The room's double doors were open, and lo and behold, Tohrment was wearing a track in the Aubusson carpet, pacing while talking to Wrath.
"Just who I was looking for," Rhage drawled.
Tohr glanced over. "I was coming to your room next."
"Sure you were. What's doing, Wrath?"
The Blind King smiled. "Glad to see you're getting back to fighting form, Hollywood."
"Oh, I'm ready, all right." Rhage stared at Tohr. "You got something to tell me?"
"Not really."
"You're saying you don't know where the human lives?"
"I don't know if you need to go see her, how about that?"
Wrath leaned back in his chair, putting his feet up on the desk. His enormous shitkickers made the delicate thing look like a footstool.
He smiled. "One of you steakheads want to bring me up to speed?"
"Private biz," Rhage murmured. "Nothing special."
"The hell it is." Tohr turned to Wrath. "Our boy over here seems to want to get to know the kid's human translator better."
Wrath shook his head. "Oh, no, you don't, Hollywood. Lie down with some other female. God knows, there's enough of them out there for you." He nodded at Tohr. "As I was saying, I've got no objection to the boy joining the first class of trainees, provided you verify his background. And that human needs to be checked out, too. If the kid disappears all of a sudden, I don't want her causing trouble."
"I'll take care of her," Rhage said. When they both gave him a look, he shrugged. "Either you let me or I'll follow whoever does. One way or the other, I will find that female."
Tohr's brows turned his forehead into a plow field. "Will you back off, my brother? Assuming the boy comes here, there's too close a connection with that human. Just drop it."
"Sorry. I want her."
"Christ. You can be a real pain in the ass, you know that? No impulse control, but totally single-minded. Helluva combination."
"Look, one way or the other, I'm going to have her. Now do you want me to check her out while I do it or not?"
When Tohr rubbed his eyes, and Wrath cursed, Rhage knew he'd won.
"Fine," Tohr muttered. "Find out her background and her connection to the kid and then do what you will with her. But at the end of it, you strip her memories and you don't see her again. Do you hear me? You wipe yourself out of her when you're finished and you do not see her again."
"Deal."
Tohr flipped open his cell and punched a few buttons. "I'm text-messaging the human's number to you."
"And her friend's."
"You're going to do her, too?"
"Just give it to me, Tohr."
Bella was getting into bed for the day when the phone rang. She picked it up, hoping it wasn't her brother. She hated when he checked to make sure she was at home when night receded. Like she might be out screwing males or something.
"Hello?" she said.
"You will call Mary and you will tell her to meet me tonight for dinner."
Bella bolted upright. The blond warrior.
"Did you hear what I said?"
"Yes but what do you want with her?" As if she didn't already know.
"Call her now. Tell her that I am a friend of yours and she'll enjoy herself. It will be better that way."
"Better than what?"
"My breaking into her house to get to her. Which is what I'll do, if I have to."
Bella closed her eyes and saw Mary against that wall, the male looming over her as he held her in place. He was coming after her for one and only one reason: to release all that sex in his body. Release it into her.
"Oh, God please don't hurt her. She's not one of us. And she's ill."
"I know. I'm not going to harm her."
Bella put her head in her hand, wondering just how a hard male like him would know what hurt and what didn't.
"Warrior she doesn't know about our race. She'sI beg you, don't"
"She won't remember me after it's done."
Like that was supposed to make her feel less awful? As it was, she felt like she was serving Mary up on a platter.
"You can't stop me, female. But you can make it easier on your friend. Think about it. She'll feel safer if she meets me in a public place. She won't know what I am. It will be as normal as it can be for her."
Bella hated being pushed around, hated the sense that she was betraying Mary's friendship.
"I wish I'd never brought her along," she muttered.
"I don't." There was a pause. "She has an unusual way about her."
"What if she denies you?"
"She won't."
"But if she does?"
"That's her choice. She won't be forced. I swear to you."
Bella let her hand drop to her throat, tangling a finger in the Diamonds by the Yard chain she always wore.
"Where?" she said with dejection. "Where should she meet you?"
"Where do humans meet for normal dates?"
How the hell would she know? Except then she remembered Mary saying something about a colleague of hers meeting a man What was the name of the place?
"TGI Friday's," she said. "There's one in Lucas Square."
"Fine. Tell her eight o'clock tonight."
"What name do I give her?"
"Tell her it's Hal. Hal E. Wood."
"Warrior?"
"Yeah?"
"Please"
His voice actually softened. "Don't worry, Bella. I'll treat her well."
The phone went dead.
In Mr. X's cabin deep in the woods, O slowly sat up on the bed, easing himself to the vertical. He brushed his hands across his wet cheeks.
The Omega had left only an hour ago, and O's body was still leaking out of several places, wounds and otherwise. He wasn't sure he was up to moving, but he had to get the hell away from this bedroom.
