by J. R. Ward
“Dinner was really good. Cottage cheese and carrot sticks—”
“Stop it,” he barked.
She dropped her arm and frowned. “I beg your pardon.”
“Why did you do it, Ehlena? Why the hell—”
“Okay, you’re going to rethink your tone or this conversation’s getting the end button.”
“Ehlena, you need that job.”
“Don’t tell me what I need.”
He cursed some. Cursed some more.
“You know,” she muttered, “if I add a sound track and some machine guns to this, we’d have a Die Hard movie. How did you find out, anyway?”
“My mother passed.”
Ehlena gasped. “Wha…? Oh, my God, when? I mean, I’m sorry—”
“About a half hour ago.”
She slowly shook her head. “Rehvenge, I’m so sorry.”
“I called the clinic to…make arrangements.” He exhaled with the kind of exhaustion she was feeling. “Anyway…yeah. You never texted me that you’d gotten to the clinic safely. So I asked, and there it was.”
“Damn it, I meant to but…” Well, she was busy getting fired.
“But that wasn’t the only reason why I wanted to call now.”
“No?”
“I just…I needed to hear your voice.”
Ehlena took a deep breath, her eyes locking on the lines of her father’s handwriting. She thought of all she had learned, good and bad, in those pages.
“Funny,” she said, “I feel the same way tonight.”
“Really? Like…for real?”
“Absolutely, positively…yes.”
THIRTY-SEVEN
Wrath was in a bad mood, and he knew this because the sound of the doggen waxing the wooden balustrade at the top of the main staircase was making him want to light the whole fucking mansion on fire.
Beth was on his mind. Which explained why as he sat behind his desk his chest was killing him.
It wasn’t that he didn’t understand why she’d gotten upset with him. And it wasn’t that he didn’t think he deserved some kind of punishment. He just hated the fact that Beth wasn’t sleeping at home and he had to text his shellan for permission to call her.
The fact that he hadn’t slept in days had to be part of the pissed-off as well.
And he probably needed to feed. But like sex, it had been so long since he’d done it, he could barely remember what it was.
He glanced around the study and wished he could self-medicate the urge to scream by going out and fighting something: His only other options were hitting the gym or getting drunk, and he was just back from the former and not all that interested in the latter.
He checked his phone again. Beth hadn’t returned his text, and he’d left it three hours ago. Which was fine. She was probably just busy, or sleeping.
The hell it was fine.
He got to his feet, slipped his RAZR into the back pocket of his leathers, and headed for the double doors. The doggen just outside in the hall was putting a ton of elbow grease into the buff-and-polish routine, and the fresh smell of lemon that rose from his efforts was thick.
“My lord,” the doggen said, bowing low.
“You’re doing great work.”
“As is my pleasure.” The male beamed. “It is my joy to serve you and your household.”
Wrath clapped a palm on the servant’s shoulder and then jogged down the stairs. When he got to the foyer’s mosaic floor, he went left, toward the kitchen, and he was glad that there was nobody inside. Opening up the refrigerator, he confronted all manner of leftovers and took out a half-eaten turkey with no enthusiasm whatsoever.
Turning toward the cabinets—
“Hi.”
He jerked his head over his shoulder. “Beth? What are…I thought you were at Safe Place.”
“I was. But I came back just now.”
He frowned. As a half-breed, Beth was able to tolerate sunlight, but he stressed the fuck out every time she traveled during the day. Not that he went into it now. She knew how he felt, and besides, she was home, and that was all that mattered.
“I was making something to eat,” he said, even though the turkey sitting on the butcher-block table was a dead giveaway. “You want to join me?”
God, he loved the way she smelled. Night-blooming roses. Homier to him than any lemon polish, more gorgeous than any perfume.
“How about I make something for both of us?” she said. “You look like you’re about to fall down.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to say, Nah, I’m tight, when he stopped. Even the smallest of half-truths was going to underscore the issues between them—and the fact that he was utterly exhausted wasn’t even a little lie.
“That would be great. Thank you.”
“Have a seat,” she said, coming over to him.
He wanted to hug her.
He did.
Wrath’s arms just snapped out, latched onto her, and pulled her against his chest. Realizing what he’d done, he went to let her go, but she stayed with him, keeping their bodies together. With a shudder, he dropped his head down into her fragrant, silky hair and gathered her up, molding her softness to the contours of his hard muscles.
“I’ve missed you so much,” he said.
“I’ve missed you, too.”
As she sagged against him, he wasn’t a fool to think this moment was an instant cure-all, but he would take what he had been given.
Pulling back, he moved his wraparounds up onto the top of his head so she could see his useless eyes. To him, her face was blurry and beautiful, though the fresh-rain scent of tears didn’t please him. He brushed both her cheeks with his thumbs.
“Will you let me kiss you?” he asked.
When she nodded, he cradled her face in his palms and brought his mouth down to hers. The cushioned contact was at once utterly, heartbreakingly familiar and yet something from the past. It seemed like forever since they had done more than peck—and that separation wasn’t just what he’d done. It was everything. The war. The Brothers. The glymera. John and Tohr. This household.
