The Den of Shadows Quartet - Amelia Atwater-Rhodes [135]
She rubbed absently at her wrist as she shook her head. “I never have been.”
“There are a few others who come and go, so don’t be surprised if one of them pulls you aside. I’ll tell the guards on the west wing not to challenge you.” Jaguar paused, and she could see indecision on his face before he said, “You can go if you want to.”
It was not a command, and she wondered why he was offering the permission. He had already made it clear that she could speak freely, and she assumed asking to leave was within the realm of what she could say.
Absently, she brushed back some of the hair from her face, and she saw as Jaguar’s eyes followed how the long strands slid across her throat. Though his dark skin did not show pallor as clearly as Lord Daryl’s had, Turquoise could tell Jaguar had not fed yet, and she recognized the hungry look in his black eyes.
Testing, she stood, the movement appearing reluctant. “I’ll leave you to your work if you’d like.”
He answered the way she had expected him to. Not raising his gaze from her throat, he said, “Come here.” Though the words were an order, the tone left room for argument.
For a moment, Turquoise almost felt guilty She was intentionally manipulating him. A feeding vampire is an easy target; most of them completely lost sense of their surroundings as they drew blood. Jaguar did not even try to catch her mind as his lips fell to her throat. If she had been armed, it would have been revoltingly easy to kill him.
CHAPTER 8
JAGUAR RELEASED TURQUOISE reluctantly, holding her wrists until he was sure she could stand on her own. She took a deep breath and leaned back against a wall. He had taken a little more than she would have lost in a hospital blood donation, but it was enough to make her light-headed.
The sound of a throat being cleared in the doorway brought her back to her senses. When she saw who stood there, an instant of frozen panic shoved the fuzziness aside.
Lord Daryl. He wore his customary steel-toed boots; just seeing them made Turquoise’s ribs ache in memory. She knew his charcoal gray pants would be dry clean only, as would the blue silk shirt. His hair reflected any color around him like a raven’s feathers, and just now it appeared black with blue highlights.
His features looked sculpted from ivory with just a faint flush — he had fed tonight, but not recently.
And he was beautiful. Why were vampires always beautiful?
In her years as a hunter, she had looked for answers to this. She knew many of them had been changed because their beauty attracted attention. She knew that the vampiric blood erased all the little human flaws, smoothed the skin, firmed the muscle, and in general perfected their form. But knowing intellectually was not the same as seeing.
Beautiful like the Devil, and twice as frightening. Turquoise’s heart was suddenly pounding so hard she could feel it against her temples; she knew Jaguar and Lord Daryl both would be able to hear it, but she could not focus enough to slow it. Two years of Bruja training might as well never have occurred.
“What do you want, Daryl?” Jaguar snapped. Clearly, he did not like his guest. He held Turquoise against himself, either protectively or possessively Turquoise liked to think it was the first. But Jaguar’s protection had its dangers, too. Lord Daryl had always been jealous.
“New acquisition?” Lord Daryl bit out, his gaze falling on Turquoise with instant recognition before it rose to meet Jaguar’s in blatant hatred.
“A gift from Jeshickah. What do you want?” Jaguar repeated, his feelings for Daryl mirroring Daryl’s for him.
“Has Jeshickah decided whether she is going to stay?” Lord Daryl responded, apparently in no hurry to get to the point.
Jaguar shook his head. “She hasn’t told me her plans. If you’ve got nothing better to do than chat, Daryl, I must ask you to leave. I have work.” Daryl