When he tried to stand his vision spun wildly, so he sat down. Through the little window across the room, he saw dawn breaking, the warm glow splintered by the boughs of pine trees. He hadn't expected the punishment to last a whole day. And had been sure at many points that he wouldn't make it through.
The Omega had taken him to places inside of himself that he'd been shocked to find he had. Places of fear and self-loathing. Of utter humiliation and degradation. And now, in the aftermath, he felt as if he had no skin, as if he were totally open and exposed, a raw laceration that just happened to be breathing.
The door opened. Mr. X's shoulders filled the frame. "How are we doing?"
O covered himself with a blanket and then opened his mouth. Nothing came out. He coughed a few times. "I made it."
"I was hoping you would."
For O, it was difficult to see the man dressed in regular clothes, holding a clipboard, looking as if he were ready to start another productive workday. Compared to where O had spent the last twenty-four hours, the normalcy seemed fake and vaguely threatening.
Mr. X smiled a little. "So, you and I are going to strike a deal. You get in line and stay there, and that won't happen again."
O was too exhausted to argue. The fight in him would come backhe knew it wouldbut right now all he wanted was soap and hot water. And some time alone.
"What do you say to me?" Mr. X demanded.
"Yes, sensei." O didn't care what he had to do, what he had to say. He just had to get away from the bed the room the cabin.
"There are some clothes in the closet. You good enough to drive?'
"Yeah. Yeah I'm fine."
O pictured the shower at his house, all creamy tile and white grout. Clean. So very clean. And he would be, too, when he got out of it.
"I want you to do yourself a favor, Mr. O. When you go about your work, remember what all that felt like. Call it up, keep it fresh in your mind, and take it out on your subjects. I may be irritated by your initiative, but I would despise you if you went soft on me. Are we clear?"
"Yes, sensei."
Mr. X turned away, but then glanced over his shoulder. "I think I know why the Omega let you survive. As he left, he was quite complimentary. I know he'd like to see you again. Shall I tell him you'd welcome his visits?"
O made a strangled sound. He couldn't help it.
Mr. X laughed softly. "Perhaps not."
CHAPTER 11
Mary parked in the TGI Friday's lot. Looking around at the cars and minivans, she wondered how the hell she'd agreed to meet some man for dinner. Close as she could recall, Bella had phoned and talked her into it this morning, but damned if she could remember any of the particulars.
Then again, she wasn't retaining much. Tomorrow morning she was going to the doctor's for the follow-up, and with that hanging over her, she was in a daze. Take last night, for instance. She could have sworn she went somewhere with John and Bella, except the evening was a total black hole. Work was the same. She'd gone through the motions at the law office today, making simple mistakes and staring into space.
As she got out of the Civic, she tightened herself up mentally as best she could. She owed the poor man she was meeting an effort to be alert, but other than that, she didn't feel any pressure. She'd made it clear to Bella this was friends only. Split the check. Nice to meet you; see you later.
Which would have been her attitude even if she hadn't been distracted by the whole Russian-roulette medical lottery hanging over her head. Aside from the fact that she might be sick again, she was way out of practice with the whole dating thing and not looking to get back in shape. Who needed the drama? Most single guys in their early thirties were still looking for fun or they would have been married already, and she was the antifun, buzz-kill type. Serious by nature, with some hard-core experience.
And she didn't look like a party, either. The unremarkable hair growing out of her head was pulled back tight and cinched in a scrunchie. The creamy Irish knit sweater she had on was baggy and warm. Her khakis were comfortable, and her flats were brown and scuffed at the toes. She probably looked like the mother she would never be.
When she walked into the restaurant, she found the hostess and was led to a booth in the back corner. As she put her purse down, she smelled green peppers and onions and looked up. A waitress whipped by with a sizzling iron plate.
The restaurant was busy, a great cacophony rising up from all the life in the place. While waiters danced around with trays of steaming food or piles of used dishes, families and couples and groups of friends laughed, talked, argued. The mad chaos struck her as more awesome than ordinary, and sitting by herself she felt utterly separate, a poser among the real people.
They all had happy futures. She had more doctor's appointments to go to.
With a curse, she clipped her emotions into place, trimming off the panic and catastrophizing, leaving behind nothing but a resolve not to dwell on Dr. Delia Croce tonight.
Mary thought of topiaries and smiled a little, just as a harried waitress came up to the table. The woman put down a plastic glass of water, spilling some.
"You waiting for someone?"
"Yes, I am."
"You want a drink?"
"This is fine. Thanks."
As the waitress took off, Mary sipped the water, tasted metal, and pushed the glass away. Out of the corner of her eye she caught a flurry of movement at the front door.
Holy Wow.
A man had walked into the restaurant. A really, really very fine man.
