Night's Honor

SEVEN

Mid-February

Tess hit the training mat so hard it knocked the breath out of her. Wheezing, she rolled onto her stomach and struggled to suck some air into her cramped lungs.

Raoul stood over her, his arms crossed. “That’s a wrap for the day.”

She coughed. “Give me a few minutes. I can go again.”

He shook his head. “We’re done here. After you recover, please make up the time on the shooting range.”

Please do this. Please do that.

Raoul had turned out to be a sadist with the most impeccable, old-school manners.

Please schedule an hour before breakfast for your morning run.

Please remember we will be focusing on weapons training on Monday. Please join me on the shooting range at one o’clock, after lunch.

Please protect your left side while you block me. You’re very clearly right-handed, and your entire left side is much too weak.

It was like no other training she had ever heard of, and she was in a class of one. He threw her, beckoned her to attack him from a different angle then threw her again. He kicked her, pinned her to the mat, gripped her in headlocks, slapped her against the wall, and gave her knives in practice bouts only to take them away from her with a confidence-crushing ease, and he did all of it so politely.

“Shooting range,” she said. “You got it.”

Still prone, she watched his shoes turn as he walked away.

Diego’s head came into view, angled sideways. Squatting, he deposited a cold bottle of water on the mat beside her.

“You saw all that, did you?” It was still hard to talk, and her voice came out strained.

“Hard to miss it, chica. Watching you crash and burn has become a daily thing.”

When she felt ready, she pushed onto her knees. “I would almost say I can’t remember the last time I was pain-free, except I can—it was the night I arrived here.”

“That’s right, Xavier left right after you got here.” He shook his head. “Normally people start feeling the benefits from a blood offering right away, but it must not have taken hold for you yet.”

She didn’t even want to get into that subject. Shaking her head, she screwed off the top of the water bottle and drank. “I guess I was naive, because I thought I was in shape.”

“You weren’t bad. Thing is, around here ‘not bad’ isn’t good enough.” He looked at her sidelong. “Are you sorry you came?”

She ran the cold bottle over her hot forehead. “I don’t know how I feel.” A quick glance around the large area told her that she and Diego were the only ones around. She confessed, “It’s almost like Raoul wants me to fail. Like he wants me to reach the point after another hard, bruising fall when I’ll throw in the towel and quit.”

Diego glanced around too then shrugged. “Maybe you’re right. He does seem to be riding you pretty hard.”

“Well, if he is, to hell with him,” she said between her teeth. “I never quit anything just because things got rough. I don’t know how.”

“Good attitude, chica, except for one thing. There’s lots of easier ways to live life. You don’t always have to go the hard way.” Before she could react, he slapped her lightly on the back, straightened and walked back to the weights.

Scowling, she finished off the rest of the water and headed out to the shooting range. Maybe Diego was right. The problem was, she didn’t know anything but the hard way.

After living her childhood in a series of foster homes, she had worked multiple jobs to get through school and had graduated with two bachelor’s degrees, one in computer science and the other in accounting. Nobody had ever given her anything. She’d always had to fight to succeed, and this would be no different.

As she had promised Xavier, she did everything Raoul asked of her. When at first she couldn’t run for an entire hour every day, she ran and walked as fast as she could, often battling a stitch in her side.

Then came the daily weight training sessions, both on machines and with free weights, and swimming, three times a week. After cardio and muscle-building exercises came the training sessions—hand to hand, small weapons training and the shooting range.

At the end of some days she could barely climb up the stairs to crawl into bed. At least severe exhaustion had stopped the nightmares with Malphas, because as soon as her head hit the pillow each night, she slept like the dead.

As for Malphas, despite being an all-Powerful Djinn, either he was completely out of touch with how a mere human might be able to hide, or retrieving her hadn’t become that important to him—yet.

At the end of January, she had received her first stipend for a thousand dollars. When Raoul summoned her into his office, which was located off one end of the gym, and he handed her the receipt, she stared at the number for a while, too shocked to say anything.

Everything she needed had already been bought and paid for. She had even been given new clothes for training, along with three pairs of excellent running shoes. The stipend was just for discretionary spending.

Raoul asked, “Do you want the money deposited into a bank account?”

She shook her head numbly. If it went into one of her accounts, she wouldn’t be able to touch it. Worse, the account activity might attract attention.

“Very well,” he said after a few moments. “Until you decide what to do with it, I’ll keep a running total of what you’re owed.”

