by Lynsay Sands
Page 10
Thomas smiled at her teasing. "I was raised by my Aunt Marguerite. Her daughter, Lissianna, and I are only four years apart. They taught me consideration. "
"How old?" she insisted.
He frowned, briefly searching for a way to change the subject without answering, and then realized that if she was going to be his lifemate, he'd have to fess up to his age at some point and reluctantly admitted, "I was born in 1794. "
Inez blinked at this news, stared at him for a moment, and then blinked again before finally asking with disbelief, "Seventeen? Seventeen hundred and ninety-four? You're over two hundred years old?"
"Old, huh?" he asked apologetically.
Inez was silent for a moment and then sat back in her seat and tried for a nonchalant shrug and simply said, "Well, two hundred is better than six hundred. "
"That would be my cousin, Lucern," Thomas said, glancing out the window again as the lights outside began to grow in number.
"Your cousin is six hundred?" Inez asked with disbelief.
Thomas smiled at her horror and nodded, then collected his bag and stood up. "Come on, we're here. "
He led her off the train and to the ticket and info office to buy them both passes for Amsterdam's public transport.
Once they were on the bus headed for the Amstel Hotel, Thomas pulled out his cell phone to call Herb. He planned to check in to the hotel, down two or three bags of blood, and then head right out to try to find Aunt Marguerite. To do so, he'd need the coordinates for where she was. He hoped if he called Herb now, by the time they'd checked in and he'd fed, Herb would have Marguerite's present coordinates for him.
Thomas watched Inez as he waited for his call to be answered. She was busy taking in everything, her eyes flying over the older buildings and the walking people, and he wished he could read her mind to see what she was thinking. Amsterdam was one of his favorite cities in the world, and he was curious to see if she would like it.
He let his curiosity go and turned his attention to his phone as his call was answered. Inez seemed enraptured by the passing scenery, so he was taken by surprise when he finished his call and hung up and she suddenly turned back to him and asked, "Who is Herb?"
"He's a friend," he answered as he slid his phone back into his pocket. "He's the one who tracked Aunt Marguerite's cell phone here to Amsterdam. "
"And he's tracking it again now?" Inez asked.
"Yes. I want to head out and look for her as soon as we're checked in. It takes a few minutes to track the cell, so I thought if I had him start on it now, he'd have the new coordinates when I'm ready. "
Inez accepted that with a nod and then asked, "Why couldn't you read my mind or erase my memory?"
Wholly unprepared for the question, Thomas found his tongue suddenly glued to the roof of his mouth.
"You said that the nanos allowed you to read the minds of others, control them, and even wipe away the memory of what had occurred, but at the hotel you said you couldn't erase my memories," she pointed out. "Why?"
Thomas let his breath out slowly. He hadn't expected this to become an issue so soon. He'd hoped to have a little time to woo her before approaching the subject of lifemates and so on. He somehow didn't think Inez was ready for that discussion.
Immortals quickly accepted that the person they couldn't read was their lifemate and acted accordingly. Mortals, on the other hand, were a bit trickier. Some accepted the idea of being a lifemate without difficulty, others didn't seem to trust the idea and needed a long courtship, while still others simply wanted nothing to do with immortals or being one of them. He couldn't just announce that they were lifemates and expect her to go along with it. Thomas wasn't yet sure the news would be well received, and would rather avoid the conversation until he had some idea how she would take it. Would she be horrified by the very thought of being his mate? He, himself, rather liked the idea that she was his mate and found himself warming to it more with every passing moment they spent together, but how would she feel about it? She was no longer staring at him as if he was the Devil's spawn, but that didn't mean she would agree to settle down and play house with him. . . for the next several centuries.
"Thomas?" she asked insistently.
He opened his mouth, but couldn't think of a thing to say to change the subject. His gaze slid desperately out the window and his breath whooshed out with relief as a bell rang. "We're here. "
Standing abruptly as the bus slowed to a stop, he hurried off the vehicle, for once not taking her arm to usher her along. She was right behind him, however, and he almost laughed out loud when she muttered, "Saved by the bell," in sour tones.
