She chuckled, taking in the liquor and beer bottles and empty glasses on the coffee and end tables. “Is this the vampire man cave?”
The side of his mouth quirked up.
She shrugged. “My dad has a room like this. My mom calls it his man cave.”
Mikhail smiled, just revealing the tips of his fangs. “I suppose so. We half live in this room.”
For some reason, his smile made her sad. “None of you do that very often, you know that?”
“Do what?”
“Smile.”
The jovial expression dropped from his face. “Not been a lot to smile about lately.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
He shook his head. “Just through here, then up one more flight.”
Kate didn’t fight him on the change of topic, and followed him out of the den. A central staircase came down to a wide foyer, flanked on the far side by a set of ornate doors with medieval Cyrillic characters in gold leaf forming an arch over the top.
Mikhail continued up the steps, but Kate hung back at the bottom, admiring the incredible painting all around the doors. “What’s this room?” she asked, drawn to inspect the artwork more closely. When he didn’t answer, she glanced over her shoulder.
He stood in the middle of the steps staring at her. “It is the Hall of the Grand Princes.”
“Oh,” Kate said, stepping back from the wall. She didn’t know exactly what that was, but by the room’s name and the tone of Mikhail’s voice, she knew it was important. An image sprang to mind, of Nikolai—King Nikolai, apparently—standing on a dais wearing a rich robe and gold crown. She didn’t know whether to be amused or awed by the thought. “It’s very beautiful.”
He cleared his throat. “Thank you.”
This time, when he turned, she followed him up the stairs. At the top, the decor changed yet again. Arched doorways, exposed buttresses in the ornate foyer, a tarnished but still striking cut-glass chandelier all framed lush carpets, vibrant wall tapestries and thick, heavy curtains covering the windows. Antiques sat chockablock to one another, and portraiture and other framed art vied for space on the crowded walls. The color scheme was rich and masculine—deep reds and dark blues, and appealed to her very much.
After several turns down a twisting hallway, Mikhail stopped outside a door. “This is one of the sixteen bedrooms in the house.” He turned the brass knob and pushed into the dark, crossing the room to turn on a lamp next to a wide sleigh bed. “There’s a bathroom through that door. I hope this will serve.”
“It’s great. Thank you.” Her words were a complete understatement—the room was stunning, with wallpaper that gave her the impression of sitting amidst a great garden. But now that they were here, she didn’t really want to be alone. Not as if she could ask him to keep her company, though.
He scratched his jaw and said, “I will try to find you some clothing.”
“Right. Thanks.”
“Okay, then.” He left, pulling the door shut behind him.
Kate released a long breath. This was the most surreal night of her life. Or, wait, the most surreal two nights, she guessed. After a quick trip to the bathroom, she poked around the large space, finally making her way to one of the windows. It took a minute to dig through the layer upon layer of heavy velvet curtains to finally get to the glass. Her efforts were rewarded with a ledge so wide she could sit on it.
Half sitting, she gazed out at the winter night, snow falling in a silent blanket on the dense forest. There was no view, really, but that didn’t keep it from being beautiful, peaceful. She sighed.
She wasn’t sure how long she’d been resting there, when a knock sounded at the door. Wading through the miles of fabric made her laugh, and she was still grinning when she found Mikhail standing in the hallway with a thick stack of clothing in his hands.
“This is all going to be too big on you, so I brought several things for you to choose from.”
Kate reached out for the pile.
Mikhail gaped. “Your arm.” The tattered ends of her sleeve hung loose, revealing the smooth, unbroken surface of her skin. “He healed you?”
Heat exploded over Kate’s face. She pulled the pile from his arms and hugged it against her chest. “I’m sure something will work. Thank you, Mikhail.”
He stood there at loose ends, eyes wide, clearly wanting something else but not saying what it was.
She gestured at the clothes. “Well, thanks again.”
His shoulders sagged. “Katherine?”