Pet leaned her head wearily back against the headboard and acknowledged that it was a relief to at least be able to think about this stuff now. Knowing immortals could read the minds of mortals, she’d been afraid to even think about the fact that she recognized from their eyes what these people were. She’d feared what they’d do if they realized she knew. In her experience, immortals could be wonderful or terribly dangerous. Pet wasn’t sure yet which kind she was dealing with.
Sighing, she started to stretch her legs out from their cramped position, only to pause at a hiss from Mrs. Wiggles. The cat was why she was sitting with her legs curled up almost under her. Parker had left the damned furball on one side of the bed and climbed under the blankets on the other side to go to sleep. It left Pet the top half of her side of the bed to sit on. Since she hadn’t planned to sleep, she hadn’t considered it a problem earlier, but there was no way she was going to be able to remain in this position all night. Her legs were already starting to cramp.
Muttering under her breath about cats who thought they owned the world, Pet shifted her feet off the bed, careful not to disturb her highness, Mrs. Wiggles, during the process. She carefully stood and paced away from the bed, smacking her mouth as she did. Thanks to sleeping upright, her mouth had apparently hung open and was now dry and nasty.
Biting her lip, she glanced to the door and then back to the bed, fretting over whether it was safe to leave Parker alone while she fetched a glass of water. She’d heard Marguerite and her husband retire earlier, and thought Santo had probably gone to bed too. Still . . .
Pet tapped her foot impatiently, debating the issue, but knew that aside from taking care of her dry mouth, water would help her stay awake. Mind made up, she moved to the door, listened briefly, and then eased it open.
The hallway light was off, but someone, probably Marguerite, had left the bathroom light on and the door open to allow that light to stream out into the hall. Pet slid out of the bedroom, pulled the door silently closed, and then tiptoed to the stairs at the end of the hall.
There was light coming from the kitchen when she turned into the downstairs hall, but it was dim, not the main light. Had Marguerite left a small light on there too in case she came down in search of water? Or was someone still up? Unsure, she approached the room just as quietly as she’d made her way thus far, and-rather than head straight in, she paused to peek around the door frame. Pet froze when she spotted Santo at the kitchen sink with his back to her. It was only now that she could hear the rush of the tap running. He was . . .
Pet blinked. The huge bear of a man was washing dishes while wearing a ridiculous frilly apron, she realized as he turned slightly to set one of the cups on the draining rack. She watched him set it down, and then glanced to his face, just glimpsing the blood bag at his mouth before he turned back to the sink.
Nothing could have stopped her startled gasp when she saw that, or her second gasp when Santo caught the sound and jerked around to gape at her with a half-full bag of blood stuck to his face. It was his expression and probably how ridiculous he looked in the frilly apron that pushed her past her first shock and horror and on to the realization that he was drinking blood from a bag. He wasn’t one of the bad immortals that bit people and drank straight from the vein of their unfortunate victims. He wasn’t one of the dangerous ones, her brain reassured her, but it hardly needed to. Honestly, the man looked anything but dangerous in that get-up, and the expression on his face was priceless. The man’s eyes were wide with both guilt and horror above the bag at his mouth.
Just as she got past her dismay, Santo suddenly reached up and snatched the bag away from his mouth. Big mistake, Pet decided, grimacing as the bag tore and blood went flying everywhere.
Cursing, Santo turned and threw the still bleeding bag in the sink, then just as quickly swung back to face her again, his expression now tormented, miserable, and almost hopeless.
Pet couldn’t decide if he looked more like a serial killer or a serial killer’s victim with the blood covering his face and shirt. It was on the counter and floor too, she noted, and shook her head at the mess he’d made.
“I . . .”
Pet raised her eyes back to his face, waiting politely for whatever he wanted to say. But he just gaped at her with such dismay she began to feel sorry for him. He was acting like he didn’t know that she knew about his kind. Surely, he’d read her thoughts as Marguerite obviously had, and knew she knew about immortals? Maybe not, Pet decided when he continued to gape at her, his mouth moving slightly but no words coming out.
Deciding they would be standing there until dawn if she waited for him to speak, Pet finally entered the room and walked to the roll of paper towels that sat on a holder by the coffee machine. Ripping off several panels, she handed a couple to Santo to clean himself up, and then knelt in front of him to quickly mop up the worst of the blood on the floor and cupboard doors with the others.