Schooling his features into a suitably innocent expression, Thomas took her arm to lead her into the hotel. She walked along docilely enough until they stepped through the front doors. Then she came to an abrupt halt and simply stared around the huge lobby. Despite having been there before, Thomas paused and peered around with her.
Built in 1867, the hotel was stately and elegant. It had a large white lobby, the center stretching up two floors with a carved wooden staircase leading up to the secondfloor balcony with its arches, columns, and carved railings. It was all quite impressive, Thomas thought as he took Inez's arm to lead her to reception. He checked them in, politely refused help with his bag, and then led her to the elevator.
"So?" Inez said as soon as the doors closed on them. "Why couldn't you read me or erase my memories?"
"Who says I couldn't?" Thomas muttered evasively, dismayed by her persistence. "Maybe I just didn't want to. "
"I heard you talking to Bastien through the bathroom door. You said you couldn't erase my memories. Besides, everything would have been a lot simpler for you if you'd just made me forget everything that had happened. So, why couldn't you read me or erase my memories? Are there many you can't do that with?"
Thomas grimaced, wishing she'd forgotten her question at least until after he'd got to his room and consumed a couple bags of blood and his brain was in better working order again.
"Thomas?" she asked insistently.
"No, there aren't many mortals an immortal can't read, control, or wipe memories from," he admitted grimly.
"But you couldn't do any of those things with me?" Inez asked with a frown.
Thomas nodded, his eyes slipping to the elevator lights. They were almost to their floor.
"But you said Wyatt could and Bastien would send him over to do it for you if I didn't come with you to Amsterdam and allow you to explain," she pointed out and then asked, "Is Wyatt an older, stronger vampire? Is that why you thought he could do it when you couldn't?"
Before Thomas was forced to come up with a lie, they arrived at their floor and the elevator doors opened. Nearly gasping with relief, he hurried off the elevator, glanced at the sign pointing out the direction to take to reach their room numbers, and hurried that way.
"You really aren't comfortable with this conversation are you?" Inez asked dryly as she hurried up the hall behind him.
Thomas knew he was being rude not measuring his pace to hers, but he was almost desperate to get to their suite. He was sure if he could just slap a bag or two of blood to his teeth his mind would clear and he would know exactly what to say about lifemates and that she was his own.
He'd just stopped in front of the door to their suite when his phone began to ring. Tugging it from his pocket, he handed it to Inez.
"Say hello to Bastien," he growled, turning his attention to unlocking the door as she flipped the phone open.
"Hello, Bastien," Inez said cheerfully. "Why can't Thomas read my mind or control me and why is he so rattled by the question?"
The door clicked open, but Thomas hardly noticed, his attention had turned to Inez. The woman's eyes were sparkling with amusement. She was aware of and enjoying his discomfort over the matter. Women! He would never understand them. They were supposed to be the softer sex yet took great pleasur
e in tormenting a man.
Leaving her to follow as she liked, he strode into the room, relief pouring through him the moment he spotted the A. B. B. cooler on the table in the sitting room of the suite.
Thomas felt his teeth shift and slide out in his mouth as he strode quickly across the floor to the cooler. Flipping the lid open, he reached in, grabbed a bag, and promptly popped it to his teeth. The bag was nearly empty, the blood soaking into his system and easing the cramps at once when he realized Inez had gone very quiet. Suddenly anxious, he turned with the bag at his mouth and peered toward her. She had followed him into the room and now stood by the sofa, her expression grim as she listened to whatever Bastien was saying. Obviously, she wasn't pleased at his explanation of lifemates, or perhaps she wasn't pleased that she was his lifemate.
Shoulders slumping, Thomas turned back to the cooler and pulled out a second bag, holding it in his hand as he waited for the one in his mouth to finish draining. He was about to switch bags when Inez suddenly appeared at his side.
"He wants to talk to you," she said, holding out the phone.
Thomas pulled the now empty bag from his mouth, dropped it on to the table, and reached for the phone.
"Thank you," he murmured.
