Night's Honor (Elder Races #7)(75)

How overwhelmingly knowledgeable Raoul was at killing. Once, she had even thought he would make an excellent assassin.

Was this . . . a little like James Bond?

With Vampyres?

She wasn’t sure if she should feel so amazed, or if she should just feel like a fool for not putting two and two together before now.

Before she could castigate herself too much, Diego spoke again. The tone in his voice was flat and final. “You’re right, Xavier. I’m done. I quit.”

SEVENTEEN

Silence fell.

Then Xavier said, “I take it you would not have brought this up if you weren’t sure. Do you know what you will do now?”

“Not yet. I think it might be best if I didn’t return to the estate with you and Tess. Is there any way I could get you to take me into the city, after sunset? That is, if you’re done with your business here.”

“I can give you a ride. Where would you like to go?”

“I thought I would stay at a nice hotel, maybe the Four Seasons, and consider my options. All I’ve done is save money over the last three years—I might as well enjoy a little of it for a few days. I can always send for my things later.” Someone paced, probably Diego. “This isn’t personal, Xavier. I want you to know that. None of it is.”

“I understand.”

Not staying to hear any more, she slipped down the hallway to her bedroom again to ease her door closed. Her mind and emotions in upheaval, she paced around the confines of the bedroom. She wasn’t like Xavier, and her body couldn’t contain her restlessness without launching into motion.

Even though the bedroom was as tastefully decorated as the rest of the apartment, the lack of windows was beginning to get to her. She wanted fresh air and a walk by the ocean. Quiet though the apartment was, there was no peace in this place.

What she’d heard didn’t necessarily change anything, except that it did. She thought back over what she had said to Xavier earlier and laughed under her breath. It felt bitter and humorless.

A quiet rap sounded on her door. She said, “I’m busy.”

The door opened, and Xavier walked in.

He wore all black again, classic, simple slacks and a tailored shirt that emphasized the strong, elegant bone structure of his hands and face. He had tied his hair back neatly, and there was no trace anywhere of the wild, sensual creature who had made such emotional love to her. He looked as he so often did, composed and self-contained.

The sight of him made her a little crazy, when everything inside of her was in chaos.

She snapped, “I said I was busy.”

He raised his eyebrows. “I heard you perfectly well. I also heard you pacing just now, and I heard you earlier, when you walked down the hall and paused outside the living room.” He eyed her narrowly. “You overheard Diego and I talking, and now, for some reason, you are upset. Why?”

“Just because we had sex—once—doesn’t mean it’s okay for you to ignore my boundaries,” she told him furiously.

“My apologies. Of course, you are correct.” He said it so smoothly, too easily, his face a refined mask, as he leaned back against the closed door.

For the first time she hated his blasted composure, and she glared at him. “You’re trapping me in here on purpose. Don’t try to say you aren’t, so you can stop being so damned polite.”

He adjusted the cuff of one of his sleeves. “Politeness is the backbone of civilization. Besides, what else would you have me do? Until I know what you’re thinking, I have no way to respond.” Glancing up from the small task, he speared her with a sharp gaze. “Let me guess: you’ve figured out what I do, from what Diego and I were saying. Haven’t you?”

She threw out one hand in an uncontrolled gesture. After everything that had happened, she felt like she had come full circle, back to the same place she had been the night of the Vampyre’s Ball. Nothing he did seemed out of place or unconsidered, and everything she did felt overdone, out of balance.

“It was rather hard to miss,” she said. “Unlike all the many clues I’ve seen over the last six weeks.”

“And this upsets you.” He cocked his head, studying her as if she were an alien.

Where was his warmth, the passion and emotional openness from earlier this morning? Had it all been an act?

She turned away from him, wrapped her arms around her middle and hunched her shoulders. “Yes. No. I don’t know.”

His hands came down on her shoulders, and she jumped. He said in her ear, “Well, that is definitely a comprehensive range of reaction, I must admit.”

Her body reacted again to the sound of his voice, so close. She felt as if he had just passed a hand down her naked back, and she shivered.

His hands tightened. He said even more softly, “Will you not tell me what is going through your mind right now? I truly don’t have any clue.”

He sounded so patient and gentle, this centuries-old Vampyre who was once a priest.

Who played the piano, loved to waltz, read philosophy and quoted love poetry.

And ran a spy ring.

She closed her eyes. I’m nobody, she thought. I’m not even out of my twenties. I’ve never been anywhere interesting or done anything useful. I’m just a foster brat who got too greedy and cocky, and barely managed to make it out of a tricky situation alive.