Refuge(16)

With an irritated sigh, a man stood up and came around the chairs. He was tall, and his dark auburn hair hung in unkempt waves to his shoulders. His complexion was pale as if he did not see much sun, but that did not take away from his handsome aristocratic features. Hooded brown eyes glared at me, and his mouth was turned down as he crossed his arms and blocked my passage. I couldn’t help but notice that his pants and jacket looked like they were from another era, and they were wrinkled and lightly soiled.

I stared at him for several seconds, not because I was afraid of him, but because he looked so much like Stuart Townsend in Queen of the Damned. The resemblance was uncanny. I think I smiled, which only made the man scowl even harder. After a month of fighting with Nikolas and coming face-to-face with real vampires, this guy was about as scary as Michael. There was something slightly off about his stare and his disheveled appearance, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

“You must be new or you would know no one comes up here. They prefer to use the other library. I am sure you would be happier there.”

I met his dark gaze without wavering. “I appreciate your concern, but I like it here.” I moved to go past him, half expecting him to try to block me again, but he only watched silently as I took the other chair and opened my book. I felt his eyes burning into me for a long moment before he made a grumbling sound and went back to his own chair.

Once he sat, the only sounds were the whisper of pages turning and the soft cracks and pops from the fire. It was hard to believe I was reading a first edition of one of my favorite books, which had just been sitting on a shelf for anyone to read. Maybe a book like this didn’t hold as much interest for people who had been around when the book was first released. I ran my hand along the open page and hoped I never got too old or too jaded to appreciate things like this.

It took me a few minutes to realize I was the only one turning pages. Something told me my companion was staring at me again, but I was determined not to give him the satisfaction of reacting to his behavior. If this was his attempt at scaring me off, he’d have to try a lot harder. To prove it, I pulled my feet up under me and prepared to lose myself in Jane’s world.

He seemed to settle down after that, and it was another twenty minutes before I heard him shift in his chair and make small huffing sounds. I was tempted to tell him there could be no way I was disturbing him now, but I refused to acknowledge him. Maybe he would give up or just go away once he realized I was here until I was ready to leave. However, after another ten minutes of listening to him fidget and grumble under his breath, I was ready to throw a book at him. And he said I was making a racket.

“She was a beautiful woman, but always so serious.”

His voice startled me into looking over at him. “Excuse me?”

He waved a hand at the book I held. “Charlotte. Most people said that Emily was the fairer one, but she really had nothing to her older sister. Such a gifted but tragic family.”

It took me a moment to understand what he was saying. “You knew the Brontë sisters?” I didn’t try to keep the disbelief out of my voice.

He looked affronted, and his voice rose a notch. “Are you insinuating that I am lying?”

I shrugged. “I’m not insinuating anything.”

“Still, I don’t think I like your tone.”

I turned my attention back to my book. “Then don’t talk to me.”

He made another series of huffing sounds and got up to go to the other side of the room. After a few minutes of quiet I figured he had gone. I felt a little bad because I hadn’t meant to drive him away, but I had as much right as him to use this room. And it wasn’t like I had been disturbing him, except for dropping the book. He looked like a twenty-year-old, but he behaved like a crotchety old man who was put out because he couldn’t have his way.

It surprised me when he appeared beside his chair again with a different book in his hands. His body shook a little as he sat, and I noticed a fine sheen of moisture on his face.

“Are you ill?”

Apparently, that was the absolute wrong thing to ask him. His nostrils flared and his eyes darkened even more. “What is that supposed to mean?” he snarled, and I felt the hairs rise up on my arms. Okay, maybe he was a little scarier than Michael.

“It doesn’t mean anything. I just thought you might not be feeling well.” Something told me he would not react well to a sympathetic voice, so I kept my tone as normal as possible.

“I am perfectly fine.”

“Good.”

“Why do you care anyway?” He still sounded angry, but the snarl was gone at least.