Justine is dangerous, but Xavier is too.
Either the cool night air or her own thoughts caused her to shiver. She reached up to grope along the surface of the bed for her throw. When her fingers encountered the soft chenille material, she pulled it toward her.
The throw slid off the bed and brought one of the pillows along with it. The pillow hit the nightstand and knocked into her water glass and the alarm clock. Both items hit the hardwood floor with a loud clatter.
Tess froze and broke into a light sweat. She didn’t dare even breathe.
So, okay. That happened.
Maybe they wouldn’t notice. They were closer to the water, and things must sound quite different on the beach.
Melisande said, “What was that?”
“Nothing important, I’m sure,” Xavier said. He sounded almost bored. “Let’s head back to the house before Justine comes looking for us. We can open a bottle of Chateau Briot. Tell me, are you going to New York for the Sentinel Games?”
“Those Games are the Elder Races event of the century. I wouldn’t miss them for the world. Are you going?”
“I hadn’t committed yet, but I’ve just made up my mind to go.”
“We must get together while we’re there. I’m leaving in a week.”
Still talking, they moved away until Tess couldn’t hear them anymore.
She couldn’t bear to leave the window open any longer. Kneeling, she eased the window shut and groped for the alarm clock and the glass to set them on the nightstand again. A large puddle of water had sprayed over the floor.
Tess, she thought, you might be geek-smart, but you are not as bright as you claim to be. Try to get smarter before you die.
Tossing the pillow and the throw onto the bed, she eased over to the bedroom door. Earlier, she had noticed a linen closet down the hall that held plenty of extra sheets, towels and washcloths. Grabbing a towel, she headed back into her room and closed the door.
“You forgot to latch the window,” Xavier said.
From inside her room.
Shock bolted through every one of her nerve endings. Even as she managed to swallow her scream, she leaped backward like a scalded cat and her back hit the wall with a thump.
The bedside light clicked on, and light assaulted her eyes.
The window was wide open and the curtain pulled back. Xavier sat on her bed, his back propped against the headboard and legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. He was dressed simply in the white shirt and black trousers that he had worn earlier, but even that plain outfit seemed impossibly formal and extremely masculine against the backdrop of the rumpled bedcovers.
He regarded her coolly, his lean face hard.
She felt raw and exposed, as if she had left her skin behind when she had leaped backward. He had made some excuse to Melisande, come back to the attendants’ house and climbed through the second-story window, all in the time it had taken her to go down the hall to the linen closet and back again.
This, she thought. This is why Vampyres scare the shit out of me.
Staring down at the towel she twisted between her hands, she said, “Oh, that window? I must have—I must have forgotten to latch it when I had it open this afternoon.”
“Were you not told of the protocol that should be followed whenever an enemy might be on the estate?” he asked. The small, thin scar beside his stern mouth looked whiter than it had when she had noticed it at the Ball.
“The protocol.” She cleared her throat, while in her mind’s eye she was starting to see the words in capital letters: THE PROTOCOL. “Yes. Yes, I was told.”
He rose to his feet with the same pure, liquid grace as before and walked toward her. “Did you open the window afterward?”
She pursed her lips, while her hands shook, and—oh my God, why did he keep coming toward her? Angling her head away, she sidestepped toward the puddle. Dropping the towel on the water, she pushed it around with one bare foot.
His hands came around her upper arms, and he turned her toward him. He said, “Did you. Open the window. Afterward.”
Her head might have moved up and down a bit.
“Do you know how I know that already?”
This time she shook her head. Her gaze focused on the fourth button on his shirt. He smelled like a woman’s perfume. If he and Melisande hadn’t kissed, they had at least hugged.
Not that it was any of her business what they did. Still, she couldn’t help but notice. It was very nice perfume.
He said between his teeth, “Because I know the others would have done a sweep of the house to make sure it was locked down as soon as they received word that a dangerous Vampyre and her attendants were going to arrive.”
It was actually pretty terrible how he never raised his voice. She looked down at his hands, still gripping her upper arms. They were slim and strong, with long fingers and lean wrists.