He'd executed a short bow when he stepped into the foyer, but he'd not yet spoken. His overly firm grip on the towel revealed some tension. When she registered the steady thud of his heart, smelled his heat and the life pulsing through him, a response rippled through her. She countered it with irritation, trying to force herself to be sensible. Careful.
"Are you mute?"
"No, my lady. I would never speak before you gave me leave."
Despite her intention to remain inscrutable, she couldn't help the way her interest rose when he spoke so formally. "Tell me who you are," she said, giving him a mental nudge to ensure a truthful answer.
His broad shoulder twitched, a corner of his mouth curving up. "There's no need to use compulsion, my lady. I'm Jacob Green. Thomas sent me."
At that shocking statement, he slowly raised his hand, making it obvious he intended no threat. From one of the display tables, he picked up a small envelope embellished like a suitor's calling card, complete with a red wax seal and a curl of gold ribbon.
Emotion flooded her chest at the sight of it. For a moment she couldn't speak, could do nothing but look at something Thomas had touched, recently.
Jacob stepped forward. Most men were taller than she was, and he was no exception at a little over six feet. "He died at peace, with great regard and affection for you until the end."
Taking the envelope from his hand, she felt the warmth of his skin even though she made sure their fingers did not touch. Somehow she felt reassured by that heat, by him standing so close. Not improperly, just close enough to feel his support, an unspoken offer of assistance. That was what it felt like to have a human servant, to go to ground during daylight and know he was nearby. Watching over her.
She shrugged off the unexpected thought. Turning the envelope over and over in her hands, she suppressed the sudden need to crush it as if she could absorb the essence of the man who had sent it, feel the way she'd felt when Thomas had been with her. Not completely alone.
He'd been her companion for a hundred and fifty years. Then, after all they'd been through together, she'd abandoned him to die alone.
Aware of her audience, she got a grip on herself and broke open the seal.
* * *
As she bent her head over the note, Jacob fought the urge to reach out to her, touch the rippling satin of her straight black hair. Thomas had shown him sketches, a portrait. He'd described her with the emotional eloquence only a dying man could conjure, but he'd admitted nothing would come close to meeting Lady Elyssa Amaterasu Yamato Wentworth in person.
He'd pictured her taller, likely because Thomas had told him vivid, heart-stopping tales of her battles with other vampires during the early territory wars. But she'd been born a vampire, and her Asian mother had apparently given her the petite build. Lady Lyssa was considered one of the most powerful and ancient vampires still living, fully in command of her faculties and abilities, not a common occurrence for any vampire over five hundred, much less one over one thousand years old.
Even while cursing the memory of her dead husband, Rex, Thomas had attributed a portion of her uncanny aptitude for survival to him. An aptitude that had grown exponentially in the last fifty years due to the lessons Rex had taught as well as inflicted upon her.
She looked barely out of girlhood, a young woman in her early twenties. That impression vanished the moment Jacob looked into her eyes, a startling jade green rimmed with a solid black line around the irises. Generation upon generation of women were there, layered like rock strata. The energy of it emanated from her, mingling with her other-than-human power to influence and destroy. Despite that, the man in him noticed the bow of her lips, touched and glossed in burgundy, the way her soft black sweater clung to her upper body.
Her skirt was layers of gauze in hues of gold and green, reminiscent of a fairy. That, as well as the eyes, reminded him her father had been a Fey lord. She was a slim woman with perfectly shaped small breasts and nicely curving hips. Her slender legs teased him, a glimpse of knee or calf appearing between the points of the skirt as she moved.
Stirring and magnetic, she riveted his attention just by existing. She'd had that effect on him the very first time he'd seen her, over two years ago. But what made the strongest impression on him now was the flash of naked emotion in her eyes when she took the envelope from his hands.
My gracious lady, please accept this last offering from your humble servant. Something I know you will not go out and obtain for yourself. I give you Jacob. You and he need one another, I promise you. He will serve you well, far better than a feeble, bookish monk.
