by Honor James
“Which is why the men at the dinner looked as if I had all but shot you.” She closed her eyes as the reality of the situation occurred to her. She had lived all her life afraid of touch, afraid to have anyone touch her, and then with him she felt the immediate need to touch, to feel his hand on her, and he didn’t want that. Their society frowned on it. “I will ensure that I make the effort to do as you have asked,” she said finally as she looked at him. “What will my role be? Will I simply be your wife, or will I have duties as well?”
“As my wife”—that sounded odd coming from his mouth—“you will have duties. But for the time being you will be eased into them instead of having them thrust upon you. You will be in charge of the household and, with the country home, the tenants and their daily problems and any issues that might arise. As well, you will be responsible for any gatherings we might host, which with my rank will be a few,” he said softly. “In time, if you choose, you may also take over the task of seeing to our monies and all that they go toward, the various charities, the running of our country home, and this place as well. Those are but a few of the immediate tasks for you to consider,” he said, watching her.
“All right.” There was a lot for her to learn, but she was willing and it seemed she would have the time. “Do you have questions for me, Andries?” She had no idea what to expect on this, their wedding night. It seemed as if her touch bothered him, so she wasn’t sure what would happen between them, intimately.
“Not at this time,” he said as he frowned slightly. “You look as though you have a question but you’re hesitant to ask it,” he commented. “You can ask anything of me, Xandra, but I do not have the ability to read your mind.” He added the last in the hope of putting her at ease. “So if you have a question, you need to voice it,” he said, leaning forward with his elbows to his knees.
“What happens next?” she asked quietly. “You don’t like my touch, yet we are married. What happens now, Andries? Am I to become a wife in name alone?” It wouldn’t be unheard of, and she didn’t know why she was pushing it, but she felt cold and alone, hurt, and didn’t know why. “I’m sorry.” She had overstepped herself and she knew it from the look on his face. “Will you show me where I am to sleep please?”
“It’s not that I don’t like your touch, Xandra.” He had to correct that misconception now or she’d forever believe that. “I was not touched often, and when I was, it was violent and painful. To have a gentle hand touching me is strange. It is going to take a time for me to become accustomed to it,” he said, reaching out to touch her hand gently. “As to your question about being wife in name only, that would be your decision, Xandra. I will not push you into anything that you are not ready for,” he told her. Taking her hand in his, he tugged gently. “I will show you to the bedroom.” Standing, he led her down the hall to the master suite. Pushing open the frosted glass doors, he waved her into the large, very masculine room. “I know these spaces are not exactly friendly, so if you wish to alter anything, feel free,” he murmured from where he stood at her back.
She could practically feel him in the room, feel his very essence, and smiled. “I like it. I would like to possibly add a vanity for myself, but I very much like it.” She moved to the massive bed and touched the sheets. “This is very soft. What kind of material is it?” They had something where she was from called silk, but this was even softer. “Will these be our rooms”—she turned to look—“or mine alone?” The question was there, he just had to pick up on it.
“My people call it fretha. It comes from a plant that is processed, and the fibers are then turned into threads that then become—” He waved his hand to the bedding. “The choice is yours, Xandra, as in everything,” he told her softly. “You have rights in this marriage and as such any choices of this nature are in your hands.”
“I like it a great deal.” Xandra looked at him and shrugged. “I would like to be your wife, Andries. I would prefer not to sleep alone, to be able to feel like I matter at least to someone.” It could be, however, he needed time to adjust to her, as she would him. “There are many things about your people that I would prefer to learn from you, not a teacher, an assistant.” As nice as the assistant was.
“You only have to ask, my lady. I am ever your humble servant,” he said as he moved closer to her until he was close enough that he could feel the heat of her flesh through his clothing. Gently he cupped her cheeks and, lowering his head, lightly kissed her, need driving him hard enough that he had to take care or hurt her. She was so fragile in comparison to the non-Vampires of his world who, through several millennia of evolution, had strengthened enough that they were not easily harmed by his kind.
