not a master,” I said, fighting him. “I’m not even a vampire. Without Dorina, I’m nothing—”
“That’s not true—”
“It’s completely true and you know it! Nobody gave a damn about me until they found out about her, so what difference does it make—”
I stopped, but not because he had said anything. But because he hadn’t. Not a word, yet the expression on his face was eloquent.
I had rarely seen Louis-Cesare angry. When you’re as powerful as he is, that sort of thing is dangerous. He usually kept himself on a tight leash.
But I was seeing it now.
The aristocratic face had gone deathly white, except for two little spots of color high on his cheekbones. His hair was everywhere, a tousled auburn mess, and the sapphire blue eyes were as bright as I’d ever seen them. He wasn’t angry, I realized. He was furious.
I stopped struggling.
“I give a damn,” he finally said, his voice harsh. “I didn’t fall in love with Dorina. I still barely know Dorina. I fell in love with you.”
He got up suddenly and walked away, not bothering with the opulent robe that somebody had draped over the end of the bed. I didn’t go after him. I was angry, too, more so than I’d been for a long time. He had no right to keep me here!
But he had positioned himself, whether intentionally or not, directly in front of both possible ways out. He was standing between me and the door, and looking out of the sweep of windows that were currently showing a fake, or at least very enhanced, view of the desert. We weren’t anywhere near the desert, being in the middle of Old Cairo, but the wards here were determined to present a pretty picture.
It was pretty, although not because of the sweep of stars or the moon silvering the sand dunes or the wind whipping a few palm trees around. I barely noticed them with my husband standing there. That word—husband—still felt strange, while lover rolled easily off the tongue. Maybe because I’d had lovers before, while the other . . .
I was still getting used to.
Lovers didn’t tell me what to do; lovers didn’t care. At least not the lovers I’d ever had. Some of them had been okay people; some had been outright bastards. But none had ever cared enough about me to get wounded by anything I said.
And yet choose to stick around anyway.
I hugged my knees as wondered what I was supposed to do now. I didn’t talk out problems; I hit things. But I didn’t want to hit Louis-Cesare. So, I sat there and stared at him instead, trying to come up with an argument that might get me out that door. It didn’t work, but the view was nice. The view was incredible.
He was powerfully but elegantly made, with long, graceful lines that flowed smoothly from the muscles of his shoulders and back to the smoothness of his buttocks and thighs. The lamplight loved him, glinting off the hints of red in that glorious mane, gilding the smattering of freckles on his shoulders, and turning the blue eyes to tawny gold.
But while anyone else who looked like that would have been trying to distract me, using his body to get me into another frame of mind, Louis-Cesare wasn’t like that. He wasn’t like anyone I’d ever known. It was probably why we kept bumping heads.
Even now, even after marrying the guy, I didn’t really understand him. I knew things about him: he was every inch the aristocrat from another age, with crazy ideas like noblesse oblige, the concept that rulers had a responsibility to the ruled, and that power came mixed with duty. That idea was woefully out of fashion among humans, and it had never been in style with vamps in the first place.
I knew that he had serious trust issues caused by a series of important figures in his life walking out on him—something we had in common. In fact, we had a lot in common, including a lifetime of being lied to, left behind, betrayed, and discarded. It had resulted in both of us having issues opening up and being fully honest, even with a partner, something we were still working on.
I knew that he was a mass of contradictions, with nature and nurture in his case having come into serious conflict. He was generous to a fault with money, but often stingy with his thoughts. He was kind and patient with subordinates, but could