Her skirt was layers of gauze in hues of gold and green, reminiscent of a fairy. That, as well as the eyes, reminded him her father had been a Fey lord. She was a slim woman with perfectly shaped small breasts and nicely curving hips. Her slender legs teased him, a glimpse of knee or calf appearing between the points of the skirt as she moved.
Stirring and magnetic, she riveted his attention just by existing. She'd had that effect on him the very first time he'd seen her, over two years ago. But what made the strongest impression on him now was the flash of naked emotion in her eyes when she took the envelope from his hands.
My gracious lady, please accept this last offering from your humble servant. Something I know you will not go out and obtain for yourself. I give you Jacob. You and he need one another, I promise you. He will serve you well, far better than a feeble, bookish monk.
Lyssa was cognizant of Jacob's intent study as she read, as well as every motion he made. She was used to scrutiny by humans when she chose to walk among them, but his regard was different. Far more personal, as if he was memorizing every detail of her appearance and expressions.
He'd moved a step closer, a gesture of comfort, but he respected. her privacy by facing her so he looked beyond her shoulder, not down at her note. The heat of his body shimmered over her skin like the dangerous brush of sunlight.
Damn you, Thomas.
"Do you know what's in this?" She gestured with it. He stood so close the ribbon under the wax seal fluttered against his pectoral, the light covering of hair on his chest. It made her fingers itch to stroke. To curl in and tug.
He gazed down at her with those clear and steady blue eyes. "I know it was my introduction. Thomas said I'd need it. But I didn't read it."
The seal had been unbroken, applied with Thomas's particular method for the times she'd needed to be certain information was not compromised.
"I want my manicure. Where's Max?" She straightened, not backing away. When she tilted her head, she noted his attention was distracted by the proximity of her lips. She felt his gaze there like the teasing caress of a tongue, and had to quell the urge to moisten them. Try something improper, Sir Knight, and you'll regret it.
But would she?. She pushed the sly voice away. She was used to men being overwhelmingly attracted to her. It was the vampire allure. But she liked the look of this man. Of course, she'd intended to cap off her night by finding a dinner with similar specifications. Only this one far exceeded those specifications, tempting her to skip the whole spa experience and take him home for several days. She'd chain him spread-eagle on her bed and bite, scratch and suckle to her heart's content. While she wasn't willing to immediately capitulate to Thomas's recommendation of this man as a servant, she had his word she could trust him. It made her imaginings grow even more dangerously attractive.
"Max is fine, my lady. Sleeping quite deeply at his apartment, the aftereffect of his usual Chinese takeout… with a little bit of sleep aid added. I'll perform your manicure as well as a pedicure. If you'll permit it."
Add to that he'd somehow convinced Martin, the security guard, that he was an approved substitute for the evening. Not an easy feat. Clearing her throat, she managed to sweep a scornful glance over him. Enjoyed the journey immensely. "What training have you had to give me a manicure?"
"Thomas taught me."
His lips curved in that half smile again. Reassurance or humor she didn't know, but the reaction of her body took her by surprise. A hard shudder just below the level of muscle, like a simmering in her blood no human eye could see. Also unexpected was the fact he registered it. The smile disappeared. After a moment's hesitation, he pulled back the curtain dividing the waiting area from the private rooms of the salon. "Please let me attend to you, my lady."
She creased the fold of the note, frowning. Glanced down at the nail that had no polish.
Yes, her wounds healed quickly. Unfortunately, despite the myth that vampires were invincible, she could and did have bad hair days just like anyone else. One could use vampire glamour to make humans think they were seeing perfection, but it didn't work on other vampires without an exceptional level of effort. Unable to see her own face, she missed having a human servant to ensure she'd done her hair and makeup properly. To do quick fixes on her nails between full manicures. To help her dress and bathe.
The fact of the matter was, whether or not a reflection was needed, she liked being attended. Thomas had teased her about it, once he'd known her well enough to know when she was in the mood to be teased. He would have known this was not one of those moments.
The monk had relied heavily on her regard for him and her sentiment about his passing. It did not mollify her that he'd been right on both counts. While she knew she was taking petty revenge on the man who should not be the target of her ire, she couldn't stop herself.
"We shall see," she said at last, sweeping past him.
Chapter Two
As she moved past, he touched the small of her back, a guiding hand. It almost brought Lyssa to a freezing halt. When her gaze flickered up to his profile, she realized the gesture hadn't been calculated. Whatever Thomas had taught him of the deference she demanded was intertwined with an automatic instinct to project protective body language toward a woman. It didn't displease her, but it startled her, for she intimidated most men enough they'd never dare contact without invitation. He'd already moved into her personal space as if the boundary did not apply to him. Apparently it didn't, for nothing he'd done yet had bothered her. In fact, the way she hadn't reacted negatively to his nearness was the only thing that did bother her.
The sameness about her preferred room served to soothe her—the occasional chair and the mosaic tile table beside it, topped with an array of tools. The low stool pulled close for the manicurist. Warmth emanated from the gas log fire, which she required regardless of the season because she chilled easily. Its dim light was the room's only illumination. She glanced at the antique pine china cabinet that held more manicure supplies and the bronze pedestal sink, making sure nothing was out of order, before she focused on her favorite feature of the room. The two bare walls had life-sized female nudes drawn in simple black brushstrokes. Titillating,. dreamy impressions that aroused yet relaxed the viewer, one depicted the curve of a woman's back and hip, a fall of gem-sparkled hair as she reclined. On the other wall the woman sat on the point of her bottom, legs drawn up and crossed against her body, hair again sweeping the ground.