The touch of his lips to hers had her swaying closer to him. Hands on his chest, she kissed him back even as her fingers clenched in his shirt. The kiss seemed to burn into her very soul. It was so much different from the one given to her when they married. This one was of not only gentle care, barely leashed passion, but of hunger as well.
Licking her lips when he pulled back, she smiled and reached out, touching his cheek even as he cupped hers. “Tell me what it felt like, tasted like, when you licked my blood to seal our marriage.” She wanted to know everything about his people, her people.
“Sweet with a touch of spice,” he said, trying not to lean into her touch too much. While much of the sensual, provocative, and generally needy nature of his people had been trained and beaten from him, a soft touch was something he really had never overcome, so he’d avoided it at all costs. “I was actually concerned that it would scare or shock you when I did it. The non-Vampires of our world do not all accept it as standard practice for a joining or, as you call it, a marriage. It will allow me to find you anywhere at any time,” he said softly.
“You will think me…strange…when I admit this to you.” She stepped closer to him, the heat of his body against hers and making her feel warm all over. “I rather liked it. To know that I could have something that you would need, to have something you could use to live on.” She pulled back. “I know that sounds strange, but just the idea that you could need me for something so basic, it makes me feel even closer to you.” A sudden thought occurred as she asked, “How do you get the blood you need? I saw you eating food, but what I do know of your people is that you do need blood to survive, right?”
Nodding, he ran a hand to curl around the back of her neck. “We have blood depositories that bag the blood of the non-Vampires for those of us that require it. We used to drink directly from them and, in some cases, still do, but for the most part we get the blood delivered and just have to open the bag.” Rubbing his thumb slowly over her pulse, he found it amazing, yet again, that she seemed to covet his attention and closeness. It was a novel experience and one he worried might become necessary to him.
“Does it hurt?” she asked with wide pale eyes. “When you bite someone, does it hurt you, does it hurt them?” Her fingers reached up and she brushed them to his lips where the incisors made slight bumps. “It didn’t hurt when you made that small mark on my thumb. It felt really very nice.”
“It doesn’t hurt me. I only notice my teeth when they slide out by a bit of pressure on the ones to either side,” he told her. “The one I’m biting doesn’t tend to notice as our bodies put out a mild scent that hits the receptors inside your brain to induce great pleasure. It’s mildly euphoric or so I understand,” he said, his eyes noting something he hadn’t seen before. “The bite I’m told, feels like a mild pinch, but with the scent easing the pain, it can be orgasmic in nature,” he murmured, brushing her hair back. Seeing her ear, he froze. “Who harmed you in this manner, Xandra?” he asked in a low, dangerous tone. He was offended on her behalf at the injury and, oddly enough, was ready to kill whoever had done it with his bare hands.
She had forgotten the injury and paled slightly. Covering the offending ear, she said, “I will keep it covered. I have learned very well to ensure it is always covered.” Except when around her fath
er. He rather liked looking at it and seeing the damage he wrought. “It is the same who has broken ribs, fingers, given me the scars on my back.” She shrugged. “You didn’t think I was lying when I told you of his acts, did you?” And she saw that he had assumed that she was pushing it just a little too far, possibly a daughter afraid to return to the rule of her father when freedom was seen in a husband.
Moving to her, he pushed her hair back from her face and gently stroked his finger over the injury. “You didn’t tell me any of that or that he was the one that inflicted those wounds on you personally,” he said. He knew his voice sounded angry, rather fitting considering how angry he really was, and knew that if he ever came face-to-face with the man, he’d be hard pressed not to snap his neck. “What else has he done, Xandra?” he asked, almost afraid of the answer but knowing he needed her to tell him.
“Other than the beatings, the broken ribs, arm, fingers, and whippings”—she shrugged and sighed—“I believe the killing of my mother was the worst.” She looked into his eyes. “That was the same day I was given this”—she touched his hand over her ear and smiled wanly—“as a reminder of just who was the ruler of all that he surveyed.”
