JК
Burnt Offerings :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 252 из 286Somehow I never thought that even in the throes of passion Jean-Claude would ever let anyone sneak upon him. Or maybe I just didn't think I was that distracting. Poor self-esteem, who me?
I sat back on my heels and looked up at Richard. He was dressed in a black tux, complete with tails. His long hair slicked back into a ponytail so tight it gave the illusion of short hair. You always knew Richard was handsome but it was only when you got rid of the hair that you realized how perfect his face was. The high-sculpted cheekbones, the full mouth, the dimple. He stared down at me with that handsome, familiar face, and he looked arrogant. He knew the effect he had on me, and wanted to turn the knife a little more.
Jean-Claude sat up on the couch, his mouth smeared with my lipstick. The red so vivid against his pale skin it looked like the surprised scarlet of blood. He ran his tongue around the outside of his mouth, then ran his finger across his upper lip, slowly, until it came away red. He put the finger in his mouth and sucked the lipstick off of it, very slowly, very deliberately. His eyes were on me, but the show was for Richard.
I was both grateful for it, and angry about it. He knew Richard was trying to hurt me, so he was hurting Richard. But he was also baiting him, rubbing the proverbial salt in the wound.
The look on Richard's face was so raw I had to look away. "That's enough, Jean-Claude," I said, "that's enough."
Jean-Claude looked amused. "As you like, ma petite ."
Richard looked down at me again. I met his eyes. Maybe there was something in my face that was too raw to look at, too. He turned abruptly and left the room.
"Go freshen your tasty lipstick, then we must leave." Jean-Claude's voice held regret, the way it sometimes held joy, or sex.
I took his hand, raising it gently to my mouth. "Are you still frightened of them, even after all the good publicity? Surely if they were planning to kill us, they wouldn't have appeared on camera with you." I touched his leg, running my fingers over the cloth, feeling his thigh underneath. "The Traveler shook hands with the mayor of St. Louis, for heaven's sake."
He touched my face, cradling my cheek in his hand. "The council has never before tried to be, what you would call, mainstream. It is their first foray into a very new arena. But they have been the stuff of nightmares for thousands of years, ma petite . One day of human politics does not make them into something else."
"But. ."
He touched fingers to my lips. "It is a good sign, ma petite . That I will agree to, but you do not know them as I do. You have not seen them at their worst.
I sat back on my heels and looked up at Richard. He was dressed in a black tux, complete with tails. His long hair slicked back into a ponytail so tight it gave the illusion of short hair. You always knew Richard was handsome but it was only when you got rid of the hair that you realized how perfect his face was. The high-sculpted cheekbones, the full mouth, the dimple. He stared down at me with that handsome, familiar face, and he looked arrogant. He knew the effect he had on me, and wanted to turn the knife a little more.
Jean-Claude sat up on the couch, his mouth smeared with my lipstick. The red so vivid against his pale skin it looked like the surprised scarlet of blood. He ran his tongue around the outside of his mouth, then ran his finger across his upper lip, slowly, until it came away red. He put the finger in his mouth and sucked the lipstick off of it, very slowly, very deliberately. His eyes were on me, but the show was for Richard.
I was both grateful for it, and angry about it. He knew Richard was trying to hurt me, so he was hurting Richard. But he was also baiting him, rubbing the proverbial salt in the wound.
The look on Richard's face was so raw I had to look away. "That's enough, Jean-Claude," I said, "that's enough."
Jean-Claude looked amused. "As you like, ma petite ."
Richard looked down at me again. I met his eyes. Maybe there was something in my face that was too raw to look at, too. He turned abruptly and left the room.
"Go freshen your tasty lipstick, then we must leave." Jean-Claude's voice held regret, the way it sometimes held joy, or sex.
I took his hand, raising it gently to my mouth. "Are you still frightened of them, even after all the good publicity? Surely if they were planning to kill us, they wouldn't have appeared on camera with you." I touched his leg, running my fingers over the cloth, feeling his thigh underneath. "The Traveler shook hands with the mayor of St. Louis, for heaven's sake."
He touched my face, cradling my cheek in his hand. "The council has never before tried to be, what you would call, mainstream. It is their first foray into a very new arena. But they have been the stuff of nightmares for thousands of years, ma petite . One day of human politics does not make them into something else."
"But. ."
He touched fingers to my lips. "It is a good sign, ma petite . That I will agree to, but you do not know them as I do. You have not seen them at their worst.