His fingers stilled as he found the one hairpin she wore to keep her silver streak out of sight.
“That’s not dyed, either,” she admitted. “I started going gray like an old lady back in high school.”
“Do not hide it.” He spread the strands out. “It does not make you seem older. It is beautiful.”
“I don’t think any woman under the age of ninety would agree with you.” As he brought the silvery lock to his lips, Chris forgot to breathe. “You’re kissing my hair.”
“It feels like gossamer.” He smoothed it back and looked all over her face. “Your piercings, what happened to them?”
“No one takes you seriously when you wear rings in your eyebrow, so I let them close up.” Absently she touched a tiny scar on the curve of her lip, and then she understood why he hadn’t recognized her at first. “You were expecting me to look the way I did three years ago?”
“That is how I remember you.” He touched each place where she had been pierced, and when he reached her lip he ran his thumb back and forth over the small dimple. “You seem so different now.”
“I’m not the same girl I was. I grew up.” She ignored the way the cross under her blouse seemed suddenly to weigh as much as an anchor. “Everyone does, even if they’re Kyn and they don’t age. You’ve changed, too.” She eyed the black hair spilling over his shoulders. She often envied the Kyn their hair, which like their fingernails sometimes grew several inches longer overnight, usually right after it was cut. The Kyn never had to suffer a bad hair day more than one day. “You’ve nailed the ponytail look, I think, but how did you get all this new muscle?”
Suddenly he looked tired and unhappy. “I have also been training.”
What was wrong with him? Was she being too much of a pest? Was he sick of her already? “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
He turned his head as a three-tone chime sounded. “What is that?”
“Someone’s at the door. Probably Burke.” Chris sighed. “He worries.”
She didn’t find Burke waiting in the hall; one of the visiting Kyn stood outside the suite. As soon as Chris opened the door, the strong scent of almonds wafted over her, and she had to swallow a groan. It was the same spike-haired troublemaker who had started the brawl in the armory.
Why is he on this floor? “May I help you, sir?”
“There ye are, Pearl Girl.” His lips peeled back from his white teeth and fully emerged fangs. “The bald one said ye were occupied, but I suspected if I tracked ye, I’d find ye alone.” He swiped at her wrist and then frowned when she moved out of reach. “Come, I would have ye before the night wanes away.”
Have me? No Darkyn male had ever come after her demanding blood or sex, and for a second she wanted to slap him. But Burke had warned her that European Kyn did things differently; evidently they expected to help themselves to the household humans. Lucan would have no problem with her refusing him, but he would expect her to do so without turning it into an international immortal incident.
“I’m sorry, sir, but I’m not available to serve you tonight.” Or for the rest of eternity, you pretentious ape. “I’ll be happy to call down to Mr. Burke—”
“I want no other.” He gave her the once-over and breathed in. “Not been taken tonight, then? Be they blind in this stronghold? Never worry, I’ll put ye to good use.” He crossed the threshold and, when she backed away, leered at her. “No need to play shy, Pearl Girl. I know how it is with ye household wenches.” He stopped advancing and frowned past her. “What is this?”
She glanced over her shoulder to see Jamys just behind her, his eyes glowing, his expression as lethal as the long copper blades in his fists. “This would be the reason I’m not available, sir.” Since they hadn’t formally met, it was her duty to introduce them, and now she couldn’t remember a single word of the proper protocol. “This is Lord Jamys Durand, son of Suzerain Thierry Durand. And you are . . . ?”
“Vander.” He bobbed his head at Jamys and raised his empty hands. “No trespass intended, Durand. I thought the wench dallied alone here.” A sly look came into his eyes. “Since ye have no desire to bed the mortal, I’ll take her to my chambers.”
Jamys stepped around Chris, putting himself between her and Vander.
Chris heard Jamys make a low, fierce sound in his throat and put her hand on his sleeve. Under her fingers she felt his muscles tighten and hoped she could talk faster than he could strike.
“Mr. Vander, my master, Lord Lucan, has given me to Lord Durand for his exclusive use during his stay. Lord Durand is obviously not interested in sharing me, and he would like you to leave.” When Vander gave her an incredulous look, she added, “Now, please.”
“’Tis unnatural, to draw copper over use of a mere wench.” Vander retreated back into the hall, but he gave Chris an ugly look. “I’ll be seeing ye again, Pearl Girl.”
