yourself to say them! “You—do.”
He released her. “Good girl.”
10
S it.” Lothaire pointed to the dining room. Atop the extended table were silver-covered dishes and two place settings—with enough utensils to confound the girl.
Elizabeth glanced around. “Who cooked this?”
“A chef came earlier,” Lothaire said evenly, surprised by his lingering lucidity. Before Elizabeth had woken, he’d watched the even rise and fall of her chest, his lids growing heavy.
“How’d the cook get past the force field?” she asked. “I thought it was impenetrable.”
“It is.” In theory, the boundary could never be breached, protecting her against the legions of immortals who would give anything to kill or capture her—just to punish or coerce Lothaire.
If they could even find this place.
But Lothaire wouldn’t take any chances. In his long life, he’d found that whenever one described something in the Lore as always or never happening, fate usually proved him wrong. “I can open it at will, of course.”
When she chose the seat to the right of the end, he snapped, “Ah-ah. Not that one. You do not sit there.” He’d had no control over Stefanovich’smortal whore all those years ago, but now, in his own home, he would make the rules for this human.
“Okay, okay.” She moved the place setting one spot, then sat.
“Proceed.”
With a glare, she unfolded her napkin and placed it on her lap, then spooned portions onto her plate. As she began her meal, taking dainty bites of various dishes, he noted that her table manners weren’t as crude as he’d expected.
She chose that moment to lift a forkful of foie gras, letting it plop back to its plate. “What is this?”
“It’s not the provincial fare you’re accustomed to, but you’ll make do.”
“I’m full.”
Her meal was barely touched. “Eat. More.”
When she began nibbling the garnish, he said, “That’s parsley.”
“Only thing I recognize.”
“Eat more of everything else .”
After a pause that would have gotten others gutted, she cut into a succulent lobster tail, took a hesitant bite, then furtively spat it into her napkin.
Two things struck him. She’d never had lobster; the foolish chit didn’t like lobster. Even he remembered the taste of it.
The salmon fared no better. Soon there’d be more food in her napkin than in her stomach.
“The meal smells delicious, or at least it would to a human,” he said. “Especially one who could eat a horse . Do you challenge me yet again?”
“I was born and raised on a mountain . Then I went to prison. I’ve never eaten food like this. Fancy sea food like this. If you wanted me to eat fish, it should’ve come out of a Long John Silver’s bag.”
Ah, just so. “Then eat the bread.”
She began buttering a flaky roll. “Saroya really wants me to put on weight?” When he nodded, she said, “And you’re on board?”
He thought her lovely now, nearly irresistible, but he had no marked preference. More flesh meant more of what he already liked. And Saroyawould be the one inhabiting the body for eternity. “If my Bride wants it, then I’m in accord.”
“Alrighty, but don’t say I didn’t warn you, ’cause too much bread and my ass’ll get huge.” She took a bite.
“Noted.”
“You talk funny. Is your accent European?”
He rolled his eyes. “It’s Russian —”
“Wait! You said bride ?” Elizabeth sputtered. “You married her?”
The vampire exhaled impatiently, sitting at the head of the table. “Marriage is unnecessary to my kind. Our bond is much stronger.”
“Than what?”
“A Bride is a vampire’s mate, the female meant only for him. Saroya is mine.”
Ellie processed this information— keep an open mind —then asked, “How do you know she is?”
He tilted his head in that appraising way, as if considering the pros and cons of answering her. “She blooded me.” At her questioning look, he said, “Each adult male vampire walks
He released her. “Good girl.”
10
S it.” Lothaire pointed to the dining room. Atop the extended table were silver-covered dishes and two place settings—with enough utensils to confound the girl.
Elizabeth glanced around. “Who cooked this?”
“A chef came earlier,” Lothaire said evenly, surprised by his lingering lucidity. Before Elizabeth had woken, he’d watched the even rise and fall of her chest, his lids growing heavy.
“How’d the cook get past the force field?” she asked. “I thought it was impenetrable.”
“It is.” In theory, the boundary could never be breached, protecting her against the legions of immortals who would give anything to kill or capture her—just to punish or coerce Lothaire.
If they could even find this place.
But Lothaire wouldn’t take any chances. In his long life, he’d found that whenever one described something in the Lore as always or never happening, fate usually proved him wrong. “I can open it at will, of course.”
When she chose the seat to the right of the end, he snapped, “Ah-ah. Not that one. You do not sit there.” He’d had no control over Stefanovich’smortal whore all those years ago, but now, in his own home, he would make the rules for this human.
“Okay, okay.” She moved the place setting one spot, then sat.
“Proceed.”
With a glare, she unfolded her napkin and placed it on her lap, then spooned portions onto her plate. As she began her meal, taking dainty bites of various dishes, he noted that her table manners weren’t as crude as he’d expected.
She chose that moment to lift a forkful of foie gras, letting it plop back to its plate. “What is this?”
“It’s not the provincial fare you’re accustomed to, but you’ll make do.”
“I’m full.”
Her meal was barely touched. “Eat. More.”
When she began nibbling the garnish, he said, “That’s parsley.”
“Only thing I recognize.”
“Eat more of everything else .”
After a pause that would have gotten others gutted, she cut into a succulent lobster tail, took a hesitant bite, then furtively spat it into her napkin.
Two things struck him. She’d never had lobster; the foolish chit didn’t like lobster. Even he remembered the taste of it.
The salmon fared no better. Soon there’d be more food in her napkin than in her stomach.
“The meal smells delicious, or at least it would to a human,” he said. “Especially one who could eat a horse . Do you challenge me yet again?”
“I was born and raised on a mountain . Then I went to prison. I’ve never eaten food like this. Fancy sea food like this. If you wanted me to eat fish, it should’ve come out of a Long John Silver’s bag.”
Ah, just so. “Then eat the bread.”
She began buttering a flaky roll. “Saroya really wants me to put on weight?” When he nodded, she said, “And you’re on board?”
He thought her lovely now, nearly irresistible, but he had no marked preference. More flesh meant more of what he already liked. And Saroyawould be the one inhabiting the body for eternity. “If my Bride wants it, then I’m in accord.”
“Alrighty, but don’t say I didn’t warn you, ’cause too much bread and my ass’ll get huge.” She took a bite.
“Noted.”
“You talk funny. Is your accent European?”
He rolled his eyes. “It’s Russian —”
“Wait! You said bride ?” Elizabeth sputtered. “You married her?”
The vampire exhaled impatiently, sitting at the head of the table. “Marriage is unnecessary to my kind. Our bond is much stronger.”
“Than what?”
“A Bride is a vampire’s mate, the female meant only for him. Saroya is mine.”
Ellie processed this information— keep an open mind —then asked, “How do you know she is?”
He tilted his head in that appraising way, as if considering the pros and cons of answering her. “She blooded me.” At her questioning look, he said, “Each adult male vampire walks
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