Read Online Burnt Offerings (ab-7) by Laurell Hamilton - Free Book Online
Authors: Laurell Hamilton
Tags: SF
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Jean-Claude declined. If he could have ordered anything, it would have been wine.
Jean-Claude brought his chair over to sit almost beside me. When dinner came, he'd move back to his place setting, but picking out the meal was part of the night's entertainment. It had taken me several dinner dates to realize what Jean-Claude wanted -- no, almost needed. I was Jean-Claude's human servant. I bore three of his marks. One of the side effects of the second mark was that he could take sustenance through me. So if we'd been on a long sea voyage, he wouldn't have had to feed off of any humans on the boat. He could live through me for a time. He could also taste food through me.
For the first time in nearly four hundred years he could taste food. I had to eat it for him, but he could enjoy a meal. It was trivial compared to some of the other things he'd gained through the bonding, but it was the thing that seemed to please him most. He ordered food with a childlike glee and watched me eat, tasting it as I did. In private he'd roll on his back like a cat, hands pressed to his mouth as if trying to drain every taste. It was the only thing he did that was cute. He was gorgeous, sensual, but rarely cute. I'd gained four pounds in six weeks eating with him.
He slid his arm over the back of my chair, and we read the menu together. He leaned close enough for his hair to brush my cheek. The smell of his perfume, oh, sorry, cologne, caressed my skin. Though if what Jean-Claude wore was cologne, then Brut was bug spray.
I moved my head away from the caress of his hair, mainly because the feel of him this close was all I could think about. Maybe if I'd taken him up on his invitation to live with him at the Circus of the Damned, some of this heat would have dissipated. But I'd rented a house in record time in the middle of nowhere so my neighbors wouldn't get shot up, which is why I moved out of my last apartment. I hated the house. I wasn't a house kinda gal. I was a condo kind of gal. But condos had neighbors, too.
The lace overlay on his jacket was scratchy against my nearly bare shoulders. He put his hand on my shoulder, smoothing his fingertips across my skin. His leg brushed my thigh, and I realized I hadn't heard a damn thing he'd said. It was embarrassing.
He stopped talking and looked at me, gazed at me from inches away with those extraordinary eyes. "I have been explaining my menu choices to you. Have you heard any of it?"
I shook my head. "Sorry."
He laughed, and it hovered over my skin like his breath, warm and sliding over my body. It was a vampire trick but low on the scale, and had become public foreplay for us. In private we did other things.
He whispered against my cheek. "No apologies,
ma petite
. You know it pleases me that you find me ... intoxicating."
He laughed again, and I pushed him away. "Go sit on your side of the table. You've been here long enough to know what you want."
He moved his chair dutifully back to his place setting. "I have what I want,
ma petite
."
I had to look down and not meet his eyes. Heat crept up my neck into my face, and I couldn't stop it.
"If you mean what do I want for dinner, that is a different question," he said.
"You are a pain in the ass," I said.
"And so many other places," he said.
I didn't think I could blush more. I was wrong. "Stop it."
"I love the fact that I can make you blush. It is charming."
The tone in his voice made me smile in spite of myself. "This is not a dress to be charming in. I was trying for sexy and sophisticated."
"Can you not be charming as well as sexy and sophisticated? Is there some rule about being all three?"
"Slick, very slick," I said.
He widened his eyes, trying for innocent and failing. He was many things, but innocent wasn't one of them.
"Now, let's start negotiating on dinner," I said.
"You make it sound like a chore."
I sighed. "Before you came along, I thought food was something you ate so you wouldn't die. I will never be as
Jean-Claude brought his chair over to sit almost beside me. When dinner came, he'd move back to his place setting, but picking out the meal was part of the night's entertainment. It had taken me several dinner dates to realize what Jean-Claude wanted -- no, almost needed. I was Jean-Claude's human servant. I bore three of his marks. One of the side effects of the second mark was that he could take sustenance through me. So if we'd been on a long sea voyage, he wouldn't have had to feed off of any humans on the boat. He could live through me for a time. He could also taste food through me.
For the first time in nearly four hundred years he could taste food. I had to eat it for him, but he could enjoy a meal. It was trivial compared to some of the other things he'd gained through the bonding, but it was the thing that seemed to please him most. He ordered food with a childlike glee and watched me eat, tasting it as I did. In private he'd roll on his back like a cat, hands pressed to his mouth as if trying to drain every taste. It was the only thing he did that was cute. He was gorgeous, sensual, but rarely cute. I'd gained four pounds in six weeks eating with him.
He slid his arm over the back of my chair, and we read the menu together. He leaned close enough for his hair to brush my cheek. The smell of his perfume, oh, sorry, cologne, caressed my skin. Though if what Jean-Claude wore was cologne, then Brut was bug spray.
I moved my head away from the caress of his hair, mainly because the feel of him this close was all I could think about. Maybe if I'd taken him up on his invitation to live with him at the Circus of the Damned, some of this heat would have dissipated. But I'd rented a house in record time in the middle of nowhere so my neighbors wouldn't get shot up, which is why I moved out of my last apartment. I hated the house. I wasn't a house kinda gal. I was a condo kind of gal. But condos had neighbors, too.
The lace overlay on his jacket was scratchy against my nearly bare shoulders. He put his hand on my shoulder, smoothing his fingertips across my skin. His leg brushed my thigh, and I realized I hadn't heard a damn thing he'd said. It was embarrassing.
He stopped talking and looked at me, gazed at me from inches away with those extraordinary eyes. "I have been explaining my menu choices to you. Have you heard any of it?"
I shook my head. "Sorry."
He laughed, and it hovered over my skin like his breath, warm and sliding over my body. It was a vampire trick but low on the scale, and had become public foreplay for us. In private we did other things.
He whispered against my cheek. "No apologies,
ma petite
. You know it pleases me that you find me ... intoxicating."
He laughed again, and I pushed him away. "Go sit on your side of the table. You've been here long enough to know what you want."
He moved his chair dutifully back to his place setting. "I have what I want,
ma petite
."
I had to look down and not meet his eyes. Heat crept up my neck into my face, and I couldn't stop it.
"If you mean what do I want for dinner, that is a different question," he said.
"You are a pain in the ass," I said.
"And so many other places," he said.
I didn't think I could blush more. I was wrong. "Stop it."
"I love the fact that I can make you blush. It is charming."
The tone in his voice made me smile in spite of myself. "This is not a dress to be charming in. I was trying for sexy and sophisticated."
"Can you not be charming as well as sexy and sophisticated? Is there some rule about being all three?"
"Slick, very slick," I said.
He widened his eyes, trying for innocent and failing. He was many things, but innocent wasn't one of them.
"Now, let's start negotiating on dinner," I said.
"You make it sound like a chore."
I sighed. "Before you came along, I thought food was something you ate so you wouldn't die. I will never be as
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