"It's the only robe I own," I said.
"Of course," he said. His face had that amused mask on it again; this time I would have liked to know what he was thinking. His midnight blue eyes were very intense; they didn't match the nonchalant expression. Maybe I didn't want to know what he was thinking.
"Where are Larry and Jason?"
"They have come and gone," he said.
"Gone?"
"Jason had a sudden craving, and Larry drove him in the Jeep."
I just looked at him. "There is such a thing as room service."
"It is the wee hours of the morning, ma petite. The room service menu is somewhat limited. Jason has donated blood twice to me tonight; he needed protein." Jean-Claude smiled. "It was either take-out, or he could eat Larry. I thought you'd prefer take-out."
"Very funny. You shouldn't have sent them alone."
"We are safe from Serephina tonight, ma petite, and as long as they stay in town, safe from Xavier."
"How can you be so sure?" I crossed my arms over my stomach.
He leaned his back against the window and looked at me. "Your Monsieur Kirkland handled himself well tonight. I think you worry unnecessarily about him."
"One night of heroics doesn't keep you safe," I said.
"It will be dawn soon, ma petite; even Xavier cannot bear the light of day. All the vampires will be seeking shelter. They will have no time to chase our young men."
I stared at him, trying to read past his pleasant face. "I wish I was as sure as you seem to be."
He smiled then, and pushed away from the wall. He slid out of his jacket and let it fall to the rose-colored carpet.
"What are you doing?"
"Undressing."
I jerked a thumb at the bedroom, "Undress in there."
He began unbuttoning his shirt.
"In the other room, right now," I said.
He pulled the white shirt out of his pants, working the last few buttons as he walked towards me. The flesh of his chest and stomach had more color than the shirt. He was pumped up and human-looking on blood, part of it mine. The dried bloodstains that had soaked through the shirt marred the pale perfection of his body.
I expected him to try to kiss me, or something, but he walked past me. The back of the shirt was brownish with dried blood. He peeled it off his skin with a sound like tearing. He dropped the shirt on the carpet and walked into the bedroom.
I stood there staring after him. There had been white scars on his back. At least I thought that's what they were. Hard to tell through all the blood. He left the bedroom door open, and in a few minutes I heard water running in the bathtub.
I sat down in one of the straight-back chairs. I wasn't sure what else I was supposed to do. Water ran for a long time, then silence, then sloshing water. He was in the tub. He hadn't closed the bathroom door first. Great.
"Ma petite," he called.
I sat there for a minute, unwilling to move.
"Ma petite, I know you are there. I can hear you breathing."
I walked to the edge of the bedroom door, very careful not to look inside. I leaned my back against the wall and crossed my arms. "What do you want?"
"There seem to be no clean towels."