by J. R. Ward
He offered the plate to her. When she shook her head, he popped a nacho in his mouth.
"I'm not surprised small talk annoys you," he said.
"Why's that?
"You've been through too much."
She frowned. "What exactly did Bella tell you about me?"
"Nothing much."
"So how do you know I've been through anything?"
"It's in your eyes."
Oh, hell. He was smart, too. Talk about the total package.
"But I hate to break it to you," he said, making fast but neat work of the nachos, "I don't care if you're annoyed. I want to know what got you interested in that line of work, and you're going to tell me."
"You are arrogant."
"Surprise, surprise." He smiled tightly. "And you're avoiding my question. What got you started in it?"
The answer was her mother's struggle with muscular dystrophy. After seeing what her mom went through, helping other people find ways around their limitations had been a calling. Maybe even a way to work off some guilt at being healthy when her mother had been so compromised.
And then Mary had gotten hit with some serious compromises herself.
Funny, the first thing she'd thought of when she'd been diagnosed was that it wasn't fair. She'd watched her mother do the disease thing, had suffered right alongside. So why was the universe requiring her to know firsthand the kind of pain she'd witnessed? It was right then and there that she'd realized there was no quota on misery for people, no quantifiable threshold that once reached, got you miraculously taken out of the distress pool.
"I never wanted to do anything else," she hedged.
"Then why did you stop?"
"My life changed."
Thankfully, he didn't follow up on that one. "Did you like working with handicapped kids?"
"They're not… they weren't handicapped."
"Sorry," he said, clearly meaning it.
The sincerity in his voice popped the lid off her reserve in a way compliments or smiles never would have.
"They're just different. They experience the world in a different way. Normal is just what's average, it's not necessarily the only way of being, or living—" She stopped, noticing he'd closed his eyes. "Am I boring you?"
His lids lifted slowly. "I love to hear you talk."
Mary swallowed a gasp. His eyes were neon, glowing, iridescent.
Those had to be contacts, she thought. People's eyes just didn't come in that teal color.
"Different doesn't bother you, does it?" he murmured.
"No."
"That's good."
For some reason, she found herself smiling at him.
"I was right," he whispered.
"About what?"
"You're lovely when you smile."
Mary looked away.
"What's the matter?"
"Please don't put on the charm. I'd rather deal with small talk."
"I'm honest, not charming. Just ask my brothers. I'm constantly putting my foot in my mouth."
There were more of him? Boy, that'd be a hell of a family Christmas card. "How many brothers do you have?"
"Five. Now. We lost one." He took a long drink of water, as if he didn't want her to see his eyes.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly.
"Thanks. It's still fresh. And I miss him like hell."
The waitress arrived with a heavy tray. When the plates were lined up in front of him and Mary's salad was down on the table, the woman lingered until Hal thanked her pointedly.
He went for the Alfredo first. He sank his fork into the tangle of fettuccine, twisted until a knot of pasta was on the tines, and carried the noodles to his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully and added some salt. He tested the strip steak next. Shook on a little pepper. Then he picked up the cheeseburger. It was halfway to his mouth when he frowned and put it back down. He used his fork and knife to take a bite.
He ate like a total gentleman. With an almost dainty air.
Abruptly, he looked at her. "What?"
"Sorry, I, ah…" She picked at her salad. And promptly went back to watching him eat.
"You keep staring at me and I'm going to blush," he drawled.
"I'm sorry."
"I'm not. I like your eyes on me."
Mary's body shimmered to life. And she responded with total grace by launching a crouton into her lap.
"So what are you looking at?" he asked.
She used her napkin to dab at the dressing skid on her pants. "Your table manners. They're very good."
"Food is to be savored."
She wondered what else he enjoyed like that Slowly. Thoroughly. God, she could just imagine the kind of love life he had. He'd be amazing in bed. That big body, that golden skin, those long, tapered fingers…
Mary's throat went dry and she made a grab for her glass. "But do you always… eat so much?"
"Actually, the stomach's off. I'm taking it easy." He shook a little more salt on the fettuccine. "So you used to work with autistic children, but now you're at a law firm. What else do you do with your time? Hobbies? Interests?"
"I like to cook."
"Really? I like to eat."
She frowned, trying not to imagine him sitting at her table.
"You're irritated again."
She waved her hand around. "I'm not."
"Yeah, you are. Don't like the idea of cooking something for me, do you?"
His unfettered honesty made her think she could tell him anything and he'd respond with exactly what he thought and felt. Good or bad.
"Hal, do you have any kind of filter between your brain and your mouth?"
"Not really." He finished the Alfredo and moved the plate aside. The steak was up next. "So what about your parents?"
She took a deep breath. "My mother died about four years ago. My father was killed when I was two in a wrong-place-wrong-time kind of thing."
He paused. "That's hard. Losing both of them."
"Yes, it was."
"Both of mine are gone, too. But at least they made it to old age. Do you have sisters? Brothers?"
"No. It was just me and my mother. And now only me."
There was a long silence. "So how do you know John?"
"John… oh, John Matthew? Did Bella tell you about him?"
