Night's Honor (A Novel of the Elder Races Book 7)

He mulled things over. Her fear of Vampyres—of him—had been so palpable he wouldn’t be surprised if she was holed up in her room that very moment, worrying about how their next meeting would go.

 

While he had been looking forward to relaxing for the rest of the night, it might be a kindness to meet with her first and get it over with. If nothing else, they could establish next steps. Besides, after dealing with so much politics over the last five weeks, with the veiled smiles, insincere platitudes and outright aggressions, the thought of looking into her dark eyes and seeing the honesty of her emotions sounded downright refreshing.

 

Would she still be as afraid of him as she was when they had first met? He thought of the plush softness of her lips underneath his thumb. She had not backed away when he had touched her. Instead, she had stood watching him, her dark gaze curious.

 

He shouldn’t have touched her. He shouldn’t have wanted to, and he certainly shouldn’t have thought about it so often over the last six weeks.

 

But he had, and she had let him. Perhaps that meant she would be calmer now, more open and friendly.

 

For the moment, he kept his decision private and savored the anticipation as he turned his attention elsewhere. “How are the others doing?”

 

“They’re ready to go out,” Raoul told him. “Aaron knows it and he’s patiently waiting. Marc and Jeremy are champing at the bit. The only thing Scott lacks is self-confidence, but he’ll acquire that soon enough when he gets into the field. Brian’s perfect in every way. I couldn’t ask for a better agent.”

 

“High praise. Please set up a schedule of one-on-one meetings with everyone, will you? It’s time they each get their first assignment.”

 

“Certainly.” Raoul sipped his wine. “You know they’ll be happy to get a chance to visit with you, and they’ll be ecstatic at the thought of getting in the field. Anything else?”

 

“Yes,” Xavier said. “Would you fetch Tess for me? I want you to be ready with your phlebotomy equipment in case she needs it. I should have done this the night she arrived. One way or another, it’s time for her to offer blood.”

 

“As you wish.” Raoul set aside his glass, stood and left.

 

Xavier finished his glass of bloodwine while he waited. The study was one of his favorite parts of the house, quiet and peaceful and filled with the kind of books he loved that prompted reflection. His only regret was that he didn’t get as much time to spend in it as he would have liked.

 

A quick rap sounded at the door, and it opened before he could invite the newcomer in. Raoul would never do such a thing. He suppressed a smile, folded his hands together and watched his tenacious, problematic trainee approach.

 

Tess looked very different, and he absorbed the changes with a blink. She wore the loose black training pants that were de rigueur at the estate, along with a formfitting black tank top. Her dark hair had grown a touch longer. The ends now kissed along the graceful wings of her collarbones.

 

She had also lost some weight, and healthy muscle flowed under the tanned skin of her slim arms. She didn’t move quite as fluidly as one might expect from the changes in her physique. Instead, she held herself with a certain stiffness that indicated she was more than a little sore. Xavier knew from experience that Raoul could be a demanding taskmaster, and it was clear that he had not spared her.

 

Her face looked more angular as well, but not in an unhealthy way. The change was small but startling. It highlighted the proud lines in her bone structure, and he realized the casual eye would no longer travel over her in search of brighter creatures. She had been pretty enough in her own quiet way before, but now she had grown arresting.

 

He frowned, troubled by the realization.

 

As she grew closer, he could hear the sound of her heart pounding, and taste the scent of her fear.

 

Abruptly his disquiet turned to disappointment and anger. He snapped, “Have I given you any reason to believe you are in danger from me? Have I not done the exact opposite, and tried my very best to make you feel at ease here, in my own home?”

 

The look in her large, dark eyes turned wry. She didn’t hesitate, but approached him at the same, steady pace as she had entered the room, even though her heart rate sped up even further.

 

When she reached the empty armchair, she sat and folded her hands together in a deliberate mimicry of his position. “What does reason have to do with fear?”

 

That drew him up short. He stared at her, eyes narrowed, while a muscle bunched in his jaw. Moments ticked by as they regarded each other. Her expression was resolute, her gaze steady. Raoul had the right of it; she was tenacious.

 

He did something that had become completely unnecessary over the last several hundred years, once he had died as a human man. He drew in a breath.

 

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