Page 22 of Reap the Night
“I’m in the mood for pasta,” Hemlock said, his tone grudging as if sharing his preference hadn’t been part of his grand plan.
Dinner duty at the Royal suddenly didn’t seem so bad.
Chapter 9
Ihadn’t expected the Royal House to be so busy on a Thursday night, but there must have been an event going on. Part of the restaurant had been cordoned off to accommodate a large group of humans, probably some kind of birthday party or business meeting over dinner.
We hadn’t exactly dressed up for the meal. I was in trousers and a long-sleeved black polo, but I’d put my hair up and slapped on some gloss and a little mascara. Hemlock was in his usual outfit that blended Old Town and New Town attire, and Ordell was in jeans and a long-sleeved top. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen him without his arms on display, and although I missed his bulging biceps, this new look suited him too.
Ezekiel had booked a table in the center of the restaurant and another for us close by. He was already seated when we arrived, and the maître d’ led us to our table for three and offered us menus.
I took the seat that gave me a direct view of my charge and his guest and poured a glass of water so I had something to do with my hands because I had no doubt that the next few hours would test my commitment.
The question that I’d been avoiding pushed to the forefront of my mind: Why did it bother me so much that he was with another woman? I shoved it back into the depths because I wasn’t ready to consider it yet. Considering it meant examining my feelings for this creature, and that frightened the hell out of me.
Instead, I focused on the details around us. The other people—customers and servers—all potential threats. Damn, Ariella looked gorgeous in a simple deep red midi dress that showed off her shapely legs, and Ezekiel…so handsome in a dark blue button-down shirt open at the collar, dark hair pulled back so the candlelight could dance across his alabaster skin, highlighting every plane and dip and?—
Shut up, brain! He’s a murderer. A manipulator.
But he stayed with me while I healed. Built a vista with me and told me stories of a world from long ago. We’d shared things, grown close, and I…Dammit, I needed to get over this shit.
Why hadn’t he looked over at us even once? Did he know we were here? Should I have gone over and said something when we arrived?
“Orina?” Ordell touched my arm lightly. “Do you still want the steak?”
“Um…yeah.” I smiled at the server waiting to take our order.
Hemlock rattled off what we wanted, and I looked over at Ezekiel’s table to check that everything was okay and immediately wished I hadn’t. He was leaning across the table, holding Ariella’s hand, lips moving in soft words that I wished I could hear. Dammit, I should have learned to lip-read.
“He’s telling her how beautiful she looks tonight,” Hemlock said. “And how he can’t wait for later.”
I gulped more water. “I don’t care.”
“Good.” He sat back in his seat. “You shouldn’t. All that matters is that we keep him safe. It shouldn’t be an issue. I checked the guest list, and there is no one on it for tonight that might prove a potential threat.”
“Couldn’t Ezekiel have done that? In fact, he could have reserved the whole restaurant if he wanted to.”
“Yes. He could have,” Ordell said tightly.
“Then why not do so? Why ask me to come babysit him? You know what, don’t answer that. It’s obvious he wants to show me he can control me, that he’s in charge, blah blah blah. Well, joke’s on him. We’re putting this whole meal on his tab.”
Ordell chuckled. “Oh, don’t worry, we will.”
Ezekiel’s food arrived, and as the server placed the plates on the table, the vampire king looked right at me, proving that he knew I was here. Our gazes locked for a beat, and a pang of longing rocked through me. His mouth curved in a smile that was almost wistful before he broke contact and returned his attention to his date.
He reached out and brushed a tendril of hair off her cheek, and she tipped her face up to his, and I was going to be fucking sick.
“Food’s here,” Ordell said, a slight growl to his tone.
“Right.” I focused on the plate placed before me, smiled at the server, and picked up my knife and fork, but my appetite was dead.
“What do you have planned for the weekend?” Hemlock asked.
I looked up at him in surprise. “What do you care?”
He flinched. “It’s called small talk, Orina. You should try it sometime.”
Crap. “Sorry. I’m going to a club. It’s owned by Crush. I can’t remember the name.”
