As silence flared again, she ate faster, thinking she'd go as soon as she finished.
"I'm doing something I'm not proud of," he said abruptly.
She glanced up. His expression was positively vile, anger and hatred turning him into someone who, if she hadn't known otherwise, she would have feared. None of the evil look was directed at her, though. It was a manifestation of what he was feeling toward himself. Or another.
She knew better than to press. Especially given his mood.
So she was surprised when he said, "It's an ongoing thing."
Was it business or personal, she wondered.
His eyes lifted to hers. "It involves a certain female."
Right. A female.
Okay, she had no right to feel a cold vise around her chest. It was none of her business that he was already with someone. Or that he was a player who threw together this roast beef dinner, candlelight, and seduction special for God knew how many different females.
Ehlena cleared her throat and put down her knife and fork. As she dabbed her mouth with her napkin, she said, "Wow. You know, I never thought to ask if you were mated. You don't have a name in your back-"
"It's not my shellan. And I don't love her in the slightest. It's complicated."
"Do you share a young?"
"No, thank God."
Ehlena frowned. "Is this a relationship, though?"
"I guess you could call it that."
Feeling like a total raving idiot for getting caught up in him, Ehlena put her napkin on the table beside her plate and offered a very professional smile as she got to her feet and picked up her coat.
"I should go now. Thanks for dinner."
Rehv cursed. "I shouldn't have said anything-"
"If your goal was to get me in bed, you're right. Bad move. Still, I'm glad you were honest-"
"I wasn't trying to get you into bed."
"Oh, of course not, because you'd be cheating on her." Christ, why was she getting so upset over this?
"No," he snapped back, "it's because I'm impotent. Believe me, if I could get hard, bed would be the first place I'd want to go with you."
Chapter TWENTY-EIGHT
Spending time with you is like watching paint dry." Lassiter's voice echoed up to the stalactites hanging from the Tomb's high ceiling. "Except without the home improvement-which is a tragedy, given how this place looks. Do you guys always go for the gloom and doom? You never hear of Pottery Barn?"
Tohr rubbed his face and glanced around the cave that had served as the Brotherhood's sacred meeting place for centuries. Behind the massive stone altar he was sitting next to, the black marble wall with all the Brothers' names on it stretched out across the back of the cave. Black candles on heavy stanchions threw flickering light over all the carvings in the Old Language.
"We're vampires," he said. "Not fairies."
"Sometimes I'm not so sure about that. You see that study your king hangs out in?"
"He's nearly blind."
"Which explains why he hasn't hanged himself in that pastel train wreck."
"I thought you were bitching about the gloom-and-doom decorating?"
"I free-associate."
"Clearly." Tohr didn't look at the angel, as he figured eye contact would only encourage the guy. Oh, wait. Lassiter didn't need help.
"You expecting that skull on the altar to talk to you or some shit?"
"Actually we're both waiting for you to finally take a breath." Tohr glared at the guy. "Anytime you're ready. Anytime."
"You say the sweetest things." The angel sat his glowing ass down on the stone steps next to Tohr. "Can I ask you something?"
"Is 'no' really an option?"
"Nope." Lassiter shifted around and stared up at the skull. "That thing looks older than I am. Which is saying something."
It was the first Brother, the inaugural warrior who fought the enemy bravely and with power, the most sacred symbol of strength and purpose within the Brotherhood.
Lassiter stopped f**king around for once. "He must have been a great fighter."
"I thought you were going to ask me something."
The angel stood with a curse and shook out his legs. "Yeah, I mean...how in the f**k have you sat there for so long? My ass is killing me."
"Yeah, brain cramps are a bitch."
Although the angel did have a point about time having passed. Tohr had been sitting there, staring at the skull and at the wall of names beyond the altar, for so long his butt wasn't so much numb as indistinguishable from the steps.
He had come here the previous night, drawn by an invisible hand, compelled to seek inspiration, clarity, reconnection to life. Instead, he had found only stone. Cold stone. And a lot of names that had once meant something to him and now were nothing but a grocery list of the dead.
"It's because you're looking in the wrong place," Lassiter said.
"You can go now."
"Every time you say that, it brings a tear to my eye."
"Funny, mine too."
The angel leaned down, the scent of fresh air preceding him. "Neither that wall nor that skull will give you what you're looking for."
Tohr narrowed his eyes and wished he were strong enough to fight the guy. "They won't? Well, then they're making a liar out of you. 'Now is the time. Tonight everything changes.' You give portent a bad name, you know that? You are just so full of shit."
Lassiter smiled and idly adjusted the gold hoop that pierced his eyebrow. "If you think being rude is going to get my attention, you'll be really bored before I care."
"Why the f**k are you here?" Tohr's exhaustion crept into his voice, weakening it and pissing him off. "Why the hell didn't you just leave me where you found me?"
The angel mounted the black marble steps and paced up and down in front of the glossy wall with the carved names, stopping now and then to inspect one or two.
"Time is a luxury, believe it or not," he said.
"Feels more like a curse to me."
"Without time, you know what you got?"
"The Fade. Which was where I was headed until you came along."
Lassiter ran his finger over a carved line of characters and Tohr looked away quickly when he realized what they spelled out. It was his name.
"Without time," the angel said, "you have only the bottomless, shapeless mire of eternity."
"FYI, philosophy bores me."
"Not philosophy. Reality. Time is what gives life significance."
"Fuck you. Seriously...fuck you."
Lassiter's head tilted to the side, as if he had heard something.
"Finally," he muttered. "Bastard was doing my nut in."
"Excuse me?"
The angel came back over, leaned down right into Tohr's face, and said with clear diction, "Listen up, sunshine. Your shellan, Wellsie, sent me. That's why I didn't leave you to die."
Tohr's heart stopped in his chest just as the angel looked up and said, "What took you so long."
Wrath's voice was annoyed as his shitkickers thundered down toward the altar. "Well, next time tell someone where the f**k you are-"
"What did you say," Tohr breathed.
Lassiter was utterly unapologetic as he refocused. "That wall isn't what you need to be looking at. Try a calendar. One year ago your Wellsie was shot in the face by the enemy. Wake the f**k up and do something about it."
Wrath cursed. "Easy, there, Lassi-"
Tohrment lunged off the cave floor with something close to the old strength he'd once had, and he hit Lassiter like a linebacker in spite of the weight difference, taking the angel down hard onto the stone floor. Wrapping his hands around the guy's throat, he stared down into white eyes and squeezed, baring his fangs.
Lassiter just stared right back and thought his voice directly into Tohr's temporal lobe: What are you going to do, ass**le? Are you going to avenge her, or disrespect her by wasting away like this?
Wrath's huge hand clamped on Tohr's shoulder like a lion's claw, digging in, pulling back. "Let go."
"Don't..." Tohr's breath came in punches. "Don't...ever..."
"Enough," Wrath spat.
Tohr was whipped backward onto his ass, and as he bounced like a stick dropped on the ground, he came out of the murder trance. Came awake, too.
He didn't know how else to describe it. It was as if some switch had been triggered and his bank of lights, which had been extinguished, suddenly went live with juice again.