"Very funny. You shouldn't have sent them alone."
"We are safe from Serephina tonight, ma petite, and as long as they stay in town, safe from Xavier."
"How can you be so sure?" I crossed my arms over my stomach.
He leaned his back against the window and looked at me. "Your Monsieur Kirkland handled himself well tonight. I think you worry unnecessarily about him."
"One night of heroics doesn't keep you safe," I said.
"It will be dawn soon, ma petite; even Xavier cannot bear the light of day. All the vampires will be seeking shelter. They will have no time to chase our young men."
I stared at him, trying to read past his pleasant face. "I wish I was as sure as you seem to be."
He smiled then, and pushed away from the wall. He slid out of his jacket and let it fall to the rose-colored carpet.
"What are you doing?"
"Undressing."
I jerked a thumb at the bedroom, "Undress in there."
He began unbuttoning his shirt.
"In the other room, right now," I said.
He pulled the white shirt out of his pants, working the last few buttons as he walked towards me. The flesh of his chest and stomach had more color than the shirt. He was pumped up and human-looking on blood, part of it mine. The dried bloodstains that had soaked through the shirt marred the pale perfection of his body.
I expected him to try to kiss me, or something, but he walked past me. The back of the shirt was brownish with dried blood. He peeled it off his skin with a sound like tearing. He dropped the shirt on the carpet and walked into the bedroom.
I stood there staring after him. There had been white scars on his back. At least I thought that's what they were. Hard to tell through all the blood. He left the bedroom door open, and in a few minutes I heard water running in the bathtub.
I sat down in one of the straight-back chairs. I wasn't sure what else I was supposed to do. Water ran for a long time, then silence, then sloshing water. He was in the tub. He hadn't closed the bathroom door first. Great.
"Ma petite," he called.
I sat there for a minute, unwilling to move.
"Ma petite, I know you are there. I can hear you breathing."
I walked to the edge of the bedroom door, very careful not to look inside. I leaned my back against the wall and crossed my arms. "What do you want?"
"There seem to be no clean towels."
"What am I supposed to do about it?"
"Could you call down to housekeeping and have some sent up?"
"I guess so."
"Thank you, ma petite."
I stomped over to the phone, pissed. He'd known there were no clean towels before he got into the tub. Hell, I'd known there were no clean towels, but I'd been so busy listening to him splash around in the water I hadn't thought of it.
I was as mad at me as I was at him. He was always a tormenting son of a bitch. I was supposed to watch myself around him better than this. I was in a hotel room that looked like a freaking bridal suite with Jean-Claude all naked and soapy in the next room. After what I'd seen with Jason, there shouldn't have been this much sexual tension in the air, but there was. Maybe it was habit, or maybe Larry was right. I just didn't believe that Jean-Claude was a rotting corpse.
I called for more towels.
They would be happy to bring some up. No one bitched about the time. No one questioned. You can always tell how much you're paying for a room by how little they complain.
A maid brought me four big, soft towels. I looked at her for a full minute, hesitating. I could have her take the towels into Jean-Claude.
She said, "Ma'am?"
I took the towels, said thanks, and closed the door. I just couldn't let a strange woman see that I had a naked vampire in my tub. I wasn't even sure the vampire part was what made it embarrassing. Good girls do not end up with naked male anything in their bathtubs at four something in the morning. Maybe I wasn't a good girl. Maybe I never had been.
I hesitated at the bedroom door. The room was dark. The only light came from the bathroom, spilling in an oblong across the carpet.
I crushed the towels to my chest, took a deep breath, and stepped into the room. I could see the bathtub from here, but mercifully not all of it. I had a glimpse of white porcelain and a mound of white bubbles. Just seeing the bubble bath made the muscles in my shoulders relax a little. Bubbles can hide a multitude of sins.
I stopped at the bathroom door.
Jean-Claude lay back against the edge of the tub. His black hair was wet and had obviously been cleaned. Strands of it clung to his bare shoulders. His arms lay propped on the edge of the bathtub, his head resting against the dark tile of the wall. One pale hand was suspended in midair as if reaching for something, but the hand was utterly limp. His eyes were closed, making black half-moons against his pale cheeks. Beads of water clung to his face and what I could see of his body. He looked almost asleep.