Once Burned: A Night Prince Novel by Frost Jeaniene

Author:Frost, Jeaniene [Frost, Jeaniene]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, azw3
Publisher: Harper Collins, Inc.
Published: 2012-06-25T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 24

I woke up alone in Vlad’s bed. All the windows had the drapes drawn, blocking out the sunlight. The candles had gutted out, too, but the fireplace still smoldered, providing enough light that I wouldn’t stumble into any furniture on my way out of his lobby-sized bedroom.

I got out of bed, remembering to feel around for the step. I’d learned last night that his bed was on a raised dais when Vlad’s quick grip was the only thing that kept me from falling after my foot came down on air instead of flooring. Then I found the robe he’d stripped off me after our long, very erotic shower and put it on, hurrying out of his room. Vlad’s stunning black marble bathroom had a shower that could fit four and a sunken tub you could snorkel in, but no toilet. In hindsight, that made sense. A vampire wouldn’t need one.

I crossed the sitting area into my room since I didn’t want to chance bumping into anyone in the hallway. Everyone in the house probably knew I’d spent the night with Vlad, but that didn’t mean I wanted to be seen leaving his room in nothing but a robe. After I finally relieved my long-denied bladder, I looked at the tub with longing. An extended hot soak would help my lingering soreness in certain areas, but the sketch artist might have arrived during the night, so I’d better go with a quicker shower.

Half an hour later, I came down to the first floor and peeked into the dining room. Empty. I could start searching the other rooms in this huge house, or do things the quicker way.

“Hello,” I called out. “Need to ask a question.”

Before I could count to three, an impeccably dressed black man appeared, his bald head butter-smooth and thick muscles bulging under his beige suit.

“Shrapnel,” I said, recognizing him from that night in Tampa. He bowed, which struck me as odd. Normally Vlad got the bows, not me.

“How can I assist you?”

I resisted the urge to compliment him on how pretty the indoor garden was. “Do you know if Maximus got back with the sketch artist yet?”

“He arrived with her an hour ago.”

“And where are they?” I prodded.

His expression closed off into a polite mask. “I’ll let Vlad know you’re awake.”

“He knows,” a cultured voice stated from across the room.

I turned, my pique at Shrapnel’s evasiveness fading when I saw Vlad walking toward me. His wine-colored shirt was a vivid contrast to his black jacket and pants. Both colors accented his emerald-ringed, coppery eyes, but as usual, only his face, neck, and hands were bare. The rest of him was covered, the elegant cut of his clothes simultaneously flaunting and concealing that lean, muscled body.

A body that was now mine to explore and enjoy. All of a sudden, I wished the sketch artist hadn’t arrived.

The sly smile that curled Vlad’s lips said he’d overheard my thoughts—and liked them. Then he pulled me close, one hand twining through my hair while the other stroked my back.

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