Page 25 of Close Quarter
Rhys exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. "You're welcome to them." He gestured at the other two chairs and attempted a smile of his own.
"That's very sweet of you." She offered her hand, palm down. "Radmila." Her voice held a trace of an accent, different from Silas's. Closer to Vasil's.
He took her hand, gave it a gentle squeeze before letting go. "Rhys." Though her skin was soft, her hand felt like ice. Cold. Hard underneath.
His heart rate kicked up. People shouldn't feel like sculpture.
"Charmed." Same smile. She settled into the closest chair.
Rarely did he pay that much attention to the physical attractiveness of women, but this one-- she was different. Chocolate-colored hair that moved like water fell to her shoulders. Rich brown eyes set into a round face. Her skin was almost luminescent, like mother-of-pearl. If she had been a man, he would have had a very hard time saying no to anything she asked.
Radmila frowned ever so slightly before her features smoothed over. "Are you alone, Rhys?"
Soft words.
He shivered. Something about that question made his hair stand on end. He shouldn't answer, but the response tumbled out of his mouth anyway.
"I'm waiting for a friend."
"We're waiting for someone too." She glanced back at the bar. "Perhaps we can idle the time together."
We.Rhys followed the path her gaze had taken. A blond man walked toward them, right hand in his pocket. His blue eyes took Rhys's breath away, even from halfway across the room-- pale as a summer's morning. He was thin--thinner than Silas--and he had the same marble-like skin as Radmila.
She took the man's left hand as he joined her.
"Has the waiter seen our friend?"
"Earlier, but not recently."
God, the man's voice. It dipped and rolled like the sound of an oboe. Rhys curled his hands about the book in his lap. Instinct told him to flee these two, but when the man's gaze shifted and lingered on him, he couldn't look away.
"I see you've found a new friend."
More so than Radmila's, this man's smile froze Rhys's blood. He would do anything to touch the man, to be touched by him. The thought repulsed Rhys, even as it made him hard.
"Rhys, this is Jarek."
Jarek took a step forward and offered his right hand.
He tried not to take it. Failed. Cold skin, iron grip. Rhys couldn't let go.
"I'm very pleased to meet you, Rhys."
The way Jarek said his name, the desire that lingered in the blond man's eyes, set Rhys's bones on fire.
"He's waiting for a friend too," Radmila said. She released her partner's hand.
"So I see."
Those words and the sudden chill of his own skin made Rhys pull away. Or at least think about it. His hand stayed in Jarek's grip.
"No, Rhys. That won't do at all." Jarek lifted the book from Rhys's lap and placed it on the table. "Why don't you sit between Radmila and me? Let us have a little chat?"
Rhys stood, though his mind shouted not to.
Oh, God.Where the hell was Silas? He had to get away from these--people?
All he could do was what Jarek instructed.
