened. Her gaze lingered on it. She had seen that scar whiten once before. It was a tiny tell, and she wasn’t sure what it meant, except that it revealed some kind of deeper emotion.

He said, “I noticed you were moving rather stiffly yesterday evening.”

She knew where his thoughts went, and she met his gray-green gaze. “It’s all right. I’m handling it.”

He shook his head. “You should not have to deal with pain, or handle any discomfort.”

The way he said it made her pause as her perception underwent another small but irrevocable shift. If Xavier refused to take advantage of his human attendants during a blood offering, then the act of the blood offering itself was all for their benefit, not for his. Theoretically, Raoul could draw blood from everyone, and Xavier could get his needs met quite well from a distance.