Shaking his head, he said, “Life has gotten in the way of our life.”
“You are so right.” She smoothed her palm down his face. “It’s also gotten in the way of your health. So I want you to sit down over there and let me feed you.”
“It’s supposed to be the other way around. The male feeds his female.”
“You’re the king.” She smiled. “You make the rules. And your shellan would like to wait on you.”
“I love you.” He pulled her in tight again and just held on to his mate. “You don’t have to say it back—”
“I love you, too.”
Now he was the one sagging.
“Time for you to eat,” she said, tugging him over to the country-style oak table and pulling a chair out for him.
When he parked it, he winced, shifted his hips up, and took his cell phone from his pocket. The thing skittered across the table, bumping into the salt and pepper shakers.
“Sandwich?” Beth asked.
“That’d be great.”
“Let’s make it two for you.”
Wrath put his sunglasses back in place, because the overhead light was making his head pound. When that didn’t go far enough, he closed his eyes, and although he couldn’t see Beth move around, the sounds of her in the kitchen calmed him like a lullaby. He heard her opening drawers, the utensils in them rattling. Then the refrigerator cracked open with a gasp and there was shuffling, followed by glass knocking into glass. The bread drawer was slid out and the plastic wrap around the rye he liked rustled. There was the cracking of a knife going through lettuce….
“Wrath?”
The soft sound of his name brought his lids open and his head up. “Wha…?”
“You fell asleep.” His shellan’s hand smoothed over his hair. “Eat. Then I’m taking you to bed.”
The sandwiches were exactly the way he liked them: overstuffed wit
h meat, light on the lettuce and the tomatoes, plenty of mayo. He ate both of them, and though they should have perked him up, the exhaustion that had a death grip on his body just pulled harder.
“Come on, let’s go.” Beth took his hand.
“No, wait,” he said, rousing himself. “I need to tell you what’s doing at nightfall tonight.”
“Okay.” Tension crept into her tone, like she was bracing herself.
“Sit. Please.”
The chair pulled out from under the table with a squeak and she settled her weight slowly. “I’m glad you’re being up front with me,” she murmured. “Whatever it is.”
Wrath smoothed her fingers with his, trying to calm her, knowing that what he had to say was only going to make her more worried. “Someone…well, likely more than one, but at least one we know of, wants to kill me.” Her hand tightened in his, and he kept on stroking her, trying to relax her. “I’m meeting with the glymera’s council tonight, and I’m expecting…problems. All of the Brothers are going with me, and we’re not going to be stupid, but I’m not going to lie and tell you this is a garden-variety sitch.”
“This…someone…is obviously part of the council, right? So is it worth your going in person?”
“The one who started it all is a nonissue.”
“How so?”
“Rehvenge had him assassinated.”
Her hands tightened again. “Jesus…” She took a deep breath. And another. “Oh…dear God.”
“The question we’re all wondering now is, who else is in on it? That’s part of the reason my showing up at that meeting is so important. It’s also a show of strength, and that matters. I don’t run. Neither do the Brothers.”
Wrath braced himself for her to say, No, don’t go, and wondered what he would do then.
Except Beth’s voice was calm. “I understand. But I have a request.”
His brows popped up over his wraparounds. “Which is?”
“I want you to wear a bulletproof vest. It’s not that I doubt the Brothers—it’s just that it would give me a little added comfort.”
Wrath blinked. Then he brought her hands to his lips and kissed them. “I can do that. For you, I can absolutely do that.”
She nodded once and rose from the chair. “Okay. Okay…good. Now, come, let’s go to bed. I’m as exhausted as you look.”
Wrath rose to his feet, tucked her against him, and together they walked out into the foyer, their feet crossing over the mosaic of an apple tree in bloom.
“I love you,” he said. “I am so in love with you.”
Beth’s arm tightened around his waist and she put her face on his chest. The acrid, smoky scent of fear rose up from her, clouding her natural rose fragrance. And yet even so, she nodded and said, “Your queen doesn’t run, either, you know.”
“I know. I…totally know.”
In his bedroom at his mother’s safe house, Rehv pushed his body back until he was lying against the pillows. As he arranged his sable coat across his knees, he said into his cell, “I have an idea. How about we start this phone call over.”
Ehlena’s soft laugh made him feel strangely buoyant. “Okay. Are you going to call me again or…”
“Tell me this, where are you?”
“Upstairs in the kitchen.”
Which might explain the slight echo. “Can you go to your room? Get relaxed?”
“Is this going to be a long conversation?”
“Well, I’ve rethought my tone, and check this out.” He dropped his voice, going total lothario. “Please, Ehlena. Go to your bed, and take me with you.”
Her breath caught and then she laughed again. “What an improvement.”
“I know, right—lest you think I don’t take direction well. Now, how about you return the favor. Go to your bedroom and get comfortable. I don’t want to be alone, and I get the sense you don’t either.”
Instead of an, It’s true, he heard the gratifying sound of a chair being pushed back. As she moved around, her dim footfalls were lovely, the creaking stairs not—because the sound made him wonder where exactly she lived with her father. He hoped it was an antique house with old, quaint boards, not something run-down.
