Chapter 24
I woke up alone in Vlad’s bed. All the windows had the drapes drawn, blocking out the sunlight. The candles had gutted out, too, but the fireplace still smoldered, providing enough light that I wouldn’t stumble into any furniture on my way out of his lobby-sized bedroom.
I got out of bed, remembering to feel around for the step. I’d learned last night that his bed was on a raised dais when Vlad’s quick grip was the only thing that kept me from falling after my foot came down on air instead of flooring. Then I found the robe he’d stripped off me after our long, very erotic shower and put it on, hurrying out of his room. Vlad’s stunning black marble bathroom had a shower that could fit four and a sunken tub you could snorkel in, but no toilet. In hindsight, that made sense. A vampire wouldn’t need one.
I crossed the sitting area into my room since I didn’t want to chance bumping into anyone in the hallway. Everyone in the house probably knew I’d spent the night with Vlad, but that didn’t mean I wanted to be seen leaving his room in nothing but a robe. After I finally relieved my long-denied bladder, I looked at the tub with longing. An extended hot soak would help my lingering soreness in certain areas, but the sketch artist might have arrived during the night, so I’d better go with a quicker shower.
Half an hour later, I came down to the first floor and peeked into the dining room. Empty. I could start searching the other rooms in this huge house, or do things the quicker way.
“Hello,” I called out. “Need to ask a question.”
Before I could count to three, an impeccably dressed black man appeared, his bald head butter-smooth and thick muscles bulging under his beige suit.
“Shrapnel,” I said, recognizing him from that night in Tampa. He bowed, which struck me as odd. Normally Vlad got the bows, not me.
“How can I assist you?”
I resisted the urge to compliment him on how pretty the indoor garden was. “Do you know if Maximus got back with the sketch artist yet?”
“He arrived with her an hour ago.”
“And where are they?” I prodded.
His expression closed off into a polite mask. “I’ll let Vlad know you’re awake.”
“He knows,” a cultured voice stated from across the room.
I turned, my pique at Shrapnel’s evasiveness fading when I saw Vlad walking toward me. His wine-colored shirt was a vivid contrast to his black jacket and pants. Both colors accented his emerald-ringed, coppery eyes, but as usual, only his face, neck, and hands were bare. The rest of him was covered, the elegant cut of his clothes simultaneously flaunting and concealing that lean, muscled body.
A body that was now mine to explore and enjoy. All of a sudden, I wished the sketch artist hadn’t arrived.
The sly smile that curled Vlad’s lips said he’d overheard my thoughts—and liked them. Then he pulled me close, one hand twining through my hair while the other stroked my back.
“Good morning,” he murmured before his lips closed over mine.
I’d wondered if he would be reserved with me in front of his people. Obviously not. By the time he lifted his head, my pulse had tripled and my body felt flushed. I’d also slid my arms around his neck without thinking, my right hand flexing against his shoulders. A week ago, I’d never forget about that hand coming into contact with someone. Now, it seemed so right to touch Vlad that it hadn’t occurred to me not to.
“Good morning, yourself,” I said huskily.
He gave me another, far shorter kiss before releasing me. Then he looked over my shoulder.
“Shrapnel, let it be known that henceforth, no one needs my permission to tell Leila where I am, or where anyone else is, either. If she has a question, answer it.”
I turned in time to see Shrapnel bow, first to Vlad, and then to me. Then he walked away, disappearing into one of the many rooms in this house.
“Tell me sleeping with you didn’t automatically upgrade me to bowing status,” I said, uncomfortable.
Vlad’s chuckle was confirmation enough of my suspicion.
“Really?” How twisted.
His arms slid around my waist as he leaned down, pinpricks of emerald in the coppery depths of his eyes. “Of course my people will now treat you with the utmost respect. I told you; I don’t take many lovers. You’re also the only one I’ve shared my bed with, and the first to sleep in the room adjoining mine.”
I didn’t know what to say. A tiny part of me thought it was chauvinistic that Vlad had had sex with those other women, yet hadn’t deemed them worthy to share his bed or the closest room. That, however, was overshadowed by the fluttering of my heart and the sudden urge I had to pump both fists into the air.
But maybe he had another reason. A practical one. Vlad might not want me to relive images of him with other women if I touched the wrong item in one of his usual tryst rooms.
His lips curled. “How admirably jaded of you to think that, but I could always change out the furnishings in another room if I didn’t want you to see such things.”
That was true. Way to wreck a nice moment, Leila!
“Sorry. You know I’m winging all of this, but even if I’d been a through dozen prior relationships . . . I don’t know if any of them would’ve prepared me for being with you.”
“They wouldn’t,” he said with complete assuredness.
His arrogance really would take some getting used to.
“Then let me say what I should’ve said in the first place.” I placed my hands on his chest and stood on tiptoe. “I’m glad,” I whispered near his ear before kissing it.
His arms tightened around me, one hand sliding down to press my hips to his with the same sensual authority he’d shown last night. But we weren’t in his bedroom anymore—we were in the large hallway where at least a dozen vampires lurked nearby.
“Stop,” I said, glancing around to see if anyone saw that.
When I looked back, Vlad’s gaze more than half glinted with emerald. “If that sketch artist wasn’t here, I wouldn’t stop.”
Then he let me go, his eyes changing back to deep copper. “But Hunter’s death needs to be avenged, as does your treatment. Come. Her name is Jillian, and she’s in the library.”