Not if I see you first, Chris thought as she closed the door and secured it. Only then did she realize she was trembling so hard her knees were wobbling. “I might need to rethink my career strategy.”
“Christian.” His voice caressed her as if it were rough velvet, as he pulled her around to face him, but he looked ready to kill something. He took his hands off her to pace around the room and utter something lengthy and mangled in French.
“It’s all right. The guy made a mistake.” So had she, staying here as long as she had. “I’ll tell Burke about it before I go home, and he’ll have Lucan explain things to him. I’ll stop in tomorrow night and check on you.” Feeling awkward, she opened the door. “Good night.”
Chapter 6
Jamys moved so fast he had her in his arms before she could blink. “Do not go. We have hardly had an hour together. You can stay a little longer.”
“I can’t. I have to . . .” Something rushed in her ears, and she shook her head, trying to remember what she had to do. All she could think was how much she did want to stay. “You don’t need me around.”
“I would like some bloodwine.” He took her hand and led her to the kitchen. “You can show me how to prepare it for myself.”
“Sure. I stocked some of my favorite Spanish red for you. You’re going to love it.” She started to open the wine drawer but stopped and glanced up at him. “You already know how to mix bloodwine, and five minutes ago you said you didn’t want any.”
His jaw set. “I changed my mind.”
“Okay, fine.” She reached into the drawer, took out a bottle, and used the wine opener to uncork it. She took a glass down from the cabinet, filled it, and set it on the counter. “Can I borrow one of your daggers?” she asked as she began rolling up her sleeve.
He drew back a step. “I do not want your blood.”
“Bloodwine with no blood. Right.” She picked up the glass, sipped from it, and nodded before she filled it to the rim. “Would you like me to run a bubble bath for you? Or I could polish your boots, press your clothes, give you a manicure—”
Jamys took the wineglass out of her hand and set it aside. “Stop talking to me like that. You are not my lackey.”
“I’m not supposed to argue with immortals, but I’m afraid that is exactly what I am.” She took another sip of the wine, which made her lip sting. “So you don’t have to waste your talent or fake the friendship thing to make me feel better about it. Serving you is my job.”
He put his hand against her cheek. “What have they done to you?”
He didn’t know anything about her, Chris realized. Maybe it was time he did. “When I met Sam, I was nothing but trash. A runaway fifteen-year-old kid with twenty-eight cents in my pocket. I’d just gotten fired for punching my boss, who thought the three dollars an hour he paid me under the table also entitled him to treat me like a hospitality wench. When it comes to sexist jerks, humans aren’t all that different from the Darkyn.”
Jamys moved his hand to her shoulder. “You deserve better.”
“I have better.” She looked around at the beautiful kitchen that would always, and never, be hers. “Sam and Lucan took me in. Besides trusting me with what has to be the biggest secret of all time, they also care about me. Genuinely care. They gave me this job and, for the first time in my life, a chance to live with some dignity. So that’s what they’ve done, my lord.” She smiled blindly for a moment until she tasted blood. “Damn it.”
Jamys cradled her face between his palms and tilted her head back. “Vander struck you?”
“It wasn’t him. I bit my lip too hard. Old nervous habit.” She ran her finger over the tender spot. “With the way this day has gone, tomorrow I’ll probably wake up looking like Angelina Jolie.”
Jamys’s fingers drifted down from her cheeks to trace along the sides of her throat. She half expected him to step away, but his hands kept moving, over the curves of her shoulders and along the outsides of her arms, encircling her wrists for a moment before moving to her waist. At the same time, his thoughts poured into her mind. You should not be so cruel to something this soft and lovely. He lowered his head and ran the tip of his tongue over her sore lip.
The tingling heat left by the intimate caress made Chris close her eyes. “Do that again and I’ll never leave.”
He waited until she was looking at him again before he slowly and deliberately put his mouth on hers. This time he tasted her with a gentle kiss that was as sweet as it was seductive.
Chris curled her hands into fists as she stood perfectly still. She had stopped wishing a long time ago, because she knew dreams didn’t come true. Yet here was Jamys, astounding her with a kiss that felt as if it might never end. What did it mean? He didn’t want to her to go? He never wanted her to leave him again? That was as crazy as the delight and desire he was pouring into her heart.