Blood and Lace: Chapter 17

Della came out of the day lethargy with a sharp intake of breath. Her body went rigid, braced to receive a killing blow or launch a ruthless strike. Why had she trusted him? She was vulnerable and exposed! She should run, she should—

The room was silent.

She was in the same position she had assumed just before sunrise, with the thin blanket on top of her. Della breathed out slowly, allowing relief to relax her body and soothe the clamor of her instincts.

You are safe. You trusted Nicholas and you are safe.

There had been a point right before sunrise when she had almost fled, risking the dawn and her own destruction. But then she had thought of Nicholas, and gone into the bedroom to check on him. He had been deeply asleep—nearly as still as one of her kind—with shadows of fatigue under his eyes. 

She made her choice in a lurch of instinct. Almost without thinking she’d removed her pants and slid under the top cover next to him, deciding in the same moment not to wake him. Partly because he needed the sleep…partly because, though she could scarce acknowledge it, she wanted to be near him. Still, despite her abrupt resolution, Della had been so nervous she thought the day lethargy might not take hold.

Then the sun had risen, and consciousness had departed.

Now she lay in the soothing twilight of the early evening, and apart from the absence of Nicholas, all was as she remembered—except for a slight glimmer. She sat up on her elbow. A glass of ice water, droplets coating its sides, had been placed on the short table beside her. She stared at it, smiling softly. Such a small gesture. Why did it make her feel so…joyous?

Because you covet him.

The smile dropped from her face. I don’t.

You do. He looks at you like a human woman and you covet him.

Della irritably threw back the covers and swung her feet onto the floor. She refused to have any more arguments with herself until she could think sensibly. 

She picked up the glass of water Nicholas had left and took a long, satisfying drink. Refreshed, she continued sipping while contemplating the two encounters she would need to navigate tonight. The first was Nicholas himself, the second was Roger Sharp, the city's premiere Tobacconist. The former would be more pleasant, but the latter would be…less complicated. She sighed, set the empty glass down, and got up.

With her new clothes in hand, Della cracked the door and listened. The clatter of dishes…Nicholas was in the kitchen. She quickly padded down the hall and entered the bathroom. The door closed with a surprisingly loud click and the noise from the kitchen stopped. She sighed. A moment later footsteps approached.

“Della?” His voice was muffled through the door.

“I’m about to wash, Nicholas.”

“Oh! Of course. Sorry.”

She hesitated. “Thank you for the water.”

“You’re welcome.” She could hear the smile in his words. Her traitorous lips wanted to curve in kind. She held still until he walked back into the kitchen. She needed to put Nicholas out of her mind for the moment and focus on a more pressing worry. 

This time will be different…it's only a shower.

Della disrobed slowly, keeping her mind as even as possible. She could already feel fear seeping around the edges of her awareness. It was galling. Two nights in a row she had failed to overcome this trial—it was like she had regressed to her earliest years as one of the blood. But tonight, by the gods, her instincts would bend to her will.

Nicholas’s shower-bath combo was a far cry from her luxury walk-in at Lynnwood, but at least it was as spotless as everything else in the apartment. The water pressure was probably pitiable—another reason to be unafraid. She stepped next to it and grabbed the handle.

A torrent of water, unstoppable and relentless, pouring onto her, pinning her, running into her mouth and filling her lungs—

Della snatched her hand back like the metal was hot. She stared at her trembling fingers, feeling anger and revulsion. The terror of being submerged in water was nearly universal among vampires, but Della had worked tirelessly to overcome it since the invention of indoor plumbing. She had showered regularly for decades. It was a point of pride. But ever since the ambush at Lord Layne’s estate—and the indignities that followed—the old fear had returned.

She muttered a bitter curse and turned away. Three nights of weakness. She would use the sink and a soapy washcloth to bathe, followed by a dry shampoo.

One more thing they have taken. I will take so much more from them. I swear it.

Her anger kept her on task. Tonight she would need to appear unassailable, never mind the fractured truth beneath. After washing, she carefully gathered and styled her hair into a loose updo that brushed the nape of her neck and left a few curly locks to frame her face. Then she applied eyeliner, mascara, and a dark red lipstick the hue of blood in moonlight—a color she knew well.

Satisfied, she pulled on the slim fit jeans and stylish white button-up that completed the elegantly casual look she’d envisioned. The reflection that stared back at her projected confidence and cool authority.

“Liar,” she told it.

Della found Nicholas in the kitchen sitting at the breakfast table. He was hunched over a towel scattered with electronic components, absorbed with some small device. Tonight he was wearing black pants riddled with pockets and a flattering form-hugging T-shirt of the same color.

“Evening, Della. I’m sorry for lumbering up to the door like that. I just wanted to make sure—” He looked up and froze. Seconds ticked past as his lips  slowly parted.

Della cocked her head. “What?”

“You’re…stunning,” he breathed. The battery in his hand rolled off his palm and clattered to the floor. Blinking like the sound had just woken him up, Nicholas clumsily dove after it. Della used the moment to smile to herself, inordinately pleased at his reaction. 

You’re still basking.

Fine. She was basking…so what? She had little enough to be happy about these nights. She walked over to the table and stared at the array of electronics. “What is this?”

