LANA WAITED TO see what Vincent would do. She hadn’t liked it when he’d stepped between her and Xuan, as if she was incapable of protecting herself. But she suspected Vincent knew that and had done it anyway. So, okay, she wasn’t stupid enough to let her pride get her killed, and Vincent understood this situation far better than she did. But he’d been surprised too, maybe even a little shaken, by Xuan’s appearance. Still, there had to be more to it. Vincent had been uneasy even before they got here.
Did that mean that Xuan was more powerful than Vincent expected? Did he have some talent that could reach out and touch someone . . . and not in a good way? Was that what Vincent had been feeling as they’d drawn closer?
She couldn’t ask Vincent any of these questions without giving away her ignorance, and maybe Vincent’s too, so she waited to see what he’d do.
Vincent studied Xuan for a moment, and, while she couldn’t see anything, she was pretty sure there was some sort of vampire dick-measuring going on, with Vincent demonstrating to Xuan just how much power he could bring to the table.
Xuan didn’t seem prepared to fight, though. He simply bowed a little from the waist and stepped back from his door, as if to invite them inside.
“We’ll talk,” Vincent agreed, then reached out and put his arm in front of Lana, curving his big hand over her hip, pulling her slightly behind him. “But don’t touch her.”
Xuan straightened and tilted his head in a smiling acceptance. “Of course not. Will you join me for coffee? I confess a lingering fondness for it, despite our . . . dietary requirements.”
Vincent waited until Xuan’s back was turned to pull her against his side and murmur, “You can be mad at me later, but please follow my lead in this. Don’t let him touch you.”
“I’m not an idiot.”
“I know that,” he said, tightening his grip into a hug and placing a soft kiss against her temple.
Lana’s heart wiggled happily and she told it to behave. This was just Vincent being Vincent. He was a naturally protective alpha male. Nothing more.
She followed Vincent into the small house as Xuan went around the room, turning on lights. She suspected that was for her benefit, just as she knew Vincent had left the Suburban’s parking lights on for the same reason. Which reminded her . . .
“The SUV lights?” she said to Vincent.
He gave her a puzzled look, then leaned back and glared at the SUV. The lights blinked out almost instantly.
“Handy trick,” she muttered.
“Don’t be a hater,” he muttered right back at her.
“Please, sit,” Xuan said, gesturing at a short couch and single chair that sat in front of the fireplace.
The room was small enough that the furniture took up half of the available space. The other half was a minimal kitchen, with a sink and refrigerator built into a set of cabinets. There was a basic wooden table with two chairs and against the other wall sat an old-fashioned chifforobe that looked like it had seen some years. Judging by the closed doors at the other end of the house, she suspected there was a bedroom and bathroom. She frowned, thinking he must have a septic tank system and a generator, too. Xuan might live like a hermit, but he’d embraced the conveniences of modern technology.
Lana sat on the couch, leaving room for Vincent on the side closest to the lone chair where presumably Xuan would sit. “You must have a generator,” she commented to Xuan as he handed her a cup of coffee in a thick ceramic mug.
Xuan nodded. “I need the refrigerator for blood, of course. I’m alone most of the time and books are my only company. I don’t need much light, especially since I bought an e-reader on one of my trips into the city for generator fuel. Whenever I go down for fuel now, I fill up my reader. It’s a wonderful invention.”
“I agree,” Lana said, giving the old vamp a genuine smile. He seemed like a nice guy, gentle and . . . a little lonely. She almost felt sorry for him. Almost. Life and the business she was in had made her cynical enough to consider the possibility that it was all a ploy.
“You don’t look the way he described you,” she said thoughtfully.
“Someone described me?”
Vincent had been prowling the room, but now he joined Lana on the couch, slinging an arm behind her in a blatantly possessive move. Lana wanted to roll her eyes, but she managed not to.
“More than one, actually,” Vincent picked up the conversation. “They said you were a demon, that you had white hair, a white face, and your eyes were red.”
Xuan laughed gently. “Well. My eyes are still red, but that’s not unusual among vampires, as you well know. The white . . . when I first came to Pénjamo, I lived much closer to town. I wanted to be left alone, but the peasants were curious. Fortunately, they were also primitive. I covered myself and my clothes in white wash and wandered the El Cero San Miguel for a few nights. With my eyes going vamp red, I’m sure it was quite frightening. The locals already believed the hill was haunted. I simply added to the legend. They left me alone after that. Eventually, I moved out here and everyone forgot me.” He glanced up at Vincent. “Or nearly everyone. Raphael has a long memory.”
Vincent was silent for a moment, then abruptly said, “Enough. Open the envelope.”
Xuan settled himself in the chair. He had the envelope in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. Placing the cup on a side table, he held the envelope in both hands, then turned it over and slid a finger under the sealed flap. It opened easily. He reached in and removed Raphael’s note.
Lana wanted to snatch it out of his fingers and read it. Raphael had wanted Vincent here. Why? The answer was in that note.
She leaned forward impatiently, silently urging Xuan to go faster. Vincent’s arm slid lower on her back and tightened, as if he was worried she was going to leap on the other vampire and rip the note out of his hands. She could feel the tension in Vincent’s arm and knew he was as anxious as she was.