There was the squeak of a door opening and a pause, and he was willing to bet she was checking on her father.
“Is he sleeping soundly?” Rehv asked.
The hinges rasped again. “How did you know?”
“Because you’re good like that.”
There was another door noise and then the click of a lock getting flipped into place. “Will you give me a minute?”
A minute? Shit, he’d give her the world if he could. “Take your time.”
There was a muffled sound, as if she’d put the phone down on a duvet or a quilt. More door protests. Silence. Another squeak and the faded gurgle of a toilet flushing. Footfalls. Bedsprings. Rustling close by and then—
“Hello?”
“Comfortable?” he said, aware he was grinning like an idiot—except God, the idea that she was where he wanted her to be was fantastic.
“Yes, I am. Are you?”
“You’d better believe it.” Then again, with her voice in his ear, he could have been in the process of getting his fingernails pulled off and still been all jolly-jolly.
The silence that followed was as soft as the sable of his coat, and just as warm.
“Do you want to talk about your mom?” she said gently.
“Yes. Even though I don’t know what to say, other than that she went quietly and with her family around her, and that’s all anyone can ask for. It was her time.”
“You’ll miss her, though.”
“Yes. I will.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me.”
“Let me take care of you.”
She laughed quietly. “Right. How about I clue you in on something. In this kind of situation, you’re the one who’s supposed to be taken care of.”
“But we both know that I was what cost you your job—”
“Hold up.” There was another rustle, as if she’d just sat up from her pillows. “I made the choice to bring you those pills, and I’m an adult capable of making the wrong call. You don’t owe me because I messed up.”
“I disagree with you completely. But putting that aside, I’m going to talk to Havers when he comes here to—”
“No, you’re not. Dear Lord, Rehvenge, your mother’s just passed. You don’t need to worry about—”
“What I can do for her is done. Let me help you. I can talk to Havers—”
“It’s not going to make a difference. He’s not going to trust me anymore, and I can’t blame him.”
“But people make mistakes.”
“And some cannot be remedied.”
“I don’t believe that.” Although as a symphath, he was not exactly anyone’s go-to guy on moral shit. Not by a long shot. “Especially when it’s you we’re talking about.”
“I’m no different from anybody else.”
“Look, don’t make me bust out my tone again,” he warned. “You did something for me. I want to do something for you. It’s simple barter and exchange.”
“But I’m going to get another job, and I’ve been making things work for a long time on my own. It happens to be one of my core competencies.”
“I don’t doubt it.” He paused for effect, playing the best card he had. “Here’s the thing though, you can’t leave me with this on my conscience. It’s going to eat me up inside. Your bad choice was the result of mine.”
She laughed softly. “Why does it not surprise me that you know my weakness? And I really appreciate it, but if Havers bends the rules for me, what kind of message does that send out? He and Catya, my supervisor, have already announced it to the rest of the staff. He can’t go back now, nor would I want him to just because you strong-armed him.”
Well, shit, Rehv thought. He’d been planning on manipulating Havers’s mind,
but that wouldn’t take care of all the other folks who worked at the clinic, would it.
“Okay, then let me help you until you have your feet back under you.”
“Thank you, but—”
He wanted to curse. “I have an idea. Meet me tonight at my place and we’ll argue about it?”
“Rehv—”
“Excellent. I have to tend to my mother early in the evening, and I have a meeting to go to at midnight. How’s three a.m. sound? Wonderful—I’ll see you then.”
There was a heartbeat of silence and then she chuckled. “You always get what you want, don’t you.”
“Pretty much.”
“Fine. Three o’clock tonight.”
“I’m so happy I changed my tone, aren’t you?”
They both laughed, the tension draining from the connection as if it had been flushed out.
When there was a rustle again, he took it to mean she was lying back down and getting comfortable once more.
“So can I tell you what my father did?” she said abruptly.
“You can tell me that and then explain to me why you didn’t eat more for dinner. And after that we’re going to talk about the last movie you saw and the books you read and what you think about global warming.”
“Really, all that?”
God, he loved her laugh. “Yup. We’re in network, so it’s free. Oh, and I want to know what your favorite color is.”
“Rehvenge…you really don’t want to be alone, do you.” The words were spoken gently and almost absently, as if the thought had snuck out of her mouth.
“Right now…I just want to be with you. That’s all I know.”
“I wouldn’t be ready, either. If my father passed tonight, I wouldn’t be ready to let him go.”
He closed his eyes. “That is…” He had to clear his throat. “That is exactly what I’m feeling. I’m not ready for this.”
“Your father has also…passed. So I know it’s extra hard.”
“Well, yes, he’s dead, although I don’t miss him at all. She was always the one for me. And with her gone…I feel like I just drove up to my home to find someone’s burned it down. I mean, I didn’t see her every night or even every week, but I always had the potential of going over and sitting down and smelling her Chanel No. 5. Of hearing her voice and seeing her across a table. That potential…grounded me, and I didn’t know it until I lost it. Shit…I’m not making sense.”