Lyssa was cognizant of Jacob's intent study as she read, as well as every motion he made. She was used to scrutiny by humans when she chose to walk among them, but his regard was different. Far more personal, as if he was memorizing every detail of her appearance and expressions.
He'd moved a step closer, a gesture of comfort, but he respected. her privacy by facing her so he looked beyond her shoulder, not down at her note. The heat of his body shimmered over her skin like the dangerous brush of sunlight.
Damn you, Thomas.
"Do you know what's in this?" She gestured with it. He stood so close the ribbon under the wax seal fluttered against his pectoral, the light covering of hair on his chest. It made her fingers itch to stroke. To curl in and tug.
He gazed down at her with those clear and steady blue eyes. "I know it was my introduction. Thomas said I'd need it. But I didn't read it."
The seal had been unbroken, applied with Thomas's particular method for the times she'd needed to be certain information was not compromised.
"I want my manicure. Where's Max?" She straightened, not backing away. When she tilted her head, she noted his attention was distracted by the proximity of her lips. She felt his gaze there like the teasing caress of a tongue, and had to quell the urge to moisten them. Try something improper, Sir Knight, and you'll regret it.
But would she?. She pushed the sly voice away. She was used to men being overwhelmingly attracted to her. It was the vampire allure. But she liked the look of this man. Of course, she'd intended to cap off her night by finding a dinner with similar specifications. Only this one far exceeded those specifications, tempting her to skip the whole spa experience and take him home for several days. She'd chain him spread-eagle on her bed and bite, scratch and suckle to her heart's content. While she wasn't willing to immediately capitulate to Thomas's recommendation of this man as a servant, she had his word she could trust him. It made her imaginings grow even more dangerously attractive.
"Max is fine, my lady. Sleeping quite deeply at his apartment, the aftereffect of his usual Chinese takeout… with a little bit of sleep aid added. I'll perform your manicure as well as a pedicure. If you'll permit it."
Add to that he'd somehow convinced Martin, the security guard, that he was an approved substitute for the evening. Not an easy feat. Clearing her throat, she managed to sweep a scornful glance over him. Enjoyed the journey immensely. "What training have you had to give me a manicure?"
"Thomas taught me."
His lips curved in that half smile again. Reassurance or humor she didn't know, but the reaction of her body took her by surprise. A hard shudder just below the level of muscle, like a simmering in her blood no human eye could see. Also unexpected was the fact he registered it. The smile disappeared. After a moment's hesitation, he pulled back the curtain dividing the waiting area from the private rooms of the salon. "Please let me attend to you, my lady."
She creased the fold of the note, frowning. Glanced down at the nail that had no polish.
Yes, her wounds healed quickly. Unfortunately, despite the myth that vampires were invincible, she could and did have bad hair days just like anyone else. One could use vampire glamour to make humans think they were seeing perfection, but it didn't work on other vampires without an exceptional level of effort. Unable to see her own face, she missed having a human servant to ensure she'd done her hair and makeup properly. To do quick fixes on her nails between full manicures. To help her dress and bathe.
The fact of the matter was, whether or not a reflection was needed, she liked being attended. Thomas had teased her about it, once he'd known her well enough to know when she was in the mood to be teased. He would have known this was not one of those moments.
The monk had relied heavily on her regard for him and her sentiment about his passing. It did not mollify her that he'd been right on both counts. While she knew she was taking petty revenge on the man who should not be the target of her ire, she couldn't stop herself.
"We shall see," she said at last, sweeping past him.
Chapter Two
As she moved past, he touched the small of her back, a guiding hand. It almost brought Lyssa to a freezing halt. When her gaze flickered up to his profile, she realized the gesture hadn't been calculated. Whatever Thomas had taught him of the deference she demanded was intertwined with an automatic instinct to project protective body language toward a woman. It didn't displease her, but it startled her, for she intimidated most men enough they'd never dare contact without invitation. He'd already moved into her personal space as if the boundary did not apply to him. Apparently it didn't, for nothing he'd done yet had bothered her. In fact, the way she hadn't reacted negatively to his nearness was the only thing that did bother her.