"After a fashion."
"I don't know him all that well. He just kind of came into my life recently. I think he's a special kid, a kind one, even though I get the sense things haven't been easy for him."
"You know his parents?"
"He told me he doesn't have any."
"You know where he lives?"
"I know the area of town. It's not a very good one."
"Do you want to save him, Mary?"
What an odd question, she thought.
"I don't think he needs to be saved, but I'd like to be his friend. Truthfully, I barely know him. He just showed up at my house one night."
Hal nodded, as if she'd given him an answer he'd wanted.
"How do you know Bella?" she asked.
"Don't you like your salad?"
She looked down her plate. "I'm not hungry."
"You sure about that?"
"Yes."
As soon as he'd finished his burger and fries, he reached over for the small menu by the salt and pepper shakers.
"Is dessert more to your liking?" he asked.
"Not tonight."
"You should eat more."
"I had a big lunch."
"No, you didn't."
Mary crossed her arms over her chest. "How would you know?"
"I can sense your hunger."
She stopped breathing. God, those eyes of his were gleaming again. So blue, so bright, the color endless, like the sea. An ocean to swim in. To drown in. To die in.
"How do you know I'm… hungry?" she said, feeling as if the world were slipping away.
His voice dropped until it was almost a purr. "I'm right, aren't I? So why does it matter how?"
"So what do you do for a living?" she asked.
"This and that."
"Acting? Modeling?"
He laughed. "No. I may be decorative, but I prefer to be useful."
"And how are you useful?"
"I guess you could say I'm a soldier."
"You're in the military?"
"Kind of."
Well, that would explain the deadly air. The physical confidence. The sharpness in his eyes.
"What branch?" Marines, she thought. Or maybe a SEAL. He was that hard.
Hal's face tightened up. "Just another soldier."
From out of nowhere, a cloud of perfume invaded Mary's nose. It was the redheaded hostess sweeping up to the table.
"Was everything okay?" As Hal looked over, you could practically hear the woman sizzle.
"Fine, thanks," he said.
"Good." She slipped something onto the table. A napkin. With a number and a name on it.
As the woman flashed her eyes and sauntered off, Mary looked down at her hands. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her purse.
Time to go, she thought. For some reason she didn't want to watch Hal put that napkin in his pocket. Even though he had every right to do so.
"Well, this has been… interesting," she said. She picked up her bag and shuffled out of the booth.
"Why are you leaving?" His frown made him look like true military material, taking him very far away from the sexy male pinup stuff.
Unease flickered in her chest. "I'm tired. But, thanks, Hal. This has been… Well, thanks."
As she tried to get by him, he took her hand, stroking her inner wrist with his thumb. "Stay while I eat my dessert."
She looked away from his perfect face and his broad shoulders. The brunette across the aisle was getting to her feet and eyeing him, a business card in her hand.
Mary leaned down. "I'm sure you'll find plenty of others to keep you company. In fact, one's headed your way right now. I'd say good luck with her, but she looks like a sure thing."
Mary made a beeline for the exit. The chilly air and the relative silence were a relief after the crush of people, except as she approached her car, she had the eerie sense she wasn't alone. She glanced over her shoulder.
Hal was right behind her, even though she'd left him in the restaurant. She wheeled around, heart pounding like it wanted out of her ribs.
"Jesus! What are you doing?"
"Walking you to your car."
"I… ah. Don't bother."
"Too late. This Civic is yours, right?"
"How did you—"
"The lights flashed as you unlocked it."
She moved away from him, but as she backed up, Hal came forward. When she bumped against her car, she put her hands out.
"Stop."
"Don't be scared of me."
"Then don't crowd me."
She turned away from him and went for the door handle. His hand shot out, clamping on the seam between the window and the roof.
Yeah, she was going to get behind the wheel. When he let her.
"Mary?" His deep voice was right next to her head, and she jumped.
She felt the raw seduction of him and imagined his body as a cage locked around her. With a treasonous shift, her fear changed into something wanton and needy.
"Let me go," she whispered.
"Not yet."
She heard him take a deep breath, as if he were smelling her, and then her ears were flooded by a rhythmic pumping sound, as though he were purring. Her body loosened, heated, opened between her legs as if it was prepared to accept him inside.
Good God, she had to get away from him.
She grabbed onto his forearm and pushed. Which got her nowhere.
"Mary?"
"What?" she snapped, resentful because she was turned on when she should have been petrified. For God's sake, he was a stranger, a big, pushy stranger, and she was a woman alone with no one to miss her if she didn't make it home.
"Thank you for not bailing on me."
"You're welcome. Now how about letting me leave?"
"As soon as you let me kiss you good-night."
Mary had to open her mouth to get enough air into her lungs.
"Why?" she asked hoarsely. "Why would you want to do that?"
His hands fell onto her shoulders and turned her around. He towered over her, blocking out the glow from the restaurant, the lights in the parking lot, the stars far above.
"Just let me kiss you, Mary." His hands slid up her throat and on to the sides of her face. "Only once. Okay?"