“I’m sorry, Xandra,” he murmured. “I should not have pushed.” He withdrew his hand, letting it slide down to her neck once more. Unsure now, he nodded to a set of doors behind her. “If you’d like to have a real water bath, feel free. I know not if you have anything for bedwear.” He didn’t know if she’d come with luggage. He really should have checked into that. “But there is a robe on the back of the door.” He still didn’t know if she wanted him to remain or if she wanted to sleep this night alone, which was adding to his discomfort and awkwardness, though he was hopeful she couldn’t see that.
“Don’t apologize for something that is not of your doing, Andries.” She looked toward the doors where the bath was and then back at him. “I have luggage. I have no idea where it is. If you send word to Diego, he can tell you.” He would likely tell them to take a flying leap. “Will you be here? After my bath that is, will you”—she felt uncertain now asking him—“will you stay?” She was flawed. He was perfect. Why would he want to stay?
Nodding, he pulled her close for a small kiss. “I will find your luggage while you bathe and I will be here when you come out. If I’m not, I will be in the sitting room on this level,” he said, pulling back and stepping away from her. “If you cannot find anything you require, there are some shelves behind the door that may yield that which you seek. If it is not there, let me know, all right?” he asked her quietly.
“I will.” She watched him retreating and moved toward the bathing room, turning at the last moment to enter. Once behind the frosted glass doors, she began to undress, laying the clothes out carefully before folding them and starting her bath. Completely nude, she began the bath and walked around the room, touching this and that as she waited for the water to fill the tub. The heat of the water caused a thick steam to fill the room, and as soon as it was almost full, she stepped into the water with a sigh of delight.
She leaned back in the water and closed her eyes even as she draped a cloth over them, and with a sigh relaxed so fully she fell asleep.
Chapter Nine
Opening the door, Andries took the luggage from the guards that had collected it from the suite Xandra had never even seen. Closing the door, he headed upstairs and paused in the bedroom. Setting down the bags, he looked to the bathroom and then at the time displayed on the wall by the bed. Xandra had been in the bath for almost a half hour. Frowning, he moved to the door and knocked “Xandra?” he called, easing the sliding door open and taking a look via the mirror to the tub. She had a cloth over her eyes and, from the even manner of her breathing, was sound asleep. “Xandra,” he called louder, hoping to wake her without having to embarrass her by going all the way in.
It had been far too many years since she felt relaxed enough, safe enough, to fall into the deep sleep she was in currently, and unfortunately for Andries her body was refusing to allow her to wake at his gentle tone. Her finger twitched slightly in the still water around her, but other than that one small movement and the rise and fall of her chest, she simply slept on.
Lips tightening at that small movement, Andries realized there was no other choice and, with eyes averted as best he could manage, he went to the tub. Sitting on the floor so he’d only see her shoulders, neck, and head, he gently touched her hand. “Xandra, the water is getting cold. It’s time to get out,” he said in a low tone, hoping he didn’t scare her.
She jerked in the water and sat up so quickly her cloth fell from her eyes. The fear that was suddenly there was heart stopping. It was hard for her to breathe, and finally she saw Andries. “What?” She was confused for all of three seconds until she realized she was stark naked in the water and he was sitting on the floor at her side. “Moon and stars, Andries,” she whispered, “I didn’t get you wet, did I?” He was simply looking at her. She realized then that she was far too different from him. Her skin was a pale green, actually the lightest blush of green, but compared to his skin color, it was very different and odd. “Do you need me?” The question came out breathy, sexually charged, even if she didn’t realize it.
Loaded question, he thought as he stared at her. “I was concerned since you were asleep and the water was cooling. I thought you might prefer getting out now instead of when it was truly chilled,” he told her, his voice lower than normal for no reason he could determine. “Your luggage was in the other suite. I had it brought up and your bags are sitting in the bedroom.”