“Actually, could I have it on a prepaid Visa card?” she asked. At least then she would have the money readily at hand, in case something untoward happened and she had to leave. “I might want to order some books, or maybe a portable stereo for my room.”

“Of course. I’ll get one ordered for you.”

The card arrived at the end of that week, and Raoul gave it to her one night after supper.

She didn’t order anything. Instead, she tucked the card away in her underwear drawer. If the position fell through, that anonymous Visa card was her lifeline away from the estate. She intended on collecting as many of them as she could get. Even if she lasted only as long as the trial period, when the year was up, she would have twelve thousand dollars to help her relocate somewhere else.

She liked the shooting range. It was the only time during the day that she could stop straining her whole body, all except for her arms and shoulders. Even then, sometimes those ached so much it was all she could do to aim two-handed with a small Glock 17 that weighed less than two pounds. She also discovered she was good at target practice, and she liked the work with the handguns, although she struggled with the larger automatic weapons.

Throughout her training, people drifted in and out of her lessons, some joining her for the morning run while others participated in other activities, until gradually she grew acquainted with the other eleven inhabitants of the estate.

There was Raoul, of course, the polite sadist who was clearly the acknowledged manager in Xavier’s absence. Raoul’s deputy was Diego, who was responsible for all the vehicles and for maintaining the indoor pool. There were also Angelica and her assistant, Enrique; Jordan and his assistant, Peter; and Marc, Jeremy, Aaron, Scott and Brian, the five she had been cloistered with until Melisande and Justine had left the estate.

Angelica, the only other female, was a reticent, gray-haired woman of Hispanic descent with a rounded form that was nevertheless toned with muscle. Tess wanted to ask her why there were so few women on the estate, but there never seemed to be a good time to talk with her.

To a person, they were all uniformly friendly toward her and also a bit distant, and she was under no illusions whatsoever. She didn’t fit in, and probably, as far as they were concerned, she wouldn’t truly belong until at least after her trial year was over.

That was okay. She had never really fit in anywhere, certainly not in any of her foster families. She didn’t need to fit in or belong. She just needed to survive.

Midafternoons, right around the time when she could hardly walk anymore, it was time for the other lessons—Elder Races history, politics and inter-demesne conflicts. Memorizing the different races and their predilections, strengths and weakness. Information about each Councillor on the Elder tribunal. The power structures in each demesne, along with the heads and their heirs.

After supper came the lessons in etiquette. The ideal attendant was the invisible one who anticipated her patron’s needs and fulfilled them without needing to be asked.

One never spoke until one was spoken to. Always serve drinks from the left, food—for those visitors who partook of food—from the right. The dagger set at the top of every supper plate was symbolic (of what, she hadn’t yet figured out, and no one had told her); no one ever used them, or if they did, it was considered gauche and the height of rudeness.

An attendant might disregard any request or order from another Vampyre (or anyone else, for that matter) outside of the house, but if that Vampyre was a guest in her patron’s house, then as an extension of her patron’s hospitality, she must do everything in her power to make that visiting Vampyre (or other creature) feel at home.

Out of the entire six weeks of training, that was the one time she balked.

She said, “You’ve got to be kidding me. Everything.”

Raoul said, “Everything that your patron would wish you to do, you should do.”

“Oh, come on.” She gestured with a stranger’s arm that was slim, tanned and rippling with toned muscle. Between the insane amount of training and truly excellent nutrition, the entire landscape of her body was changing dramatically. “Sex. Blood. Anything?”

He gave her a severe look. “What do you think Xavier would want for you to do?”

She hesitated, as she remembered the talk she’d had with Xavier in his study.

I will never bite you without your permission. I will never take anything from you that you do not want to give.

Feeling only slightly chastened, she muttered, “You’re saying he wouldn’t want us to give in to another Vampyre’s demand for sex or blood, but would the other Vampyre know that? What if they didn’t care and pushed for it anyway?”

“That would be a most extreme mistake on their part,” said Raoul, his face stern. “If any guest tries to press you to do something you don’t want to do, you must tell me or Xavier immediately.”

She watched him narrowly. “But what about what happens in other Vampyre households?”

Raoul lifted a shoulder in a very Gallic shrug. “To each house, its own rules.”

“That sounds almost like a motto.”

“It’s an ancient saying and lies at the root of Vampyre diplomacy. Old Vampyres are not only Powerful and opinionated, but they have lived through huge societal changes. What is normal for them may not be so in modern society.”

