“This is the Winterheart Suite,” Chris murmured as she took out a plastic card and swiped it through the electronic locking mechanism. The door slowly retreated inward without a sound on its own. “No one else is staying on this floor, so you’ll have plenty of privacy.”
Accustomed as Jamys was to the medieval grandeur of Baucent, he preferred the simplicity of open space and clean lines. The design of the suite might have been plucked from his own dreams, effortlessly bringing inside the space, stillness, and stark colors of a moonlit night sky.
He admired the wide swaths of inclusions, in every color of gray, that flowed like smoke across the silver white marble walls. Low-profiled, white-upholstered black lacquer furnishings provided comfort without clutter, while narrow opaque panels shed lustrous blue light to outline the doorways to other spaces.
“I had the contractor install voice-activated lighting controls. Just say what room and the percentage of light that you want, like this: ‘living room, one hundred percent.’” As she spoke, lighting panels under the furniture and set inside the ebony wood floor began to glow, as did a frozen glacial shower of small glass spheres suspended on wires from the center of the ceiling.
Jamys appreciated the impressive technology, but he wanted to talk to her, not the room.
“You can whisper if you need to,” she told him. “The suite is soundproofed, and the controls are very sensitive.” She moved across the room. “This is a gas fireplace. I chose this model because it’s cleaner and more efficient than one that burns wood.” She demonstrated the device that fed and regulated the flames in the hearth, which occupied a glossy cube of black granite encased in a broad column of brushed steel.
From there Chris led him into a small kitchen. “I thought a refrigerator would be a waste of space, so stores of wine and blood are kept under the counters here.” She pulled out a drawer to reveal the refrigerated interior filled with a variety of bottles. “Unless you hang the Do Not Disturb sign on your door, our household staff will come in just before sunset daily to clean and restock. Also, if you’re planning to entertain someone who isn’t Kyn, just dial nine on the house phone and let our chef know what you’d like prepared for your guest.”
She had offered him his pick of females to replace her, and now presumed he would be bringing mortals to his suite, all with such bland indifference he might have been a complete stranger to her. Jamys couldn’t understand it. When last they had been together, she had been warm and giving, and—for a time—his only real friend in this place. She had given him her blood and offered him her body. She had more than liked him, he’d been convinced of it.
How could she have stopped caring for him? Was it possible that she had regretted their time together? Had she given him no thought at all in the three years since?
“Is there anything else you need, my lord?” Chris asked politely.
She truly wanted to leave him. He could hear the strain in her voice; he could see the tension in her hands and shoulders. She wouldn’t even look at him directly.
A dull anger rose inside him. He would not let her run out of here, no matter how much she wished to escape him. Not until he knew what had changed her feelings for him.
As if she could hear his thoughts, Chris looked up at him, her eyes guarded. “If you don’t care for the suite, we have other, more traditional accommodations available.”
Suddenly what she had been saying to him took on new meaning. I had the contractor install . . . I chose this model . . . I thought . . .
“This is yours.” He encompassed the room with a sweep of his hand. “You made this.”
“I designed and furnished it, but I don’t live here. When Sam moved in with Lucan, she gave me her old apartment.” She hugged her waist with her arms and looked away. “Sometimes, when I’m too tired to drive home, I sleep up here.”
“Alone?” he couldn’t help asking.
Her eyes glittered. “No, I usually invite the entire garrison up to cuddle with me. Unless the guys want to play Strip Scrabble or Naked Twister. Then we go to the rec room down the hall.” She stalked out of the kitchen.
She wasn’t indifferent to him, Jamys thought; she was furious. Dismay and exhilaration sent him after her, but when he emerged from the kitchen, he found her turned around and walking back to him.
Chris folded her hands in front of her and looked past his shoulder. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way, my lord,” she said in a voice devoid of emotion. “I apologize. It’s been a very long night.”
Jamys reached out to touch her cheek, but she flinched away. “Christian?”