He was blond. Movie-star beautiful. And monumental in a black leather trench coat. His shoulders were broad as the door he'd come through, his legs so long he was taller than anyone in the place. And as he strode through the knot of people at the entrance, the other men looked down or away or at their watches, as if they knew they couldn't measure up to what he had going on.
Mary frowned, feeling like she'd seen him somewhere before.
Yeah, it's called the big screen, she told herself. Maybe there was a movie being shot here in town.
The man stepped up to the hostess and ran his eyes over the woman as if trying her on for size. The redhead blinked up at him in stunned disbelief, but then clearly her estrogen receptors came to the rescue. She pulled her hair forward, as if she wanted to make sure he noticed the stuff, and then kicked out her hip as if she'd popped the thing out of joint.
Don't worry, Mary thought. He sees you, honey.
As the two of them started coming through the restaurant, the man surveyed every table, and Mary wondered who he was eating with.
Aha. Two booths away there was a blonde seated alone. Her fuzzy blue sweater was skintight, the angora shrink-wrap showing off a dazzling display of assets. And the woman was radiating anticipation as she watched him come through the restaurant.
Bingo. Ken and Barbie.
Well, not really Ken. As the guy walked along, there was something about him that wasn't WASPy handsome in spite of his amazing looks. Something animalistic. He just didn't carry himself as other people did.
Actually, he moved like a predator, thick shoulders rolling with his gait, head turning, scanning. She had the discomforting sense that if he wanted to, he could wipe out everyone in the place with his bare hands.
Calling on her willpower, Mary forced herself to stare into her water glass. She didn't want to be like all the other gawking fools.
Oh, hell, she had to look up again.
He'd bypassed the blonde and was standing in front of a brunette directly across the aisle. The woman was smiling broadly. Which seemed only reasonable.
"Hey," he said.
Well, what do you know. Voice was spectacular, too. A deep, resonant drawl.
"Hi, yourself."
The man's tone sharpened. "You are not Mary."
Mary tensed. Oh, no.
"I'll be anyone you want."
"I'm looking for Mary Luce."
Oh shit.
Mary cleared her throat, wishing she were anywhere else, anyone else. "I'm ah, I'm Mary."
The man turned around. As vivid, teal blue eyes bored into her, his big body stiffened.
Mary looked down quickly, jabbing the straw into her water.
Not what you were expecting, am I? she thought
As silence stretched out clearly he was searching for a socially acceptable excuse to cut and run.
God, how could Bella have humiliated her like this?
Rhage stopped breathing and just took the human in. Oh, she was lovely. Nothing he'd expected, but lovely nonetheless.
Her skin was pale and smooth, like fine ivory stationery. The bones of her face were equally delicate, her jaw a graceful arch running from her ears to her chin, her cheeks high and tinted with a natural blush. Her neck was long and slender, like her hands and probably her legs. Her deep brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail.
She wore no makeup, he couldn't detect any perfume, and the only jewelry she had on was a pair of tiny pearl earrings. Her off-white sweater was bulky and loose, and he was willing to bet her pants were also baggy.
There was absolutely nothing about her that courted notice. She wasn't anything like the females he went for. And she held his attention like a marching band.
"Hello, Mary," he said softly.
He was hoping she would look back up at him, because he hadn't been able to catch enough of her eyes. And he couldn't wait to hear her voice again. The two words she'd spoken had been so quiet and not nearly enough.
He stuck his hand out, itching to touch her. "I'm Hal."
She let his palm hang between them as she reached for her purse and started to scootch her way out of the booth.
He planted himself in her path. "Where are you going?"
"Look, it's okay. I won't tell Bella. We'll just pretend we had dinner."
Rhage closed his eyes and tuned out the background noise so he could absorb the sound of her voice. His body stirred and calmed, weaved a little.
And then he realized what she'd said.
"Why would we lie? We are going to have dinner together."
Her lips tightened, but at least she stopped trying to escape.
When he was sure she wasn't going to bolt, he sat down and tried to get his legs to fit under the table. As she looked at him, he stopped shifting his knees around.
Dear God. Her eyes didn't match the gentle lilt of her voice at all. They belonged to a warrior.
Gunmetal gray, surrounded by lashes the color of her hair, they were grave, serious, reminding him of males who had fought and survived battle. They were staggeringly beautiful in their strength.
His voice vibrated. "I am so going to have dinner with you."
Those eyes flared and then narrowed. "Have you always done charity work?"
"Excuse me?"
A waitress came over and slowly put down a glass of water in front of him. He could smell the female's lusty response to his face and his body and it annoyed him.
"Hi, I'm Amber," she said. "What can I get you to drink?"
"Water is fine. Mary, do you want anything else?"
"No, thanks."
The waitress stepped a little closer to him. "Can I tell you about our specials?"
"All right."
