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The cool light flavor, however, had a softening effect. “Marius would have loved this.”
Gabriel started to laugh. “Mojitos. Yes, he would have laughed, and we would have laughed with him.” He met Lucian’s gaze. “I will celebrate his life as long as I have years.”
Lucian nodded. Gabriel had said the exact right thing.
Lucian refused to fall into his grief, not when he was still worried about Claire, not when he had one final mission to execute. There would be time later when he could make the proper observances and mourn in a way that would be fitting for the loss of his brother, but not yet.
Chapter 13
Claire floated, in her mind and in her body. She wasn’t real. She was a wispy cloud moving slowly through life, passing through solid objects, unable to be hurt, and hurting nothing.
She liked being a cloud. She wanted to stay in this state forever.
She felt wonderful. No, she felt better than wonderful. She felt superb and delicious. She was hungry, though, starved for food and thirsty beyond words. But there was something else she wanted; a man. And not just any man, but a vampire who had carried her on his back, then brought her safely to Egypt, like a parable of old.
Her mind seemed to drift in and out of rational thoughts, but what else would a cloud do?
She had a memory of pain across her back and another kind of pain over the surface of parts of her body: her hands, her arms, even her feet.
All that pain was gone. She floated.
She felt something else as well, a steady pulsing of power that tasted like the vampire she wanted, weighted maleness, dragged down by serious responsibility and guilt and rage. All that weightiness often turned inward into a kind of self-loathing that the vampire could only release while he had her on a platform forcing her legs apart.
She liked being there and she liked being there for him.
She wanted the vampire.
She woke up in a bath, only a single candle burning somewhere behind her.
Her vision was dull, not a bad thing. Her head hurt. “I need water?” Her words came out croaked.
A female vampire in a long muslin gown, braids pinned in a circle to the back of her head, turned in her direction. “Feel better?”
Claire glanced at her hands, then opened her eyes wide. “The burns are gone.”
“Yes. We understand master Lucian sent his power through your bonding chains. You wouldn’t have recovered nearly so fast otherwise.”
Damn thoughtful vampire.
She nodded. The servant brought a glass of water over, and Claire sipped from a straw, drinking most of it.
She sat up and stretched, the milky water sloshing around her in what turned out to be a large copper tub. “Thank you.” She met the woman’s gaze. “Please tell everyone who helped me thank you for what all of you did. I thought I’d be in pain for weeks.”
The woman nodded. “I will, and we also want to thank you for what you did for master Lucian. He seems changed somehow, in a good way, since you’ve been with him.”
Claire didn’t want to think too hard right now about anything. And certain very specific thoughts, like returning to Santa Fe, she held as far away as she could.
“I’d like to get dressed. Any chance I have clothes here?”
The woman smiled. “Rumy was here. He brought all that you’ll need.” Rumy, always thinking of the details.
Claire stood up, feeling a little dizzy. She grabbed the edge of the tub and steadied herself then climbed out, one of her less elegant maneuvers.
The woman held a large purple terry towel wide, nothing but concern in her expression. Claire stepped into it and wrapped up. She gave her head a shake and grabbed for hair that no longer existed, at least not the full length.
She reached up. “What happened?” But then she remembered.
“We had to trim it off. I’m so sorry. Most of it was singed and smelled really bad.”
“Right. Of course.” But it felt so weird not to have her long hair. She gave her head a shake. “I don’t suppose you have a mirror.”
“Come into the other room. You can get ready in there. There’s a full bathroom with a shower if you want to rinse off. Eve sent some makeup along as well.”
Claire felt grateful beyond words. There was something so comforting about having familiar clothes at hand and the ability to put on some mascara and lip gloss. Although under the circumstances, the last thing she really should care about was her appearance, she still wanted Lucian to see her at her best.
She’d be leaving soon.
And now her hair was gone.
The maid left her at the door and said that Lucian was just outside when she was ready. He said to tell her that he’d had a meal and a few drinks, even a mojito, though the woman had said he’d smiled when he’d said that part.
She smiled now as well.
Once the door closed, Claire went into the bathroom and looked herself over first. Whoever had cut her hair while she’d been recovering had done a decent job, but it was short, most of it no longer than two inches. Her hair had always had some wave, and when she saw the mousse and a brush on the counter she burst into tears. She wanted things back the way they were.
After a few moments, she pulled herself together and got the water running. As she stepped under the spray, she thought of only one thing: that she’d be going home soon and didn’t want to, which was absurd.
In the end, as she dressed her hair with mousse, giving it a little fluff, as she put on some mascara and lip gloss, she couldn’t get rid of the sadness she felt. This was what she’d wanted all this time, to go back to Santa Fe, to resume her life, and now she felt as though she’d been given a prison sentence.
And then there was Zoey, lost to her now forever.
Claire, are you all right?
Lucian’s voice within her mind brought the same feelings forward, and tears once more welled. And she’d bragged about not being a weeper. Famous last words.
She dabbed beneath her eyes, catching what she could, with the sides of her fingers. I’ll be fine. I’m fine. I’m all healed up. I’ll be out in a minute.
Only then, as she drew her feelings in, did she begin to take in Lucian’s current state, as the chain vibrated against her neck. He was worried about her, probably because the last time he’d seen her she’d been blistered, bleeding, her hair burned.
She dressed in jeans and—damn that Rumy—a pair of flashy black stilettos, the only shoes he’d provided. She could just see him smile, thinking how funny this would be for her. The bra wasn’t much better, since it pushed her up and out. The blouse, a soft light-green T-shirt fabric, had a low scoop neck and showed off what she knew Lucian loved.