“Thank you, Andries.” She slid back into the water, her gaze on him. “It’s been so long since I have felt safe that I forgot how good it feels to simply give up and allow my body to fully rest.” Her hand moved to cover his and smiled. “Thank you for seeing to my luggage being brought up. I will get out now and get ready for bed.” She hesitated. “Will you be sleeping with me, Andries?”
“If that is your wish, I will,” he told her as he stood, averting his eyes and giving her his hands to help her up. He didn’t want to embarrass her right off and he was sure he’d pushed her to her limits already. Backing up so she could step out, he pulled a towel from the warmer and passed it to her. “I’ll wait for you in the other room so you can have a moment, Xandra.” He was running. He freely admitted it, but the warm scent of her flesh was a temptation to him. He needed to feed before they did anything, and while she was drying and dressing, he’d have a bag of blood so he wouldn’t be tempted and thereby hurt her.
“Thank you.” She watched him leave and dried herself as she thought of him. He was everything she had ever dreamed of having in a husband. Why had her father chosen him for her? Her father was a cruel man. He would rather give pain than anything that could be seen as a pleasure, and Andries gave her pleasure. The way he moved, spoke, touched her, it made her happy.
She slowly dried her hair with the heavy warm towel. The long lavender strands were then finger combed out to hopefully dry before they went to sleep. Once her hair was somewhat dried, she dried her body and pulled on his robe to step out into their bedroom. Seeing it empty, she opened the first case and frowned. There was nothing in there but weapons. She moved to the second case and opened it as well, again, weapons. Laser rifles, knives, flame wands, she didn’t understand.
Walking quickly to the door, she twisted the knob. “Andries,” she called through the hall and then began her search for him, knowing that by bringing weapons into their home, she was all but telling him she didn’t believe in his ability to protect her. Even though the weapons weren’t hers, it would still be seen as a direct hit to his masculinity, and his warrior side.
Sticking his head out of the small kitchen unit, he kept the glass of blood hidden. “You called?” he asked and then, seeing her face, set the glass down and moved to her. “Are you all right?” he asked as she got closer to him.
“I think that you brought the wrong bags, Andries.” S
he had a frown on her face as she held the robe closed. “The bags are filled with weapons, Andries, and I’ve never fired a weapon, let alone owned one, so the bags have to belong to someone else.”
“What?” he asked with a frown as he looked past her to the doors and then down to her. “I was told those were the only bags in your suite, and since there were no other occupied ones on that level, it was the only place for the guard to go to retrieve anything, Xandra.” The weapons would be a serious problem though. “If they are not yours, Xandra”—he looked her square in the eye—“whose are they?”
She frowned because of how he was looking at her, how he was giving her a look of pure and complete suspicion. “I have no idea, Andries, but they do not belong to me.” And yet, he didn’t believe her. She saw it in his eyes. “Would you please get rid of them? Or would you rather I did?” She had no idea what she would do with two bags full of weapons, but she would figure it out if she had to. “The suitcases, the bags are mine. The contents are not.”
“I’m not blaming you, Xandra,” he growled at her before he could stop himself. “But you have to admit that, if not for your annoying and decidedly oafish assistant, I’d have good reason to look to you.” Shaking his head hard, he turned from her. “You need to learn that I’m not going to blame you for everything if you intend on this to last for any length of time,” he warned as he stalked back into the kitchen area, grabbed his glass, and then stalked out toward the main sitting area where he’d left his communicator.
Picking it up, he dialed in the guards and asked one of them to return to his suite to retrieve the bags and to move them to his personal locker on his ship. Tossing the device to a long low-back couch, he moved to the windows and stood there looking out at the clouds as he tried to not be angry at her. Her life had made her wary of any male around her. It wasn’t her fault and yet…she looked at him with that hint of fear and he wanted her father’s blood on his hands all the more or to throttle her, which was new.
