J.R. Ward the Black Dagger Brotherhood Novels 5-8 - J. R. Ward [550]
Even as the door before him parted at his will.
It would have taken a better liar than she was to pretend she just was looking off into the night. And she wasn’t a coward, to bolt.
Ehlena walked up to him. “You didn’t take a pill.”
“Is that what you’re waiting for?”
Ehlena crossed her arms over her chest. “Yes.”
Rehvenge glanced back at the table and the pair of empty plates. “You said they had to be taken with food.”
“Yes, I did.”
“Well, it looks like you’re going to watch me eat, then.” The elegant sweep of his arm inviting her in was a prompt she didn’t want to take. “Will you sit with me? Or do you want to stay out here in the cold? Oh, wait, maybe this will help.” Leaning heavily on his cane, he went over and blew out the candles.
The curling weaves of smoke above the wicks seemed to her a lament for all the extinguished possibilities that had been: He’d prepared a nice dinner for them both. Made the effort. Dressed beautifully.
She stepped inside because she’d already ruined enough of his evening.
“Seat yourself,” he said. “I’ll be back with my plate. Unless…?”
“I’ve already eaten.”
He bowed slightly as she pulled out a chair. “Of course you have.”
Rehvenge left his cane against the table and walked out, steadying himself on the backs of chairs and the sideboard and the jamb of the butler’s door into the kitchen. When he returned a few minutes later, he repeated the pattern with his free hand and then lowered himself down into the armed chair at the head of the table with careful concentration. Picking up a sleek sterling-silver fork, he didn’t say a word as he carefully sliced his meat and ate with restraint and manners.
Christ, she felt like the bitch of the week, sitting in front of an empty plate while fully buttoned up in her coat.
The sounds of silver tines on porcelain made the silence between them scream.
Stroking the napkin in front of her, she felt god-awful about so much, and though she wasn’t much of a talker she found herself speaking because she simply couldn’t keep everything in anymore. “The night before last…”
“Mmm?” Rehvenge didn’t look at her, just stayed focused on his plate.
“I wasn’t stood up. You know, on that date.”
“Well, good for you.”
“He was killed.”
Rehvenge’s head shot up. “What.”
“Stephan, the guy I was supposed to meet…he was killed by lessers. The king brought his body in, but I didn’t know it was him until his cousin showed up looking for him. I…ah, I spent my shift last evening wrapping his body and returning him to his family.” She shook her head. “They’d beaten him…. You couldn’t tell who he had been.”
Her voice fractured and refused to go on, so she just sat there stroking the napkin, in hopes of soothing herself.
Two subtle clinks marked Rehv’s fork and knife coming to rest on his plate, and then he reached out to her, putting his solid hand on her forearm.
“I’m so goddamned sorry,” he said. “No wonder you’re not into all this. If I had known—”
“No, it’s okay. Really. I should have handled it better when I arrived. I’m just off tonight. Not myself at all.”
He gave her a squeeze and settled back into his chair as if he didn’t want to crowd her. Which was normally what she liked, but tonight she found it a pity—to use a word he enjoyed. The weight of his touch through her coat had been very nice.
Speaking of which, she was getting really warm.
Ehlena unbuttoned herself and took the wool from her shoulders. “Hot in here.”
“Like I said before, I can cool things down for you.”
“No.” She frowned, glancing over at him. “Why are you always cold? Side effects from the dopamine?”
He nodded. “It’s really more why I need the cane. I can’t feel my arms, legs.”
She hadn’t heard of many vampires reacting in that way to the drug, but then, individual reactions were legion. And also the vampire equivalent of Parkinson’s was a nasty disease.
Rehvenge pushed his plate away and the two of them sat in silence for a long while. In the candlelight, he seemed dimmed somehow, his usual energy dialed down, his mood very