When he came back around, his face was shuttered, closed. He offered another sardonic toast, but instead of downing the whole glass, he merely took a sip and sat on the settee. Half turned, he arranged himself in its corner so that he could see Victoria, standing behind the protective fencing of the sofa's back, her hand resting on its chintz covering.
"Why did you come here tonight?" he asked.
"You were expecting me. I was a bit surprised. "
"I told you the last time you were here that I would see you again. I knew you would come back. But I am curious as to why. "
"Perhaps to thank you for the information that helped us to get the Book of Antwartha. If I had not had your information, Max and I might have died in the effort. "
"So you come bearing tokens of gratitude?" He shifted himself onto one knee on the sofa cushion and covered her hand with his fingers, holding it gently in place on the top of the back. "I am pleased to hear that. And particularly thankful that Eustacia sent you rather than Maximilian for that task. "
Victoria wanted to pull her hand away, but she controlled the urge. "I get the impression that you and Max aren't the best of friends. "
"I wonder why that is," Sebastian murmured, but he sounded as if he couldn't care less. "I'm more interested in finding out how you planned to express your gratitude for my assistance than what thorn sticks in Maximilian's craw. " With his free hand, he reached up and began to tug her long glove down past her elbow. "Did I mention how much better you look when dressed as a woman than a man?"
He released the wrist he'd held on the top of the settee, but not her glove, and when she pulled away the glove came off, turning inside out from her fingers. Her hand and arm were bare.
She stepped back, out of his reach. Sebastian was not the type of man to climb over the settee after her.
But he wasn't looking at her; he was holding her forlorn white glove between his hands, stroking his fingers down over its length as if smoothing his touch over her arm. Then he wrapped it gently around one of his hands and looked up at her.
"Where is your ring?"
At first she thought he was speaking of her vis bulla,
the ring in her navel… but then she realized he was looking at her bare hand. Her left hand.
"I don't have one… yet. Did you know I was there in the room at Redfield Manor?"
"Of course. I also knew the moment you went out the window; Maximilian was too busy staking vampires to notice. But I saw the twitch of the drapes and knew you were gone. I understand you killed seven vampires that night. "
"It was eight. And Max defeated three Imperials on his own. "
"Bravo, Max. " Sebastian rose and she stepped farther away. "Victoria, you are annoying me. I am not going to leap across the room and ravage you. " He did indeed look angry, an unusual expression in a face that was normally bent on wooing or charming.
He tucked her glove into his pocket and walked with rather harsh footsteps back over to the table where he'd poured their drinks. Turning to face her, he leaned back against it, crossing his legs at the ankles and his arms over his middle. He looked all bronze and golden and utterly dangerous. His hair gleamed dark near the crown, but tawny and blond and even silvery at the curling tips, and his mouth was set in a harsh line, the upper lip shadowing his lower one to a dark toffee color.
There was silence for a long moment. Victoria had expected him to demand some sort of additional recompense for the information that led to their obtaining the Book of Antwartha, but he did not. His enticing, engaging manner had evaporated and now he merely looked displeased.
"I am sure it is safe for me to leave," Victoria said at last. "I'm certain Max has managed to get Phillip away by now. " She looked at him, expecting an argument.
But instead he reached into his pocket and pulled out her glove, offering it to her.
It lay draped over his open palm, but when she reached for it his fingers closed over her bare hand. And tugged.
Perhaps it was surprise at his sudden movement; perhaps it was curiosity. Perhaps she was just tired of fighting it. But Victoria allowed herself to continue forward until she was standing as close to Sebastian as she had been in the hallway.
Transferring her hand to his other, as if unwilling to chance her escaping, he tucked the glove back in his pocket and looked down at her. Humor glinted in his golden eyes. "That was easier than I expected. "
"Sebastian—"
He turned her bare hand palm up, lifted it, lowered his face… and touched his lips to the inside of her wrist. They were soft but firm, gently damp, and featherlight. They almost tickled. Then they moved, opening, tracing the texture of the veins and tendons in this demure region. He nibbled on the narrow edge of her wrist, gently bit the full pad of her palm at the base of her thumb.
Victoria couldn't pull her arm away. No, that wasn't true—she could; she knew she could break his grip easily—but she could not force her muscles to move. Her eyes closed; her other hand reached out blindly, to catch herself, and flattened against a solid, warm, breathing chest.
"I have always wanted to taste a Venator," murmured Sebastian, moving up to look at her. His lips were no longer thin and harsh; they would never look thin and harsh to her again after this. After feeling them.
He still held her fingers, which curled helplessly around his, and he traced his thumb over the top of her hand, looking at her.