"No, it's not okay," she whispered as he tilted her head back.
His lips descended and her mouth trembled. It had been so long since she'd been kissed. And never by a man like him.
The contact was soft, gentle. Unexpected, given the size of him.
And just as a blast of heat licked over her breasts and landed between her legs, she heard a hiss.
He stumbled back and looked at her strangely. With a jerky movement, his heavy arms crossed over his chest, as if he were holding on to himself.
"Hal?"
He said nothing, just stood there, staring. If she didn't know better, she'd think he was shaken.
"Hal, are you all right?"
He shook his head once.
Then he walked away, disappearing into the darkness beyond the parking lot.
CHAPTER 13
Rhage materialized in the courtyard between the Pit and the mansion.
He couldn't put an exact bead on the sensation inside his skin, but it was some kind of low-level buzz in his muscles and bones, like the vibration of a tuning fork. What he did know for sure was that he'd never felt the hum before. And that it had kicked off the moment his mouth had touched Mary's.
Since anything new and different with his body was bad, he'd immediately gotten the hell away from her, and not being around the female seemed to help. Trouble was, now that the feeling was fading, his body's need for release was causing him to twitch. Which wasn't fair. After the beast came out, he usually got at least a few days off.
He checked his watch.
Damn it, he wanted to go out hunting for lessers to take himself down a notch or two, but since Tohr had taken over command of the Brotherhood, new rules had been laid out.
After changing, Rhage was supposed to cool his jets for a couple days until he was back on all burners. With Darius's death this past summer, the number of brothers had been reduced to six, and then Wrath had ascended to the throne, so they were just five now. The race couldn't afford to lose another warrior.
The forced R & R made sense, but he hated being told what to do. And he couldn't stand not being out in the field, especially when he needed to drain off some juice.
Taking a set of keys from his coat, he went over to his souped-up GTO. The car came awake with a roar, and a minute and a half later he was out on the open road. He didn't know which direction he was headed in. Didn't care.
Mary. That kiss.
God, her mouth had been unbelievably sweet as it trembled under his, so sweet he'd wanted to part her lips with his tongue and slide inside of her. Slide and retreat and come back again for another taste. And then do the same with his body between her legs.
Except he'd had to stop. Whatever that hum was, it got him wired, so it was dangerous. The damn reaction didn't make sense, though. Mary calmed him, brought him some ease. Sure, he wanted her, and that was going to wire him out, but it shouldn't be enough to get him dangerous.
Ah, hell. Maybe he'd misinterpreted the response. Maybe that current had been sexual attraction of a more profound sort than he was used to… Which was typically nothing but the urge to come just so his body was less likely to flip out on him.
He thought about the females he'd had. Ther
e had been countless numbers of them, all nameless, faceless bodies he'd released into, not one of them a source of real pleasure for him. He'd touched them and kissed them only because unless they got off too, he felt like a total user.
Shit, he felt like a user anyway. He was a user.
So even if he hadn't been thrown by the buzz from kissing Mary, he still would have left her in that parking lot. With her lovely voice and her warrior eyes and her trembling mouth, Mary could not be just another screw. Taking her, even if she was willing, seemed like a violation of something pure. Something better than he was.
His cell phone rang and he took it out of his pocket. As he checked caller ID, he cursed, but answered the thing anyway. "Hey, Tohr. I was going to call you."
"I just saw your car peel out of here. Are you meeting the human female now?"
"I already did."
"That was quick. She must have treated you right."
Rhage ground his teeth. For once he had no quick comeback. "I talked to her about the kid. We've got no problem there. She likes him, she feels badly for him, but if he disappeared, she wouldn't cause a problem. She only met him recently."
"Good job, Hollywood. So where you headed now?"
"Just driving."
Tohr's voice softened. "You hate not being able to fight, don't you?"
"Wouldn't you?
"Of course, but don't worry, tomorrow night will come soon enough, and you'll be back in action. In the meantime, you could work off a little more of that sauce of yours at One Eye." Tohr chuckled. "By the way, I heard about the sisters you did two nights ago, one right after another. Man, you're amazing, you know that?"
"Yeah, Tohr, can I ask you a favor?"
"Anything, my brother."
"Could you not… ride me about the females?" Rhage took a deep breath. "Because the truth is, I hate it, I really do."
He meant to stop there, but suddenly the words were coming out and he couldn't shut up.
"I hate the anonymity of it. I hate the way my chest aches afterward. I hate the smells on my body and in my hair when I get home. But most of all, I hate the fact that I'm going to have to do it again because if I don't, I could end up hurting one of you guys or some innocent bystander," He exhaled through his mouth. "And those two sisters you're so impressed with? See, here's the thing. I only pick the ones who don't give a shit who they're with, because otherwise it's not fair. Those two bar chippies checked out my watch and my roll and figured I was a pimp trophy. The fucking was about as intimate as a car accident And tonight? You're going home to Wellsie. I'm going home alone. Just like I did yesterday. Just like I'm going to do the day after. The whoring isn't fun for me, and it's been killing me for years, so please give it a rest, dig?"