When she finished and straightened, he was still staring at her with dismay. The paper towel she’d given him was crumpled in his hand and his face and chest were still awash with blood. The man seemed to be completely out of it.
Sighing, Pet tossed her used paper towels in the sink and snatched back the ones she’d given him, intending to clean him up. Unfortunately, he was ridiculously tall, and short of scaling his body like a mountain climber, she wasn’t getting at his face.
“Bend down,” she ordered.
Santo stared at her like she’d spoken Mandarin.
Pet scowled and then heaved out a resigned sigh and walked over to grab a chair from the kitchen table. She dragged it back in front of him and then climbed up on it. Fortunately, that put her face on a level with his and she was able to wipe the blood off his cheeks. But she was aware of the way his eyes burned into her as she worked.
“You . . .”
Pet paused and peered at him in question. When he didn’t continue, she returned to wiping away the blood, moving from his right cheek down to his chin.
“I was just . . .”
She paused again to meet his gaze, but apparently, he couldn’t come up with a feasible lie. That or he couldn’t bring himself to admit what she’d caught him doing. Deciding to let him off the hook, she said, “You were just having a late-night snack.”
When Santo stiffened, she added, “You’re what some would call a vampire but is really an immortal. You need blood to survive and you get that blood from blood banks and yada yada yada,” she ended on a mutter, returning to her efforts to clean him up.
“You know?” he breathed with amazement.
She met his gaze and said solemnly, “Yes. I know.”
That helped chase the horror off his face, but now he just looked perplexed and she turned her attention to the blood dripping down his neck to give him some time to assimilate what she’d said. But when she began to chase the trails under the collar of his shirt, he caught her hand with his.
Pet froze. He wasn’t hurting her, just holding her hand flat against his collarbone, but he’d moved so swiftly . . . She’d forgotten how quickly they could move, and felt now like she’d wandered heedlessly into a tiger’s cage. Swallowing, she raised her head to meet his gaze.
They stared at each other for a moment, and then he finally asked, “Marguerite?”
“No, she didn’t tell me,” she said, easing her upper body back a bit, and then admitted, “I recognized what you all were the minute I saw your eyes.” Her gaze shifted to his eyes now, and she stared briefly. They were beautiful, as deep and dark as space, with tiny flickering silver stars adding light.
“You already knew about immortals?” He asked the question slowly, as if trying to feel his way to the answers he was looking for.
Noting that his voice was deeper than usual and husky, Pet forced herself farther back from him and nodded. “I’ve known about immortals since I was three or four.”
Surprise flashed again on his face and was quickly followed by a frown. “Yet you were afraid? Was it me? Did my size—?” He paused abruptly when she snorted at the suggestion.
“I get big guys in my classes all the time,” Pet told him with amusement and then admitted, “Granted they aren’t usually as big as you. Still, your size doesn’t intimidate me.”
Santo looked uncertain for a minute and then asked, “Then why?”
Pet shrugged. “I don’t know you people, and not all immortals are nice, any more than all mortals are nice.”
She could actually feel the tension in his body ease under where he had her palm pressed to his upper chest. But all he said was, “Now you are not afraid.”
“You drink bagged blood. You’re one of the good ones,” she said simply, and then tugged on her hand. This time he released her. Pet immediately pulled away and climbed down off the chair. Picking it up to carry it back to the table, she said, “You’ll have to wash off the rest. It’s started to dry.”
Pet heard the rush of water as he turned the tap on again, and realized only then that he’d turned it off when he’d heard her gasp. She slid the chair under the table and turned to see that he was dampening the paper towel she’d been using. Leaving him to it, she moved to the cupboard she’d seen Marguerite get the cups out of and opened it. As she’d expected, there were glasses there too, and she took one and then walked to the sink as Santo turned off the tap. She waited for him to move aside, and then turned on the cold water and ran herself a glass and gulped it eagerly down.
“Better?” Santo asked as she set the empty glass in the sink.
Pet turned to peer at him and couldn’t hold back her amused grin when she saw the mess he’d made of his face. He hadn’t got all the blood; there were still specks of it here and there. On top of that, though, he now had bits of paper towel all over his face, caught in the stubble on his cheeks and chin.
“Damn,” Santo muttered, apparently taking her amusement to mean no, it wasn’t better. Returning to the sink, he turned it on. This time he simply stuck his head under the tap and then scrubbed his face with his hands.