Page 20 of The Seeker
The waitress brought their food, and Meera kept Rhys company as he slowly peeled off the layers of the day. When his gaze grew heavy, she reached over and brushed his hand, offering him a taste of the energy she gathered in the club. By the time they’d finished the wine and the food, the shadows had lifted a little. His belly was full and his soul was a little lighter.
“Thank you.” He rose when she did.
“For what?”
“You know.”
They walked out of the club when the musicians changed. Rhys held the door as Meera wrapped a scarf around her shoulders. The clouds had come back and the air had chilled.
Rhys took a deep breath. “It smells like rain.” His sensual lips spread into a wide smile. It was the first time Meera had seen him truly happy, and the effect was breathtaking.
She said, “You’re handsome when you smile.”
He blinked. “I’m not.”
Meera laughed. “I don’t think you get to decide if you’re handsome or not.”
“You think I’m handsome?”
“I think… I like your smile. Anyone would like your smile. It’s a nice smile.”
His trapped her with his eyes. “I’m not asking about anyone.”
Meera turned and started walking up Frenchmen Street, away from the entrance to the club and the inconvenient scholar with poetic lips.
“Meera!” Rhys called.
She stopped and turned. “Yes?”
Rhys opened his mouth. Frowned. “I should walk you home.”
“No, you shouldn’t. I don’t want you to.”
He looked around. “This neighborhood can be dangerous after dark.”
“I know.”
“But—”
“Rhys.” She stepped toward him and let the magic rise in her voice. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. Go home and sleep. You need to sleep.”
He opened his mouth as if to argue, then he shook his head and cleared his throat. “I don’t think—”
“I’m fine.” Damn him, he was strong-minded. She wasn’t surprised, but it was still irritating. “I’ll see you in a few days.”
“A few days?”
A jazz band started on the corner, distracting him, and Meera stepped into the shadows, whispering a spell to avert his gaze. While he’d be able to see her from the corner of his eye, he wouldn’t be able to focus on her.
“Meera?” He looked away. Looked back. The annoyed expression had returned. “Damn it, woman.”
She bit her lip to stop from laughing and slipped away while he was turning in the street. A crowd gathered around him, and Meera kept to the shadows, slipping out of sight while he was distracted. She worked her way away from the river and farther into the Faubourg Marigny, heading toward the shotgun house that was her home.
She stayed in the shadows, avoiding the drunks whose voices echoed in the quiet residential streets. Within three blocks, the music from Frenchmen died down and she walked in silence back to the alley that led to her garden.
As if he’d been waiting up for her, the dark angel stepped out of the shadows the minute Meera latched the garden gate.
“Vasu?” She sighed. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t been expecting it. It was out of character for him to stay away as long as he had. “What are you doing here?”