Nodding, Inez turned and moved off, heading straight for the door leading into the rest of the suite. No doubt in search of her room, he realized with worry. Her expression had been terribly solemn when she'd handed him the phone, all the amusement drained from it. In fact, she'd looked rather pale to his mind. Now he really wanted to know what Bastien had told her.
Sighing, he lifted the phone to his ear, his eyes slipping to the full bag of blood he still held. He absently read the label on the blood as he opened his mouth to say hello, and then stiffened, dropped the full bag to the floor, and reached for the empty one on the table, reading that label with growing horror.
"Thomas? Thomas are you there?" Bastien was asking over the phone.
"Oh shit!" was his answer.
Chapter Five
It was only nine o'clock at night, but Inez was exhausted by the events of the day when she entered the first bedroom of the suite and peered curiously around.
Thomas had said that Bastien was arranging to have some clothes there for her, but she didn't see any evidence of that. The room was neat and tidy and absent of anything personal that she could see. Inez was about to back out of the room, when she suddenly thought to check the closet.
Crossing the room, she opened the first door she came to and found herself peering into a huge, beautiful bathroom. She spotted the toiletries at once and moved forward, her eyes sweeping over the items lined up on the marble countertop. There were at least three lipsticks in varying shades and a mirage of other cosmetic items, half of which she didn't even recognize.
Inez had never bothered much with makeup; a bit of face powder, a little lipstick, maybe some blush, and she was good to go. She rarely bothered with eyeliner, and shadow, and all the other things she saw laying there, at least not for work. Still, they'd been provided, as had a brush, a comb, and various hair supplies. Anything she might want appeared to be there all lined up and ready for use.
Turning away, Inez moved back into the bedroom and found the closet, not terribly surprised to open it and find the hangers full of clothes, including a couple of nightgowns and a robe. A quick check reassured her that they were all in her size. Stepping back, she glanced down to see a variety of shoes; slippers, running shoes, casual shoes, and high heels. Something for every occasion.
Shaking her head, she turned away and moved to the drawer beside the bed, nodding when opening it revealed a selection of panties, bras, socks, and stockings.
Inez didn't bother to check their sizes, knowing they would all be her size too. Bastien Argeneau was a man with an attention to detail. She wouldn't be surprised to hear he had the size and color preferences of every member of his staff on file somewhere, just in case. It was either that, or the man had sent someone from the company to get her landlord to let him into her flat to check the sizes on her clothing.
Inez turned to survey the filled closet again and shook her head. There were enough clothes there for a two-week stay, but then the Argeneaus didn't do anything by halves.
Sighing, Inez sat on the side of the bed and then fell back on it and closed her eyes. She was exhausted, she was also still annoyed. The clothes and other goodies had not lifted her mood. Bastien had refused to explain why Thomas couldn't read or control her, insisting it was something Thomas would have to explain himself when he was ready. But from his reaction to her questions, she suspected Thomas wouldn't be ready to answer them for some time.
Inez grimaced. She had never been a very patient person, and hated feeling ignorant. Being left in the dark on this matter simply made her think it was important and something she really should know.
Frowning as she became aware of a pounding coming muffled from the next room, she stood and moved to the door to the sitting room, her eyes finding Thomas still standing by the table with the cooler on it. His back was to her and his shoulders hunched as he listened to whatever Bastien was saying on the phone and made notes on a notepad on the table.
Her gaze slid to the door to the hall as the pounding continued, and then back to Thomas, but if he heard, he didn't care that there was someone at the door. He was now hissing rather urgently into the phone in tones too low for her to hear. Worried that Bastien may be giving him bad news about Marguerite, she frowned with concern and moved to the door to the suite to bring an end to the pounding. At this rate, whoever was at the door was going to have the people in the neighboring hotel rooms calling hotel security.
Irritated at that possibility, Inez was scowling when she opened the door. She only opened it a little ways, an effort to keep whoever it was from seeing Thomas, the cooler and the empty bag of blood. She didn't want to upset housekeeping or whoever it was. However, the man on the other side of the door was already upset, his expression a strange mixture of worry, apology, and relief as she opened the door.
