35

He hissed a breath and closed his eyes. “Leia.”

“Do you need blood to help you heal?” I automatically offered myself to him as I leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his tattoo then followed the paths of some of the lines with my tongue.

“Leia.” He groaned my name and cupped the back of my head, his fingers threading into my hair. I kissed his chest gently before sucking experimentally at his nipple, probing the tiny nub with my tongue, and he hissed again. “We’ll never make it down to dinner with Aimée and Tomas, if you keep teasing me.”

I glanced up at him. “Do you think they’d mind?”

He chuckled. “I’m pretty sure Aimée takes very little pleasure in nursing a goblet of warmed blood while we watch you eat. She’ll take even less in nursing that goblet and simply looking at your empty place.” He dropped a kiss into my hair. “Raincheck on the teasing and the blood?”

I nodded. “I guess.”

He strode to the closet and shrugged out of his jacket and shirt as I tried to ignore his obvious arousal, directing my attention back to his overall appearance. The usual black clothing hid most of the blood but the shirt was ruined. “I’m really okay.”

His movements were quick and efficient as he reached for a clean shirt then put it on and buttoned it up.

I nibbled my lip briefly as I watched him, anxiety jangling my nerves and buzzing in my head. “But was it my fault? Were you hurt because of me?”

He looked at me. “I was hurt because of me. I wasn’t quick enough.”

I sighed. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Not you.” He walked past and dropped another kiss into my hair. “Now let’s go down to dinner or Chef will be complaining we let his food go cold.”

Aimée glanced up as we entered the informal dining room. “We’d started to wonder if you weren’t coming.”

I had no idea how she and Tomas communicated—I rarely heard them speak to each other, and Tomas rarely smiled. He was like a heavy-browed, dark-haired bear. But he clearly doted on Aimée, always listening attentively to the things she said, or reaching for her hand to hold.

He smiled occasionally and briefly, but rarely took part in our conversations unless someone asked him a question. But it didn’t matter. He and Aimée were a perfect complementary pair. She was light, and bright, and reminded me of a butterfly, and he seemed solid and strong and dependable. From the look of him, he’d be able to crush her one-handed, with no real thought or effort, but she clung to his hand often, like she was used to using that strength as her shield.

I relaxed as I watched Nic take a bite of his food. He glanced up and met my gaze, eyes sparkling. He always ate a little so I wasn’t alone. Tomas, too. Aimée rarely because she was still young enough that food made her sick.

“What do you think of Chef’s efforts tonight?” Nic asked.

“Amazing as always. Chef’s food is always amazing.”

Nic chuckled. “But I hear he makes a special effort on date night.”

Date night. It sounded so settled down and suburban, like a serious, grown-up life. But when had that happened? I’d arrived at this house on a month-long contract to accompany Nic to social events. And I’d been so clear on my terms.

Only, I’d definitely slept with him. So that term was broken, and maybe I’d killed someone, if this war was actually my fault… and the month was nearly up, but what did that mean to me? Nic had always said he’d release me free and clear of obligation at the end of the month, but I was no longer sure what I wanted.

The longer I spent with Nic, the more I fell for him and became enmeshed in his life and his world, and things were complicated now. Complicated in ways I never could have imagined when I’d looked at the man with his contract spread over the bourbon-sticky table in my rundown home.

“What are you thinking? You look so serious this evening.”

I looked up at Nic’s gentle voice but shook my head. “Oh, nothing important. A little tired, I guess.”

I returned my attention to my plate, skewering a piece of beef and popping it into my mouth.

Nic narrowed his eyes briefly but nodded. I knew that look. We’d talk later, but whatever. We already had a raincheck of a different kind, and I was pretty sure that was more important.

“Oh! Nicky? I found your Book of Gray.” Aimée took a sip from her overly fancy goblet, but all of the vampires used them around me like they could somehow maintain the illusion of being anything less than blood drinkers. “I’ve left it in the den.”

“Oh?” Nic arched one eyebrow and waited for his sister to continue.

Puzzlement flashed briefly over her features. “I thought it would be useful right now. With…” She nodded toward me like she didn’t think I’d notice. “With, you know, a huma—”

Nic raised a hand, suddenly all business as he cut his sister off. “Thank you, Aimée. Thanks. I’ll take a look.”

Baldwin appeared at the door just then and looked at Nic. “Sebastian Dupont, sir,” he announced formally before Sebastian entered the room.

“Thank you,” Nic said. “Oh, and Baldwin, could you take the Book of Gray to my room in the west wing? I believe Aimée left it in the den.”

I frowned. The west wing? The one area I was still technically not allowed to go? It was an unspoken rule now and largely unenforced, more of an honor system, but that was very much Nic’s space, and I didn’t disturb it, even though the doors were no longer closed and locked.

He knew that, so his delivery of the book to his room there was definitely significant. It was as good as hiding it from me.

Sebastian swiped a French fry from my plate as he passed. “Thank you, Leia.”

“Manners, brother.” Nic sounded long-suffering, and Sebastian grinned.