As the list went on and on, Rhage didn't look away from Mary. She was hiding her eyes from him, damn it.
The waitress cleared her throat. A couple of times. "You sure I can't get you a beer? Or maybe something with a little more kick? How about a shot"
"We're fine, and you can come back later for the order. Thanks."
Amber took the hint.
When they were alone, Mary said, "Really, let's just end"
"Have I given you any indication that I don't want to eat with you?"
She put a hand on top of the menu in front of her, tracing the picture of a plate of ribs. Abruptly she pushed the thing away. "You keep staring at me."
"Males do that." When they find a female they want, he added to himself.
"Yeah, well, not to me they don't. I can imagine how seriously underwhelmed you are, but I don't need you focusing on the particulars, know what I mean? And I'm really not interested in enduring an hour of you taking one for the team."
God, that voice. She was doing it to him again, his skin flaring with shivers and then settling down, loosening. He took a deep breath, trying to catch some of her natural, lemony scent.
As silence cropped up between them, he nudged her menu back at her. "Decide what you're going to order, unless you just want to sit there while I eat."
"I can leave anytime I want."
"True. But you won't."
"Oh, and why's that?" Her eyes flashed, and his body lit up like a football stadium.
"You're not going to bail because you like Bella too much to embarrass her by walking out on me. And unlike you, I will tell her you ditched me."
Mary frowned. "Blackmail?"
"Persuasion."
She slowly opened the menu and glanced at it. "You're still staring at me."
"I know."
"Would you mind looking somewhere else? The menu, that brunette across the aisle. There's a blonde two booths back, in case you haven't noticed."
"You don't ever wear perfume, do you?"
Her eyes flipped up to his. "No, I don't."
"May I?" He nodded to one of her hands.
"Excuse me?"
He couldn't very well tell her he wanted to smell her skin up close. "Considering we're having dinner and all, seems only civil to shake hands, doesn't it? And even though you shut me down the first time I tried to be polite, I'm willing to give it another shot."
When she didn't answer, he reached across the table and took her hand into his. Before she could react, he pulled her arm forward, bent down, and pressed his lips to her knuckles. He breathed in deeply.
His body's response to her scent was immediate. His erection punched at the fly of his leathers, straining, pushing. He shifted around to make some more room in his pants.
God, he couldn't wait to get her home alone.
CHAPTER 12
Mary stopped breathing as Hal released her hand. Maybe she was dreaming. Yeah, that had to be it. Because he was too gorgeous. Too sexy. And way too focused on her to be real.
The waitress came back, getting as close to Hal as she could without actually being in his lap. And wouldn't you know it, the woman had freshened her lip gloss. That mouth of hers looked like it had had an oil change with something called Fresh Pink. Or Curious Coral. Or something equally ridiculous.
Mary shook her head, surprised she was being so bitchy.
"What can I get you?" the waitress asked Hal.
He glanced across the table and lifted an eyebrow. Mary shook her head and started flipping through the menu.
"Okay, whadda we got here," he said, opening his own. "Let's have the Chicken Alfredo. The NY strip, rare. And a cheeseburger, also rare. Double on the fries. And some nachos. Yeah, I want the nachos with everything on them. Double that, too, will you?"
Mary could only stare as he closed the menu and waited.
The waitress looked a little awkward. "Is all that for both you and your sister?"
As if family obligation was the only reason a man like him would be out with a woman like her. Oh, man...
"No, that's for me. And she's my date, not my sister. Mary?"
"I ah, I'll just have a Caesar salad, whenever his"feeding trough?"dinner comes."
The waitress took the menus and left.
"So, Mary, tell me a little about yourself."
"Why don't we just make it about you?"
"Because then I won't hear you talk."
Mary stiffened, something bubbling below the surface of her consciousness.
Talk. I want to hear your voice.
Say nothing. Over and over and over again. Do it.
She could have sworn this man had said those things to her, but she'd never met him before. God knew, she would have remembered that.
"What do you do for a living?" he prompted.
"Er I'm an executive assistant."
"Where?"
"A law firm here in town."
"But you did something else, didn't you?"
She wondered how much Bella had told him. God, she hoped the woman hadn't brought up the illness. Maybe that was why he was staying.
"Mary?"
"I used to work with kids."
"Teacher?"
"Therapist."
"Head or body?"
"Both. I was a rehab specialist for autistic children."
"What got you started in it?"
"Do we have to do this?"
"Do what?"
"All the let's-pretend-to-get-to-know-you stuff."
He frowned, leaning back as the waitress put a huge plate of nachos on the table.
The woman bent down to his ear. "Shhh, don't tell anyone. I stole these from another order. They can wait, and you look very hungry."
Hal nodded, smiled, but seemed uninterested.
She had to give him credit for being polite, Mary thought. Now that he was sitting across the table from her, he didn't seem to notice any other women at all.
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."