Still thrilled by the possibility of what she’d witnessed, she nodded. “That’s fine.”
“It is?” Octavian cocked one brow.
“No, I mean, it’s fine that you hit him back.” She waved her hand, dismissing the unimportant discussion. More than ever, she needed to know the comarré’s vulnerabilities. She came around to the front of the desk, leaned against it, and peered into Damian’s eyes.
A few moments passed. Wisely, Octavian let the silence go unbroken. At last, when she detected the briefest hint of apprehension in the comar’s eyes, she spoke. “Daciana filled me in on your stay in Paradise City.” She crossed her arms like the whole thing bored her. “I take it you enjoyed your time with the comarré Chrysabelle?”
“Never met her,” Damian spat.
Her instinct was to strike out, but that had earned her nothing the last time. She lifted her flesh hand and studied her fingernails. “And yet you stayed at her house? Is she that poor a hostess?”
Damian sneered. “I’m done talking.”
She nodded. Octavian glanced at her, eyes questioning. All in good time, she wanted to tell him. Instead, she walked back behind the desk and sat. “Help the comar into a chair, will you, darling?”
Damian grunted as Octavian shoved him into one of the seats before the desk.
“Ribs still bothering you?” She smiled. “We can do this the hard way or the easy way. I prefer the hard way, but you may not.” She tipped her head. “What will it be?”
He leaned forward as though on the verge of spilling whatever information he had and met her smile with one of his own. “How about you take a long walk into the sunrise?”
She laughed once, then went stone sober. “I can think of a thousand ways to kill you that would be far more interesting than you are right now.
Damian leaned back into the chair. “But you won’t.” He bent his head, displaying the barely visible marks from her last bite. “You need my blood.”
“You’re right that I need blood, but you’re mistaken if you think it has to come from you.” She stared at him, wondering how much fear he was capable of hiding. “As Dominus, I have unlimited funds. Purchasing another comar would not be impossible.”
He shrugged one shoulder. “There would be questions.”
“And I would answer them by telling the Primoris Domus you ran from me again.” She smiled softly. “But we both know that would just be my way of covering up your death.”
Damian went still for a long moment. “I’m not going to help you hunt down Chrysabelle.”
This time Tatiana shrugged. “Then it’s a good thing you can provide me with blood or I’d have no need for you at all.” And in truth, she was done dealing with him for more than sustenance. There was little need for this aggravation now.
“I can get information out of him,” Octavian offered.
“Don’t bother. The comarré’s protector is dead.”
Damian’s eyes rounded slightly, but Octavian’s jaw dropped. “Malkolm?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t believe it.”
She pointed to the monitor. “It’s all over the kine news.” She rested her hands on the arms of the chair as she looked at her comar. “The one chance you had just disappeared.”
For the first time, genuine fear played through his gaze.
She nodded to Octavian. “Take him away.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Mal came back together on Chrysabelle’s balcony, staying in the shadows so none of the security cameras would pick up his form and alert the crew downstairs. He wouldn’t hide his presence from them too much longer, but Chrysabelle’s desire to keep him to herself for a while gave him an undeniable thrill. Almost as much as her declaration of love, which had caused the voices to gag and retch. Screw them. They’d just have to learn to deal.
He smiled as he opened the French door and went inside. Smiling was such an odd thing for him. It had been centuries since he’d had a reason to. “Hi,” he whispered.
“Hi,” Chrysabelle whispered back, locking the master suite door behind her as she came in. “I told everyone I was going to take a long hot shower and not to disturb me. They don’t suspect a thing.”
“Are you sure?” He pointed at her clothes. “Or were you that dirty when you went outside?”
She looked at what she was wearing. It bore the marks of their embrace, remnants of soot and his time in the sewer. “Well, if they noticed, they didn’t say anything. I’ll change while you’re showering.”
He glanced toward the bathroom. He knew that room well. Last time he’d been in there, she’d opened a portal to the Aurelian and he’d gone through it to save her, only to bring back her dead body. It would be good to replace that memory with something else. “Turn the water on for me?”
She gave him an odd look. “Just because I said I love you doesn’t mean I’m going to wait on you hand and foot, you know.”
He shook his head. “I’d never assume that. I’d rather the mirrors steam up before I go in there.” Coward.
“Oh.” She grimaced apologetically. “You don’t want to see your true self.”
“After the day I’ve just had? No.” Seeing his inner monster seemed like overkill after the mayor had just attempted to put him to death for being a monster. That was enough of a reminder. No, it isn’t.