Even though it was considered the height of bad manners to put her elbows on the table, she did it anyway and propped her head in both hands. “What if they’re trafficking? Slavery was pretty prominent once, and a societal norm.”

“That’s another matter entirely.” For once Raoul didn’t admonish her for her incorrect posture, and he seemed happy enough to just talk, as he leaned back in his chair opposite hers. “You’re no longer talking behaviors or who has the authority to dictate what customs to follow in a house. If someone is breaking the law and they get caught, they have to face the consequences.”

But how often were they caught? She scratched her fingers against her scalp. “Thinking about all of this makes my head hurt. I feel like I’m training for war and a house party all at the same time.”

“That’s a fair description,” he said. “Sometimes relations get strained between Vampyre houses, or between creatures from different demesnes, and occasionally violence might break out. While that’s relatively unusual, if a human is caught in the middle and doesn’t know how to handle herself, she’s as helpless as a six-week-old puppy. No patron with any kind of conscience would allow for that to happen.”

Conscience. There was another concept that messed with her simple idea of what a monster should be. Irritably she pushed the thought away. “So all of this is just an extended version of basic training.”

“In some ways, yes.” He regarded her with an unfathomable expression. “And like basic training, we’ve barely scratched the surface. It will be some time before you’re suitable to be taken out in public.”

She bristled for more than one reason, but mostly because, despite her attempt to keep up emotional barriers, she was starting to look for Raoul’s approval, and his words stung.

Clearly everyone else in the household thought highly of him, and she was beginning to respect him as well. He was always patient, always courteous, and indefatigable. But despite the fact that she threw everything she had into every single day, she had almost never heard a word of praise from him.

Her mouth tightened. “And here I thought I was doing rather well.”

She had meant to sound flippant, but it fell flat. He met her gaze, his face devastatingly dispassionate.

“You are, by far, the weakest link in this household.” His voice was just as dispassionate as his expression, which made his words all the more cutting. “You are much weaker and slower than the rest of us, and far less trained, and at best, your loyalties are undefined and uncommitted. As long as you refuse a direct blood offering, you will retain the worst of a human’s frailties. With Xavier’s bite, you would become faster and stronger. The hour-long run that you struggle to complete every day would become merely routine, and all the aches and bruises you’ve suffered in the last few weeks would heal overnight. While I like you well enough, and I don’t necessarily think you’re a bad person, I see you as a dangerous liability.”

She would not let his words hurt. Balling her hands into fists, she breathed evenly until the heavy ache in her gut passed. After a moment, she said, “Xavier has already told me that if I can’t let him take a direct blood offering, freely and willingly, by the end of the trial year, I’m out. Now I even understand why. It’s for all the reasons you just listed. But it’s also early days yet. Despite everything you’ve thrown at me, I’m still here. I’m still training.”

He studied her. “Fair enough. I think we’re done for the day.”

She stood with poorly disguised relief. “See you in the morning.”

“And you.”

As soon as she reached her room, she brushed her teeth, fell into bed and was out like a light again.

Six A.M. came hard these days, but one good thing about rising early for a run—she was a good fifteen minutes into her hour before she fully woke up.

If she weren’t so sore, she would grow to love those early morning runs. It was the only time since she had arrived that she went outside the walls of the estate, and it was quickly becoming hypnotic.

That early in the day, sunlight had barely begun to filter through the tall redwood trees on the east side of the curving, remote road, and to the west, more often than not fog rolled off of the ocean like a crowd of ghosts. Whenever any of the others joined her, usually they wore headphones and listened to music, but she didn’t have an MP3 so she listened to the sounds of the wind and the ocean, and the rhythm of her own breath.

After a quick shower, she dressed in plain black exercise pants, tennis shoes and tank top, breakfasted on a hefty helping of oatmeal, raw walnuts, fresh fruit and prescription strength Aleve, and arrived at the training area in the gym, ready for another day.

As had happened several other times, this morning Raoul greeted her with a nod and gestured her over to where Marc and Jeremy were sparring with knives. Relieved at the small reprieve, she reached his side.

She noted, and not for the first time, that everybody else maintained their physical regimen while working at their jobs on the estate. Of all the attendants, she was the only one that trained all day long, and she was all too aware it was because she was so new and had so much to learn.

For several minutes, she and Raoul stood watching the two men who fought with such swiftness and ferocity she had difficulty tracking their actions. They were totally engaged, their faces hard with concentration.

Thinking of the conversation from last night, she had to swallow past an unexpected lump in her throat. “I understand exactly what you were saying last night, especially when I watch them.” She kept her voice quiet. “They’re wicked and beautiful and completely fearless, while I’m struggling to avoid getting pinned to the mat.”