Nicholas came back up from below the table and dropped the battery onto the towel. “Comm system,” he said, darting a quick glance at her. Della could hear his heart racing, and felt another thrill knowing she was the cause. She took in his dilated pupils, flushed skin…and in an instant her delight crashed into worry.

“You’re hurt.”

Several bruises, almost invisible, ran up the side of his face, and a darker mark sat below one eye. He flushed even deeper and gave a rueful smile. “Yeah, well, there was a bit of a dust-up with a…colleague. It happened earlier.”

“A fight?”

“He was spoiling for one, so I, uh, gave him what he wanted.” Nicholas rubbed the back of his head self-consciously. “I was going to say, ‘you should see the other guy,’ but your blood is the gift that keeps on giving. The bruises have mostly healed.”

Della fingered the hem of her shirt to resist touching his face. She was curious about the ’dust-up,’ but first had to reassure herself he was okay. “So…you are well?”

“I’m fine.” He cocked his head, regarding her for a long moment. “You’re really worried about me.” There was something in his expression that kindled an inexplicable longing within her. She swallowed.

“Of course,” she said crisply. “Is that so surprising?”

“Actually…no.” He gave her a bemused smile. “I thought it would be…but it's not.” 

“Good.” Her voice quieted. “I'm glad you weren't seriously injured. Was this fight related to me?”

“Not directly. But can I ask you something? About your blood?” She contemplated him for a moment, then nodded. He sat back down, looking up at her. “I’m pretty sure I would have tried harder to defuse the situation, but I seemed to be…primed…for aggression. And during the fight, I could swear I was hitting harder and moving faster.”

She nodded more slowly. “The effect of the blood,” she confirmed. “That’s why care must be taken. If a human drinks too much, the result is madness.” Seeing his stricken expression, she quickly added, “But that's always preceded by a fever. You didn't develop one. My blood wouldn’t have caused you to lose control under normal circumstances. You must have been provoked.”

“Definitely provoked.” He chuckled. “I suppose if it did tip me over the edge, it also gave me an edge. And it may have helped Mike learn a lesson about picking on the quiet sensitive types.”

Della arched an eyebrow. “You’ve never struck me as particularly quiet.”

He grinned and stood. Now the perspective was reversed, and she was looking up at him. She was suddenly, acutely, aware that only a foot separated them. “I am sensitive, though, you’ve gotta give me that,” he said teasingly.

And that’s when one rebellious hand moved up to barely touch the healing bruises on his face. “Sensitive enough that I worry,” she murmured, then drew in a sharp breath when he gently closed his fingers around her wrist and pressed his cheek against her palm. His eyes had taken on a heated intensity that was so unlike the calculated gaze of a vampire.

“May I kiss you?” he asked, his tone suddenly low and husky.

Bitter regret swept through her at his words, souring the longing she had been savoring. Della had been dreading this outcome, but was shocked to realize she'd been hoping for it too—despite the inevitable disappointment. Sometimes the heart was cruel.

“Della?” The concern in his voice made her want to press into his chest and hope he would wrap his arms around her. Instead she pulled away. Sensing her need for space, he let go of her wrist and didn't try to follow when she turned and walked across the kitchen.

“What’s wrong?” His voice was calm, but she could hear the strain beneath it.

She placed her hands on the counter and stared dully at its cheap woodgrain pattern. This…dalliance between them had gone on for far too long. She'd withheld the truth and he would suffer as a result. We both will. Della sighed. She would tell him. They would both be hurt, but that would be the end of it. “Nicholas…we cannot. I cannot.”

Silence. She couldn't bring herself to turn around. Instead she listened to his heartbeat—strong and fast—and waited for him to speak.

“Aw hell…” His reply was flat, as if all of his defenses had already been marshaled to guard his heart. Good. “I am…I must be completely oblivious.” He sighed. “There’s someone else, isn't there?”

What? Della flashed on Drus’s cruel, handsome features as he leered at her, one hand braced on the back of the loveseat. Pure disgust made her body shudder. She gave a short scoff laced with dark humor, and shook her head. “Not for about a century.”

There was another long pause. When he continued his voice was lower, but still even. “So it’s me?” he asked. “I can…understand that. I’m not everyone’s cup of tea, and the cross-species divide is more like a chasm.”

It's deeper than you know. But she couldn't let him believe that he hadn't affected her, even if it would be easier for them both. At the very least he deserved her honesty. She turned to face him, holding her elbows. “It’s not you,” she said quietly. “I like you.”

“As an ally and friend.”

“If I am being forthright…my inclinations go deeper than friendship.” How painfully ironic. Forced to acknowledge the reality of her emotions as a prelude to abandoning them.

“Really?” His profound hope made her feel even worse.

“Yes,” she said. “I admit it surprises me. I didn't think it possible that I could develop…romantic intentions. Especially towards a human. More than once I've questioned if it’s another symptom of everything I've been through.” A reassuring smile came unbidden to her face. “But I don't think it is. To your credit, strange hunter, you have hidden reserves of charm.”

“You inspire me,” he said simply. When she didn't answer, his tone became urgent. “Then what?” She stared at his earnest face and something delicate crumpled within her.

“We simply won’t suit.”

“I don’t understand.”

Della thought back to the previous night, trapped beneath his bed, listening to the sounds of growing passion. How, beneath the profound embarrassment, she had seethed with a different emotion altogether. Envy.

“Nicholas, I…vampires…we don't experience physical attraction.”