Incubus Dreams - Laurell K. Hamilton [82]
I half expected him to leech onto me when I came through the door, but he didn’t. I stood there in the sudden dimness of the curtained kitchen, letting my eyes adjust. My eyes automatically turned to where Richard had been, but I forced myself to look for Fredo first. He’d moved closer like a good bodyguard, leaning against the small two-seater table in the breakfast nook. The white roses that Jean-Claude sent every week framed Fredo’s darkness. His fingers were tracing the edges of his jacket again. I’d never seen Fredo use his knives, but something told me that he’d get to his blades faster than I’d get to my gun, not to mention my knife. The back sheath was really an emergency backup, not a main weapon. If I’d wanted a blade as a main weapon, I’d have put on the wrist sheaths.
I eased into the room away from Fredo, not because he meant me harm, but simply on principle. I wasn’t at my best, and he was the only professional bad guy in the room, so I treated him with the caution he deserved. Besides, I had to redeem my earlier stupidity somehow, and the days when I would have picked a fight just to reassure myself I was still tough were long ago and far away. Being a girl, that phase had been shorter anyway. We are much more practical creatures than men, as a general rule.
Richard was still at the table. Clair was beside him now. She had a hand on his good shoulder, her small hand very pale against the darkness of his skin. She was watching me. Her eyes were blue, a dark sort of gray blue, but blue nonetheless.
Micah stood at the side of the island closest to the table. He seemed tense, but it was a flicker of his eyes that helped me find Damian and Nathaniel.
The vampire had wedged himself into the corner between the cabinets and the sink. He was holding his knees tight to his chest, his face resting on them, so that he could hide his eyes. He’d managed to hide almost all of himself in the blue velvet dressing gown and the fall of his own hair. Nathaniel was beside him on the floor. He was touching Damian’s hands, but that was all.
Nathaniel looked up at me, and there was something in his violet eyes, pain, helplessness, something. I wasn’t mad anymore, and I didn’t feel claustrophobic as I crossed the kitchen to them. I knelt on the other side of Damian and looked a question at Nathaniel. “I thought my touch might help him until you got back inside.”
I nodded. It sounded logical.
“He didn’t want me to touch him much.” He wasn’t hurt when he said it, it was just a fact.
I touched Damian’s bowed head. His hand suddenly wrapped around my wrist. The movement had been too fast to see, which didn’t happen often to me with vamps, and shouldn’t have happened with this one. The speed of it, and the strength in his hand made me gasp.
He raised up and gave me the full look of those emerald eyes. I was suddenly struck by the sheer beauty of him. It was almost a physical force. As if beauty were a hammer and I’d taken a hit directly between the eyes.
“My God,” Nathaniel whispered.
It took more effort than was pretty for me to tear my glance away from Damian. Once I saw Nathaniel’s face it was easier, and I could breathe again. “Do you see it, too?” I asked.
He nodded. “It’s like a really good face-lift, not much change, but the changes are just right.”
“What are the two of you talking about?” Damian asked.
His talking made me look at him again, and I was held spellbound. He’d always been handsome, but not like this. “It’s vampire powers, somehow. I thought as my servant he’d be less able to do that, not more.”
“I don’t think it’s mind games, Anita,” Nathaniel said. He reached out to touch Damian’s face.
Damian pulled back. “What? What’s wrong with my face?”
“Absolutely nothing,