Raoul didn’t disagree. His gaze fixed on the other two men, he said, “Your first choice must always be to run away. If you see danger or violence, avoid it at all costs. If at first you can’t run, you fight to get away. Then you run. Kill if you have to, but run. Marc and Jeremy are at a different level entirely.”

She crossed her arms and cupped her elbows. “How do you get there from here?”

She half-expected him to spout a trainer’s rhetoric. Train every day, work your ass off, don’t make excuses or slack off, blah blah blah.

Instead, Raoul turned to give her his full attention. When at first he didn’t speak, she turned to face him as well, growing self-conscious at his intent, thoughtful expression.

He said, “To get to where Marc or Jeremy is, you have to change the conversations in your head.”

She frowned uneasily. “What do you mean?”

“When you face a confrontation, you have to decide if whether you live or die is part of your agenda. Either you fight to survive, and that’s your goal, or you fight to put your opponent down, no matter what the cost. Those are two separate conversations, and the decision for them has to come from here.” He tapped her on her breastbone with the back of his knuckles. “That basic choice affects your capacity to act in the world. You can train as much as you like, but you won’t ever become what they are until you decide to.”

When Raoul deemed they had watched enough of the fight, he turned away and beckoned for her to follow, which she did thoughtfully. They reached a separate training mat, and as Raoul turned toward her, she faced him.

“Making a decision is all very well and good,” she said. “But you also have to factor in your opponent, and whether or not he’s a Vampyre or some other kind of Elder Races creature that is much faster, stronger and more Powerful than you are. That would take strategy and tactics.”

Raoul raised his eyebrows. “Of course.”

She put her hands on her hips. “So, when do you start teaching me how I can possibly take down those stronger, more Powerful creatures instead of just focusing on these basic maneuvers?”

He smiled. “As soon as you can surprise me.”

“That’s it, you just want me to surprise you?” She gave him a wary squint. “You don’t want me to pin you, or score some kind of hit?”

“That would be asking far too much of you,” he told her gently. “Now, on your guard, if you please.”

If you please.

Yeah, that was never a good sign.

She took the appropriate stance, as he had taught her, and he slammed her down onto the mat. Even though he was just a human, he could move so fast, she often never saw him coming.

As lithe as a normal athlete in his twenties, Raoul straightened and turned away to wait until she recovered.

Then she rolled to her feet, and they went at it again.

While listening to the others talking over lunch, she found out that Xavier was due to return some time that night, and her nerves bunched into a jangled mess.

Even though she had no real idea what Xavier did in the business of running the Nightkind demesne, she knew he was a very busy and important man. He would have any number of matters to attend to once he arrived home.

No doubt she was far down on his list of things to do, but sooner or later, he would turn his attention to her once again. She might not be exactly comfortable here, but her days had fallen into a certain rhythm that she had started to depend upon. Xavier’s return threatened to throw all of that into chaos.

With a sense of weary relief, Xavier drove his Jaguar through the gates of his estate shortly before eleven that evening. The house was ablaze with lights, the lawn a softly shadowed green carpet that fell away to glimpses of the ocean that gleamed darkly in the moonlight.

The scene was beautiful, welcoming and peaceful.

As he pulled to a stop, the front door opened and Diego jogged lightly down the steps to the car, greeting him with a ready smile.

“Good evening, sir.”

“Hello, Diego.” Xavier smiled at the other man. Diego was handsome, thirty, energetic and ambitious, but thankfully he was also likeable, which helped to balance out the rest. “How are you?”

“Good, thanks. And you?”

“Glad to be home.” He realized he had automatically taken the car keys from the ignition, and he tossed them to the other man. “Please take my things inside.”

“Of course.”

Angelica, Jordan and Raoul were waiting for him just inside, their faces warm with welcome. He had kept up-to-date on all the daily happenings via text messages, emails and phone calls, but it was still heartwarming to see their pleasure at his return.

He touched Angelica’s arm. “How are you? Well, I hope?”

She nodded, her lined face wreathed in a smile. “Yes, it’s been very peaceful here, as always.”

“I’m glad to hear it. I could use some peace right now.” He turned his attention to Jordan. “And you?”

“About to go on vacation, sir.” Jordan grinned. “Only two more days now.”

“Very nice. Where are you going?”

“I’m going to spend a week in Mendocino.”

