JК
Burnt Offerings :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 259 из 286"Has he given you away so quickly?"
"Yvette merely helped me dress," she said, head high, but her hands were trying to smooth the dress intoplace. Nothing helped.
"You had much more attractive outfits in your own closet," Jean-Claude said.
"But no dresses," Yvette said. "For a formal occasion you must have dresses for the women." She smiled sweetly.
It made me regret wearing a dress. "I know what you did to Sylvie, Liv. I was regretting not blowing your head off when I did your knees. But you know what, Liv, a few years with the council and you may be regretting it too."
"I regret nothing," she said. But there was a tightness around the eyes, a flicker through those lovely eyes. Something had spooked her good and solid. Part of me wanted to know what had been done to her, but it was enough just to see how scared she was.
"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself, Liv," I said.
Asher walked out in the middle of the scene. His hair had been pulled back in a tight braid. His hair was still nearly the color of the metallic thread in the tablecloth, an unearthly color even if he'd been human. The hair pulled back left the scars on his face naked. It was hard not to look at them, hard not to stare. The rest of the outfit didn't make it any easier.
His naked upper body was a wonderment of contrasts. It was like his face, half angelic beauty, half melted nightmare. His pants were black leather with a line of bare flesh showing from hip to mid-calf, where boots covered the rest. The flesh glimpsed on the right side of his thigh was scarred. The scars seemed to stop about mid-thigh. It left the big question. Had his torturers made him a eunuch or left him whole? It was like a car crash. You wanted to know, and you didn't.
"Jean-Claude, Anita, so good of you to join us." He made the polite words a mockery, filling them with a hissing warmth of threat.
"Your presence is the same pleasure it has always been," Jean-Claude said. Those words were blank, utterly neutral, compliment or snide putdown. It was the listener's choice.
Asher glided towards us, a smile curling his perfect lips. Again both sides of his mouth worked. The muscles were still whole underneath all the scars. He came to stand directly in front of me. He was about two steps closer than was comfortable, but I didn't back up or complain. I just met his smile with one of my own. Neither smile touched our eyes.
"Do you like my outfit, Anita?"
"A little aggressive, don't you think?"
He traced a fingertip down the lace at my waist. The fingertip slid inside the open lace, touching my bare skin. It brought a small gasp from my throat.
"You can touch me, anywhere you like," he said.
"Yvette merely helped me dress," she said, head high, but her hands were trying to smooth the dress intoplace. Nothing helped.
"You had much more attractive outfits in your own closet," Jean-Claude said.
"But no dresses," Yvette said. "For a formal occasion you must have dresses for the women." She smiled sweetly.
It made me regret wearing a dress. "I know what you did to Sylvie, Liv. I was regretting not blowing your head off when I did your knees. But you know what, Liv, a few years with the council and you may be regretting it too."
"I regret nothing," she said. But there was a tightness around the eyes, a flicker through those lovely eyes. Something had spooked her good and solid. Part of me wanted to know what had been done to her, but it was enough just to see how scared she was.
"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself, Liv," I said.
Asher walked out in the middle of the scene. His hair had been pulled back in a tight braid. His hair was still nearly the color of the metallic thread in the tablecloth, an unearthly color even if he'd been human. The hair pulled back left the scars on his face naked. It was hard not to look at them, hard not to stare. The rest of the outfit didn't make it any easier.
His naked upper body was a wonderment of contrasts. It was like his face, half angelic beauty, half melted nightmare. His pants were black leather with a line of bare flesh showing from hip to mid-calf, where boots covered the rest. The flesh glimpsed on the right side of his thigh was scarred. The scars seemed to stop about mid-thigh. It left the big question. Had his torturers made him a eunuch or left him whole? It was like a car crash. You wanted to know, and you didn't.
"Jean-Claude, Anita, so good of you to join us." He made the polite words a mockery, filling them with a hissing warmth of threat.
"Your presence is the same pleasure it has always been," Jean-Claude said. Those words were blank, utterly neutral, compliment or snide putdown. It was the listener's choice.
Asher glided towards us, a smile curling his perfect lips. Again both sides of his mouth worked. The muscles were still whole underneath all the scars. He came to stand directly in front of me. He was about two steps closer than was comfortable, but I didn't back up or complain. I just met his smile with one of my own. Neither smile touched our eyes.
"Do you like my outfit, Anita?"
"A little aggressive, don't you think?"
He traced a fingertip down the lace at my waist. The fingertip slid inside the open lace, touching my bare skin. It brought a small gasp from my throat.
"You can touch me, anywhere you like," he said.