Molly laughed delightedly, Madame Melisende chortled with pride, and Angie clapped her hands together. "Aunt Jane is a beautemous princess," she said.
I smelled his reaction. Rick thought I looked hot. For some reason, that made me feel confident and shy all at the same time, and my palms started to sweat. I brazened it out. "Not bad, eh? For a vamp killer?" I glanced at the madame and added, "No offense to your clients."
She sniffed, glanced at her watch, and said, "Monsieur Pellissier's servant will arrive in eight minutes." She made a little hand-sweeping motion to the mouse, who jumped up from her perch at the sewing machine, began gathering all the discarded dresses, and carting them outside. The madame hung my two other new dresses in my empty closet and turned to leave, giving me the once-over, and tucking a handful of her cards into my palm. "For the inquiries. By appointment only." She sniffed one last time and went back out the door the way she had entered, as if she owned the place, the mouse scurrying behind her.
I whirled, showing a lot of leg and nearly as much cleavage. Rick sat down. As much to conceal his reaction as to keep out of the way. Molly took Angie by the hand and closed the door on the last of the fashion show. The van roared off into the very dark night.
Before Rick had a chance to say anything more about me in my dress, new headlights pulled in front of the house, the sound of an engine idling through the open windows. I had left a thigh sheath on the toilet, and while Molly went to the door, I strapped the weapon Bruiser had denied me to the back of my thigh, making sure that neither the knife hilt nor the sheath showed. Then I eased a slender blade into my hair and tucked several wooden stakes into my braids like hair sticks. A small cross I sheathed in a lead-lined packet and shoved it into the bottom of the V of the neckline. The dress held it nicely in place, and the lead would keep it from glowing by accident.
I had gone unarmed into the presence of multiple vamps once before. Not gonna happen again. With a final twirl to make sure the knife sheath didn't show beneath the fabric, I took a deep breath and listened.
CHAPTER 7
Scent-marking me
Molly opened the door before the knock sounded and let Bruiser inside with a murmured "George. Come in." His scent, clean and crisp and slightly citrusy, blew in on the night breeze.
The last time Bruiser had picked me up for a party, I didn't have an audience. I looked down at myself, all gussied up, and discomfort shot through me like an electric pulse. I flushed and took a breath to force the embarrassment back down. There was no place for blood flushes where I was going. Or for sexual arousal either. Standing in the shadows, I breathed deeply, getting myself under control. My fingers rested on the thigh strap and I felt a measure of assurance return. One slender vamp-killer, one silvered knife, one cross, and stakes. The uneasiness blew out on a breath and I turned to the door.
Bruiser was in a tux. I had seen him in a tux before, but hadn't taken the time to really study him. The suit was fitted to him, tailored to his form and cupping the curve of his butt like two smooth, happy hands. The coat sat on his broad shoulders and wisped down his chest as if it loved to touch him and couldn't let go. The blood-servant of Leo Pellissier looked like sex on a stick. Something low down in my belly tightened and heated.
Bruiser offered a cordial, businesslike hello to Rick, masking any curiosity he might be feeling. He spotted me in the doorway. It was too dark for a human to see me, but he did. His eyes followed the dress from the floor to my breasts and on to my face. "Jane Yellowrock. You look lovely."
I stepped into the front room and couldn't think what to do with my hands. So I just stood there, fighting a blush, as the two men stared at me. Molly handed me a tiny black purse on a short, looped cord and said, "From the dressmaker. Your ID and a hundred dollars are inside. Try to be home before you turn into a pumpkin."
"Miss Jane," Bruiser said, holding the door for me. I stepped out into the humid night and into the chilled, leather-seated limo.
The slightly stretched Lincoln could hold six passengers on two bench seats, but just as the last time Bruiser took me to a vamp party, there were only the two of us, the privacy partition up between the driver and the back. He slid in beside me and sat close, his thigh touching mine.