“That’ll be a nice break for you. I’m glad you’re getting away for a while.” After he finished speaking, he met Raoul’s gaze.

Smoothly, Raoul turned to Jordan and said, “Please bring a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon and a bottle of bloodwine to the study.”

Jordan inclined his head. “Right away.”

The pleasantries over, Xavier walked into his study, where a bright fire was already filling the room with warmth and light. The windows had been propped open, allowing a fresh breeze to flow into the room.

He enjoyed the combination of the fresh, cool night air and the warmth from the fire. Everything had been arranged just as he liked it.

As he strolled to his chair, he shrugged out of his jacket, tugged off his tie and unbuttoned his shirt at the neck and wrists, and rolled up his sleeves. The book he had been reading before he had left lay where he had left it, on the table beside his chair. A sense of comfort stole over him.

Raoul followed, closing the door behind him. “How was New York?”

“Interesting, and a much needed change of pace after all the council meetings last month. Dragos spared no expense on the Games. He’s quite the showman when he decides to be.” He rubbed his dry eyes and relaxed with a sigh. “I got Melisande to agree to the last of the trade proposals.”

Raoul raised his eyebrows. “That will have pissed Justine off.”

“The thought has given me a great deal of satisfaction, after everything she did to sabotage this year’s council sessions.”

“You’ve made a bad enemy of her.”

“She’s made a bad enemy of me,” he said softly.

“I mean it, Xavier.” Raoul’s expression was serious. “By blocking what she tried to do with Melisande and the council, you’ve gone from being an annoying inconvenience to a serious impediment to Justine’s goals. She won’t forgive or forget that. You need to watch your back.”

As he talked, Jordan tapped at the door and brought in their drinks. Raoul poured bloodwine for him, and the Cabernet Sauvignon for himself.

Xavier gestured with one hand. “Enough. I’m sick to death of all of it. Tell me how things are going here.”

While Raoul talked about the mundane day-to-day events, Xavier leaned his head against the back of his chair and closed his eyes, sipped his bloodwine and listened. It was a thoroughly pleasant way to unwind, until Raoul brought up Tess.

Interest sparked through his growing laziness. He asked, “How is she doing?”

Raoul remained silent for so long, he lifted his head to look at the other man. Not that he gained much information by doing so. Raoul could be entirely inscrutable when he wanted to be, which was one of the many reasons why Xavier valued him.

Finally, Raoul said, “She’s tenacious.”

Amused, he smiled. “Is that the best you can say?”

Raoul didn’t return his smile. “I think she’s a loose cannon.”

Remembering how Tess had hacked his email and, later on, how she had broken his rules and eavesdropped on his conversation with Melisande, he gave an infinitesimal shrug. “I like loose cannons. They think creatively, and shake up the status quo.”

“I’ll tell you what I told her this morning,” Raoul said. “I see her as a dangerous liability. She is by far the weakest link in this household. She’s weaker and slower than any of us, and her loyalties are undefined and uncommitted at best.”

His smile faded, and he stared into the bright golden flames of the fire. While Raoul’s assessment was fair, there was something about Tess that might be worth the time and effort they poured into her. Some indefinable thing, maybe the very tenacity of which Raoul spoke, along with that delicious spark of defiance.

“I remember you emailed me when her background check came back,” he said. “It was clean.”

“Yes, it was. Aside from the fact that she worked at one of the major casinos in Las Vegas, there was nothing of note in it. But then standard background checks reveal very little.” Raoul shrugged, and his wry gaze met his. “After all, neither you nor I have been convicted of any crime either.”

“True enough, my friend.” His smile returned to tug at the corners of his lips.

“I also took the liberty of searching through all the Las Vegas newspapers for anything that might seem odd, or for any mention of a reported theft from the casino where she worked, but I didn’t find anything.”

“Good enough. Anything else?”

Raoul shook his head. “Even though I’ve made things hard on her, she’s done everything I’ve asked of her. That’s it.”

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.

Abruptly, he grew aware of his own uncharacteristic loss of temper, and his anger turned onto himself. It had been a mistake to try to see her tonight, when he had only just returned.

“My apologies,” he said, his tone abrupt. “I should not have sent for you tonight. I’m tired and low on patience, and I should have known better.”

Startlement flashed in her gaze, and she lowered her eyelids. “It isn’t your fault,” she said. “It’s mine. I’m sorry.”

Was it her fault, he thought bitterly, when she faced a predator that could overpower her completely and feed on her until she died?

Or wasn’t her fear the most reasonable reaction after all?